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lunels · 1 year

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with dating ellie comes with…

dating ellie williams !!

♡ - decided to write this on a whim when i woke up from a short nap today. was kinda reluctant to post this cause i know there are a lottt of these out there buuuttt, this was fun 2 write. anywayyyy, enjoy < 3

with dating ellie, comes with…

her iconic and award-winning journal. that thing has documented just about everything in her life over the years annddddd before dating U she would write about you in it constantly. even b4 she realized she was crushing. just saying how cool you are and she loves being your friend. im talking before bed, having breakfast, after talking to you, after hearing you laugh. she’d draw you too. jot down little details ab you. you name it, it’s journaled. you’d come across it one day and see a few pages written about you, all smiley like awwweeee ellieeeeee, you reallly love meee and she’d be soo embarrassed, like yeah.. just a little bit.

which takes us toooo…. her episodic memory! (😱it’s true! jk.) but nah actually this girl’s memory is hit or miss. in terms of you though she remembers a lot of things…. like how you get grumbly when you’re hungry or how you prefer sitting down to wipe instead of standing up orrr how your first kiss with her was on a wednesday at 6:54pm. the weird little things you know!? other times…. information goes through one ear and out the other. you ask her what she did 10 mins ago & she’s stuck sitting there trying to recall. sometimes you wonder if you were to knock on her head if it would feel hollow or not.

her unusual appetite… i think she’s a picky eater and LOVES to eat but LOVES……. finger foods. what you would consider snacks would be breakfast lunch and dinner to her. one day you'd be in the store by the freezers & she'd dramatically gasp, ....dino fuckin nuggets? they had these the whole time?! aw man.. and she's just holding the box while reading the ingredients like its the most interesting discovery. babe do you SEE this??? did you know????? and you’re like noo… whaaattt! that’s crazyyy! knowing she won’t eat anything else & it would be her favorite hyperfixation of food til like. death. ellie is not going to dive into a 5 star meal. i mean, she would... but it's not preferred. if you’re having a date night she will happily order chicken tenders and fries with a side of ketchup. hell if she’s feeling a lil healthy that day a cup of grapes too. meanwhile you have… not that. your plate consists of five cheese ziti with a buttered and crisp breadstick on the side with garlic parmesan marinara sauce for dip idk. she'll just look at your plate like "okay! if that's what you like babe......if you like it go ahead…" while munching on a piece of chicken. you'd shrug, "least i don't eat like a toddler." the contrast in plates is horrificcc

her lowkey cocky and competitive nature. don’t get me wrong she’s default awkward and nervy but does have a bit of an ego. her vocabulary consists of alot of “yeah?”s and shit that makes you nervous but as soooonnnn as you hit back with the same energy she’s shying away and stuttering. because she’s like damn that made me feel something. uh oh. dating her would consist of a lot of races and competition over simple things….. such as seeing who could get to bed first, orrr race u to kitchen! when you two first started dating she would tell you lots of facts (still does) ab space/dinosaurs and be like “a million earth’s can fit inside the sun. did ya know that babe??” “i bet you don’t know why this dinosaur poops in pebbles…” why would you??? now it's just a regular occurrence. she’d feel so smart and brainy knowing you don’t know a thing she’s talking about. with her competitive side she’s also kinda sore loser too. you beat her in a video game, she’s moping around the entire day until you finally give in to a rematch… mumbling ab how that was just a warmup. and she hasn’t played the game in a while. yeah ok. but best believe she’s shit talking the entire time and finally boasting ab her longggg overdue win

her nerdy dorky loser side. she’s a nerd. she’s a dork. she’s a loser!! idc what u say that’s her. everyone should know this. the girl is in love with space and dinosaurs and reads comics and is technically a pro gamer. like that’s her shit. what does that say?? & the pun books?? come. on. being her gf would mean that there wouldn’t be a day that’d go by that you wouldn’t hear about a fun fact ab space or how something reminded her of a particular dinosaur that lived 19356827.9999 years ago. if you ever touch one of her collectibles or pick up those little trading cards or highly rare action figures she'd immediately run over and swat your hand away, lecturing you about how they haven't sold this character in years and she found this at a garage sale 5 years ago.... how could you- why you do such a thing??!?!? like babe… i love you… so much. but. don’t touch my shit ever again. yeah. it's that serious.

sleepless nights!!!!! she’s pretty much an insomniac. lowkey, but highkey. like, she sleeps, obviously, but she can’t sleep. which would often lead to you waking up in the middle of the night to find her re-building a jurassic park lego set orrrr playing one of her little video games. maybe jamming out to some music as she draws. (bonus if she's drawing your face cuz she can’t you outta her head) and all u hear is her humming along, music blasting out of her headphones like drrrrr dodododoo yeAhhh ooOooO or times if you can’t sleep either, the two of you would be up talking and goofing off w hushed laughs over nothing but it’s really everything to her and she just looks at you with her pretty eyes like... this person is really my whole world.

her guitar skills!!! how could i forget!!!! she plays, like a lot, and anytime you’re over that’s the one of the things she’s doing. most likely playing along to her fav band or practicing a song you suggested once. she’d always wanna play for you and show you a new trick she learned or play you a song she wrote. (bonus if it’s about you<33) if she’s sooo in love with you she’d def wanna teach you a few things:)) sometimes if you can’t sleep she’d be like babe gimme a song. any song and i’ll play it for you. and you’re likee glue song:))) then… there u go. she’d do all the little tuning stuff & you can’t help but feel mesmerized by the way her pretty hands pluck the strings or how she hums the lyrics on some parts. glancing at you every while to make sure you're still listening. she’s just sooo… *prettily sighs*

comic con. anime con. gaming con. YOU NAME IT. shes at all the cons!!!! she’s there and flourishing like a little butterfly. best believe she is dragging you to every single one (for support and comfort cause she wouldn’t ever go alone) and showing you eve-r-y-thing. everything? everything!!! she’d be genuinely excited. all smiley and jumping from place 2 place, pointing at all the characters she recognizes. like babe that's the wizard guy!!! remember him??? and then that's his buddy who’s like a thousand fuckin years old! look at him!!! never knew dude was so wrinkly in person though...yeesh. and you're like ohh… yeaahh☺️ so overwhelmed and very much confused and getting characters mixed up w others from her little rants but she's happy so you're happy n that's all that matters right? if you can't show up for some reason, her gf, who she forced to have on her arm, then jesse because he was the next person actually down to go BUT she would make him take a bunch of pics just to personally send to you. like waitwaitwait she's gotta see this—jesse where's my fucking phone?!? okay whatever just use yours. hurry up before they leave! spamming you left & right with all these attachments of her posed w her favs or pics of her at the different events there. she’d look so cute that you’re like okaaayy…. maybeeee i’ll go w her next time :)))

okay that’s it! this was rly fun to write!! i hope someone out there liked this and maybeee i'll do a prt 2 :) all loveee < 33

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcannons #idk if these r considered headcannons

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horrorknife · 5 months

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handing you the microphone. tell me more about hoffheight.

oh Man. you dont even know what u have done........

ok so um . i think that there are a myriad of interesting ways for them to Meet each other but i think their relationship for the most part stays consistent. i've done a lot of thinking and Rp Writing for this because i am . Insane LOL

at first i just thought they'd have interesting interactions but the more i thought about it the more i realized that they are both a) the Most prey animal of the jigsquad (i count adam by proxy because. he has to be in order for my nefarious deeds to work. but that's a whole other topic i can't get into here lol) and b) the same type of defensive and angry person who is really just terrified at the world around them.

adam's strongest (onscreen) bond is lawrence (altho i am tempted 2 say he is the deepest bond he has. genuinely. lol cant get into that here either tho) and mark's is angelina. both of them are forcefully ripped away from them, and both of them deal w it by turning to Anger. (no one lets adam be fucking mad enough. well enough i say. im here to fix the softboy fandomification of this guy.) i think they could find a good common ground after getting to know each other.

at first i think adam really enjoys trying to poke at hoffman to get reactions, and hoffman is so annoyed but also intrigued because he does Not get this guy. so they treat each other like culture samples in petri dishes for a while. at first its just like smoke breaks or adam (who is actually p adept at engineering after learning some of it) helping mark fix things on his prototypes. they just chat idly or enjoy the silence, and both of them are constantly internally like This Is So Weird But I Actually Kind Of Like Being Around You

i like to think their relationship isn't really romantic but it's not platonic either. if they were NORMAL people it would be a qpr but they're fucking crazy people so it's just a weird situationship. they love and care for each other a LOT a lot a lot. i like to think adam is hoffman's little pet cat and he's always giving him pepper spray and new knives and shit for self defense bc he's incredibly protective of him. i don't think he'd like the idea of lawrence coming around and interacting w adam again because he had to see adam struggle and help him recover from the emotional damage lawrence did to him.

i also think that while adam does round hoffman's sharp edges out just a little, it's much more interesting to explore how mark's influence makes adam More violent (bc hes already predisposed to violence and i think mark could absolutely capitalize on that)

i could say so much more about them adkjfngjkfn but ummmm. to tie this post off have this hoffheight hoffman doodle i did for a warmup last night

edit: oh and i should really mention that they are constantly up and down w each other, those 2 men have such short tempers that they would absolutely fight and argue and yell at each other. theyre explicitly toxic for each other as all saw ships should be. this is necessary.

#hoffheight #silenthillmutual #asks #EHEHEEEE i love them so fucking bad .............#my art

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baiyunli · 1 year

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would u consider posting more snippets of the retirement fic. pretty please. its so good!

for sure!! most of the fully-written scenes don't make sense without context, but i have one near the beginning, when jack still hasn't told nico what he's looking for here and nico's just angry and still hurt from everything jack had done before. no idea why i picked the wings for luke lol but here:

There were moments, after Jack was traded and before Luke signed with Detroit, where Nico would look at Luke and all he saw was Jack.

He never thought they looked similar: Luke was a head taller and not as talkative in the half-charming, half-flippant way that Jack was, but in certain lights, during warmups or after practice or in the middle of a goal celebration, Nico reached out and saw someone else.

He knew Jack was gone, but it didn’t stop Nico from seeing him everywhere. He’d rubbed off onto Luke, his mannerisms and locker room nicknames and pregame routine, and Nico was just tired of always looking for someone who was never his, tired of coming up empty.

The first year afterwards, Nico couldn’t even look at his old locker: as if he was the only one responsible for Jack’s leaving and the guilt was close to crushing him, one of those quiet, tragic hurts he never truly knew how to share. He’d look at Luke and see the same heartbreak on his face.

Luke’s gone now, swept away in offseason free agency. Nico is happy that he’s playing well, at least. The Wings are good. Better than the Devils right now. And the Canucks, but that part speaks for itself.

“He had an awesome season,” says Nico. Second place in Norris voting. “Tell him I said congratulations.”

Jack grins. “Obviously. Thanks for taking care of him,” he says. “After I got traded. Like, I think it was the first time he actually had to learn how to cook, and shit. God knows I couldn’t have taught him myself.”

“I had to get him out of ordering takeout somehow. He was going to die otherwise.”

