#when i say first draft i mean like i am currently throwing words at this exact word document like this needs to be read with HUGE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aestheticaashes · 1 year

Note

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(i'm so sorry i know this is like so many asks shjdfgs, you can ignore this entirely if you want haha) (this is mostlycyanide but thats an alt soo)

do not apologize to me dude i am so fucking stoked to have so many asks to answer

i did throw the answers under a readmore though because much like dave and dirk i am incapable of shutting the fuck up

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

Generally I write in Bitter. I set it as my default years and years ago lol, but some things get written in different fonts if I'm feeling funky! Time and Healing in particular is written in Arial.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

I absolutely could and often do if I need a break from the keyboard/monitor. A) No I am not a wizard (unfortunate) and B) it depends on what I have on hand! I like pens for first drafts because I'm not worried about editing.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

I don't really have a ritual, per se? And that in and of itself is probably cursed as hell by virtue of pure What The Fuck. I do like to have some ambient sounds playing and maybe music or a podcast, and I definitely write better when I do have those things, but I don't need them so it's not really a ritual.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Okay, so, see, thing is, I am a smut author at heart. I love writing character studies and heart-rendingly emotional shit and horrifyingly morally reprehensible shit, but mostly I like to write porn. I want you to know this before I say this:

I go feral over the word "easy". In ways I cannot explain but can sort of be understood based on the fact I write a fuckton of smut. Just. "Easy." God.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

If you don't share the WIP it will die a painful death. If you DO share the WIP it will die a painful death. You must find a balance. You gotta share it with the right audience and make sure not to over-share it. This is true because every time I have gotten overzealous and shared too much of a WIP, it never got finished. It's not a superstition if there's empirical evidence.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Dialogue. I've done it before and it usually works out okay - I have this awful habit of getting too far into the characters' head, anyway, so if I don't have to worry about actual dialogue while I write what they're thinking and feeling and what's happening around them, then everything works out swimmingly.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Yes. God, yes. So many pieces of writing have haunted me. My own writing haunts me constantly.

If it lives in my head rent free for longer than 24 hours, and pieces of it crop back up in my head or permanently change how I think about something, that's a piece of writing that haunts me. I read a piece of writing when I was like 11 that contained a phrase that was something to the effect of, "Oh, how sweet. If I had a heart, I would cry." and I have never stopped thinking about it.

I read a fic series (twice) recently that has now permanently added the phrases 'shit-scared' and 'warm for his form' to my vocabulary.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

I honestly own so few physical copies of books that. Like. I'm so used to books belonging to someone else, a friend or the library, that I'm shit-scared to damage them at all. The books I own I try my hardest to keep in perfect condition. I can't bear to write in the margins, or dog-ear pages. I don't read in the bath solely because when I'm in the bath I am trying to become one with the water. I don't judge anyone who does these things, though, because it's just another way to show appreciation for the books :]

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

Slice of cheese. (For like 30 seconds).

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

This could be a post all by itself, don't tempt me. God. Fuck. I am so painfully abnormal about Time and Healing. There is so much going on in this universe that I don't know if I'll get to explore. The tale of Mr. Snyder and his fuckwit self. Little details about how Bro raised Dave that line uncomfortably up with how his dad raised him, and little details Dave remembers that Bro can't that mean so much to him. Fuck. Goddamit. Don't do this to me man I could go on about this for weeks.

(I will make a post about this.)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

' You stare at the doorknob for so long that Bro actually knocks again. "Dave?" You hear him ask, and his voice doesn't sound any different than how you remember it. Toneless, deep, and even that single word has the twinge fo his accent. You pull in as silent a breath as you can. Hold it. Breathe it out slow. Lift your hand and unlock the door, then pull it open. You keep your face carefully blank, suppress the low blood sugar tremors, and lean casually against the door frame, like you didn't flee into here with your tail between your legs to hide three days ago. "Sup?" You ask, without lifting a brow or letting the emotionless mask break at all. '

So. This passage. There has been a form of it in existence since long before Time and Healing became a fuckin' thing. We're talking since like 2014. This passage's original form came from an unfinished fic I started in 2014 called Late Night Bro Time, which was like. A mess of a oneshot (that I never finished) that was supposed to deal with post-SBURB Dave trying to come to terms with Bro being alive again and all the trauma he has around Bro having died.

In the end, though Time and Healing as a whole is based on that oneshot, this is the only thing from the original that sort of made it properly in. In the original it was more Dave agonizing over the idea of talking to Bro and having a hard time convincing himself to let him in. And now, well...

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I started writing when I was pretty young. I couldn't tell you when, exactly, although my first actual memories of writing stories are when I was 8 or 9. I think I mostly started because it was an easier way to get ideas out of my head than walking around telling myself stories and getting stared at like a freak for talking out loud to myself.

In terms of bumps along the way, dear fucking lord have there been bumps. There have been so many bumps. All of the bumps. Between getting a shitty comment here and there or going through a severely fucked-up situation (the pandemic or my first real psychotic episode, for example), there have been times in my life where I just don't write anything at all, or I feel like there's no point in me doing it.

Where am I now? Well, I'm in a place where I'm happy if I don't write, and I'm having fun when I do. I don't feel any pressure to finish shit, which makes it easier to make myself finish shit - but because I don't feel that pressure, I can follow my motivation wherever it wanders to. If I want to hyperfixate on a random idea for four days and bang out 40K on it, then never touch it again, that's fine. And as for where I'm going, I'm hoping that one day I'll reach a point where I literally only do this because it's fun, and not because I care if people give me feedback.

(I am not at that point yet. Please continue giving me feedback. I eat it. It sustains me.)

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Now, see, here's a difficult one. I don't write in one specific place, and since I just quit my job I'm now spending more of my time writing in random places at home.

Lately, though, I write laying in bed. The room is usually comfortably cool, although right now it's hot as balls while my ac works overtime trying to fight the 93 degree weather outside. I've got a body pillow I use as the base for other pillows, and I tend to use stuffies to prop myself up against the wall - right now, I've got a minecraft glowsquid plush doing the hard work of holding up my bigass head. My husband's sprawled out next to me playing games, taking up half the bed while I squeeze into a comfortable little spot on the other side. Next to me there's a 44oz fountain drink I didn't finish, which is about as normal an addition to the scene as the bed itself is. The whole room is messy as hell: clothes on the floor, about half a dozen half-empty water bottles I never threw away, notebooks scattered on every available surface. I'm sweating to death, but here I am answering asks and trying to bang out some words on a couple of wips anyway.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

My dreams don't play a massive role in my writing life. I have used dream material to write from, but I so rarely have dreams I remember in any detail that there's little point trying. The dreams I do remember are usually some manner of sleep paralysis induced night terror, which don't make for great writing. I don't think I've ever written in a dream, but chances are that I have and just have no memory of doing it!

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

You Lovely Fucking People You,

You have no clue how much it means to me that you're reading my stories. I have poured my soul into these things just for the sake of making them but nothing makes me happier than to share them. To know other people enjoy them. Every comment and kudo I get fuels me for days on end, and I probably wouldn't be so obsessed with my own writing if y'all hadn't decided to let me know how much you liked it.

You keep me going and I appreciate you all so much

Love,

Rhys.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I have. So many of these that they all fled my mind the moment I tried to answer. I'll get back to you on this one.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I do draw from time to time, and on occasion I've made music! Generally both of those artistic hobbies are entirely separate from my writing, but some of my best work in both has come from making things for my writing! I made an entire 10-song soundtrack for one of my fics once and it is, to date, the best music I have ever made.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

If you have read my writing, then surely you must, at least a little bit, have an understanding of how much I love the Oxford comma, seeing as I am incapable of shutting the fuck up and letting a sentence stop, and the Oxford comma makes it so simple, so easy, to keep a sentence going long past where it needed to end.

This is both my answer and an example.

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

I Know a stupid amount of useless crime scene investigation techniques, a fuckton about drugs, a weird amount of things about kink, and what it's like to have a full-fledged mental breakdown complete with hysterical crying and laughter (often at the same time).

Convenient, given I write a lot of shit about crimes, drugs, kink, and mental breakdowns.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Ok so I don't read much poetry. But. I do have. An original poem. And it is sappy as hell ok don't look at me just take this except take it before i get the vapors

If love is meant to be forever, Then my forever is with you. And through any kind of weather, That much will still be true. There are no words to impart All of the reasons why You are precious to me. You have all of my heart.

-from "Home", by me.

#answered asks #rhysie.txt #weird asks for writers post

3 notes · View notes

blocksruinedme · 2 years

Text

SMALLETHO WEEK STATUS: PENULTIMATE REPORT

(please let this be penultimate report)

Okay I have 11 hours to get these out in saturday my time zone and i am going to do it, or i'll take my me off and throw me in the lake (it's right there down the street I'll do it.)

You'd think they'd be done by now. You'd think given how many days ago they were first "basically drafted" they'd be done right now. But noooo, some bitch (me) decided the fic "deserve more" and there are scenes "they really need" and like fine yes I still agree but why can't they just be done.

Red Life fic:

the first three sections are about incidents after turning red than made etho go "huh" about joel. they serve their purpose, but currently exist mostly in the form i scrawled down on the back of another fic in my car after the dentist. I could def describe things more, add a little more reflection about their place in the double life ecosystem as they start murdering and burning

gotta make good kiss at end, and the last bits of lead in, and the little bit after

the main issues here is that i gotta go rewatch DL ep 4 from multiple POVs. at minimum i need pearl's pov of dying, and maybe check for some other people's reactions to joel's shit that are not in smalletho vids but in universe they would have heard. (if only i could shove knowledge of every traffic episode fully into my head, sigh. so much content.

so that's not too bad!

fuck me there's 36 [] around words i don't like/phrases that need to be replaced/etc. fml fml fml

LARPer au morning after fic

apparently i'm adding all this backstory, which means i got to take it out o the author's notes, which i hope will make it more appealing. it's mostly about the party that this is morning after, but it's joel pov and *very* focused on getting laid, he's kinda aware that a lot of shit went down for pretty much everyone else

i want to add a very quick awkward bit with joel asking jimmy about the party the night before, currently he's totally succeeding at making joel (who is very distracted) think he's fine. and it's not gonna get explained in this story, but i'm not setting up a giant mystery, it's just more of "joel missed some shit last night". if that upsets people... i'm sorry! i'm actually very new t writing fic but it feels fine? it's a 5k story, alluding to the rest of the world seems fine

then it's just, fuck holding my breath... 40 sets of []. many many many of them, when i have people look at them, they say "that's fine", and it's just me at "will i have a time to struggle for a synonym/rephrasing

Dear everyone who compliments my writing skill (which i love, keep on doing it)

i hope you are not comparing yourself to me. here's some reasons why i probably have a leg (several legs?) up on you

i am very old and have been writing in one way or another possibly since before you could write.

I legit used to teach sat prep in writing, i have been trained in this and made money on it

if you live like i do, when you are my age you will also have a pretty big vocabulary

i usually edit a lot. I get beta, i throw problem sentences and such at friends, i've gotten proofreading from actual professionals. If i published most of my first drafts, well. I might not get as many "well written" compliments (though i think my plot and characterization would be similar levels of quality, my voices not so much - i have google docs for the way people talks and go through my dialogue looking for places to change things. it's actually great. i could share it?)

it's wild that what is my most popular fic by 3x is the one that went from thought of to posted in <12 hours and thus had only quick editing. so, it's not alway from editing

i just never want anyone who doesn't have those things to compare themself negatively to me, y'know? That said I'm a hypocrite, I compare myself negatively to professional writers in other fandoms. So, do as i say, etc

am i avoiding getting back to writing? yes

back to joel talking about asking scott to help him get tarted up

okay one last thing, me being pleased with my writing - i am jumping between my early 20s larper au and my late 20s/30s burning man au, and i think i am doing a good job at giving age appropriate characterizations to similar version of the same characters. my 21 year old Etho feels 21 to me and my early 30s Etho feels early 30s to me. These ensembles are very much based on my own experiences so I've got a lot to work with, 60 year olds would be harder :)

#me #my writing #larper au

6 notes · View notes

systemhead · 6 months

Text

I am trying to write my first long-form essay in years. I am using this to guilt/embarrass myself into doing so. It is typically ill-advised to attempt to write anything involving soul searching on a Sunday.

It should really only be about one thing, but the rough draft form is continually spinning around three things that somehow feel connected, broadly:

It feels like history no longer exists anywhere, for anyone. And yet, I want to remember things, specifically my aunt. Through a sheer overwhelming volume of thoughts and discussions, things will somehow be lent weight in reality, keeping them tethered to it and unable to drift away from it forever.

The internet and tech utopianism are 100% dead. And I think I'm simultaneously mourning it and feeling mature enough to bid it good riddance.