Late twenties and early thirties blend in Nico’s brain. Now, thirty years old is far enough in the rearview mirror that everything in the interim feels the same, a foggy lacuna from the first time they qualified for the playoffs to their first Cup win. The years when they thought nothing could hurt them, that the worst had passed long ago, young and stupid and too reckless to care about the idea that the future might not swing in their favour. And even off the ice: nighttime drives on the turnpike, the closest they could get to the end of the world. The hum of tires along the rumble strip, watching the light hug the soft planes of Jack’s face. Nico had tried so hard to stay away from Jack, those years.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jack says in self-defense. He raises his hands. “We cooked sometimes.”

“For loose definitions of ‘cooked.’ And ‘sometimes.’”

Jack makes a face. “You make it sound a lot worse than it was. I got it together eventually. When it stopped being—okay, I guess. That I didn’t know how to be an adult. And I couldn’t get away with it anymore.” He worries at his lower lip with his teeth, folds his hands in his lap. “I wanted to—” his voice stumbles, stops. “Never mind.”

There’s a curl of hair falling into his eyes that Nico wants to brush away. Nico wants too much: he wants to ask Jack to finish the sentence, wants to say why didn’t you talk to me for five fucking years, wants to know why Jack came to his apartment if not to apologize for the last five years of silence.

He wants to put his fist through the wall, kick something, but he’s almost forty and should know better, so really he wants to go outside for a long walk until his throat no longer itches. He wants to crawl out of his skin until he’s so far away he can’t see Jack. He wants Jack to leave and he wants to stop him from ever leaving again. He just wants to hear him say sorry.

“Sure,” says Nico, curt. “Good for you.”

Jack wavers. “What?”

He rubs his forehead. “Jack, I just. I’m glad you’re doing better, but I still don’t know how long you’re planning to be here.”

Nico hears Jack’s breath hitch. “Not that long,” he answers, and then he flashes his brightest smile, all-American and pearly white, to make up for the pause before his reply. “I’m—sorting some stuff out, that’s all. Told Quinn it was unfinished business. But I can go. If you don’t, uh. If you don’t want me.”

“It’s—no,” Nico responds. He runs a hand through his hair and does not admit that Jack Hughes is all he’s ever wanted. “You can stay.”

Jack looks down at the table. “I’ll get it together,” he says, quieter, and it strikes Nico, for a second, the reality of it. “I promise. I’ll get my shit together soon.”

During Jack's whole first season with the Canucks, Nico dreamed about having him back in New Jersey, eating dinner with him and falling asleep on the couch before Jack could make it back to his own apartment. And now Jack’s here, eating his food, staying in his apartment, and Nico thinks that his most self-pitying dreams didn’t do shit to prepare him for it. “I didn’t. I’m not asking you to fulfill any promises,” he tells Jack. “Do whatever you have to. But the season starts soon.”

“Soon,” echoes Jack, his face shuttering. “You’re right.” He pokes at the rest of his dinner. He plays with a noodle, twirls it around his fork and drops it back in the takeout box.

“Jack,” Nico says. “Are you—is there something wrong?”

“No,” Jack says, too fast, brittle. “Not something wrong, I just, uh. I have to make some decisions. Tired of trying to be an adult, I guess.” He holds up the leftover takeout. “You want me to pop this in the fridge, or do you have a container I can put it in?”

#hrpf for ts #untitled redacted retirement fic project #yun replies

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10piecechickennuggy · 9 months

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Magic and Secrets, Ch. 9 - Sanji x Witch!OC

WARNING: Mature content ahead.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan-created work featuring an original character.

Read Chapter 8.5 Here

Read Chapter 8 Here

Read Chapter 7 Here

Read Chapter 6 Here

Read Chapter 5 Here

Read Chapter 4 Here

Read Chapter 3 Here

Read Chapter 2 Here

Read Chapter 1 Here

“How is it?” Sanji asked expectantly, his expression hopeful.

A tiny gray rat nibbled on some quiche it’d been given.

Upon seeing the creature’s enthusiasm as it took bite after bite, the young boy lit up. “I’m so glad you like it!”

Seemingly understanding Sanji’s words, the rat stuffed its mouth with the remaining bits of egg before reaching out its tiny hands to ask for more. The blonde boy happily complied, handing the rodent another bit of quiche.

“Prince Sanji.” A guard’s voice startled the boy, who turned slowly to meet disapproving eyes. “You should know better than to feed the rodents. It is already too much that you cook. It is not royalty’s place to serve others, especially a creature so far beneath you.”

Sanji frowned, handing the rat another morsel. “He’s hungry.”

The guard shook his head. “You’ll only anger King Judge by continuing both practices.”

At the mention of his father, Sanji felt fear grip his chest. Surely this guard wouldn’t tell his father. If so, that’d only bring on another beating from the man.

The boy stood as tall as his small frame would allow, his fists clenched as he tried to form a stern expression. “It isn’t a guard’s place to tell a royal what to do.”

At this, laughter erupted, its source just out of Sanji’s sight. The voices were unmistakable - his brothers were here.

As the three boys rounded the corner, Sanji took a step back into his bedroom. Turning in time to see the rat escape out a window, Sanji wished he could do the same.

“It’s a servant’s job to do as commanded.” Niji was the first to speak, his blue hair swaying as he marched happily towards his brother. “And if that command is to order a pathetic weakling like you around, then he will.”

Sanji’s lower lip quivered as he took another step backwards. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?!”

It was Ichiji’s turn to speak, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. “Because, you being so weak and cooking for rats makes the rest of us look bad.”

Yonji chimed in, his broad smile sadistic. “Plus, kicking the crap out of you is a great warmup for our real training!” The boy slammed his fist into an open palm, the resulting noise punctuating his statement.

The guard had taken his leave, allowing the quadruplets to hash things out on their own. Sounds of fists striking flesh were mingled with Sanji’s cries of pain.

***

“Why?”

The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. Herself, maybe. Her parents, more likely. But those answers would never come. She knew that, and still her soul longed for an explanation.

Why was she subjected to a life of misery? Her mother was the one who’d had an affair, resulting in her conception. Why was she the one to be punished? She hadn’t asked to be born - not to a cheating woman and not into a cruel household.

Why was she subjected to such barbarism? Why did her mother condone and participate in her mistreatment?

Why? Why? Why?

“Why what?” Sanji had gripped both her shoulders, searching her eyes for any sign she was still with him. His words felt like a far off whisper, meant to be heard by another set of ears than her own.

“Why was I born a Celestial Dragon?”

Sanji’s eyes widened as he took in the reality of Vera’s words. He opened his mouth to speak - to say something, anything - but before the words could begin forming, Vera had been ripped from his hands.

She’d begun running before registering that her feet had even moved. It was as though her body were on autopilot - moving without her input.

“Vera!” Sanji shouted after her, but her form had already become a tiny dot on the horizon.

Shit, Shit, Shit!

A memory was all it took, and now the truth was out. Sanji knew who she was. Knew what she was. He’d never look at her the same. Not with those kind eyes and gentle smile.

Tears continued to fall, wetting the ground as she ran. Still, her feet moved without direction. It was as though someone else had taken control of her body.

Where was she going? The Sunny was in the opposite direction. The festival was on the outskirts of town and only forest lay ahead of her. There wouldn’t be any doors for her to escape through.

What was she even trying to escape from? Now that her secret was out, surely the Strawhats would simply leave her on this island. She’d be stranded again, forced to resume working as a maid. Vera knew she could get by, but -

A shriek erupted into the night as she tripped over a tree root, tumbling forward and landing on her hands and knees. Dirt undoubtedly coated her as she rited herself and continued running, her tulle skirt now torn.

Images of the Strawhat Pirates flashed through her mind. Their laughter, their kindness, and their worry. Their friendship - she’d never experienced bonds so strong before. Vera had truly believed she’d finally found a place where she belonged. Where she was not only welcomed but wanted. Where she could be at ease, practicing her magic and expressing herself unhindered.

But that ease was what caused her current situation. She’d let her guard down, forgotten to keep specific information secret, and it had cost her the only home she’d wanted to keep.

She only had herself to blame.

Coming to a stop, Vera bent over and tried desperately to catch her breath. With both hands on her knees, she panted heavily into the night.

Even with the moonlight, the forest around her was barely visible. Any illumination the town would have provided was long gone, far behind her and unable to penetrate the dense grouping of trees and underbrush she now found herself in.

Surely, no one would come through here. Not at night, and not when there was a festival in town. She could rest - away from any prying eyes and away from the Strawhats. Though she doubted they would come looking for her.

***

“You lost her?!” Nami shouted in disbelief.

Upon realizing he couldn’t catch up to Vera, Sanji had bolted to the Sunny. Nami was the first crewmate he’d run into and immediately told her everything that had transpired, his voice and movements frantic. He now stood before the ginger navigator, panic taking hold of his erratic heart as he awaited her response.

She wasted no time, grasping the magic key which hung around her neck. Thrusting it into the nearest door, she flung the wood open. Before the pair stood Vera’s pocket dimension - the space appearing like a regular bedroom, sans the assorted collections of organized items which shared no connection - but the witch in question was nowhere to be found.

Cursing under her breath, Nami produced a transponder snail from her pocket and called the rest of the crew. Within moments, all nine Strawhats and Law were searching for their missing comrade.

“You’re sure that’s what she said?” Zoro’s eye narrowed as he scanned the area, a torch illuminating his path.

“For the last time, yes!” Sanji gritted his teeth, pushing down the urge to argue with his green-haired companion. “Her exact words were ‘Why was I born a Celestial Dragon?’. And then she ran off!” The blonde threw his hands into the air, the familiar feeling of defeat sinking his shoulders.

The crew had split up into groups of two for their search. Sanji had the misfortune of being paired with Zoro, the two assigned to the forest where Vera had last been seen running to.

“Hey, waiter.” Zoro grunts, regaining Sanji’s irate attention. “Look at this.”

On the forest floor before the pair sat a witch’s hat - the one Vera had been wearing earlier that evening. The fabric was now crumpled and dirtied, the wooden comb Sanji had won for her still nestled into its thick brim.

The chef took the hat into his hands and brushed off what dirt he could. Examining the forest floor, handprints and an upturned root showed which direction their companion had gone.

“Looks like we’re getting close.”

***

“Vera.” A soft voice spoke her name, inciting feelings of comfort and joy. A smile graced the girl’s lips at the sound.

She wasn’t sure who was talking, but she felt safe with the mystery speaker. Their tone was deep and smooth, reminiscent of polished mahogany.

“Sanji.” Her own voice came as more of a sigh than actual words, but she knew her sentiment was received. Her prince had come for her and now she was safe again.

“Vera.” The voice called again, louder than before but not forceful. The witch in question looked around, searching for the voice’s owner.

“Sanji?” She called into nothingness, not another soul in sight. “Where are you?”

When she didn’t receive an answer, Vera began to search more frantically. But still her efforts saw no results. Where was Sanji? She could hear him but she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything. How long had the world been devoid of color?

“Vera!”

Dark eyes shot open at the abrupt shout, the rising sun glaring over the horizon. A hand was brought up to shield her eyes as her mind began its gradual return to reality.

She felt stiff all over, her neck and side sore from sleeping on the forest floor. Her brain was still foggy with sleep, causing her brows to furrow. “What time is it?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Does it matter?” The voice was deep and gruff, laced with annoyance. Distinctively not Sanji.

Vera opened her eyes once more, being met with a pair of piercing golden orbs. A head of shaggy black hair had eclipsed the sun. The witch frowned.

“Law.” His name dripped from her tongue like poison, clearly unhappy with her visitor.