I am obsessing over myself. This is symptomatic of a person who has felt very self-repressed and lonely for long stretches of their adult life. I still feel that way, but I'm also overindulging in it (though not as much as I once did). I would love to erase this aspect of myself more than anything else.

Keep reading (?)

The key is this: I wanted to write something long form. About my aunt, about myself, about the past, and about how much time I spend thinking about life without really living it. On one level you might call it a “capstone” relating to my first 10 years of real consciousness, ages 15 to 25. I wanted to say something about my issues and fixations. How all the things that I am most capable of analyzing, itemizing, and generally critiquing in the world etc., are things that I first overanalyze as issues or failures in myself.

One, for example: I notice that other people don’t rehearse their answers to potential questions a lot. I do. In an exercise that I find “fun” but that is also almost perfectly emblematic of how narcissistic I could be read as (and, yes, we know that one form of narcissism is endless self-pity and wallowing in failures and false starts in the long form.)

The “exercise” is hardly complicated: I imagine myself answering incredibly generous softball questions in a sort of high-brow interview show [think the sort of thing you watch authors do at universities or New Yorker panels].

It’s not as bad as “How do you manage to be so up-to-date on every major world news story?” or “J., how do you manage to capture so much knowledge and emotional depth in endless run-on sentences?” [jabs at myself]. It prompts me to interrogate how I feel about things separated from all the waves and waves of self-doubt and hatred I usually feel. It's for an "audience" after all. And the big question, the one I imagined in the shower that kicked this whole thing off, feels a little too embarrassing to write down. Still, it pointed in a significant enough direction, thought-wise, that it led me to immediately sit down at the computer and bang together more words in succession than I have in months if not years.

Roughly: "Lore" and "snappy, clever answers" do not constitute knowledge or intelligence. Least of all coherent thought.

Much like naming every senator or state representative currently in office in the U.S. is mistakenly seen as an impressive intellectual feat but doesn't mean anything when it comes to understanding politics, fun facts and baubles don't really point to any real comprehension.

In the past, I shared stories about my aunt like this, as party tricks, as fun toys to impress others, and, eventually, I realized, as totemic signifiers, something that could stand in for me. A card to throw up or a bandanna to flash to say, “Not only do I have a secret, not only am I in the know, but I also have trauma territory claim staked here.”

I will never know her. I will never know her. I will never know her.

She could have made me someone else. And now, I fear that I didn’t pick up the story when I should have because I was afraid of how it would make me feel about myself, which, if anything, feels more accurate than anything now. At heart, I am a born coward and avoid things that cause me discomfort.

It wasn’t until I really began experiencing my own feelings and life in a more complete and comprehensive way that my own perception of the story became something a little more serious, while also being less melodramatic.

Anyway, fun. Still could not write concisely to save my life.

1 note · View note

amistytown · 3 years

Text

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

785 notes · View notes

watermelonlovershigh · 3 years

Text

You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber

AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.

This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband

{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }

word count: 1765

When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.

-------------------------

Back Story-

After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.

At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.

But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.

And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.

--------------------

Current-

We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.

"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.

"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.

Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.

"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.

I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.

"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.

"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.

Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.

"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.

"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?

I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.

"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.

About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.

"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.

Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.

"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.

Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.

Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.

"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.

---------------------

After-

When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.

Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.

He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.

Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.

So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.

When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.

He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry styles sicfic #sicfic #harry styles grammys #grammys 2021 #harry styles comfort #soft!harry #husbandandwife #harry styles uber

166 notes · View notes

20moonchild21 · 3 years

Text

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 16

[pairings]

JK x female!oc, Bunny!JK x human!female!oc, Jin x female!oc, Leopard!Jin x human!female!oc, Jimin x female!oc, white Tiger!Jimin x human!female!oc, Taehyung x female!oc, black Tiger!Taehyung x human!female!oc, Hobi x female!oc, Fox!Hobi x human!female!oc, Namjoon x female!oc, Wolf!Namjoon x human!female!oc, JK x Jin x Jimin x Taehyung x Hobi x Namjoon xfemale!oc

[warnings]

none

[words]

4.0k

[author]

A little late but here it is! I already had saved the draft, but I somehow forgot to upload it yesterday. I am sorry.

In case I will forgot again to upload punctually, I want you to check out @starlightauroras-writes and her story Inferiority Complex. She is so talented in writing, so leave her a lot of likes and comments!

I also wanted to say that I am not a lawyer! I just wrote how I imagined it in my head, so please, don’t blame me😅I tried really hard. If you like this chapter anyway, feel free to leave a like or comment. It would make my day!

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 15 ||| chapter 17]

„Okay, how does this look?” All the boys looked up when Hope walked around the corner and into the living room.

It was the day before Hope would start her first day of working and right now, the boys were all helping her with choosing the right outfit for that special day. She had started with some simple dresses, which had left Jimin’s open in amazement.

He had always thought of her as a beautiful girl, but seeing her in those dresses that had hugged her waist and chest perfectly was a picture he would never forget again. When he had looked from side to side, he had spotted the other boys making the same faces as him.

Right now, Hope walked into the living room, wearing a black, tight trouser, combined with a white blouse and a black jacket. Jimin felt like she was walking in in slow-motion. In his eyes, everything she was putting on her body was fitting perfectly.

“Wow.” He whispered under his breath, as the girl stood in front of them and in front of the large mirror that was hanging next towards the front door.

She was turning her body from side to side, sliding her hands over her shirt and trousers from time to time and knitting her eyebrows together. Jimin absolutely adored those small habits of her, like she would chew on bottom lip every time she was concentrating, or how the cringes would form on her forehead when she was thinking about something really hard.

“Hope, you look amazing.” Jungkook stood up from the sofa and walked up towards the smaller girl.

When he reached her, he took her left hand, lifted it up and just twisted her around. Hope began to giggle, before she fell against the bunny’s chest and placed her hands there. Jimin should probably feel jealous or hurt while watching that scene in front of him, but he didn’t. Not even when the younger boy bent down and pressed kiss towards the girl’s cheek.

By now, he was so used to Jin and Jungkook that he almost saw them as his brothers as well. He just felt that somewhere deep down, there was a deeper connection between them. The white tiger wasn’t quite sure what the connection between them was, but he was sure that the other were feeling the same way.

Jimin didn’t realize that he had been spacing out, until his brother beside him slightly nudged his arm.

“Close your mouth, or you will catch flies while staring at her.” He joked, before he was throwing his arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “How cute. You were drooling over her again.”

“Like you.” He joked back, poking Taehyung’s side, who’s cheeks were slightly redden now.

Taehyung had gone through a major change since the both of them had been living here. He had been a grumpy boy in the beginning, but now, he was a normal boy. He would show more physical affection to him but also to the other two hybrids and even towards the girl.

It made Jimin happy to see his brother’s transformation but also his own. He was not the shy, and shaking boy anymore. The white tiger had learnt that he actually was a pretty physical person. He loved to hug and cuddle with other people, showing them how much he liked them and how thankful he was. He was thankful that Hope had taken them in, that Jin had given him his trust from the first

night, and he was thankful that Jungkook had given him and his brother a chance to live here.

He even had found his passion for music and dancing a few days ago when Hope had given him her MP3 player. It was amazing what his body was able to do and how to move to the beat of the music. If he would ever have the chance to lean a profession, he was sure that he wanted to do something with dancing and singing.

His gaze fell on the girl once again. When she had come home yesterday, she had pretended to be sad when actually she got the job she had ever wanted. Now, she had a real chance to change something in this world and maybe, just maybe, Jimin could someday make his dream come true.

“Are you nervous, Hope?” Hobi’s voice pulled him out of his mind.

The white fox had wrapped a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and was now sitting crossed legs on the couch. Jimin had noticed that Hobi was a pretty curious and open minded person. He never seemed to be scared to ask questions, and he would always listen to every little detail he was told.

“To be honest, yes.” Hope drove one of her hands through her thick hair, before she let herself sink down onto the corner of the sofa. “I mean, it is good to be nervous, isn’t it? I should be worried if I wasn’t, but I am also a little bit scared that I won’t do a good job and that maybe –“

“You will be the best lawyer girl, Hope.” Jimin pushed Taehyung’s arm off of his shoulder moved closer towards the girl, before he took her left hand. “I know it.”

“Yeah, you will.” Jungkook sat down next to her other side. “You will safe all Hybrids who need help and then the world will be a better place for everyone.”

Jimin didn’t miss the red shade that was now covering her plump cheeks. She pushed a strand of her almost golden hair behind her ear, while she started giggling slightly.

“But please, don’t bring all of them here with you.” Tae mumbled, as he was still laying on his back with his eyes closed.

By now, the girl’s giggles had turned into a real laughing, and as the corners of her mouth went up, Jimin could only stare at that beautiful pair of dimples that were now forming on her cheeks. Automatically, he started laughing along with her.

In that moment, Jimin realized how lucky he had been. Of course, there had been hard times for him and his brother in the past, but he knew that from now on, his life was heading into the right direction.

“You must be Ms. Carson, right?” The brown haired woman smiled widely at Hope, as she stretched out her hand. “It is so nice to finally have amplification to our small team. We need every possible support. I am Laura and I will show you around today.”

Still overwhelmed from all the new surroundings and people, Hope carefully shook the woman’s hand.

“Hello, Laure. Please, call me Hope.” She politely answered and let go of Laura’s hand.

Laura was a taller woman with wavy brown hair that fell over her shoulders and chest. Her smile was authentic and bright, and Hope immediately felt a heavy weight falling from her shoulders. The fear that she would not get along with her new colleagues had held her wide away through the previous night. But now, as she already had met a few people, she knew that she would not have to worry about anything.

“Okay, Hope.” Laura turned around and started walking down the hallway with Hope walking beside her. “Firstly, I want to show you the building a little bit. You will be confused, but I promise that you will get used to it in just a few days.”

Together, the two girls made their way from door to door, looking into different rooms and sections of the company. The building was located a little bit outside the city of New York in an older building, but that didn’t change the fact that inside, it looked exactly like Hope had imagined it.

After the reception and waiting area, Laura first showed Hope alle the meeting rooms where they would hold their weekly conferences, but also important customer talks or presentations. All the meeting rooms were completely surrounded by glass windows, so you could see right inside without hearing anything.

When they kept walking through the hallways, Hope suddenly spotted that one of the 4 meeting rooms was currently used by a smaller amount of people. Hope watched with wide eyes, how one of the men bent over a sheet of paper at the desk, pointing his pencil onto it. He was talking to a woman, who was standing next to the table and was looking at the sheet of paper as well.

But what fascinated Hope the most was that when the woman took a step to the side, she could actually see the reason she came here for. Opposite of the man in the black suit and next to the woman was a Hybrids boy sitting. The boy was carefully listening to what the men and woman were explaining to him, because he had his golden ears up in hight in the air.

From his body expression, Hope could see that there was still a hint of fear in his eyes. While he had one of his eyebrows cocked up, he also had wrapped his slim, long tail with the fluffy tip around his calve.

“What you are seeing there is one of our newest cases.” Hope just noticed that she had stopped walking when she saw Laura walking back towards her with a small smile on her face. “Adam Neil is a lion Hybrid. He wants to lawsuit against his adoption in court, because his owner locked him up in the basement for a few days. It took him a while to finally talk to us but now, it’s going forward for him.”

Hope didn’t miss the bitterness in Laura’s voice as she talked about the lion’s case. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, as Hope’s curiousness grew more and more. She wanted to ask more questions about every little detail of the case, but Laura had already started walking again.

They took turn after turn until they reached another section. Down the hallway, there were several doors on either side. Most of those doors were closed, but some were also opened so Hope could peak inside. The rooms weren’t big, but inside, they all had a desk and many book shelves.

“Those are our offices.” Laura pointed her fingers from door to door, as they kept walking down the hallway. “We do most of our paper work in here – and believe me, you will have a lot of paper work to do – but we also have private talks with clients here. You will have your own office once your trial period is over. Until then, you will help out in my office.”

“Wow.” Hope whispered, before she quickly walked up beside Laura. “This is amazing. I can’t wait to finally have my own cases.”

Laura looked down at the smaller girl with a slightly smirking expression.

“You remind me of myself, when I was just starting here.” She laughed and took another turn into another hallway. “I came from university and couldn’t wait to go in front of the judges. I can see how passionate you are, Hope. We need people like you, who want to defend our clients until the last second. May I ask you where that passion is coming from?”

Immediately, a large smile formed on Hope’s face. It was the though at her boys who were currently waiting for at home, but also the memory at her mother who raised her to be that open minded person she was now.

“I – my mother taught me that we all are equal.” She said and looked up at Laura. “She worked in the hospital and saved some Hybrids during her career. It made me so proud, and I just wanted to do the same things as her. I just think that we are living in a crual world, you know? People say that they changed their minds, but they also torture living beings at the same time.”

This time, it was Laura who stopped in her tracks. She turned around in one smooth movement and looked down at the blond haired girl with wide eyes.

“You are really mature for your age, but I like it.” She said, before she carefully walked closer and laid her hands on Hope’s shoulders. “You will fit perfectly in here.”

Both girls continued their tour through the building. The next section was a very special and rare among all companies for Hybrid rights. The company had built a small, separated building next to the main house, that was just meant for the clients to live in. If a Hybrid would decide to accuse someone or lawsuit someone in court, his owner would probably not welcome them back home with open arms. The company provided them a bed to sleep and something to eat while they had to wait for their verdicts.

Hope had seen all kinds of Hybrids walking around in that building. Some of them looked at her in a scared way, other were more open and asked her what she was doing there. Every time Hope had told them that she was a new addition to the company, the Hybrids’ eyes would began to sparkle with hope. Sadly, they couldn’t stay as long as Hope wanted to stay, because they had a strict schedule.

“Okay, we are now coming to our last section. In those rooms, there are the interrogations are taking their places.” Laura explained, before she turned around o face Hope directly. To the smaller girl’s surprise, her face was now worried and strict. “We have all kinds of cases there. The ones who came willingly, but also the ones who have to. For the papers, every Hybrid has to deliver a statement, but as you know, most of the judges doesn’t care about that. Like I said, it’s just for the papers.”

Laura pushed open a new door and lead both of them into a totally new room. The room looked similar to the reception room they had passed in the beginning of their tour. There was also a reception and many, different doors on every side of the room.

“We will also start our work here.” Laura told her, as she showed the lady at the reception her ID-card and walked towards a big shelf with many different folders. She grabbed one of them and shoved it into Hope’s arms. “Here. Our long-time and hardest case. He was accused for aggressive behaviour against state authorities. He had been here for almost two months now, but unfortunately, we don’t know anything about him, because he refuses to talk to us. His court date is in 30 days, and if we don’t get his statement, he will go straight to jail for several years.”

Hope’s heart was racing in her chest when she opened the folder with the Hybrid’s information.

Name: Kim, Namjoon

Date of bird: 12th September 2026

Breed: Mexican Grey wolf

Origin: Seoul, South Korea

Accusation:

Illegal abidance without a registration, resistance to state orders, aggressive behaviour against state authorities

Hope’s eyes fell onto the picture that was pinned at the top of the file. It showed a picture of an actually beautiful, young man who looked pretty tiredly and powerless into the camera. Immediately, Hope had the feeling that she should protect that boy from everything. The way his emotionless eyes were looking into the camera made it clear that he had already given up.

“What are we going to do with him?” Hope carefully asked but never took her eyes off of his picture.

“The same procedure as every day.” Laura dryly answered, before she walked towards the last door at the end of the room. “We will try to talk to him. If he answers, we can finally take a step forward and if not, we will do the same tomorrow.”

Hope closed the boy’s file and walked with confident steps towards her new college. She was determined that she would help this boy at all it would cost. She took a last, deep breath, as Laura pushed the door of the interrogation room open.

The room was decorated decent with only a table in the middle, a small cupboard and some flowers. It didn’t look intimidating though. On the other side at the window was a boy standing. He had his back turned towards both woman and was not turning around when they entered, his grey, fluffy tail was waving slowly from side to side.

Even from the distance, Hope could see that Namjoon was pretty tall and muscular. The grey jacket he was wearing was falling over is broad shoulders and over his baggy pants.

“Good morning, Namjoon.” Laura calmly said towards the boy, who had suddenly stopped to swing his tail around. “I brought a guest with me today. This is Hope. She is working with us from now on, and I hope you don’t mind her being here with me.”

Hope took another step further inside the room, with her eyes still fixed on the only boy here. Namjoon took a few deep breaths, before he slowly turned his head around. Hope held her breath when his sharp, dark eyes met hers for the very first time. For the split of a second, they just stared into each other’s eyes like there was nothing else around them, before Namjoon moved his eyes up and down her body an turned back to look out of the window.

Laura let out a small sighed of frustration. She gave Hope a last glance, before she sat down at the table. Hope on the other hand didn’t sit down. She guest that Laura and Namjoon had in some way a connection to each other and after all, Hope should just watch.

“So, how have you been, Namjoon?” Laura tried again, talking directly towards the boy.

The room fell in silence for a few minutes. Namjoon completely ignored both woman who were still looking expectedly at the tall boy. He just kept looking out of the window, his tail slightly moving through the air. Hope could see the sadness in his deep brown eyes. He looked so tired and powerless, but not because he didn’t sleep, more because he had mentally no energy left.

“Okay, Namjoon.” Laura sighed again, before she opened up a small note book. “You know I will have to ask you the same questions as always. I would love to see you cooperate with us, so we can help you.”

No reaction. It seemed like Namjoon was blocking out everything Laura was telling him and Hope already knew why. Laura was a nice and calm woman, but her strategy to get him to talk was completely wrong. At least when it came to the wolf Hybrid. How could he possible trust Laura, when he had absolutely no emotionally connection to her?

It was something Hope had learnt in the last few months. The process of trusting someone, especially when someone had been hurt and betrayed so many times, needed more space and much more time. It was not enough for Namjoon to gain trust in someone who would only spend two hours a day asking him questions.

“Hope.” Laura turned her head towards the blond haired girl. “I will go and get the three of us something to drink. Do you think you can stay here alone?”

Hope quickly nodded her head, and Laura headed out of the room, leaving the wolf and the small girl alone. The tension in the room seemed to grow with every passing second. The girl knew that she had to be really careful with what she was saying and doing. He should know that she was someone he could emotionally trust.

Slowly and with small steps, Hope walked around the table and over towards the large window. Standing there with a certain distance to Namjoon, the small girl leant her hands onto the window sill and looked outside. It was obvious that the tall boy was yearning for freedom. Of course, he was practically free to do everything while he was living here but after all, he was also like a prisoner who was waiting for his last day to come.

“You are wasting your time here.” Namjoon’s deep voice suddenly filled the silence in the room. “They have sent many psychologists here to get me to talk. I don’t need this.”

Hope turned her head to face the boy to her left. Though he had sent his words into her direction, he was not looking at her. His grey and white ears were standing still on top of his head, while he was now wrapping his tail around his right leg.

Hope knew this gesture by now. Jin would always wrap his long tail around his left leg when he felt embarrassed or shy, while Jimin would always do it when he was scared or insecure about something.

“I – I am not a psychologist. I am a lawyer.” She almost whispered, as she turned her head away from Namjoon. “I just finished my university degree. That’s why Laura brought me with her today.”

From the corner of her eyes, Hope saw how Namjoon turned his head to look at her side. He looked at her for several seconds, before she could suddenly head him sniffing the air a few times.

“Your scent is – quiet unusual.” He stated and this time, it was her who turned her head.

A small smile formed on her lips. She knew exactly what he was referring to when he mentioned her scent. Living together with 5 male Hybrids who wanted to cuddle as often as possible, left the girl covered in all of their scents.

“Our home is pretty hectical.” She laughed, before she lifted her gaze and met the boy’s eyes. “I live together with 5 Hybrids. All of the boys – they literally stumbled into my life, and it just clicked with us.”

Hope paid especially attention to use words like our home, together or us, to show Namjoon that she didn’t have any intentions to harm anyone. The tall boy on the other hand was now looking at her with wide eyes.

“You adopted 5 Hybrids?” He mumbled under his breath.

“No.” Hope replied calmly. “Just two of them. Jin and Jungkook have been living with me for several months now, but Jimin, Taehyung and Hobi have only been with us for a few weeks. We all are still getting used to each other, but yes, I – I also want to adopt them someday.”

Hope didn’t knew if it would be the right choice to tell him about how they all had ended up together, but he needed to knew where her passion to save Hybrids was coming from.

“I – I kind of rescued them.” She started talking again. “Jungkook and Jin came from a really bad home. Their owners had much money, but didn’t care about them. I found Jungkook by accident, and when he told me about his brother, I had no other choice than getting him out there. Later, I met Jimin. He and his brother needed help, so I offered them to stay with me and the boys. Hobi came to us a few days ago. He recognized Jin when we went shopping together. I saw and I still can see their suffers and I knew that they are safe with me. But I also know that thousands of Hybrids are not that lucky. That’s why I am here for.”

Both adults were now looking deep into each other’s eyes. Maybe Namjoon would not trust from one second to another, but he now had enough time to think about what she had told him and after all, he already spoke to her. That was a good sign.

“I am not here for the papers or to tell you some psychical stuff, Namjoon.” She said again after a few seconds of silence. “I know how hard it is for you to open up. I went through it more often than I would like, but I will defend you in front of the court, whether you talk to me or not.”

[Inspirations | Recommendations]

@starlightauroras-writes

@wishesunderthestars

@agustdakasuga

@ditttiii

@angelicyoongie

185 notes · View notes

bookofmirth · 3 years

Note

Hi!

I hope i don't bother you with this long ask, but do you have any tips on how to become good at writing meta?

I like to read discourses/discussions in tumblr and learn from them but i still have trouble writing my opinions or even replying to arguments, english is not my first language but i read a lot of books and i don't have trouble understanding them i rarely come across a line that needs to be translated and so far it only happened with classics.

Someone suggested that i should always practice automating new vocabularies but i find myself forcing them alongside my childish writing and it turns out bad.

In other words, i don't have trouble when speaking, hearing or reading english but when it comes to writing i always get stuck.

Yes!!! I do!!!

Based on your writing in this ask, I don't think that your grammar or vocabulary would be an issue. Meta and analysis is much more reliant on critical thinking and being able to come up with questions that you can then investigate. tbh, anyone who would criticize your grammar instead of your actual thoughts isn't worth your time.

***I'm going to use a bunch of examples of fandom arguments or metas that I have seen, but I don't necessarily agree with them. I am just explaining how they work.

***One more thing, this is generally about developing and supporting arguments - analysis of a text is a separate though related thing and I have a post in my drafts about that. I will try to get that finished by the end of this week!

Make your argument clear. Complex grammar isn't necessary. All you need to do is make sure that you are using modifiers or hedging or contextualizing your claims. So for example, if I said "I think that characters will die in acotar5", that's super vague. What characters? Why? How? The conversation is dead before it starts. However, if I said "I think that Lady of Autumn will kill Beron in acotar5", that's put some parameters around my argument and now I have somewhere to start. I know what kind of evidence I will need. I know what characters I will need to consider. Also think about contextualizing, like "well if X happens, then this other thing is possible." Absolute statements (e.g. "Sarah has never written a logical magic system") will get you into trouble because they are easy to pick apart. Even if they are mostly true.

Have evidence! I always have the ebooks because they are easily searchable. You could also mark up your book, if you think you'll need that info a lot. I like to use colored tabs in my physical books, and sometimes I write notes in the margins. I got used to marking as I went when I was in university, noticing themes as I went along.

More on evidence: something that is just as important as having evidence is knowing how to use it. I see a lot of posts that are 20% writing, 80% screenshots from an ebook. NO. DO NOT DO THAT. Why? Because we've read the damn book. We know what it says. If I wanted to read the book again, I would read it again. That's not why I am on tumblr. The reason you are writing a post is because you have an argument. What is that argument? How are you interpreting that scene? What do you think is the meaning behind a piece of dialogue? Throwing a quote at your audience and hoping it sticks is not effective use of evidence. You've got to explain how and why you are using it.

Still related to evidence, is make sure that the evidence both means what you think it means, and that it supports the argument you think it supports. If you have evidence that is supposed to support one interpretation of the text as being more reliable than another (e.g. what a lot of the ship war arguments are doing right now), then you will need a lot of evidence that can be interpreted the same way. For example, I believe that Azriel has never truly been in love, and I have a collection of evidence that together supports that interpretation, even if on their own those quotes could be interpreted differently.

Think about the implications of your arguments. This means that if you say "Elain is sus", then you need to think about how her being sus would then impact the characters around her. How would that change the way we interpret her behavior? How is that related to what we currently know about her motivations and wants and needs and values? I went through this process in this post about whether or not she knows how the mating bond. I took someone else's argument, thought about who Elain is as a person, thought about the people closest to her, and what the implications of that argument are. We can't just say something like "Elain doesn't fit in with the Night Court" without then looking at her relationships and comparing them to other relationships, comparing her current relationships with her past behavior, etc. Basically what you're doing is testing the argument in different contexts and seeing if it still makes sense.

And yes, be respectful. People will misunderstand you. Sometimes unintentionally, sometimes just to be assholes. But we can't control their responses to us. Just on a basic level though, the moment someone feels attacked, they shut down. Conversation over. (The only exception to this is if the person is bullying, being racist, ableist, etc. Then fuck being respectful.)