The man chuckled, reaching a hand out to help her stand. “Don’t sound too disappointed. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

When she’d been brought to her feet, Vera took a moment to stretch. The morning air was cold and her festival outfit did little to protect her from the breeze that sent a shiver through her core.

Law raised an eyebrow, eyeing the girl’s attire as she yawned loudly. The thin bodysuit and tulle skirt were hardly covering her, let alone providing any warmth. “Here.” He allowed his thick jacket to slouch off his shoulders and offered the article to her.

She took a moment to process his gesture before taking the black jacket from his tattooed hands. “Thanks, . . .” Her voice wavered with uncertainty, making no attempt to disguise her lack of trust in this man.

As she wrapped the article around herself, its long fabric shielding most of her legs from the wind, Law turned towards the open ocean. “We should get you inside. Bet you’re hungry.”

Vera scoffed. “You expect me to go back to the Sunny? I’m sure Sanji told you everything.”

Law only placed his hands into the pockets of his speckled jeans and began walking before he spoke again. “We aren’t going to the Sunny.”

With hesitant footsteps, she began to follow. The pair walked along a rocky cliff, waves lapping at its exposed facets as gulls cried overhead. Peering down, what Vera saw caused her movements to falter - if for only a moment.

Moored to a craggy outcropping of rock sat a yellow submarine, its bright visage bobbing amidst the seafoam.

#one piece #black leg sanji #one piece oc #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #cat burglar nami #god usopp #monkey d luffy #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #trauma #childhood trauma #ptsd #complex ptsd #cptsd

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lordeemailarchive · 2 years

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PART ONE: Eating two slices of ice cream cake with James Murphy

(04/11/2022) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 19) (From New York)

If elegance is arriving somewhere without a commute story, then in the newslettersphere, elegance is starting your letter with anything BUT an apology for its lateness. I’ve owed you a letter for ages now, and one hasn’t come. For that, I’m sorry!!! Since the summer I’ve felt the weeks spinning through my fingers like fine thread. Airports, shows, cars, bursts of loneliness and melancholy, moments of sun. They might as well pay me in jet fuel, I’ve been on so many fucking planes this year (if you’re looking for a saviour, ETC); haven’t been in one place for more than two weeks since… July, I guess, not that that’s any sort of excuse, but things just kept happening and the list of things to tell you about kept getting longer until it was overwhelming, and so it goes. As Rachel Cusk says, one has to serve out one’s changes moderately, like strong wine. By that logic, I’ve been drunk for months, and with that state comes ups and downs — intense jonesing for home and family, a struggle at times to resource myself, feelings of inadequacy, of longing and loss. A couple times I’ve been backstage doing vocal warmups before a show thinking, What the fuck can I offer these people right now, when I myself feel as loose and spare as a tooth or a tyre? So finally today, sitting in a basement with bleach disciplining my scalp, I thought — today’s the day I’m gonna write to you. And for your troubles — TWO PARTS TO THIS BAD BOY. For all things tour — recent pics, updates on upcoming shows, et al, see part two. Between drinks, it has been an intense period of what I’d call research — not writing songs as such, but reading, conceptualising, writing a ton of stuff down, laying the foundation of… something. I’m feeling excited and challenged. A little nervous. Teeth in my shoulder.

Warmup

Milan sneak peek (more dispatched via the Institute)

Best thing seen this year - bioluminescence activated by the movement of the waves. does anyone know what kind of seaweed this is? Where my biologist SCsWWTS at?)

Bathroom floor after Primavera, Los Angeles

Have felt your love in general, these past couple months. All year, of course, but special moments keep coming sweet and bright — touching a tattoo in the rain, or my mum sending a photo of a freshie in the supermarket. Running into people who were at Radio City, hearing about everyone’s different nights — my waiter being accidentally on mushrooms there, a sweet boy in the grocery store who went by himself. And then, holy shit, the intense, overwhelming outpouring of love that was Mexico. I’m still riding high on what a warm welcome we got, how sweet and dedicated you all are, what finally being able to hug you and not let go for ten seconds felt like. I did get a terrible cold, but it was worth it.

STARVING YOU OF LAUREN’S GORGEOUS SHOW PICS + GENERAL TOUR CONTENT BECAUSE OF PART TWO random iphone pics only!!

Have written the story of my 72 hours in Milano and where I went after as an Institute dispatch, FYI. What’s been going on with me? This podcast episode. Remember this from last year? Going to see said painting at MoMa, having mind blown. Finally going to Tiny Doll House (AS A NEW YORK ACTIVITY I REALLY. CAN’T. RECOMMEND THIS ENOUGH). Seeing Dev play in the round. Thinking about work that feels open enough to contain different stories and meanings. Sitting in the sunshine talking about hearing One Dance for the first time. Watermelon 5 gum (A DERANGED AIRPORT PURCHASE THAT I’M LOVING… XYLITOL CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE’S BEEN OUT OF NZ TOO LONG!!). Finally read Essential Labor By Angela Garbes and it blew my damn brains out. Loving Cusk, halfway through Second Place. Natasha Brown’s Assembly and David Milch’s Life’s Work waiting in the wings. Read Natalia Ginzburg’s Voices in the Evening on a beach in Greece. Always so fascinating to me as I get older and realise that the books I’m gravitating towards are a little bit like my browser search history, getting at the questions I’m asking. Domesticity, family, parenting… paging Dr. Freudette! This conversation between Hilton Als and Terrence Hayes in the Paris Review is one of the most gagging interviews I’ve ever read. The podcast POOG, which I’m late to discovering but completely obsessed with. Like the rest of New York, Kate has me in a chokehold. “As she banters about skin care, you get the sense that her refusal to play herself onstage is part of a larger personal preoccupation with the ways that the coherent “self” is always a doomed project.” (Shades of Cusk???) Gonna buy these Kari Māori cards for Christmas presents this year. This newsletter took so damn long I missed Mahuru Māori, but I consumed a ton of really thoughtful work by a variety of creators during that month, a highlight being this podcast episode reflecting on the 50 year anniversary of the Maori language petition being delivered to Parliament, and the future of reo in our country. Haven’t seen Tár yet but it’s on my list. LOVED Corsage. Wanted to like Triangle of Sadness more than I did, although it was fun in the room. Watching the movement in Iran with my heart in my mouth. I cannot believe the bravery of these women. FUCK YOU BOLSONARO AND GOOD RIDDANCE.

Leaving you with two quotes, that could be applied to making stuff, or just to living your life. “First you hate something, then you investigate why you hate something. That is exciting — and for creative people, to be excited is the only way.” From Mrs. Prada. And this, such a classic, from Kris Kristofferson upon hearing Blue for the first time: “‘Jesus, Joni,’ he said. ‘Save something for yourself.’” No. Shan’t. Throbbing with love for you. PART TWO INCOMING! E

(source: received this email)

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apollotronica · 9 months

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goodness. ok one big ask for all of them

hearts

🤍 - you scare me /pos

💛 - you are like a wet cat

💚 - one million dollars. for you

i'd say red but that's known

artist

4. fav character/subject thats a bitch to draw

9. what are your file name conventions

24. do your references include stock images

27. do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? if so, what is it you draw to warm up with

30. what piece of yours do you think is underrated

specific and unrelated

4. mythical creature you think/believe is real?

7. what animal do you look forward to most when you visit an aquarium

16. thoughts on mint chocolate chip

26. hows your spice tolerance?

get-to-know-me

bamboo - do you change into a different outfit when you get home

sage - what 'medium' of art (poetry, music, fiction, painting, statues, etc) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is

ivy - what are your 'tells' for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you're happy annoyed upset or tired

chamomile - what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts

aloe vera - what's something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

taro - if someone called you right now to catch up, what're the things youd tell them about

- 💌

OKAY JESUS HOLD ON these responses are for the heartsI SHOUDLNT SCARE YOU IM SO SWEETS and like you said . a wet cat .norhing to be afraid of . 10 jerbillion dollars for me

these r the attist asks i think

4 - honesltyUMMM i can never get dazais hair right . but hes pretty sinple everywhrr else . i also feel like i draw akutagawas hair inconsistently . all my problems are centered around hair

9 - my file names are whatever ibis paint x decides the file name is . unless i download it on my computer in which case its usually somr dumb shit

24 - SOOOOOMETIMES ???? i go on pinterest and just save and use whatever i need Hold on let me look at my reference folder rq. yeah ol i only have one stock image and its a dude holding a corndog

27 - NOPE my warmup is the sketch and maybe ill draw a couple face expressions on the side if im not in the zone yet . but no indont warm up usually

30 - THAT ONE OF IVLYA (OC) where hes like . almost facing the side .i cant find the image rn just go into my art tag😢

these repwonses r for the . unrelated/specific ones, 4 + 7 answered

16 - i like the mint . not the chocolatw chip . i think i would enjoy a minr chocolate swirl better because i hate chunks

26 - Um . average . i can handle like actual food spice like curry or other . things . but junk food like takis RUUUUUUIN MEEEEEE

these r for da get 2 know me ones ^_^ ivy ans chamomile answered

bamboo - Yeah i hate wearing outside clothes in the comfort of my home . i change into . usually what i slept in

sage - MUSIC AND POETRY i dont seem like a poetry guy i think but holy fucking shit some poems . some of them man. Ugh. and music theres so mucu potential Like . harmonies and shit dude im unwell . Music foreva

aloe vera - i kinda wna tto go on a real date Because like . idk that stuff is so foreign to me im not familiar with aaaany of it . i also want to get into baking

taro - FUCJ IT DEPENDS FROM WHEN HONESTLY i d let them know about my Mental Ailments i think id show off some art and link some of my socials maybe . and id talk about music . and things i got into while they were gone . Maybe attempt to discuss ... shivers . Feelings . i dont know

#☆ apollo answers #💌#i think i know you now #AND THANKIES SOOO MUCHIES FOR SO MANY TO ANSWER i looove yapping

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taiblogcomics · 1 year

Text

Mexi-Can't Blue-lieve I'm Trying This

Hey there, endothermic flames. Hey, it's a non-review day, that means it's a soda review! You're correct! And you're probably thinking I got my hands on this year's VooDew flavour. Well, you're dead wrong on that one. Instead, I thought I'd try something... different.

Minute Maid Blue Raspberry

Well, first on the list is this thing catching my eye. Now, I love anything blue raspberry-flavoured. Blue is best flavour, I think we've established that. And Minute Maid is the good shit! Their lemonade is great, and if you're looking for fruit punch, you honestly can't get better than Minute Maid. So I figured this'd be worth a go~

Smell is very faint. Really can't get a whiff of much from it, and that's fine. Blue raspberry is not meant to be a pungent flavour. If it's smelling too strong, they probably did something wrong. That's a motto you can apply to a lot of things.

...It's good! It's not a soda, for one thing, so it's very smooth. It's not heavily blue-flavoured. Like, it doesn't taste like a blue Jolly Rancher made liquid or anything. If anything, it's mostly the pear juice coming through. Which is fine, because I love me a juicy pear. Pretty all right!

But that was just the warmup, so I have something to fall back on. Normally I wouldn't consider it, but for the novelty of the blog and its sheer reputation...

Coca-Cola (Mexican)

Yeah, baby. It's the oft-mentioned Mexican Coke, the one made with real cane sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. In a glass bottle, no less! Turns out my grocery carries it, and so I had to try it at least once. Will the addition of real cane sugar be enough to sway me, a non-Coke drinker? Let's find out~

...How the hell do you open this thing? I'm not sure this is a twist-off.

Okay, glad I own an old-ass can opener, so I didn't have to search too hard for a bottle opener. But that's already a point off, that kind of inconvenience isn't worth a regular drink. God, I'm a regular Marty McFly, huh?

Well, it sure smells like a Coke, I guess. Your classic dark soda vibes. If you know it, you really don't need me to tell you. And if you don't, I'm surprised you found this blog, because you must be so sheltered~

...Well, you blew your one chance at getting a convert, Coke. I'm still firmly in PepsiCo's grip! That is to say, it's all right. I wouldn't make it a regular thing. Maybe it's coz I don't drink regular Coke that I can't tell a difference? But hey, worth a shot. And I always appreciate a glass bottle. Gonna keep it for display once I finish this~

So yeah! Nothing that's my new favourite, but worth a try. Seemed appropriate for taco night~

#reviews #Minute Maid #Coca-Cola #Mexican Coke #Taiblog

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Under My Skin - Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 3,644

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Summary: Matthew can be a pest but what happens when your ex, Auston Matthews get under his skin.

Notes: So I’m having a sad bitch moment and thought, why not post this. I finally broke down and wrote for this boy. Who knows if it’ll happen again...haha! At any rate hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Matthew first met you over a year ago when you’d moved to Calgary for work. You had just finished your degree and a job opportunity had landed you in the same city where he was playing. You’d been out at the bar with some co-workers and had caught his eye immediately. You were everything that Matthew was looking for in a woman, smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, with a charm that seemed to draw everyone around you in. You were like a magnet and Matthew couldn’t resist your pull.

That first night he’d barely been able to talk to you. You’d been besotted with people left and right, and it seemed as though every time Matthew worked up the courage to speak with you, you would get pulled away. Matthew finally ran into you on the way to the restroom. Like, literally ran into you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Matthew apologized steadying you with a hand on your waist. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary but you weren’t complaining.

“It’s ok I wasn’t paying attention.” You held up your phone in defense. You’d been so distracted by a text, that you really weren’t watching where you were going. “Did you ever have someone text you that you hoped you’d never hear from again?”

It was an interesting introduction to a conversation but then Matthew would take any opportunity he could get to speak to you. “Actually, yes.”

“It’s so annoying, right?”

“Well, there is a way to solve that problem.”

Your eyes held his with rapt attention, and Matthew could tell you were clinging to his every word. It was then that it struck him that he never wanted that look to fade from your face. “How?”

“Come have a drink with me and forgot about whoever it is on that phone.” You smiled. It was a bright, brilliant thing of beauty that Matthew swore could light up the night sky on its darkest days. He was sold right then and there, and with just that simple gesture you had no idea that you’d swooped in and stolen his heart that night.

You forgot about that text message fairly quickly and just settled into an easy conversation with Matthew. The night flew by and before you knew it, your co-workers were calling it a night and you were all heading home. Matthew asked for your number which you gave in hopes that he would call you soon. Little did you know that after you left, Matthew debated with himself on how long to wait to text you. Every unsaid rule in the code of dating said to wait for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before making a move, but Matthew was never one to follow convention. As he lay in bed, he decided to send you a quick message.

Had a great time tonight.

It was short and to the point, and Matthew figured if you answered then he would ask you out again. Unfortunately, for Matthew, he wasn’t the only one texting you as you crawled into bed after taking off all your makeup. You were just getting ready to reply to Matthew when another text came in. It was the fourth of the night from the same person that had messaged you before, Auston Matthews.

You hadn’t spoken to him in months, back when you were in Toronto, and you didn’t plan on speaking to him now, though he seemed to be trying his hardest to get your attention, just as he had been for the last couple of months. Your relationship with Auston had been nothing short of toxic. Oh sure, at first it was all hearts and roses in the beginning. Auston swept you off your feet with that charming smile of his, but then you were young and the flashy NHLer said all the right things, at first.

You weren’t normally one to tumble into bed right after the first date, though that’s what happened with Auston. He made it seem like you were the only one, but after dating him for only four months you’d found out that wasn’t true. Oh, he tried to brush it off, make it seem like he wasn’t cheating. That the panties you’d found lying tucked between the nightstand and the bed were some old fling and not some random hookup he’d brought home. You wanted to believe him and so you let your heart overpower your head and stayed with him until you’d literally walked in on him in bed with another woman. There was no talking his way out of that one.

It was an easy decision to break things off with him, though he kept trying to win you back. You were good for his image and he thought that he could keep you happy while he had some fun on the side. The only thing was you didn’t want him back, even though his friends tried to helped his cause. That’s when you decided to take the job in Calgary. It was an easy decision six months ago. Which is part of the reason it surprised you when he texted tonight. He was in Calgary for a game and wanted to talk. You’d honestly were debating seeing him when you’d run into Matthew.

Matthew, you sighed. His curly hair and shaved sides gave off this bad boy vibe, but as you sat there and talked to him, you’d realized he had to be one of the sweetest men out there. You hadn’t realized at first who he actually was. Auston had turned you off to the NHL scene altogether, so you no longer paid attention to the games, even if hockey was Canada’s major sport. Honestly, you wish you didn’t know he was in the NHL. It was part of the reason you were debating about answering him. Maybe you would just sleep on it and decide in the morning.

Meanwhile, Matthew was having a mild panic attack. He told himself that maybe you lived close to the bar and had already fallen asleep before you got his text, or that you’d turned off your phone the minute you got home. He constantly kept checking his, looking for those three little dots letting him know that you were sending something back. It was torturous.

You laid there all of twenty minutes before you decided that you couldn’t resist the curly-haired man that had captured your attention tonight. Grabbing your phone, you shot off a quick, I did too. You typed and erased it three times, wondering if you should add more before finally pressing the send button. There it was done, if he said something back, you’d go from there. Fifteen seconds later, you knew you were in trouble.

Maybe we could do it again sometime?

Matthew was sweating as he hit send. He’d never been this nervous before about a woman. They either liked him or didn’t, but you, you were different. He knew that from the moment he saw you. It was even more prevalent now after he’d spent most of the night with you.

I’d like that.

Was your simple reply back. One that had Matthew ready to jump up and out of bed with excitement. And so the texting went on for the next ten minutes until he finally ended up calling you. The two of you talked for over an hour, almost as if you’d known each other all your lives, and you completely forgot about the texts from Auston.

Matthew took you out three days later to an exclusive restaurant in the city. This time you told yourself you’d not make the same mistake you’d made with Auston. So, when the night drew to a close, Matthew drove you to your apartment then very properly walked you to the door and only kissed you on the cheek. It wasn’t what you expected. You’d thought he’d go for more, but Matthew wanted to do things right. He knew you were special and he wasn’t going to mess things up by sleeping with you on night one. He was in this for the long run.

That was over a year ago. Sure, it had been difficult at first to give him your complete trust, but Matthew had earned it and over time you knew that although he may be a pest on the ice, he was anything but that in your personal life. Now the two of you shared a home and were on your way to making a life together.

You’d kept your relationship on the down-low, staying off of all forms of social media to keep the wolves at bay. Which meant that no one, including Auston, knew that you and Matthew were dating. That was until he and everyone else saw you in the background of Taryn’s video for Brady’s twenty-first birthday. The picture highlighted Brady but behind him, there was Matthew nibbling on your neck and ear. Fans picked up on it right away, wondering who you were and Matthew decided he was tired of hiding the two of you. A week later he was posting a picture of the two of you holding hands on your way back to Calgary.

That was dozens of posts and months ago. Your life with Matthew was nothing short of amazing, until the Flames played the Leafs. Matthew was in Toronto while you stayed back in Calgary for work. It was an early game and you joined the other wives and significant others in a small little watch party. Drinks were flowing freely, so you really didn’t catch the exchange between Matthew and Auston in warmups.

Matthew was minding his own business as he stretched near the centerline. That’s when Auston started with the little jabs. “Nice little piece of ass you picked up Tkachuk.” Matthew was used to guys talking shit about all kinds of things on the ice, though normally it was about him being a dirty player or how Brady was the better Tkachuk on the ice; all that shit he could handle. He wasn’t used to someone taking stabs at you.

“Shut the fuck up Matthews,” he replied then skated away. If Auston was looking for a fight, he’d get one if he kept up this banter, but not until the game started.

It wasn’t until the end of the first that Auston got a chance to chirp Matthew again. “Tell me, Tkachuk, does (Y/N) still make the same pretty moans…”

“Finish that and you’ll regret it,” Matthew told him. It was the only warning Matthew was going to give. Of course, Matthew knew that you’d dated someone in the hockey world and that he’d been a verifiable asshole. He’d never pressed the issue too much as he was trying to turn that stigma about hockey players around. He never liked Auston, he was always cordial to him in non-ice settings but now that he knew he was the cheating bastard who basically used you; he liked him less.

Play resumed before anything else could happen and Matthew was sure to get in a few good checks in before heading back for the first intermission. When he was back on the ice for the second Auston picked up right where they had left off. “So, you like my sloppy seconds, Tkachuk?” Matthew saw red at the insult, and before he knew what he was doing he dropped his gloves and hit Auston. Inwardly, you cringed at the fight, not wanting to let on to the other girls that you had an idea what the exchange was about. Auston went down easy, with Matthew barely touching him, and so off the penalty box he went, while the Leafs went on the power play. You could see him just sitting there stewing, though you weren’t sure if he was mad at himself for letting Auston get to him or mad at you.

The game ended up tied in the third, and little did you know that Auston took the opportunity to get a few more digs into Matthew. “Does she get as wet for as she did for me, or do you have to work for it?” Johnny had to hold him back from leveling him after that, but Auston didn’t let up. “She was such a fucking slut for me in bed. You know I fucked every hole…” That’s all he got out before going down hard as Matthew planted a right hook to his jaw. But Matthew wasn’t done and went after Auston as he lay on the ice. Matthew was ejected from the game and the Leafs scored on the power play.

There was no interview after the game with Matthew, so you had no idea what he was feeling or how pissed he was. As soon as you got home, you tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything that maybe he never turned his phone back on after the game or maybe they were already on the flight back to Calgary, as the team played at home the following day, but you just weren’t sure. So, you laid in the king-size bed you shared with Matthew, wrapped up in your favorite old t-shirt of his, simply staring up at the ceiling.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you didn’t hear the door open or Matthew dropping his bag like you usually did. It wasn’t until he crept into bed that you finally knew he was home. He was laying on his back, hands behind his head when you finally rolled over letting him know you were awake. You’d thought about what to say to him before falling asleep but waited for him to say something to you. When he didn’t you simply whispered, “If you want me to go I will.”

“Go?” Matthew questioned now rolling on to his side so he could see you. “Why would I want you to leave?”

“I never wanted to be a problem for you, Matthew, especially not with other players.” It was part of the reason you’d never told him that you’d dated Auston, though you should’ve known that Auston couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

You went to say more, but Matthew stopped you. “You’re not the problem (Y/N). You could never be one.” His fingers ran up and down your arms lightly, just caressing your skin. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” His lips found yours then, and you melted into the feel of him, savoring how his body started to relax against you.

“Auston’s an asshole.” Matthew finally said, when the two of you broke apart.

“Do I even want to know what he said?”