Side note three, the stuff about evidence is one of the main things I teach my students and it's not an easy skill to master. It takes time.

Let me know if that helps! You do have to get into a rhythm and it takes a lot of practice. Like a lot a lot. But you can say things that are wrong and that's fine. If someone is rude to you in response, block them. The end!

#acotar #fandom things #idk what to tag thissss!!!!#teaching #argumentation #ask #anon

45 notes · View notes

hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Text

5 times it didn’t, 1 time it did: tom holland imagine

a/n | this is my first submission for @hollandsrecs 1k bingo event! the prompt was “5 times, 1 time”, a concept you’ll soon understand! I really enjoyed writing this and got really in my Feelings™ listening to Mean it by Gracie Abrams (give it a listen).

summary: Tom keeps missing his chance to make things right with you after rumors spread about an affair with one of his costars.

tom x fem reader | contains angst for days, language, and resolution fluff | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

“I can’t believe you.”

“What, what can’t you believe?”

“You told me you’d never let the tabloids come in between our relationship.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they haven’t. You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

“In our apartment? Seriously?”

“What do you want from me?”

“To call your publicist or your manager or whoever the hell will be able to shut all this shit down.”

“It’s the internet, y/n. You can’t ‘shut it down’. What’s out there is out there.”

“Why are you being so apathetic about this?”

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“Half the country thinks you’re dating your costar and that I’m a desperate sidepiece.”

“You know you’re not.”

“But they don’t.”

“So?”

“Is it so hard to come out and say that it’s not true?”

“People will think what they want regardless of what I say.”

“You know what, fuck this.”

You got off the couch, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I don’t know why I have to try so hard to convince you to make this relationship a priority.”

Tom sighed heavily, starting to get off the couch and follow you out of the room, but receded and stayed planted. He wanted to say something that would make you turn around and come back, something to figure it out. To tell you that you were a priority, really his first one. But he didn’t know how to say that, and he stayed silent.

He could’ve apologized, and he didn’t. This was the first time you’d ever walked out of an argument without resolving the problem and ending it with a hug and mutual I-love-you’s. It took all of your gathered strength to keep facing forward and walk further and further away from him, instead of running back, folding into his arms and seeking out the comfort that was his body heat. It epically sucked that he had the power to make you both the angriest and happiest you ever knew how to feel.

You and Tom went to sleep that night silently, staying a hundred feet apart in your queen sized bed, backs turned towards each other. You hated feeling the draft between your loose shirt and bare back — he hated not being able to fall asleep inhaling your shampoo with his head against the back of yours. You stayed awake listening to the silence, hoping he’d speak. Hoping he’d say he was sorry, that he’d fix it. But all he did was yawn, or sigh, or stretch out and pull his hand back like it had been burned when he accidentally grazed your arm. You were both miserable, but he still didn’t apologize, second opportunity to fix things passing by as soon as it had come.

The next morning, you woke up later than you meant to and couldn’t avoid Tom waking up next to you, making inevitable eye contact as you’d naturally shuffled closer together in your sleep, like your bodies were ready for a closure your minds weren’t ready to come to.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your phone buzzed and you made the mistake of checking it. More and more notifications poured in from friends asking if you and Tom were still together, “who this costar bitch thought she was”, seeing how you were handling it. You realized still nothing had been done about it, and the same nasty feelings from the day before resurfaced anew. Tom saw your face drop and rolled onto his back, pretending to be interested in the ceiling.

“Plans today?” he asked.

“Just doing damage control and convincing infinite circles of friends that I’m not suddenly single and in a downward spiral behind closed doors,” you responded, sounding harsher than you meant to.

He put his hands over his face. “If they really were your friends they wouldn’t have to ask,” he said bluntly. Your belly filled with a dull fire.

“Is that really the angle you’re gonna take right now?” you said, trying to ignore the tears preemptively pinpricking the corners of your eyes. Tom realized he had played the asshole card when he turned to see your face painted with hurt, and again, tried to spit out the words that he was sorry. But he didn’t, and his third chance flew out the open window. You shivered at the draft, and Tom went to instinctively wrap his arms around you, but stopped himself when you looked at him puzzled, as he couldn’t handle doing really anything when he saw how gray your eyes looked.

“y/n, I think this has gotten-“

“Save it,” you said, swiftly getting out of bed. You didn’t care to be insulted another time before 9 am, or feel your attachment to the love of your life sever a little more before you’d even brewed your coffee. You threw on the first thing you found, tied your hair up, grabbed your bag and then your keys.

“I’ll see you before the interview later.”

Truthfully, Tom’s talk show interview tonight was hours and hours away, but you wanted to avoid another emotional hit from him as long as possible.

Tom felt his chest sink as he heard the lock click after you. Why couldn’t he just apologize? Was it that hard? Sure, he didn’t agree with you. The tabloids always blew any gossip they could create out of proportion, turning every friendly hug between friends into a lover’s affair. But addressing it to the public only ever just fanned the fire. He didn’t want to give in to the pressure, but could see how it was starting to break you.

You walked into your flat with barely enough time to get ready after a long, tiring day of thinking and overthinking, wanting nothing more than to come home and be with your best friend, to cry to him about your problems and let him kiss and cuddle the pain away. Never before had he actually been the problem, though. That was uncharted territory, and you were afraid to see him tonight and face either inevitable fighting or excruciating silence. You met at the car and got in wordlessly. Only once you’d pulled onto the highway did Tom decide to speak.

“I think we need to talk about what’s been going on, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“I just want you to understand that my not saying anything publicly doesn’t mean I’m not denying the rumors being spread. Staying silent is taking a stand, in a way.”

“In a way,” you said quietly. You really didn’t want to ruin your makeup before the show and hoped staying soft would keep the emotional floodgates from breaking open.

“I’m trying not to add fuel to the fire, love,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh. You stared down at that hand you loved and didn’t respond.

“I feel like I have no dignity left.”

He exhaled and frowned.

“Do you know what people are saying about me?” you squeaked without meaning to.

“I’ve told you to stop reading all those articles.”

“Right, because that’s the problem.” You rolled your eyes and moved your leg away from under his hand. He awkwardly placed it on the gear shift and didn’t dare to look at you for fear of breaking down himself.

“I just wish you’d stand up for me.”

“I’m doing it in my own way,” he trailed off. But that wasn’t good enough for you.

“And you can’t see that maybe that’s not enough?”

“I-“ He was about to say sorry — you could’ve sworn you hear the first syllable. But a car in front changed lanes and cut him off.

“Fucker.”

After that wise remark, silence. Fourth chance to apologize up in smoke. You looked out the window and said nothing until you pulled up to the studio entrance. You saw lines of flashing bulbs of cameras, news trucks and reporters. Why did everything have to be such a thing? Tom cleared his throat and turned to you.

“y/n, love, go ahead and get out here and I’ll meet you inside.”

You looked back at Tom blankly.

“We’re not going in together?”

“I don’t want to subject us to all the paps out there,” he said, refusing to make eye contact. “If you go alone, my security team can cover you. They can’t cover us both.”

Your whole body felt cold. “Are...are you serious?”

It looked like telling you to face the crowd without him was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. So why was he doing it?

“I’ll meet you inside-“

You cut him off by loudly undoing your seatbelt and putting your heels on, shooting daggers at him the whole time.

“I should’ve stayed home.” You opened the car door and got out.

“y/n, I’m-” You slammed the door shut before you could hear the rest of his words. Five chances he had to make it right, five times he absolutely blew it. You weren’t sure this was something you even wanted anymore. How could you clearly mean so little to him when he was your everything?

“...and give it up for Tom Holland!” the audience cheered wildly at the sight of your boyfriend walking out on stage, shaking the host’s hand and waving with a bright-eyed and cheery smile at the crowd. You’d chosen a smart seat in the back so as to hide from anyone who might recognize you — you were not in the mood to socialize, and frankly, if Tom didn’t currently have the only set of car keys, you would’ve driven yourself home. You could see him scanning the audience until his eyes landed on you, and you stared at him with an expression completely unfeeling, blinking slowly until he turned away.

He continued to woo the host and the crowd with his heartfelt answers and funny anecdotes, but even you were immune to his charm tonight. You felt detached, alone. You wondered how you’d spent so long with this boy who had no respect for you or how you felt.

“So, not to put you on the spot, but-”

“Uh oh,” Tom laughed, the audience along with him.

“No, no, bear with me,” the host chuckled. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to all the rumors going around about this relationship you’ve gotten into with your costar in the new Spiderman movie coming out next year, can you give us any inside scoop on that?”

Tom shuffled in his chair looking uneasy, running a hand through his already messy hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. You hated how well you knew him.

“I mean, I don’t like to give into all the gossip,” he said, trying to play it off. “But if you want to talk about the movie-”

“We will, we will! But you know what we all really care about...” the host laughed, pushing Tom to keep talking.

“Look, we’ve all grown close on set, like a little family. And I can’t believe I even have to say this, but no, I’m not an item with any one of my costars, or fellow actors, or anyone famous for that matter,” his face started to splotch pink, and you sat up in your seat. What was he doing?

“Well sorry to pry-” the host started, but Tom kept talking, now faster, lips not able to keep up with his brain.

“The amount of stress all the rumors have put on me and the people I care about is insane and unfair, and nobody has taken it harder than my actual girlfriend, who is right there in the audience,” he said, and you cursed him for causing a hundred chairs to squeak as heads swiveled towards you. “It all has her constantly feeling hated and unimportant and questioning our relationship, which I can’t stand, because I love her more than anything, I do, and I hate to see her so upset when there’s just nothing I can do about people gossiping.” You hear scattered “aww”s come from around you.

“I’ve been quiet for too long about it, which I thought was the right thing to do. But I was wrong. She deserves to hear me tell the world that I am with her, and only her, and that’s not changing,” he says, finally taking a breath. Tom looks at you, eyes watery, and sighs, as the audience coos and applauds. He mouths a clear “I’m sorry” that only you see, and you feel that cold draft start to melt, letting yourself give him a small smile in return. He finishes the interview and you meet him backstage at the end.

When he sees you walking towards him, Tom picks up speed and pulls you into a hug immediately, both arms underneath yours, almost picking you up off the ground. You hate to admit it, but it feels so good to be back where you rightfully belong. You lean into his body and hug him back. He kisses your cheek and rests his face against yours. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“I know. You finally apologized.”

“I know.”

“Took you long enough.”

He pulled back and smiled at you, leaning in and kissing you softly. He cupped your face with both of his hands and wiped away a small tear that was harbored between your eyelashes.

“I’ll go on a million more talk shows and do it again if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“That’s a start,” you both giggle and he kisses you again. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, love.”

#hrficbingo1k #hollandsrecs #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland blurbs

559 notes · View notes

in-my-feels-probably · 3 years

Text

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter One - Now

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more.

don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of.

Chapter One - Now

Elham gazed up from her book, sitting at the bar, to the sound of a gunshot at one of the card tables. Sighing, she got up from her seat, sliding her book to Rotty to take back to her room. And to think she was finally going to get a quiet night in the Slat, the previous night being not so quiet.

She began making her way over to the table, where Jesper was sitting leaning back, a knowing smirk on his face, his pistol smoking in its holster. Before she could reach the table, the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the ground was getting closer and closer to her. A light grin on her face, she slowed her pace, allowing Kaz to catch up, nod in her direction, and pass her.

“No loud noises at the table, Jesper. You’ll scare off the pigeons.”

Elham barely paid attention to the two boys' conversation, instead pocketing the counterfeit Zemeni coin left on the table, as well as a few Ravkan bills. Kaz was well aware she had slipped the money in her pocket, but he chose not to say anything, watching Jesper make his way to guard the door. She had been a big help in the previous night's heist, and arguing with her wasn’t worth the slew of sarcastic comments she would send his way. If there was a next time, he’d reprimand her. At least that’s how he justified it to himself. Elham knew his threats were hollow, to her they always were.

Elham trailed behind Kaz as Rotty had returned to talk to him about a missing Dekappel painting. He rambled on about how hard it must have been to steal it from the merchant, how advanced the security system was, locked down to the nines, complete with a Fabrikator made lock. She smirked to herself, eyes pointed towards the floor, trying not to laugh.

Kaz tapped the back of her leg with his cane, signaling her to go before she made Rotty suspicious, and she turned making her way up the stairs to Kaz’s office. She went straight for her chair, the one spot in the room she felt comfortable being in. This was Kaz’s space, and despite the two growing close over the years, and her constantly in his office or room, she still felt the need to confide herself to the space he had given her.

He had put that chair in by the window after he noticed how uncomfortable she looked on the window ledge when she came into his office to read, or chat about a heist. And plus, the window’s ledge was Inej’s spot, occupied by her as she came and went, feeding the crows and returning to the rooftops. Elham made herself comfortable in the chair, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the Dekappel hung on the wall.