“Just shit to get me riled up, and it worked.” Your one hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the knotted muscles there. “I’m not stupid. I realize what probably happened between the two of you. I just don’t like hearing it.”

“We both have pasts, Matthew. We can’t change that, but you’re my future.”

He gave you a real quick peck to your lips. “And you’re mine. At least I don’t have to deal with him for a couple weeks.”

You pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips. “Don’t let him get under your skin, babe. When he starts to say something…” you looked him right in the eyes. “And you know he will. Just remind him how you’re the only one I want with me.” You flexed your hips before running your hands up his bare chest. “And in me.” Matthew’s hands went to your waist, where he played with the band of lace on your panties. “You’re more to me than he’ll ever be. Both here,” you taped your heart and then his. “And here.” Lifting your hips, you took your hand and cupped the length of him. His cock instantly hardened under your touch.

Your words spurred Matthew into action, for the next thing you knew he was ripping your panties, before shimming out of his boxers. His fingers went to your folds, where he found you ready for him. “Fuck you’re so wet.”

“Only for you Matthew. Only for you.” It was extra reassurance that you knew Matthew needed and tonight you’d give him as many as he needed. He guided your hips down onto his cock and you sighed out with pleasure as he filled you like no one else ever had.

As you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt Matthew whispered harshly, “Leave it on.” It was one of his Flames shirts; one that had both his name and number on the back. Leaning down you kissed him long and hard, before starting to ride him. It was slow at first, a pace meant to build you both up but not push you over the edge. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt caressing your breasts, wandering down your back to cup your ass, and moving up and down your thighs to quicken your speed.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he flipped your bodies so that he loomed over top of you. His thrusts were deep and hard, almost punishing if your body hadn’t wanted him so bad. “You belong to me.” He said as he flexed into you, pushing you up against the headboard.

“Yes, baby. Only you.”

“Who?” He asked again and you realized that he was not in the mood to hear any pet names.

“You, Matthew, you,” you answered knowing that he owned you both body and soul, just as you owned him.

“That’s right, baby.” Matthew's thrusts were deep and sure, as he knew what would bring you pleasure, and with a few more flexes of his hips, he sent you spiraling out of control, screaming his name.

“MMMAAATTTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEEWWW.”

That was all he needed to catch his high and follow you down, your name on his lips. He rolled onto his side taking you with him; your breaths mingling together as you both calmed. Your nails skimmed down his spine aimless, something you tended to do after sex. Matthew always said he loved the continued intimacy it brought, and tonight it felt like you both needed that. His lips found yours, the kiss loving and tender. “I love you, (Y/N),” Matthew whispered while brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “And I promise, I won’t let Auston get to me next time.”

“Good, because you’re the only man I love Matthew, and the team doesn’t need you getting ejected from games because of me.”

“It won’t happen again.” You truly hoped that it wouldn’t but with Matthew’s temper you never knew.

It was a little over two weeks later that the Flames were taking on the Leafs, this time at the Saddledome, where you were in attendance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous on the inside as to what would happen between the love of your life and the once lowlife that you'd briefly called boyfriend. You tried to shake off your nerves with idle chatter with some of the girls, but your eyes always seemed to drift back to where Matthew and Auston were on the ice.

Matthew for his part stayed away from center ice for warmups, just like he told you he would. It wasn’t until the second period after a blown whistle that Auston finally decided to poke at him. “How’s that girlfriend Tkachuk? You know if I told her I wanted her back she’d leave you in a second.”

“I doubt that Matthews. She told me you couldn't satisfy her in the bedroom. Something about cumming too soon.” Anger started to radiate across Auston’s face. “You should see a doctor about that.” Matthew skated away, completely ignoring anything Auston would be able to say back.

The game was tied late in the third once again when Auston tried to rile Matthew up again. Considering he had two assists you understood why they wanted your boyfriend out of the game. “It wasn’t me who had the problem Tkachuk, (Y/N)’s pussy was wider than the Grand Canyon.”

“Hmm,” Matthew taunted back. “Must be your small pencil dick, because she’s so tight it’s like a vice-grip around me.” Auston took offense and cross-checked Matthew into the boards right as the play began, earning him two minutes in the penalty box. Matthew laughed at him as the ref took him over. Auston wasn’t there for long, as Matthew scored the game-winning goal forty-some seconds into the penalty. You jumped up out of your seat with the rest of the girls cheering and screaming.

Even though they pulled the goalie, the Leafs couldn’t seem to find the back of the net before the buzzer sounded ending the game. You made your way down to wait outside the tunnel with the rest of the significant others. Most everyone was gone before Matthew finally came out, scooping you up in his arms. “Did you see that baby?”

“I saw Matty,” you told him, kissing him on the lips. “That goal was impressive.”

He finally set you back down on your feet. “No babe, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t let him get to me.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, he can’t get under my skin about you, when I get to be all over yours.” His hands slid under your sweater and inside your jeans to cup your ass. “Speaking of your skin…let’s go home so I can get you out of all these clothes and see you.”

You kissed him, long and languidly, before pulling back. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.” The two of you left the arena hands interlaced just as your bodies would be as soon as you got home.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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shoichee · 4 years

Text

is it alright if i request hcs for midorima introducing his shy g/n s/o to the team (maybe they’re his lucky item for the day? i cant see his tsundere self introducing them volutarily) and midorima is being soft with them cause they’re a bit scared of the team??

I HEAR YA LOUD AND CLEAR, A VERY CUTE REQUEST, i gotchu fam <3

@knb-kreations

Midorima x shy!Reader

[Headcanons]

as a reserved individual himself, Midorima is not one to broadcast his relationship out to everyone, and this sentiment is only stronger when he knows that you’re even more introverted than himself

even so, after dating for a substantial amount of time, he wants to include you into his life and potential dream career in basketball… and that would entail bringing you to meet his inner circle of his friends teammates

the only problem (and the reason why he’s held off in introducing you to them for so long) is that his teammates can be quite rowdy (and have some… unique quirks? but Midorima isn’t really one to talk)… especially that Takao Kazunari

still, he never felt like he had to introduce you to them right away… when the right opportunity will present himself, he’ll do it

besides, you don’t seem in any rush to meet them anytime soon from the way you’d rather prefer spending your time with Midorima alone

well, until one day, the Oha Asa predictions presented that opportunity:

“Today, Cancers are in a unique situation from the rest! It seems like their luck can be quite stagnant or off the charts depending if they have their lucky item for today! Ready to hear it, everyone?! Today’s lucky item for Cancers isn’t a standard one! It may differ for every Cancer, and that’s the beauty of fate!~ Cancers should bring along with them something that they cherish the most! But be careful…! Cancers should also take care in making sure nothing happens to their lucky item today!”

Midorima, in hearing the prediction from his TV, flinches out of surprise, mostly because the first thing that came to his mind after hearing “most cherished” was you

but alas, he’s going to follow fate down to a T, with no exceptions

when he approaches you early morning, he tells you with the straightest face:

“(y/n)-san, according to the Oha Asa, you’re my lucky item today.”

“U-U-Uh… um, is… is that a pick-up line?”

“Hmph! As if I would stoop myself down to Takao’s level. The Oha Asa predicted it so, and I will not take any chances today.”

“Um… what do I have to do then?”

Midorima softens his gaze at you and mumbles, “Nothing really. Just stay by my side for the entirety of today.”

thankfully, today was a Saturday, so at least school wouldn’t be an obstacle between the two of you being separated

so here you are, tagging along with Midorima to do some mundane trips around the neighborhood

Midorima please… this is literally just a date but he refuses to acknowledge it as such

he still had basketball practice that evening though, so by then, it was time for him to go to the gym to start warmups

… but wait, that would mean he’d have to bring you there too…

“Ahem… you…” Midorima clears his throat. “Do you mind just sitting on the benches inside? There’s no need for you to make conversation if you do not wish to do so.”

“O-Of course!” you exclaim. “I… I wanna see you play too… even if it’s just practice, I-I hope your teammates won’t mind?”

“Well I’ll make sure they’ll mind their own business.”

“Would I really bring good luck to you by just sitting and watching you, Shintarou…? It’s hard to believe that the Oha Asa said that I’m… supposedly lucky?”

“The Oha Asa is never wrong,” he says confidently. “Besides, I don’t see it anything but an advantage when I know you’ll be here to provide support in your own way. After all, you do make the most out of your capabilities and do your best, nanodayo…”

Midorima makes sure to enter the gym first, with you tailing behind and taking shelter behind his broad back

even despite that, nothing could prepare you for the chaos inside

a basketball FLEW to you and nearly killed you if it wasn’t for the fact that Midorima easily stopped the ball in its projection

“Fools! Are you ever careful in shooting?!”

“Ah shut it! Not everyone’s like you, Midorima!”

“If you have that much energy complaining, then you have the energy to start warming up, rookie.”

Midorima sighs in response to their comments, but you’re behind him peeking out a bit and then ducking behind his back again when you saw how intimidating they were

“Wh-Whoa!! Shin-chan brought someone over?!”

“What?”

“Where?!”

“The brat brought someone over?!”

Takao immediately skips over to him and you, curiously peeking to see who Midorima, the ever-so serious and hardworking dude, brought to practice; it’s very rare that he’d bring his own Teiko ex-teammates along, let alone anyone unrelated to basketball

“Oh! Aren’t you (y/n)-chan?” Takao asks, tilting his head with a childish wonder

“O-Oh, um…” you reply, darting your eyes to Midorima before continuing. “It’s nice to meet you… I’ve heard a lot about you from Shintarou, Takao-kun.”

Midorima turns red and denies it to his breath as he hounds on Takao as an outlet for his embarrassment

Miyaji and Ōtsubo are peeved but lowkey curious about why Midorima brought you here, so they ask… to which Midorima replies:

“(y/n)-san is my lucky item for today, nanodayo.”

“Captain, can I throw my family’s pineapples at him??”

“Shin-chan, I’d normally laugh, but did you just label a person as an object?” (to which Midorima immediately interjects, “A-Absolutely not!!”)

“Alright, you little shit, you 1st-years are really getting on my nerves right now…”

“W-W-Wait…!” you exclaim, slightly stepping out from behind Midorima’s back. “Please don’t be mad at him… I wanted to watch too…” but when everyone’s attention immediately shoots to you, you squeak and hide behind his back again

from the way you clutch onto Midorima’s shirt from behind, Midorima immediately turns around to you with a soft tone of voice

“Hey, come on now… they’re not bad people, nanodayo. You know I’ll be there by your side if anything happens, (y/n)...”

everyone’s REALLY quiet hearing how Midorima talks to you, and they’re like WTF???? WHERE DID THIS SIDE EVEN COME FROM….?

only when Takao blows a slow whistle to break the silence does everyone break into quiet snickers, ready to make fun of Midorima to death about it

as Midorima gives you a short pat on the head and turns to walk to put down his duffel, all of his teammates follow him to give him those “playful” hits and slaps on the back and arms LMAOO some may have actually knocked his spine out of his body though ngl

you’re just standing there timidly, not knowing what to exactly do next, and Miyaji notices you and approaches you

“Oy,” he says with his usual rough tone of voice. “If you really wanna watch, you can sit over there. Don’t be in the way though.” He points to the specific bench, but softens his usual Spartan-like, harsh frown just a tad bit when he sees you cowering a bit

“Sorry… uh, (l/n)-san, right? Take care of the idiot for us.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Midorima immediately stalks over to the two of you, knowing full well how… scary Miyaji can be, and Miyaji’s frown comes back

“Huh? Nothing for you to be concerned about, rookie.” Miyaji KICKS Midorima to the court to start doing shooting drills and then turns to you like nothing happened

“W-Wait, Shintarou…?”

“He’ll be fine,” he sighs, ruffling his hair. “If he does anything stupid, let one of us know, alright?”

“He’s been, um, good to me.”

and Miyaji gives a little smile for the first time as a stamp of approval, and then he goes back to practice while you lightly skip to the bench… that smile MAY have convinced you that Midorima’s team wasn’t so scary after all

“Sooooo....” Takao says, jabbing Midorima’s ribs. “Your lucky item, eh?”

irk marks appear on Midorima’s head as he prepares to strangle Takao, only to remember you were watching him

“Ahem… (y/n) is my lucky item, regardless of what day or prediction.”

“Eurghh, that’s so sappy, what the fuck—”

“Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Takao.”

the entire team = your personal bodyguards for REAL, and it’s almost scary how every single teammate uses their own “softer” side when talking to you directly like… Midorima is now kinda regretting that he introduced you to them so late? he didn’t know that his teammates would be THAT considerate to you

especially Takao… he’d say a bunch of jokes to get you to laugh but he’d know EXACTLY when to back off and let you chill out??

the upperclassmen would be very polite and soft spoken with you?? like they all have their own respective younger siblings, so they’d definitely treat you like one

Kimura always offers you to taste-test his family’s produce for free, free of charge, zilch, nada

Midorima wonders if they like you better than him (spoiler alert: of course they do)

to get under Midorima’s nerves while you aren’t around, they’d always go, “Bro, where’s your lucky item???” in referring to you LMAOOO (Takao is ESPECIALLY guilty of this)

#submission #kagummypack #knb x reader #knb #knb headcanons #knb headcanon #knb fic #knb fics #knb fluff #midorima x reader #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou x reader #kuroko no basket #shuutoku #shutoku basketball team

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days. I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

#my writing #nats journey into writing short stories based on 70s songs continues lmao

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oikadori · 4 years

Text

Curiosity killed the cat

Daishou’s little sister dating Kuroo

Kuroo Tetsuro x f!Reader

hcs for daishou finding out his little sister is dating kuroo? pls i think it'd be so funny sjxjwjsjw

For Anon ⇒ OMG this guy would literally lose it, he would feel so betrayed HAHAHA. I had fun writing this! Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy it ♡

WC~581

» Daishou would constantly ask you about your love life to make sure you aren’t dating some asshole » unfortunately, makes blunt and teasing questions dripping into your skin » “Sooo, who is the poor guy that is putting up with you?” » “SOO where is Mika-san?” » Falls dead silent as you swiftly stand of the couch with a cocky grin on your face » Nekoma’s captain never really asked if you had a brother and you didn’t think it was vital information??, but he knew you attended Nohebi » Eventually, you end talking about the volleyball team and when you tell him you know its captain and how annoying he is, Kuroo doesn’t miss the chance to trash talk him, which you find hilarious » “What is it with you, punk?” » You mumble a silent ‘sorry’ as you hug Daishou, still giggling – you loved this annoying dork anyways » Somehow, Daishou managed to convince you to replace their manager one day » “What am I supposed to do again?” “Just help us picking the balls up, it isn’t hard, is it?” » You brush his hand away from your head vigorously as his eyes narrow, a sly grin creeping on his lips » “Look at that, the kitty cats arrived” » You gulp harshly as you turn your head slowly, looking at Nekoma’s entrance across the gym, Kuroo raises an eyebrow in your direction before getting pushed by Yaku to their court » The warmup starts but you’re too focused peeking at Kuroo’ court, your eyes falling on every player, but the number 1 is nowhere to be seen and– » Naoyaso’s scream makes you stiffen, and you wait for the impact of the ball - but it never came - you open your eyes, finding a red uniform in front of you as both teams stay still » “Y/N, you never told me you were the team Manager or… Is it just an excuse to see me?” » “I-It’s not, I’m just a substitute. Don’t get cocky” » “Uh-oh, you should be more attentive, kitten, you seem distracted” » You gasp when your jacket’s neck is pulled back as Daishou steps in between you, Kuroo’s eyebrows furrow together, hand on his hip » “Excuse me? How the hell did you call my sister??” » “Sister?” » ‘Shit’ you move in front of your brother to reach your boyfriend, who is looking at you in confusion, your hand grabs his, an innocent smile on your face » “Dear brother, I present you my beloved boyfriend. Be nice, please!” » “Such a poor taste you have, sis. Him? Really?” » “There it is the poor snake, have anybody else dumped your sorry ass, yet? » “W-What?” » “Or are you still begging Mika-chan to take you back? – »“Don’t you both have a match idiots?” » Kuroo blinks as you cross your arms over your chest with a pout and smirks at you before placing his arm around your shoulder making Daishou clasp his fists » “Sorry kitten, see you tonight?” » Are you serious? in front of my salad?? » “Sure!” » He kisses your cheek before giving a slight nod at Nohebi’s captain with his signature grin » Daishou holds a deadpan expression on his face as he sees the middle blocker jogging off » “I can’t believe it, my own blood!! How could you??” » “Shut up Sugu, you asked me the whole week who I was dating, there you have it” » But seriously, he is lowkey relieved you are not dating some average loser » Deep, deep, deep inside he respects him » He won’t tell you that to the face, tho, so he questions all your life choices from now on

❀ Please reblog if you liked it! It helps creators so much!! ❀

Thanks for reading♡ !

↳ ∴ Master List ∴

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou #daishou suguru #daishō suguru #hq headcanons #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #cutiekawa writing #cutiekawa request #nohebi #nekoma #fluff #hq funny

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)

genre: fluff and angst

warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.8k

overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo

notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!

At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.

“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”

With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”

“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”

You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”

A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.

He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.

Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.

Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.

Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”

“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.

Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”

“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”

“You were always on the court!”

“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”

Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”

With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”

There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”

“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”

He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”

A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”

“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.

As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.

When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.

But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.

“Hmm?”

He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”

Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.

“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”

“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”

You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”

With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”

“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”

He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.

“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.

“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”

Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”

“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”

Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.

“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”

Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.

“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”

Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”

“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”

A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.

He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”

“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”

With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.

“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”

extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.

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#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #tw alcohol mention #fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi//wnf

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

Text

fuck, marry, kill

aos!leonard mccoy x female!reader, who’s a nurse on the starship enterprise.

word count: 5885

rating: explicit (workplace sex, at the end, for fun.)

part one of more than a game, you and me.

A silly game from your academy days gets interrupted, leaving you to think over how you really feel about the great Dr. McCoy.

“Goddammit, bastard, son of a fucking bitch,” you hissed, shaking your hand after yanking it back from the control panel next to your shower. It had the gall to shock you, one that rippled down your arm and almost made your other hand drop the towel you clung to for decency. Somehow the same steady hands that could wield a pair of hypodermics and a tricorder without thinking about it managed to break every other piece of equipment on the Enterprise.

A year since you got transferred, a year since the last major headache, and you had managed to build up a routine. Waking up to beta shifts until the six-month mark when you transferred to alpha shifts that gave you more to do without the headaches of fighting artificial daylight. Crew physicals and routine exams for viruses carried onboard from earth until all the crew had been cleared. Lunches six hours in, dinner six hours after that, followed by a jog, some yoga, a shower, and then… repeat.

It was a good routine. One that made you friends with other nurses in blue and engineers in red and a few on the captain track who came in more often because of their proximity to the action. You could now say “hello” to Sulu and “good morning” to Chekov and other niceties to a couple other officers. And they’d smile back, and all in all nothing was disrupted. Your routine kept you going.

But now, that routine was stopped in its tracks.

With a little huff, you shook your head. Fortunately for you, your connections through routine hypos and the occasional healing after a scuffle gave you one particularly good friend. One who was very good at fixing up the Enterprise in any state she was in. And because of your clumsiness and tendency to get shocked, that friend was simply a comm unit away. Decency first, of course.

“Y/N to Scotty.”

“Aye, lass, Scotty here.”

A sigh of relief that he wasn’t on break, or worse, sleeping. That’d been a bear you wouldn’t want to disturb more than once. Your fingers tapped away, allowing his voice to fill the room rather than sound tinny coming from the communicator and your hands to hunt for a shirt.

“Yeah, we’ve got a situation. My shower isn’t working?”

“Is that right,” the chief engineer replied, and you could tell by his voice that under the amusement there was distraction. Your problem was not the only one on his plate, then. Or at the very least, not his main focus.

“Yeah, that’s right. Shocked me, as a matter of fact, when I tried to get it going.”

“Mmm.” Make that a lot of distraction.

“Scotty?”

“Yeah, lass?”

“Can you come fix it?”

“Fix what?”

With a soft sigh you pulled your shirt over your head, shaking out your hair before pulling it up into something passable for company.

“My shower, Scott. Y’know, again, the one that shocked me. That’s not turning on. That shower.”

“Shocked you? Well, this is the first I’m hearing about it,” he scoffed, indignant, and your eyes went wide with disbelief before you heard his chuckle.

“Oh, so I’m the entertainment for this evening, then,” you muttered with a scowl, scrounging around for the pants you just had on and the regulation zip-up you could walk around the halls in.

“Of course, Y/L/N,” he retorted. “I was wondering when the next time you’d call was. After all, it’s been, what, almost a week since our last incident with the replicator, hasn’t it been?”

“Two weeks, thank you,” you snapped, the pants snatched off the floor and shaken out with a vengeance. One foot began making its way inside the leg of the pants, the other hopping on the floor. “Monty, please, I just got off shift, I’m tired, and I’m sweaty, and there were three cases of Takarian bronchiolitis that we had to treat with airborne precautions. Never mind next week’s also Christine’s birthday, who I love with all of my heart but the party I got roped into planning for, of fucking – agh!”

“Y/N!”

Bouncing on one leg could only last for so long, of course. Your head thankfully did not contact anything with a hard surface. Your ass, however, got the brunt of the blow, specifically your tailbone.

“Y/N?”

When you groaned, you heard the relief, as well as the stifled laughter.

“Can you just please come fix my shower? I think there’s an analgesic hypo with my name on it back in the med bay.”

Of course, you weren’t one to completely bypass the rules. The Enterprise had enough of that in places other than the medical unit, and your chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy, was a stickler for right and wrong and lines that shouldn’t be crossed. So, your hypodermic needle was checked out by Christine, administered by her, and all logged and dated with a note about the situation. And, because your appointment didn’t technically end for another fifteen minutes, there was enough time for a little bit of gossip.

Your type of news always was the kind of shit that got the whole crew talking. The next adventure, who was sleeping with who, the drama that came out of confessions when the ship was falling apart. Anything to work through the monotony. But Christine’s favorite topic was almost always you, much to your chagrin.

“You know I don’t have a love life,” you said with a roll of your eyes, sitting up on the biobed and letting your feet dangle off of the edge. “That hasn’t changed in the three days since you asked me last.”

“I do know you’re at the very least no fun about it,” she responded with an eye roll, fingers tracing over your vitals the bed collected and reported. “There’s hundreds of people on this ship, and you’re telling me that none of them catch your eye? What about the chief engineer?”