Lifting the painting hadn’t been the easiest job. She wasn’t sure why Kaz had even decided to steal it in the first place. Nobody knew it was them who had taken it. Perhaps he did it for his own satisfaction, to prove he couldn’t be bested by some “advanced” security system. Or secretly, he had a taste for the finer things in life, and was too embarrassed to be caught shopping for a piece of art himself, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask Elham to get something for him. He’d never hear the end of it.

She’d like to think his reason was the latter.

Elham grinned to herself, reaching to pick up one of the books scattered across Kaz’s desk, when he walked into the room, latching the door behind him. He said nothing, only slightly scoffing at her position, curled up in the chair by the window in what looked like the most uncomfortable way she could possibly be. He could feel his own leg aching at the idea of contorting it the way she currently had hers, but she only smirked up at him, like this was the most comfortable she had been all day.

Sometimes, he thought to himself that everything Elham did was to spite him, or to try and get some sort of visible reaction. As the years passed by, his mask became harder and harder to read, and she made multiple attempts to slip through the cracks and see what was underneath. Unfortunately, this attempt was futile, and he made his way through the archway into his room, heading for the bathroom sink.

Elham, who had been shuffling her feet waiting for Kaz to finish, stood as she felt a draft hit her. She slowly made her way around the corner, only to meet his eyes already looking at her in the mirror, and then glancing towards the open window behind him. He faced forward again as he watched Elham’s lips turn up into a smile as she looked at the window.

“Hello, Inej. What information do you have for me?”

“A lead on a job. A big one. Enough money to change lives.”

Elham smirked to herself as she gave Inej a quick hug. “I don’t think it’ll take much to change someone’s life in the Barrel. I mean, look at us.”

“A million kruge?” Inej asked, smirking. Elham whipped her head towards her at that, then turned to meet Kaz’s eyes in the mirror. He gave her a nod, and she took that as her que to leave.

As the unofficial mother of the group, it was her job to round up the Crows and inform the Dregs, to make sure they were ready for a heist. Mostly, her job was to round up Jesper, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Jesper, of course, was at one of the gambling tables, leaned back in his chair, staring intently at his cards.

“Jesper!” He looked up from his hand and glanced around the room till his eyes fell on her. She motioned for him to follow, and he met her by the staircase leading to Kaz’s office. “We have a job. I don’t know the details yet, but just be prepared for me to come find you or Kaz to give you an order. Oh and Jesper, love, pick another game. How many hands am I gonna have to watch you play before you run out of bills? Really, it’s getting hard to watch at this point.”

She quickly took off back up the stairs before his swat could meet her arm, only to nearly run into Inej on the way up.

“Inej? What’s wrong?” Elham asked, catching Inej’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“He infuriates me sometimes. I honestly don’t know how you deal with him.” She gave Elham a light smile before continuing down the stairs, heading in Jesper’s direction. Elham climbed the stairs once more and made her way back into Kaz’s office.

---

“You’re serious? The Fold? You know how to get across the Fold?” She gave Kaz an exasperated look. In all her years of knowing him, this might have been the most idiotic idea he’s had yet. But, with a million kruge on the table, she knew there was nothing stopping him.

“No, I don't know how to get across. But I may know a few people who do. Come on, go and find Jesper, tell him the plan. We’re meeting with Dreesen at midnight. I’ll meet you all in the alley in half an hour.”

She nodded, turning to head towards the door. “Kaz...does Pekka know about this job?”

His eyes darkened at the mention of the name, his grip on his cane’s head becoming tighter. He shook his head with uncertainty, face set with a hardened look. Elham nodded, jaw clenching at the thought. Dealing with Pekka Rollins certainly wasn’t on her to do list, and in all honesty, she was hoping to never meet the man.

Throughout the years, Kaz had told her bits and pieces about what Pekka had done to him, and she had learned for herself what kind of a monster he and his men could be. His Dime Lion’s were the reason she started killing in the first place. Pekka Rollins could count his days. With Dirtyhands and the Valkyrie after him, he was certainly doomed.

Seeing her eyes drift, her thoughts cloud, he sighed, tapping her ankle with the end of his cane, and her eyes met his. “Go on, Valkyrie. And think about losing the murderous look on your face before you scare the pigeons.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, a tactic she normally used on him.

“I’ll think about it.”

---

A few hours later, the Crows had interrogated the slew of people Kaz and Jesper knew that claimed they knew a way across the Fold. Of course, none of them had a safe way, and Elham began pondering if the million kruge was worth the imminent death. They were back in the Crow Club, sitting in a booth. Inej was twirling her knife, Elham was sharpening her sword, and Kaz was glancing around with his usual look of annoyance. Jesper finally broke the silence.

“Here’s what I don’t get.”

“We’re going to be here all night.” Inej commented. Elham let out a laugh at that, patting Jesper on the shoulder.

“Rude.”

“I’m going to have to get a drink for this conversation. Anyone want one?” Elham asked, heading for the bar. She returned to the table with shots in hand, to hear Jesper mention General Kirigan. She stopped in her tracks, setting the drinks on the table, before taking a step back.

“Are you alright, El?” Jesper asked, but she didn’t hear. Her mind raced back to her days at the Little Palace, to the warnings from Baghra about the General. Her thoughts continued tangling together, and she was unaware of Jesper and Inej’s attempts to get her attention.

“Elham.”

She glanced up at the voice. Kaz’s voice. Elham cleared her throat.

“Sorry, I’m fine. Just got sidetracked. Sorry to miss what I’m sure were your very intelligent remarks, Jesper.” She quickly changed the subject, missing how Kaz’s eyes lingered on her. She slid back into the booth, throwing back a shot. They continued their conversation, Elham quieter than before. Kaz didn’t miss that either.

“Well, as I was saying. This whole job sounds like a trap, anyways.” Jesper said, before sipping one of the drinks Elham had brought over.

“A trap would sound easy. This is something else.” Kaz remarked.

“Boss, boss. We intercepted a note from Dreesen. It’s from the Orchid. Say’s they require the services of a Heartrender. Tonight. Doesn’t say why, just that they need it before midnight.” One of the Dregs who had come running over explained.

Elham smirked. “Oh we are absolutely not letting this job go.”

“You don’t bring in a Heartrender unless you need an answer out of someone who isn’t willing to talk. That’s how we get this job before anyone else. Bring Dreeson a Heartrender.”

“Boss, just one problem. Pekka Rollins knows.”

Kaz glanced at Elham, who only looked more determined. Elham downed another shot, before standing up.

“Well. I’m feeling particularly vengeful tonight. Let’s go get a Heartrender.”

---

A/N - hi everyone, sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. i've been busy and didn't have much motivation to write, but I'm ready to go again. let me know what you think so far, and thank you for the support!

#wattpad #in my feels probably #ineffable #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone #oc #series #chapterone #grishaverse

48 notes · View notes

arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

always you // tsukishima x reader

Author’s Note: I am kinda proud of this one because I relate to the reader and Tsukki here so I just projected half of my personalities into either of them hahaha. Again, before I take requests, which I do, I want to finish clearing the works on my draft first. Currently I have two more one shots before my draft is completely clear and so far I have 3 requests in total. Also, I can totally see Tsukki as the pining type and hopeless romantic, yanno? I hope ya’ll like this~

Word count: 6329 words

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader (Aged up) (College AU)

Warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol, intoxication, intense pining, slight sexual references, eventual fluff, tired reader

If someone would have told Tsukishima Kei that he would miss every single detail about Karasuno when he’d graduate, he’d have laughed at their face. He wasn’t sentimental, anyone who knew Tsukishima knew that he was one of the most practical people they’d ever meet, but here he was, standing beside a particular desk in his 3-4 classroom, staring at an inscription on it that reminded him of you.

The classroom is empty, and the silence echoes in his head constantly. It takes him only a second to think of how loud it would be if it were filled with people—it feels like just yesterday when this very classroom was bustling with joy and laughter, and here you’d sit, reading a book or trying to take a quick nap or doodling.

Looking anywhere but at him.

He let out a breath before feeling his eyes burn, his fingers ghosting over the inscription on the desk. He thinks of your smile directed at him, your hair blowing in the wind, your laughter at something Yamaguchi said, and the way your eyes would glisten when you called out his name.

Tsukki.

His heart was constricting with a familiar sort of pain, the very pain he felt when he broke up with you six months ago; he remembered how your eyes didn’t widen, how tired you looked, how you pressed your lips together, and just walked away. You must have expected it, the way things had been going in the last year. You had your own club activities, and Kei had his dedication to the volleyball club—yet, despite how understanding the both of you had been earlier, third year did not work out.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s voice broke him out of his stupor, before he pulled his hand away from the inscription. “Do you... Do you want to speak to her?”

He did.

Oh, he missed you with every fibre of his being. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to bury his fingers in your hair, touch your skin, kiss you till you became breathless and he wanted to see the blush settle on your face because of him. He wanted to apologize and scream at how stupid he was for letting you go, and all of this he had realized in six months of not being around you. People often said that first loves don’t last forever, but Kei wanted nothing more than to make things work with you.

No one understood him like you did; you took his snapping with a bulletproof shield and you were headstrong when he was letting himself feel weak. You didn’t punish him for being himself, instead, you embraced him for everything that came with him being who he was—even the bad parts.

“No.”

But, he knew it was too late. He knew you were probably not even in school. Your medical entrance was not far away, and he knew how hard you were working for it. That’s what he loved most about you. On days when he thought he wasn’t paying much attention to you, he’d be one of the last things on your mind because you had a life of your own. He’d wonder if he was being a bad boyfriend by neglecting you for days, not texting you or calling you, but then he’d hear from Yamaguchi that your club activities kept you so busy that it was hard for you to initiate any contact as well.

And when you two did meet after a week of not talking, you’d embrace him with that calming, quite addictive smile and a soft hug before he pushed you away and made fun of you. He’d secretly do it just to see you pout, which he thought was adorable.

And his heart would break when you’d apologize to him instead. Tsukki, I’m sorry I was so busy, his eyes would widen, The club needed me to finish the reports for the anthology we were preparing—

He’d shut you up each time with a firm kiss. The loud beating of his heart meant that he liked you more than he let you know and he only wondered if that would ever bite him in the ass later.

And it did.

It had been seven months since he had last seen you.

Tsukishima knew you were in Tohoku Medical University, and the last time he had seen you was near his own university, meeting with a bunch of girls. He didn’t approach you, quickly hid himself away at an angle that allowed him to look at you, while you couldn’t see him. You didn’t cut your hair, despite how he believed girls after a relationship would make some change; however, you looked exactly like he remembered, no changes.

Did that mean something? He couldn’t deny how he was feeling upon seeing you there, smiling and talking to people he didn’t know, and he ached for you. To see you was to be seduced by you, and he loved how feisty you were with him.

You weren’t shy, you didn’t have a flat personality like most girls he had met. You were a dangerous combination of everything that could ruin him, personified in a form that always took his breath away. Only he could see you flustered, only his touches could make you sigh and gasp and breathless, and he’d have it no other way.

He yearned for a glimpse of you throughout the day, and only at nights he could see you, be with you. But, somehow, you would be gone when he woke up.

It was a week after that did Tsukishima even tell Yamaguchi that he had seen you, to which the blond got news that he perhaps, could have lived without.

“She’s dating someone.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen at his friend’s words, who only looked a tad bit uncomfortable at how the blond was staring at him.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

“Who is it?”

Yamaguchi gulped, unsure if he even had to say anymore. He knew how his friend felt about you, and throwing at him this sudden bit of information could damage him more than he already was. Clearly, Tsukishima Kei had not stopped yearning for you, despite the breakup, despite the gap, despite the almost one year of not being with you.

“It’s someone from her college... Her senpai, I think?”

But, there was no way Yamaguchi could ever lie to Kei. Tsukishima was grateful for the news, but the way it made him feel was not worth knowing the information. He felt a rock settle in between his lungs and every time he breathed he thought of you, and it hurt all the more than it did before. No matter how many deep breaths he took, Tsukishima could not let go of that rock.

“It’s been long anyway,” He couldn’t even hear his own words, “Good for her.”

Yamaguchi was the one who could see the emotions plastered on his friend’s face, and his heart dropped at the mere sight. Of all the years he had known Tsukishima, he had never seen him so exposed, so vulnerable, and without you, he was just a mess. A walking body of high-functioning anxiety, Tsukishima Kei would rather let his demons devour him than reveal that a girl was making him feel so helpless.

But, that girl was you—strength and beauty personified; there was no wonder that Kei fell so hard for you.

Yamaguchi still remembered that day clearly. The first time you two met, in final year of Junior High. Your relationship with Kei was as special as the one he shared with the blond, and even though you didn’t know him as long, it was just as strong, just as precious, and just as important.