Immediately your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the laugh that left you. “Scotty? No. No, no, we’re just friends, aggressively friends. He keeps me around because I’m the only one who gives him stuff to do during the night shifts. Without me breaking lightbulbs it’d be too dull.”

Of course, her eyebrow crept up in suspicion, but when your gaze held steady, she dropped her eyes, waving a hand like the idea was preposterous anyway.

“All right. So, no Scotty. Any ensigns?”

“No.”

“Lieutenants?”

“No.”

“Cadets?”

“Oh, my god, Christine,” you gasped out with a laugh, jumping off of the biobed, smacking her on the arm. “Stop it.” Your eyes glanced around the med bay, but just like every beta shift began, it was pretty damn quiet. Not a soul in sight besides the two of you. “There’s no one.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” she sighed, pushing off of the wall to meet you nose to nose. “But there’s gotta be someone who at least catches your eye, right?”

“Chris…”

“Someone on this ship you’d be willing to fuck – “

“No, we’re not – “

“- marry, maybe – “

“Christine, I swear to god – “

“- or kill?”

Again, your eyes darted around, but at that point the game had been called. A throwback to your time in the academy, when your classmates would find the local bars and a booth to heckle each other in. When passersby would be unknowingly subjected to a game based on nothing but good fun, and usually a whole lot of booze.

Simple premise. Three names called out. Each gets a label, and the rounds continue until the players decide they’ve had enough. Called anywhere, at any time, and Christine had thrown the gauntlet.

“You’re on duty,” you pointed out, but you leaned back on the biobed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if there’s a patient I’ll tend to them. But you’ve got nowhere to be, and if I have a say we’re finding someone on this ship for you,” she pointed out, before swiping your scans away from the vicinity and joining you on the bed. “Three rounds. I bet you I can do it in three rounds.”

With an eye roll you proceeded to glare at her, but her grin did not budge once, and with a sigh you just nodded.

“Perfect. Why don’t we start with a throwback? Old classmates? Harrison, Twyla, and Betty.”

Your smile crept up on your face, and without a second thought you rattled it off. “Fuck Twyla, marry Harrison, kill Betty. Obviously.” Considering that two of the three weren’t even on the ship, you knew that it was more a warmup than anything. Lots of pretty people at the Starfleet Academy.

“All right. And then… oh, what about the bridge crew?”

“Christine,” you groaned, hand smacking over your face. “We’re in public.”

“There’s no one here, and you can’t chicken out of the second round! Look, we’ll do… Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, and Ensign Chekov.”

Your jaw clenched. Forget about saying hi to Sulu ever again.

“I would… I would…”

“C’mon. You can say it, Y/N.”

“Fine, fine!” But you couldn’t help your laughter as you shoved Christine’s arm again. “I would… I would fuck Uhura, marry Sulu, and – “

“And kill Chekov? He’s got a baby face! You’re gonna kill him where he stands!”

“Christine, this is not real life,” you reminded her with a hiss, shaking your head before beginning to walk towards the door. “I’m leaving before I end up having to resign.”

“Oh, no! We’ve got one more go.”

“I’m walking. My tailbone doesn’t even hurt anymore. The miracle of modern medicine.”

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“Captain Kirk.”

“No, Christine.”

“Commander Spock.”

“Stop!”

“And Dr. Mccoy!”

“What about me?”

Your heart stopped.

“Nurse Y/L/N, is that right?” Dr. McCoy, the man himself, stated, raising a brow as he moved into the med bay, boxes stacked up in his hand. Christine did the smart thing, moving forward to help the doctor carry them inside, but your feet were cemented to the floor, mouth a little agape, color flooding your cheeks.

“Y-Yes! Hello, sir, I was just – uh, I was just –“ you stammered, turning to follow them both with your eyes as their load was dropped on one of the biobeds. “Well. I was just leaving, really.”

“She had an appointment,” Christine offered, her best and most polite smile on for your shared boss, who seemed too tired to do more than nod. “And we were just discussing… shifts?”

“Shifts.” Again, Dr. McCoy’s brow raised, and with skilled fingers he reached to slide them along the seam, a hiss sounding out as they opened up, bearing unloaded hypodermics, some bandaging supplies.

“Shifts.” Your voice was weak as you confirmed it, but while his eyes were down Christine gave you a subtle nod, winking even as you scowled at her. “You see, I was just – I was just wondering if I could take the beta shift next week, and… well. That’s a change I need you to sign off on. Dr. M’Benga and dr. Olson didn’t have a preference when I asked them.”

“Uh-huh,” was the gruff response, and as his fingers reached up to scratch at his chin, something like amusement seemed to play in his eyes. Although, thinking about it, you reasoned it was probably just the exhaustion and the lights in the med bay you saw instead. “So, you scheduled an appointment with Christine and my medbay, takin’ up one of the biobeds here, to talk about shift changes?”

“No. No, no, it wasn’t just about that,” you got out, more heat rising to your cheeks, and thankfully your feet were moving backwards, towards the door, as their hands slid into gloves and prepped the new cargo for treatment.

“She… took a spill in her quarters. Needed an analgesic. I did a scan to make sure it wasn’t anything more than a bruised tailbone and then gave her a dose of lidocaine for the area and acetaminophen for the pain.” Of course, Christine could chime in, sounding composed, while you had just managed to regain motor functioning.

“I see,” McCoy responded, and there was a brief moment where you were sure he was gonna call your bluff. You didn’t even remember right away that there was a hypo-stick in the first place, and the lidocaine definitely did not happen, right? But then, something, almost like a smirk washed over his features. They relaxed, and those eyes lit up again, deep and dark and warm. It was like taking a shot of whiskey, the sour leaving behind something that made your breath catch.

“You know you could just say you fell on your ass, Nurse Y/L/N.”

The stories about Dr. McCoy in a nutshell. No southern charm, just a sweet Georgian gut punch. Humor hiding in the comment, of course, but at that point your embarrassment made it taste pretty damn bitter.

Thankfully, though, the moment was gone. The smirk vanished, the exhaustion seemed to settle over him like a blanket, and his eyes glanced toward you once again before shrugging. “beta shift works for me. Just don’t let it screw with your head too much and find someone who’s willing to trade.”

“That’s… yes. Well - good night, sir,” you got out, biting your lower lip, bowing your head before shooting another glare at Christine. “Good night, Nurse Chapel, and I’ll see you both… when I see you.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Christine called out, and the good doctor managed a hum of acknowledgement, his attention already pulled away from your retreating form. And if there was a second glance at you, it was nothing more than confirmation that the night was back to peace and quiet.

“I am never going to recover from this.”

“Mmm,” Scotty ground out, his arm elbow deep into the guts of the Enterprise.

“I mean it, Monty!” You cried out, back flat on your bed, arm thrown across your face but leaving your mouth wide open to complain. “Jesus Christ and now I’ve gotten myself roped into beta shifts, ready to be bored out of my skull for a whole damn week. He thinks I’m an idiot. An idiot and insane!”

“D’you think?” Was the reply, but the lack of attention didn’t bother you one bit. You were barely paying attention.

No, your head was running wild, with the fear that the greatest job you had, the job you were best at, was now at risk because of some dumb game you played with Christine. What if Dr. McCoy had heard all of it? What if he had just walked in because he had heard enough, and then you’d get called into his office, not a smirk in sight, and request your resignation? Could he do that? Off of a conversation?

“Y/N!” Scotty called out, and that’s what finally broke your spiral downward, your body shooting up to a sitting position, looking up to see Scotty staring out of the bathroom at you. Your water was running, you could hear it, and Scott was grinning from ear to ear, some kind of tool tucked behind his ear.

“All fixed,” he crowed with joy, brushing his hands off on his uniform. When he leaned on the doorway, his eyes were gazing around the rest of the place, as if it was just waiting to break on him, too. “computer, shut down the shower. Now, what were you saying, lassie? Somethin’ about our chief medical officer, yes?”

And as Scott smiled at you, no recognition of your crisis in him, you just smiled back, standing up to give him a hug. Even without saying anything, he had the best ideas.

“Nothing, Monty. Thanks for the fix.”

He was hustled out a few moments later, after a playful argument taking bets on what piece of machinery in this poor room would fall apart next (he was a fan of the faulty replicator, but you had a gut feeling it’d be the temperature control). But soon he was out of the room, and you knew that ignoring the whole thing would be the best option.

Except with Christine, ignorance was never an option for bliss. When your padd beeped, and then your communicator, you were forced to answer the message, looking to see a little smiley face emoticon with a message that left your heart falling to the floor.

“Your answer? :)”

Your answer? For the game? After all of that and Christine had the gall? But you could see her smile, even from this far, a smile that made you smirk.

But they were the rules, and so the question was left in your head. What was your answer? What were the options?

You thought about it as you started to get ready for bed, t-shirt set on the counter in the bathroom, hot shower started. Your hair was put up before you stripped, your face splashed with water and a towel as steam began to fill the room.

“Captain Kirk.” No personal experience with him, but you, like everyone on the ship, had seen him around. Had heard the legends. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t seem stricken by the love bug when it came to him, blond hair perfect, smile bright, blue eyes startlingly, well, blue. Friendly, quick, brave. He was the perfect man. But not everyone knew Christine. Christine, who’d had the lovely interaction with Cadet Kirk, at the time, who ended up kicking him out of your shared dorm room after a bad argument gone bad. The air was cleared enough that he managed to get polite smiles from her, but after that captain kirk never had the appeal. He was a playboy. His nature, his right, you supposed. But not for you.

“Commander Spock.” Tall, handsome. But very Vulcan, and very taken. Now, you knew he had to have some kind of sweet side, and there was something, you guessed, about the confidence that his reliance on logic seemed to convey. After all, you’d heard him lecture a few times, and if you were honest that would’ve been when you were most attracted to him – using his knowledge and logic and proud spirit to lead others on the path toward serving the federation. But there was only so far that logic and a lack of emotion could go, and even though you’d heard of outbursts occurring where his emotion made their mark? No. Arguments aplenty.

And who did that leave?

“Dr. McCoy.”

At that point, you still hadn’t entered the shower, and the computer was telling you that the water was about to automatically turn off to preserve the function of the ship’s supply, but your head was no longer in your bedtime ritual, instead thinking about the mysterious Dr. Mccoy, the infamous Dr. McCoy.

The Dr. McCoy that made nurses cry every so often from his outbursts – never violent but fierce, always due to the protectiveness he had for his patients. The Dr. McCoy who was a doctor before he even became a cadet, with enough knowledge to fill a few books. The Dr. McCoy who had smirked at you with those dark and deep eyes, brown and full with some kind of life as he... Well, teased, southern accent lilting just a bit, maybe? That Dr. McCoy? The Dr. McCoy who saved lives and healed and always, always, always fought for more healthcare, for more hypos, for more protections for the nurses who somehow, even in the 24th century, managed to get pushed to the wayside?

When you stepped in the shower, it took a second for your fingers to bang at the control panel, your legs held together, and with a quick setting manipulation the steam quickly cleared, the water’s temperature dropping to ice cold. You were in, and you were out, but by the time you had dressed and brushed your teeth color had crept on your cheeks again.

All you could see were those eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Ah, Nurse Y/L/N,” the doctor said, eyes barely looking up from the singed hands of the red-shirt in front of him. “I need dermatological regen started here and a full body scan initiated on the biobed two over.”