In final year of Junior High, your grades suddenly skyrocketed and you were placed in his class—the teacher often comparing your grades with his own, two of the smartest people in class. Though, your smarts did not just come from you paying attention in class, it came from late-night work and intense studying on weekends.

He had learned later on that you could not afford a cram school, so you would often cram by yourself, into ungodly hours on weekdays, and you’d come to class looking like a zombie and he’d snicker only to have you either ignore him or snap back.

Nevertheless, Kei grew to care for you and Yamaguchi noticed. He’d notice how Kei’s advances at making fun of you died down quite a bit afterward, and if he saw you struggling with something, he’d voluntarily walk over to you and offer to help you—surprising Yamaguchi, and himself in many ways, but what blew his mind was how you’d take his help despite the number of times you’d snapped at him, and you’d thank him, genuinely, making his heart feel full.

You’d started calling him Tsukki by the end of that year, and you’d gotten into Karasuno as well. It was as if the three of you were destined now, and slowly, he realized he developed feelings for you.

And even then, it was you who asked him out. Your face was red, your hands were behind your back, hoping that he’d not see that you were practically shaking, and you were a bit scared that he’d make fun of you. The year had just started, and his practice was going to keep him busy, but you liked him. You liked everything about Tsukishima Kei starting from the teasing, the relentless sarcasm, and the unbridled dedication, which was only masked by his nonchalant demeanor.

But, it surprised you when no teasing ensued. You could never forget the way he looked right then—red faced, hand covering half his jaw, looking away from you like his life was on the line.

“Y-Yeah, I know. You free this weekend?”

Kei thought of you every single day after Yamaguchi told him you were dating someone else. He’d think of you with someone, laughing at their jokes, holding their hand, letting them smell your hair or watch you smile, get the chance to see your eyes glisten toward them.

His thoughts now weren’t even that innocent; on odd days, in the loneliness his apartment brought him, Tsukishima thought of you kissing the boy you were dating, having his hands roam all over you, having some man ravage you instead of him. All Tsukishima could do was wonder what it would be like to take your first, what it would feel like to have his hands roam all over you—his thoughts, while not innocent, reflected how utterly alone he felt.

And when Tsukishima woke up every single morning, his mind would go crawling back to you with guilt over how dirty his thoughts were the previous night.

That evening, after practice, Tsukishima noticed Yamaguchi approach him, waving his hands, flailing them from side to side. Tsukishima rolled his eyes at his friend, who merely smiled at the blond before they walked out of the gym together.

“What’s with you today?”

Yamaguchi said, “She broke up with him.”

Tsukishima could not miss the way his heart skipped a beat at what Yamaguchi said. ‘She’ was automatically ‘you’, and that one vague sentence made so much sense to him that it had him thinking of how much you had him wrapped around your finger, without even knowing it. He turned to his friend, who merely nodded, and continued.

“Apparently, he was too clingy. They’re in med school, and she’s not free at all. Now more so than it was in high school, and her senpai kept nagging at her for not spending enough time with her and she called it off a few days ago.”

Tsukishima did not hide the smirk that sat on his lips.

“She was always the individualistic type.” He commented, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Tadashi nodded, “She needs her space, that (y/n).”

Tsukishima was in a way glad that you considered Yamaguchi so close. Some part of his mind wondered if the reason you told Yamaguchi such intricate details of your life was because you wanted him to know about you. Maybe, you knew Tadashi would ultimately tell Kei about everything, and maybe that was what you wanted.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi voiced, “I can’t do this anymore...”

His eyes widened at his friend’s sudden revelation.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe, (y/n)-chan tells me these things hoping I’d not tell you. Maybe, she wants me to tell you, either way, this is exhausting. You still love her, and she... she’s still trying to wrap her head around whatever it is she’s feeling and I feel like I’m caught in the middle here.”

Tsukishima knew that he could feel this way, but there was no way he could allow himself to lose the one thing that linked him to you. That one thing being Yamaguchi.

“Yama—”

“Tsukki, please.”

Kei turned away before pressing his lips into a thin line. He understands, but he doesn’t like it. Yamaguchi knows that his friend doesn’t appreciate it, but the fact that Tsukishima Kei would never wish for someone’s unhappiness over his selfish desires was what kept their friendship going.

Just as he was about to fall asleep that night, his phone rings. He’d not miss the number anywhere, his eyes were saucers as they were staring at your name on his phone screen, calling him at 1 a.m., almost as if you were used to calling him all these months.

His fingers ghost around the phone screen before deciding to pick the call, his heart rummaging in his chest the entire time.

“(y/n)?”

“Tsukki?”

In that one utterance, Tsukishima knew something was wrong. You weren’t yourself, there was something different, something that showcased that you were not entirely sane at that second. His stomach plummeted to the bottom when he realized what was actually going on.

“Are you... are you drunk?”

You let out a bitter laugh before scoffing, “No, you’re drunk. Loser.”

He was suddenly very, very annoyed. He instantly got up, grabbing his jacket, checking the time once again before getting shocked once again at how careless you were being.

“Where the hell are you? I’m coming to get you—”

“I’m being followed, Tsukki.”

He could puke right now. In all his 20 years of life, he has never felt this scared. He felt the back of his eyelids burn, begging him to let himself cry, but if he had a breakdown it would only delay in getting to you. He needed to get you safe, he needed to ensure that you were within four walls, untouched, unscathed.

“Where are you?”

“Inside a 7 Eleven... I think this is the one near Sendai?”

He knows where you are, but that doesn’t give him any sort of relief.

“Stay there. Do you understand me? Stay right there, and don’t fucking hang up.”

He doesn’t even bother to take his wallet, Tsukishima bolts out of his apartment, locking it, running towards the particular store you were in. He spots you from outside, you were not dressed provocatively, a fact that he was grateful for, and rushed inside to grab you by your wrist. You instantly pulled away, before looking up and realizing it was Tsukishima.

Your eyes widened at his sudden arrival before he noticed how flushed your face was. You were so beautiful, it was breathtaking, but right now, all he could feel was unbridled anger.

“No one’s following you, (y/n). What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you—”

“I was being paranoid? Man, I really need to sit down—”

“Who left you here?” Tsukishima asked, anger bubbling in his chest.

He pulled you out of the store before leading you to his apartment. Walking with you there would take you ten minutes easily, but this part he didn’t care. He was glad that you were safe, but he was still angry at how careless your actions were.

“My ex left me there. He wanted to talk about something, I think? But I just didn’t want to listen to him,” Kei looked at you from the side, his hand wrapped around your wrist, “I kept chugging one drink after another because I was just...”

He saw the eye bags under your eyes and he saw how dry your lips were. You were clearly dehydrated, and you looked devastatingly tired. Med school wasn’t a walk in the park, but seeing you like this, almost defeated, somehow reminded him of himself.

“...I was just so tired.”

Kei’s eyes did not leave your form. He was hyperaware that the two of you hadn’t reached home yet, and whatever conversation he was going to have with you, he understood that right now wasn’t the best time. You were intoxicated, and by the looks of it, you were probably not going to remember anything of what was happening at the moment.

A few more minutes later, Tsukishima had dragged you into his apartment, and latched the door behind him. He was grateful that he didn’t need to share his space with anyone, which meant he could avoid idiotic questions like ‘who’s the girl?’ or ‘it’s so late in the night, though?’, because right then, all Tsukishima wanted was answers from you, whether you were in a drunken stupor or not. Handing you a large glass of water and glaring at you until you drank it, Kei forced you to sit on the edge of his bed and watched you keenly.

“Apparently senpai wanted to get back together,” You said, surprisingly sounding a lot less drunk.

But, judging from your eyes and the way you were unable to focus on his unmoving form, which was right in front of you, he was certain that the alcohol was still in your system. Kei’s heart went out to how sad you actually looked, your light pink sweater was still neat, your jeans unstained, your hair tied in a messy bun—you weren’t dressed for drinks. It was perhaps either spontaneous or you were pushed to a point where you were so pissed off that drinking seemed the only way out.

“Did he... Did he do anything?”

Tsukishima felt stupid for even attempting to ask you this, but he calmed down when he saw you smile to yourself.

“No, I had pepper spray in my pocket.”

“Had?”

“I think I lost it now.”

Kei wanted to slap himself. You weren’t always like this. You weren’t someone who would resort to something so dangerous and reckless. He couldn’t help but think if this was in some way your method of coping, your method of healing from the breakup—was this your breakup formula, the inevitable course of action that you were supposed to take after he broke your heart?

“I ended up calling my other ex.” You laughed, somewhat bitterly, causing Tsukishima’s stomach to drop.

You were drunk, but you clearly knew who he was and where you were. You may have been a lightweight but somehow, he was impressed with how you were holding your liquor, Kei leaned down in front of you and just watched you, his eyes were surprisingly soft, his fingers dying to touch you—unafraid because he knew you would not remember these moments with him.

“I don’t want to tell you anything I’ll regret in the morning,” You whispered, causing his eyes to widen.

“What does that mean?” He asked, desperately, inching closer to you, but being sure to not make you uncomfortable.

You shook your head before blinking away tears that threatened to come your way. Tsukishima gaped, breathless, at how even intoxicated, you were the single most breathtaking person he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Please sleep.” He said, standing up, and leaving you in his room. He wasn’t going to fit on the couch, but there was no other option.

Even if his bed could fit the both of you, Kei would rather you sleep well and comfortably, than he would. Besides, he was sure that if he slept beside you (or even on the couch), he wouldn’t get to stay asleep for long either way.

When you wake up, you took a few seconds to bolt upwards, check your surroundings and then yourself. Your wallet, keys to your apartment, and your hair tie were on a table beside the bed, where a couple of aspirin and a water bottle was placed too. Getting up too fast was not good for you, your head spun around so sharply that you were inches away from puking.

“Where...?”

A moment later, you got up from the bed—after having taken the medicine and water, left there by god knows who, you inched your way to the living room of this strange person, wanting to thank them for sheltering you for the night. You felt shame hit your veins, you can’t believe you had done something like this—especially alone; and you could only wonder if a creep had sheltered you.

But, the person you saw on the couch was Tsukishima Kei, your ex-boyfriend from high school, struggling to stay asleep on the couch. Your heart broke at the sight of the tall boy, barely fitting into the couch, knowing full well that another step and he’ll wake up.

On odd days, you wondered why he broke up with you. On odd days, you missed him so much that you could cry. On days like today, your heart was barely fill and you were certain that a certain blond was the reason you craved doing reckless things—reckless because some part of you wished with all it had that he would come save you. He stirred awake, almost alerted by how you were just standing there, without making a sound.

When his eyes met yours, he scoffed rudely—as expected—before sitting up, and leaning his head against the headrest.

“Tsukishima—”

“I knew med students were crazy, but wow,” Your eyes widened at his words, “What the fuck, (l/n)?”

You had descended down to your last name with him, and the acknowledgement of it shattered your heart. You felt tears prick your eyes instantly, but you were not going to show any sort of weakness in front of him, not after last night—not after whatever could have happened.

“What happened last night?” You couldn’t bare the sound of your voice, at how groggy and hungover you sounded.

Tsukishima made it evident that he didn’t like it too, but chose to keep his words to himself.

“Nothing dirty happened, just you, throwing yourself into a depressing pit of alcohol drinking and embarrassing yourself.”

You frowned. There was no need for him to be plain mean about it. Sure, he had helped you, but that was it, right?

“Thanks for last night.” You wanted to ignore his words, you wanted to let it go and not fuel him into saying anything more.

“I won’t be surprised if this happens again, you know? Judging from how you’ve turned out—”

“Tsukishima!” You snapped, causing him to wince at his own words.

He didn’t dare look at you. He knew he had crossed the line, he knew he had said something to deliberately hurt you, and that had hurt you, but facing you would break him. What a coward, his mind scolded him, before he heard shuffling coming from where you stood.

“You see, I’m not surprised,” You said, pressing your lips together. “You were always this bitter.”

Tsukishima could hear your voice break. Way to go, he thought, you made her cry again. He gulped before attempting to turn to you, but he noticed that your back was facing him now—making him feel somewhat relieved, but scared at the same time.

I am so glad you’re okay, was what he wanted to say.

“No shit,” was what came out.

He noticed how your shoulders trembled now, as you reached down to grab your shoes. Tsukishima wanted to stand up and stop you, hold you in his embrace and beg for you to stay because if it were him, he’d not even dare give himself another chance—but you, you were forgiving and kind and gentle, all things that drove him up the wall yet made him fall so devastatingly in love with you.

Please don’t go, he wanted to say.

“Get out, (l/n),” was what came out.

You shook your head, “I can’t believe I’m like this because of you.”

Tsukishima felt the wind get knocked out of him, but before he could stop you, before he could find answers or any sort of confirmation at what you said, before he could even think of what was going on, unfortunately for him, he was frozen to where he stood and was forced to watch you leave.