Like nothing had even happened. Like your nightmare interaction two weeks ago hadn’t resulted in you unintentionally taking night shifts, resulting in a fucked up circadian rhythm and bags under your eyes, not to mention hours bored out of your skull.

Christine wasn’t here, and for once you were grateful. The last thing you needed was her eyes on you as you maneuvered around the doctor for a new shift while exhaustion lingered in the back of your mind. But it also meant that there was no one to offer a united front. Just you.

“Nurse Y/L/N?”

And you just spent the past minute mulling all of that in your mind. Making yourself look like a dumbass in front of the doc and his patient. The patient hadn’t noticed, staring at his own hands in horror, but Dr. McCoy seemed like he was regretting letting you back on to handle days.

Shit.

“You got it, doc,” you managed with a kind smile at the engineer, whose face you could now see as you walked past him toward the wall. Your hands expertly manipulated to storage system, and with the tricorder kept at your waist you gathered the necessities.

The great thing – you were damn good at what you did. Especially when you could focus on it. Your face was bright, uniform neat (until it wasn’t due to fluids of some kind), and your hands were steady. And no complicated patients came in that day, especially since no away missions were sent out and nothing malfunctioned horribly deep within the ship’s bowels.

And yet, no matter what you did, no matter how competent you showed you were, no matter how many laughs or smiles or even nods from the most stubborn of usual patients? Eyes were on you. Dark, deep eyes. The whole day, no matter where you went, a furrowed brow and focused tailed you, watching your interactions.

All in all, a good day. A great day, even, as you injected your last hypo and the padd reported a normal set of vitals, no reaction to the medication after fifteen minutes.

The shift was over, now. It was a good shift, one that required no personal defense. You gave report to the next nurse, said goodbye to the others on-duty. Your jacket put on, your hair pulled down and back up after the frizz of the day had ruined it. Nothing really to note.

So why did the doctor not let you out of his sight?

The rest of the week, the same routine. The flow you had gotten into on alpha shifts returned, and your week of off nights was left behind in favor of much better mornings. Back on track, the same old, same old. And yet with every shift there was a new weight, those eyes on you. It felt like if he wasn’t tending to a patient, and he wasn’t in his office in the back of the bay, he was watching you. Critical of every injection and admission. You were starting to go a little crazy with it, your mind going a million miles an hour, second guessing the simplest stuff just so you wouldn’t fuck up in front of the CMO.

But after a while, the fear of failure turned into anger.

What right did the doctor have to analyze like that? You were a great nurse! You treated your patients and coworkers fairly, with respect and compassion. What was there to complain about? You knew your shit, and here was McCoy, looking like the Enterprise regretted your assignment there in the first place. By the end of the week, that anger had built up, and once the weekend rolled around, and your two off days in a row loomed, you decided you were done.

“Is there something on my uniform, Dr. McCoy?” You asked, terse as you organized the vaccine cart, the new year meaning new yearly injections to follow up on.

His fingers had been steadily scrolling through files of crew members, but their nimble work paused at your question. His eyes had taken a break from tearing you apart, but now they were focused on you once again.

“Excuse me, Nurse Y/L/N?” He asked, his face looking almost pinched.

“I was just wondering if there was something on my uniform. Or in my teeth, perhaps. Something in my hair, maybe, too.” Your hands kept chugging along, automatically rearranging the colored liquids, but there was a tightness you couldn’t shake, a tension.

“Something in your hair?” The doctor repeated, and at his tone, somewhat amused, you finally turned to face him, your brow raised in a mimic of his.

“Well, there’s gotta be something, considering that you haven’t gone five minutes without staring at me like I’m your least favorite sight in the world. So, what is it? Uniform out of regs? Did I administer a medication wrong? Did a patient complain?”

At that point, the amusement had turned to indignation, maybe even anger. His jaw was clenched, and the padd in his hands had been abandoned on the desk in favor of crossed arms over his chest.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, nurse,” he ground out, eyes flicking around the med bay. But there was no one to look at. No one to distract or overhear.

You couldn’t help your laugh. “Oh, I think you do,” you snapped, and almost mocking him, your arms crossed as well, a hip cocked, your eyes like daggers. “Ever since I came back on alpha shift, you’ve been doing all you can to catch me in a fuck-up. Well, it’s not happening! I’m damn good at what I do, and no amount of posturing, even from the CMO, would ever change that!”

His scoff was hard, arms uncrossing so a hand could pull through his hair in disbelief. “darlin’,” he said, slowly, as if you were dense, “There’s no posturing going on. Your abilities aren’t being doubted. Hell, I don’t even know your first name. Whatever story you’ve got going on in your head? It’s a story!”

His frustration showed through his accent, a southern drawl that got thicker as his sentences rambled on. But that couldn’t distract you from calling him out on his bullshit, no matter his position.

“I’m not senile,” you huffed, eyes rolling hard, and your steps closer were unconscious, crowding him against the desk he was leaning on now. “And I’m definitely not blind. So, tell me what your problem is with me, so I can go back to focusing on my job, and you can go back to focusing on yours!”

“There’s no damn problem!” His voice was almost a yell now, but you had no fear, and you sure as hell weren’t backing down. “It’s nothing. Hell, there isn’t anything to be nothing.”

And then it clicked, it clicked, as you stared into brown eyes that wavered for a second, that scanned you top to bottom in a split second. A break, a tell, whatever it was, the pieces were put together, and you stood tall, not letting his height on you intimidate.

“You overheard me and Christine, didn’t you?” It was low. “Is that what it is?”

“Overheard.” The clench in his jaw hadn’t loosened, but you watched that brow tick upwards again, his arms uncrossing so his hands could rest on the desk.

“When you walked in on us, last week,” you clarified. “You overheard our game.”

The anger was gone now. Now that everything had slotted into place, you weren’t angry. A little bit embarrassed maybe, but not angry. Frustration felt like it was leaking out of you, but the tension wasn’t gone. The standoff wasn’t broken. And after all of what, you had just yelled at your superior officer.

“Dr. McCoy,” you started, uncrossing your arms, and holding them up to offer a truce. “I apologize. For yelling. That… well, it shouldn’t have been my first move. But. I can explain, if you want me to.”

There was no verbal reply, but his exasperation came through with a huff, and he simply lifted a hand, gesturing for you to go on.

“It’s just a game we’ve played since the academy. It was inappropriate to play while Christine was on shift. I apologize for that as well,” you told him pulling back to glance once more at the sliding doors, which mercifully stayed closed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Just a game,” he repeated, and at first you didn’t catch the shift in his tone. Didn’t connect it with the glance toward the doors, or the way he stood from the desk, so that you were almost close enough to brush against him. “Just a game… using the names of your captain, commander, and chief medical officer?”

“Yes,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for that, as well, that definitely won’t be happening again.”

“A game talkin’ about who you’d rather have in your bed.”

Your eyes shot back to him, color flooding your cheeks.

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Well, that’s the game, isn’t it?” He said with a shrug, and as he leaned forward you could feel your breath catch in your throat, looking up into a face you imagined in your own quarters in the dead of night, as you let steaming water hit your skin. His jaw wasn’t clenched anymore, and his voice was a low rumble.

It wasn’t a threat. But it gave you goosebumps all the same, that the bass of his words, and you managed to nod, swallowing even as you kept your chin lifted.

“That’s the game. Is there a problem?”

And God, there was that smirk. Warm like whisky, it made your hands clench, your legs shift as that warmth rushed through you.

“No problem at all,” he hummed, and as he leaned close those lips brushed past your cheek. You could smell his cologne now, spice flooding your nose, the antiseptic of the day fading away. The chill in the air that always seemed to linger was gone, nothing but heat on your mind. Right in your ear you heard him, after a low chuckle that made you want to scream, beg him to get on with it. “I guess I’ve just been wondering what you would’ve answered, had I not… interrupted.”

Lunchtimes were surely coming to an end. Any second a patient could come in, could see the both of you crowded against the desk and know exactly why the whole place felt like an oven. But something possessed you, then, to bring one of your hands to his shoulder, the other to his hip, and lean just as close, almost pushing up on your toes to whisper right back.

“Give you one guess.”

Matches. That’s what that kiss felt like, a box of matches all lighting at once – the spark and the flash and explosion of heat as Dr. McCoy pulled back just enough to press his lips against yours. Nothing gentle, nothing kind, just a ferocity that made you moan against his mouth. His hands, broad and hot, began to roam on your back, settling just enough to pull you ever closer, so that your bodies were flush against each other. Your hand ended up twisted in his hair, the other fisted in his shirt. And just like matches, it was the start of a fire, one that had you both stumbling towards his office, the door sliding behind you with a quiet hiss.

“You were teasing me,” he ground out, directing you between kisses until the back of your thighs were against his desk. His hands gripped you then, around the waist, lifting you so you could sit. “And you didn’t even know it. Your voice over and over in my head, thinking about how it’d sound with my name.”

“So, you stare at my ass instead of asking me, hmm? What a southern gentleman,” you laughed, and for that you got teeth against your neck, a hand shoving your skirt up. The tips of his fingers seemed to skate over your skin, tickling your inner thigh. But those slow circles never quite got where you wanted, just left burning trails in their wake. “Talk about teasing.”

“At’s what you get for having a smart mouth,” he chuckled, face still against your neck. But soon he was back to kissing you, making your head spin.

“That I know how to use,” you shot back, once again between presses of lips and gasps of air. “I’m – I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Never said you were,” he purred, and this time both hands lifted your skirt high, reaching for the panties that did a poor job of hiding anything. “But why don’t you let me use my mouth first?”

“What an offer.” One you certainly wouldn’t refuse, especially since he looked hungry for it, for you.

There was a brief moment’s hesitation, his finger curled around the elastic and so close to ripping them off. But while his body was begging for it, his pants more than a little tight, his eyes met yours.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, his tongue running along his lips as he got to his knees.

Your gaze didn’t waver, a grin coming over you. “That’s a fucking yes, sir.”

His grin matched yours, sharp and wily as he rid you of your underwear, hands on your knees so he could pull them apart. You were bare to the cool air, and your teeth caught your lower lip as he leaned forward with a hot gasp on your inner thigh.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

The first thing you felt was the swipe of his tongue, a furious push against where you were wettest. A taste, almost, before he licked a line through your folds until his mouth enveloped your clit. You were swollen, desperate for it, and your gasp was thick as fingers once again tangled in his hair. If you said anything, it was a “please,” a “yes,” a “god, right there” as he worked.

He took you apart with his mouth, no hesitation as his tongue worked you over, swirling around your clit as a finger began to tease your entrance. It was with a gasp you came, his hand spreading you open with two fingers inside of you, and when you were able to see straight you saw that grin again, his chin wet, his lips red.

“Holy shit, Doc,” you huffed, your hand falling from his hair to his chin, thumb swiping across the mess and bringing it up to your mouth so you could get a taste of yourself. He did you one better, leaning forward to kiss you again, and the taste of him and you made you smile.

“Leonard.”

“Leonard,” you repeated, and when you pulled back his smile was softer. Almost… vulnerable. “Suits you.”

“Well, I hope so,” he laughed. “It is my name.”

“And it’s my turn,” you pointed out, reaching for his waistband. “I think you should move to the chair.”

#reader-insert #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #christine chapel #montgomery scott #scotty #bones #fanfic #my fic #star trek: aos

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