He felt his fingers shake, and he looked down at his hands, which got blurrier and blurrier at each second, as he fought the urge to slap himself. Of course, he thought internally, if he was a mess of a human being, finding unhealthy coping mechanisms by trying to learn about what you were doing, stalking your social media, staring at pictures of you from Yamaguchi’s profile, reading his old chats with you, and everything that would perhaps never let him move on from you; then so were you.

He was the one who broke up with you, after all. If anything, you’d be the one in a much, much more difficult path.

Tsukishima did not go to class that day, and he missed practice. His captain called him multiple times, to which he merely replied saying he had the stomach bug—his captain was a lot like Kageyama, but for some reason, even he understood the importance of an optimum immune system and told Tsukishima he had to take the day off, no issues from that. Yamaguchi inquired about his sudden absence, but he merely said ‘I’m tired’ to him and left it at that.

But, oh boy, he was trying to call you, alright.

Tsukishima perhaps would have called you fifteen times in the last hour, with each of those calls ignored. After the barrage of calls, he left a barrage of messages, each asking you to pick up or call him back, suddenly forgetting the need to act as if he was high and mighty—no, if you were hurting as well, and he was hurting beyond belief, he had to fix it. A dialogue was the only thing that could put things back to normal, and hell be with Tsukishima keeping face. If this meant that he had to bow down and scream an apology, then so be it.

Hey. Pick up.

Hey. Call me.

Please, call me back.

Are you busy? Call me.

I know you’re ignoring me, call me back.

(y/n). Please. Call me.

What if this was an emergency? Call me, (y/n).

Tsukishima looked at his own messages and thought about what was wrong with him. After almost a year and a half of radio silence, here he was, literally begging for you to call him back after he had done something so fucking idiotic. He had a lot more to apologize for, he knew it, but he could only do so if you gave him that chance.

It was around 7 p.m., when you called back.

“(y/n)—”

“I had lab time, Tsukishima. What do you want?”

You were busy. You were perhaps so busy you couldn’t check your phone. Of course, you were studying to become a doctor. You weren’t ignoring him. Somehow, this fact resonated well with his heart. Even your ‘what do you want’ sounded more tired than angry, and he could hear the lag in your voice to confirm the same.

“I need to talk to you—”

“Well, you made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me earlier today.”

“Please,” He felt so out of character, but right then he didn’t care, “Let me see you.”

“I...” He heard you sigh deeply, “I can’t today, really. I missed lab work yesterday because... because of that stupid bar night, and now I have to make up for the lost time. I’ll probably be here studying all night.”

“Okay then.”

You were confused when he cut the call, but you assumed he was just tired of trying. You weren’t making an excuse; you stared at your phone, where just a moment ago your ex-boyfriend’s name was flashed up. You lick your lips and realize it’s been four hours since you had a sip of water. You clearly weren’t taking good care of yourself, and if Tsukishima was still with you, he’d reprimand you to no end.

Oh, you missed him.

You missed how he’d scold you for these reckless things you’d do. He knew about your habit of never drinking water, just surviving on licking your lips and sipping water after meals here and there. He hated that bit about you and he made it his personal responsibility to ensure you drank at least a bottle of water whenever he was around.

You missed the way he cared for you, so subtle yet loud—it resonated like his personality and you’d sometimes find yourself caring about your well-being because he cared; and even though the motivation here was incorrect, it brought the desired result regardless.

You missed him so much, it was like suddenly having lost a part of your body. It was as though you had lost an arm or leg but still instinctively reach out to feel your missing limb or try to walk again, placing your entire weight on something that was no longer there.

Swallowing the intense feelings you were experiencing, you buried yourself into the work you had ignored the previous evening and started to work. Medical school was exhausting even without the emotional baggage you managed to carry with you every single day.

What you expected would take you a couple of hours merely extended and you were in the lab till 2 a.m. Your eyelids were heavier than they had ever been before and you felt like your legs were jelly. You didn’t care about the way you looked right then, but you were certain that you looked half-dead. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten, and you noticed that the water bottle you had got for yourself earlier that day was still untouched.

Sighing, you grab your things and prepared to trek all the way home. A simple walk would feel like a trek, your feet felt like they were bleeding from the soles. However, the second you stepped out through the hospital exit (the college exit was closed), your footsteps came to a halt.

Tsukishima sat there, by the bench near the parking and your heart skipped a beat. What is he...?

He noticed movement from the side of his view and spotted you there. He instantly stood up, before realizing that you were busy (once again), of how you poured your all into everything that you cared about. This only made him wonder how much you had poured yourself into him.

“What are you doing here?”

You sounded so tired, it was so strange. He had never heard you sound almost defeated—he took one good look at you then; chapped lips, dark circles, disheveled hair; he knew you were dehydrated, hungry, exhausted and you had not once thought of these things.

“I’m hungry.”

You blink and sigh, “Tsukishima, I’ve had a long—”

“Please, come with me.”

You’ve never heard him say please so many times in one day. Your heart is weak for him still, and you follow him to the nearest 7 Eleven. You were wearing your white coat, a purple full sleeved top and the same jeans you were last night. You looked to find him wearing exactly what he was wearing that morning when you saw him, the black full sleeve tee, brown jacket and blue jeans. No matter what he wore, he always managed to look so devastatingly beautiful.

“Eat something.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him, you bought a sandwich for yourself and he got some ramen (for some reason, he chose your favorite flavor), and the two of you went out to sit by a park bench, isolated from the world. Your apartment was merely a five-minute walk from where you were, but that didn’t matter right then.

“You obviously still like me.” He said, somehow his voice not condescending or witty.

“Obviously.” You admit, because you were too tired to argue.

You heard him chuckle, but you were busy eating your sandwich, the bottle of water beside you suddenly looked like the most tempting thing in the world. What you missed was how Tsukishima’s hands were trembling as he linked them together in front of him, leaning forward on where he sat.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” You say, realizing the sandwich did nothing to quench your hunger.

“I know.” He sounded so defeated, before turning to you and handing you the cup ramen.

I knew he was going to do this, you thought, tears pricking your eyes. He bought your favorite flavor because he knew.

Tsukki, you took the cup ramen without hesitation, you can’t do this to me.

“Why,” You stared at the cup ramen, “Why can’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”

You heard no response from him. You took exactly two sips from the water bottle and dug into the cup ramen. But you stopped eating midway, shaking your head.

“Kei,” You jumped to third year high school again, “Please, I can’t... I will leave if you don’t stop me.”

There was no attempt made. You turned to see him staring at the ground, emotionlessly. You couldn’t decipher what you were feeling, but you certainly couldn’t try to decipher what he was feeling either. His silence left you breathless, all of a sudden you want to cry and scream, you wonder what you did wrong, you wonder what happened—why was he the way he was? Did you make him mistrust you in anyway?

A sob exited your mouth, but your trembling lips capture the rest.

However, Tsukishima Kei’s trembling hands raised to his face and he cried; your eyes widening at his sudden reveal. You quickly place the cup ramen to your side and turn to face him, your sweet boy, the boy you had so willingly given your heart to, crying his heart out, sobs ugly, tears streaking down his gorgeous face. The sight kills you.

“It’s so fucking hard to see you happy,”

You’re confused, but you knew he didn’t mean the words to their exact meaning. There had to be something else. He didn’t want you to be happy? What the fuck?

“And I’m not there...”

Ah.

“You... You don’t need me and that kills me...”

You were quick to kneel down in front of him, your fingers trembling, your knee trembling, your legs quivering, but your heart was strong enough. All you needed right now was your heart.

“I don’t need you,” Your voice was a whisper only he could hear.

Kei rolled his eyes, and you noticed how wet they were from the crying. Your right hand wiped some of the tears from his face before you took a breath.

“But I want you. Always, always you.”

It was Kei’s turn to meet your gaze. You were staring at him, a soft smile on your features.

Why was it that it was always you who would assure him when things were wrong? Why was it that you were always saving him? Either from a misunderstanding, a fight or most often, from himself?

He felt so weak when he was around you. He didn’t know if it was a curse or a blessing.

“No one compares to you. And as bad as that sounds, I couldn’t stop thinking of you, no matter who I’m with. No one compares to your brash, asshole self.”

You let out a giggle and notice how wide his eyes were. You want to kiss him, but you hold back.

“I love you so much, but it’s hard, Kei... It’s hard if you don’t give me bit of an edge, you know?”

Your hand which was on his face, Kei suddenly took it and kissed the back of it, surprising you.

“I love you,” He kisses it again, “I am so in love with you.”

You could only smile. You leaned forward, before pressing your lips to his; Tsukishima could feel how chapped your lips were, but that didn’t stop him from kissing you back fervently. His hand rushed to the side of your face, before pressing you to him, not hard enough that you fall down—he was painfully aware of how tired you were. He pulled away before pecking your lips a few times, kissing below your lower lip and staring at you, lovingly.

“All of this pain could have been avoided if you just accepted what you were feeling, you know that right?”

You were right.

You were always right when it came to him, no one knew him as well as you did. You knew every inch of his soul because it belonged to you, and there was no taking back. And while he was aware that he had to work on some aspects of himself, Kei suddenly felt confident. Looking at you, kneeling in front of him like that, despite how tired you were, despite how shitty of a day it had been, he was sure that with you, he could do anything.

Suddenly, his mind travelled back to your desk in class 3-4, with the inscription that he could not stop touching back on the day of your graduation.

kei + y/n

A simple jumble of words. Enough to break his heart, or make it. He wondered if he’ll ever tell you he created a small forever for the both of you in that classroom.

Well, he thought, forcing you to drink water, Maybe someday.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kei #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukki x reader #reader insert #yamaguchi #sandai frogs #kei tsukishima x reader #karasuno #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #angst to fluff

975 notes · View notes

timothyjimothy74 · 4 years

Text

Great - Quinn Hughes ft. Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

A/N: I recently fell in love with Quinn Hughes and had to write for him, but I couldn’t leave my favorite boys out.

Summary: Y/N has been best friends with the Tkachuks for as long as she can remember. When Quinn Hughes surprises Brady in St. Louis, old feelings come tp the surface.

Word count: ~2.2k

It was going to be a typical offseason Saturday night spent watching movies and hanging out with her best friends Brady, Matthew, Taryn and Brady’s girlfriend Emma. At least that’s what Y/N thought.

They’d all been back in St. Louis for a few weeks now and Y/N had spent as many days as she could at the Tkachuk house. She was glad to be back for the summer and even happier to finally have another girl around. With her, Taryn and Emma, they finally outnumbered the boys, at least while her brother was away taking summer classes.

Y/N grew up with the Tkachuks. Her twin brother Alex used to play hockey with Brady and she and Taryn would always play games together in the stands during their games. Brady would come out to the stands after his game to watch his older brother Matthew play. But he always wound up playing with Y/N and Taryn more than watching Matthew. Alex would come out and play with them too.

It didn’t take long for Brady and Taryn to beg their parents to hang out with Y/N and Alex outside of the rink. Soon enough, the families were inseparable. Even though Matthew was older than all of the other kids, even he had fun hanging out and making fun of them constantly.

Even when the boys’ hockey careers took off and Y/N and Alex went away to college, they all remained close. They’d been best friends since those early mornings in the rink and they always would be even though Y/N really wanted to kill Brady and Matthew right now.

She showed up to the Tkachuk house and saw a bunch of cars parked outside it and music blasting. Y/N would usually never turn down a party, but this time, she wasn’t dressed for one because they hadn’t told her they were having one.

She sent a quick, “SOS” text to Taryn and hoped she was here and that she could help with her current leggings and hoodie situation.

Sure enough, Taryn was at her car in a few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s the matter?” Taryn asked.

“I thought we were having a movie night tonight?” Y/N asked.

Taryn laughed. “The boys are such idiots. They didn’t tell you they were throwing a party for Quinn?”

“Quinn Hughes? Brady’s old teammate?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah. He surprised them by coming into town today so the boys threw him a party. I think they just used any excuse they could find to throw a party, but I’m not going to complain. Did they seriously not tell you?” Taryn was confused Y/N didn’t already know all this.

“No, I guess they didn’t want me to come. Maybe I should just head home,” Y/N said, looking down at her feet.

“Hey, Y/N/N, that’s not true. They’re just idiots. Here’s idiot Number 2. Ask him yourself,” she said as Brady ran up to her car.

“Y/N! What are you doing? Come inside and party with us!” Brady shouted with a drink in his hand.

“I’m not dressed for a party because you failed to tell me about it,” Y/N said as she scrunched up her face at him.

“What are you talking about? Matthew said he would text you and tell you about the change of plans!” Brady yelled again.

“Trusting Matthew to remember to do anything was your first mistake, you idiot,” Taryn said as she slapped the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N. Please come inside and hang out with us. I want you to meet Quinn!” Brady shouted again.

“Okay, first of all, please stop shouting. You’re murdering my eardrum. Second, I met Quinn at your draft. Third, what part of I am dressed like a hobo do you not understand?!” Y/N said as she purposely hit her head on the steering wheel.

“You talked to him for like two seconds. I need my best friends to be best friends! I think you look fine, but have Taryn get you something to wear if it’s such a big deal!” Brady shouted again.

Y/N looked at Taryn helplessly. “Wow, the dumbass actually had a good idea for once,” she laughed as Brady sighed dramatically. “Come on, I’ll sneak you to my room and we can get you something to wear.”

“See you guys soon! I’ll tell Quinny you’re here, Y/N!” Brady yelled again.

“Great,” Y/N mumbled under her breath.

Taryn chuckled but didn’t say anything as they snuck around to the deserted side of the house, went up the stairs and found Taryn’s room. Y/N dramatically flopped onto Taryn’s bed face first.

Taryn laughed. “What’s the deal with you and Hughes? Don’t think I didn’t hear that comment you made earlier.”

Y/N flipped to her side so she was facing Taryn. “I used to have a crush on him…” Y/N whispered.

“What?? When? I thought you guys only met at the draft.” Taryn squealed excitedly, flopping on the bed next to her.

“We did, but when he and Brady lived together, Brady would facetime me after their games and tell me how they went but he would always fall asleep. When he fell asleep, Quinn would take the phone and we would talk,” Y/N exclaimed.

Taryn’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. “What would you talk about?”

“Lots of stuff. Hockey mostly. But I would tell him embarrassing stories about Brady as a kid. We talked about our dreams for the future and random stuff,” Y/N said. “I could never go visit then because I was so busy with school and work so we didn’t meet until the draft. It’s so weird. We never exchanged numbers or anything, we only talked over Facetime on Brady’s phone, but I liked him so much. And I couldn’t even find the courage to tell Brady because I thought he would be mad.”

“We have to find you a bomb outfit to impress him then,” Taryn smiled knowingly at Y/N as she got up and looked through her closet.

“We haven’t talked in years. And he was so busy at the draft that I only got a few seconds with him. He probably doesn’t even remember me,” Y/N sighed.

Taryn reached over and grabbed a pillow and hit Y/N in the head with it. “Don’t be as big of an idiot as my brothers. He definitely remembers you and you’re going to impress him in this,” Taryn said as she pulled out a blue body suit, black mini skirt and air force one’s from her closet. “Now hurry up and change so I can see how it looks.”

Y/N did as she was told. Luckily for her, she was short for her age so Taryn’s clothes still fit her. Once she was dressed, she silently thanked herself for putting on makeup today, took her hair down from its bun and stared at herself. Her hair was perfectly wavy and she looked good.

Taryn whistled. “Alright, now let’s go downstairs, lover girl.”

As Taryn led the way downstairs, Y/N found herself growing more and more nervous. She’d kept up with Quinn’s hockey career through the years so she knew he had matured since the last time she’d seen him, but what if he looked different than how she remembered him? Yeah, she was going to need a drink if she was going to see Quinn.

As soon as they arrived downstairs, Y/N made a beeline for the kitchen without even looking at anyone.

“Well well well, look who’s finally here.” Matthew chuckled. “Drink?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes please. It’s your fault I’m late. You didn’t tell me you guys were having a party.”

Matthew stopped pouring her drink and looked at her. “Brady said he was going to tell you.”

“Well, he didn’t and he just told me you said you were going to tell me,” Y/N sighed. “I’ll take that drink anytime.”

Matthew handed Y/N a drink. “I swear he said he was going to tell you. I should’ve double checked, though. I’m sorry. Forgive me?” he asked as he pouted at her.

“I guess. Thanks for the drink,” Y/N smiled as she turned to go find Taryn and Emma.

Emma spotted her from across the room, waived her over and hugged her. “Hey, Y/N! Taryn told me what happened. Sorry about the boys.”

Y/N looked back and forth between Emma and Taryn. “Do you guys know something you’re not telling me? Because Brady told me Matthew was going to tell me about the party, but Matthew just told me Brady said he was going to tell me. They’re acting weird.”

Before either girl could respond, Y/N heard a familiar voice behind her. “Who’s acting weird?”

Y/N turned around to see a more grown up version of the kid she used to share her dreams of the future with. He was smiling at her and she couldn’t help but smile back. Y/N turned quickly around to send Emma and Taryn looks of panic, but they had disappeared. She was all by herself on this one. Great.

Y/N turned back to Quinn. “Brady and Matthew as usual. Long time no see, Hughes.”

“Too long if you ask me. You look great, Y/N,” Quinn said. He smiled as he looked her up and down. Was he checking her out?

Y/N looked him up and down quickly. “You look great too,” she smiled back at him.

“You wanna get some air? It’s a little stuffy in here?” Quinn looked at her hopefully.

Y/N nodded and led him out to the front porch swing.

They sat down facing each other and let a comfortable silence fill the air, but Y/N couldn’t help herself.

“It’s weird isn’t it? Actually being around each other and not talking over Facetime?” she asked.

“Weird, but nice,” Quinn replied.

“Definitely nice,” Y/N agreed. She was glad they were sitting in the dark otherwise she’s sure he would have been able to see her blush. “I remember us talking about all of our hopes and dreams for the future and all you could talk about was how you wanted to make the NHL so badly. You really made your dream come true. I’m proud of you.”

Quinn laughed. “Thanks, Y/N. There was one dream of mine I didn’t tell you about, though.”

“You were holding out on me? What was your other dream?” Y/N asked.

“I always dreamed of being with you. I know we only met briefly, but I really felt like I knew you through those FaceTime calls. I had a huge crush on you,” he admitted.

It was Y/N’s turn to laugh. Before she could even reply, Quinn was talking again. “You’re so mean, I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. I just poured my heart out to you.”

Y/N reached over and put her hand on his leg to try to get him to calm down. “Quit being dramatic. I was actually laughing at myself because I had a huge crush on you too and I was convinced you didn’t even remember me.”

“How could I not remember you? You’re the only girl I’ve ever told all my dreams to,” Quinn said. He placed his hand on top of her hand.

“Well in my defense, I didn’t know that until just now. Let’s keep up the tradition, though. What are your dreams right now?” Y/N asked.

“That’s easy. You. To get to know you again, to be with you, to share a life with you,” Quinn spoke so softly he was almost whispering. “Your turn,” he said smiling at her.

Between the alcohol and the way he was looking at Y/N, her cheeks were on fire. “Well, my number one dream is to get to kiss the Stanley Cup one day, but you’re a really close second,” Y/N laughed and Quinn joined her. “But seriously, I really do want all of that with you too.”

“Well, when I win the Stanley Cup, I promise you can kiss it. In the meantime, kissing me will have to do,” Quinn joked.

“Wait, you know you’re the real prize, not the Stanley Cup, right? Because that was mostly a joke, I-“

But Quinn leaned in and kissed her before she could finish her rambling. They got so lost in each other that they didn’t notice right away when Brady came running out of the house and started shouting again.

“Y/N! Now are you happy I didn’t tell you about the party? When Quinn told me about your little Facetime dates, I thought you would be too nervous to come if I told you he was here so I left that out!” Brady shouted and grinned at Y/N, clearly proud of himself.

Y/N turned back to Quinn. “You wanted to be with me so badly that you asked for this weirdo’s help?”

They both laughed, while Brady put his hands on his hips and threw his hands up in the air. “Great, just what I need! You two to team up and make fun of me!”

Y/N and Quinn looked at each other and smiled. “Great!” they said together.

203 notes · View notes

writeroutoftime · 4 years

Text

patience runs out

pairing: tommy shelby x reader (requested by: anon)

summary: while at a gala, Mosley has the audacity to make vulgar comments about you, but instead of Tommy, it’s you who deals with him

warnings: some derogatory language from Mosley when referring to you, the reader

words: 928

a/n: let me start by saying that I am SO sorry it took me this long to get your request out, anon. but I thank you for your patience and I hope that you enjoy this story!! at first I wasn’t sure what direction to take this in, and there were many different drafts, but here is the end result! have a lovely day!!

oOoOo

There were very few that worked with the Peaky Blinders who dared cross Thomas Shelby. It was like crossing the devil himself and something few lived to tell the tale. However, there was always a man brave (or moronic) enough to push the limits as far as possible, and currently that man was Oswald Mosley. The cocky bastard knew Tommy needed his aid and, therefore, worked to push every button of Tommy’s that he could.

Although Tommy despised the man with every fiber of his being, he silently endure each jab at his Romani heritage, the business he had built, and even his family. While Tommy wished to end Mosley with a single bullet to the head, he refrained each time and forced a smile for the man. He knew that in the larger picture, Mosley would get his comeuppance.

But, as with any man, Tommy’s patience on these comments had a limit - you. He was fiercely protective of you, barley letting his own family off the hook for their familial teasing. Even when his Blinders made lewd comments about you, Tommy lept to your defense through both verbal and physical means. When Mosley made such comments, however, Tommy worked to restrain himself for the sake of business.

“That’s a fine woman you’ve got there, Shelby.” Mosley said before he washed his thought down with a sip of whiskey. “I’d like to fuck her before the night is over.” he continued boldly, not caring who overheard him at the charity gala.

Tommy tightened the grip on his glass, as he tried to keep up his cool exterior while his blood boiled. “You know I don’t share well.” The thought of anyone thinking of you as a piece of meat disgusted Tommy and he was grateful you hadn’t heard.

What Tommy’s normally sharp eye had missed was that you and Polly stood to the side and heard every word that Mosley breathed. Knowing you’d need to calm you husband down, you stood ready to swiftly cut in and smooth things over. Your moment came when you heard Mosley utter, “If we’re going to be partners, there needs to be some trust. Besides, with a body like that, she looks like she’d be a whore for any man in and out of the bedroom.”

Once Tommy began to cock his fist, you hitched up the skirt of your dress and rushed to lay a hand on his wrist. “Arthur needs you in the kitchen, dear.” you lied, your eyes telling Tommy to roll with it.

His racing pulse did not subside as he nodded, but continued to stay next to you. Through a silent conversation you and Tommy had perfected over the years, he relented and left you with a peck on the lips, knowing full well that you could handle yourself. The rest of the party continued in full swing while the tension between you and Mosley grew as he devoured your figured and undressed you with his eyes. In that moment, you knew the chauvinistic pig needed to be put in his place if he was going to work with Tommy and the Peaky Blinders.

“How are you enjoying the gala, Mr. Mosley?” you asked, feigning innocence and batting your lashes like a naive schoolgirl.

“Extremely well now that you’re here.” he said and the ‘giggle’ you let slip only egged him on. “Is there a spot we could get to know each other, privately?”

Wordlessly, you led him to a secluded corner outside the ballroom, ignoring the incredulous looks the Shelby’s gave you as you passed. You knew you’d only have a short time before Tommy came storming out, so you placed your hands on Mosley’s biceps, leading him into a false sense of power.

“Let me show you how a real man fucks a woman.” Mosley growled in your ear, not wanting to wait a second more, and leaned in to press his lips against yours.

Right before your lips met, you sharply brought your knee up to his groin and received a groan in response. With Mosley distracted by the pain, you took the opportunity to punch him, just like Arthur had taught you. The hit sent Mosley to the ground with a thud, and you smirked at how small he looked underneath your heel. That would teach him to think twice that you were a loose woman ready to give it up to any man in a suit who showed you a bit of attention.

The sound of echoing footsteps reached your ears as Tommy and his family rounded the corner. While they had missed the action, they could piece together what had went down and watched as you pulled Mosley up by the collar. “Don’t you ever speak about me that way again, and don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” you hissed, throwing him back to the ground for Arthur and Finn to take care of.

Brushing non-existent dirt of your dress, you walked straight into Tommy’s arms and smiled at the look of pride and lust that shone in his ocean blue eyes. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as though to remind himself that you hand’t run off with Mosley.

“Something on your mind, Tommy?” you teased, biting your lip as you returned his gaze.

“You’re bloody perfect, you know.” he told you, and in a rare moment of public affections, he fervently kissed you, not caring that his whole family and Mosley watched on. As you had put it, no one fucked with the Peaky Blinders or, more importantly, with you.

oOoOo

tagging: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

703 notes · View notes

crapitskizaru · 4 years

Text

Trafalgar Law x Wyvern!Fem!Reader

Heya! Can I please get a scenario of Law and a fem S/O who has a devil fruit ability to turn into a smooth, grey wyvern? The only issue is that she turns into the size of a thumb. She's venomous, but other than that she's embarrassed by it and never uses when her allies are looking. Bonus: She met X Drake once and was jealous of his devil fruit compared to hers.

thank you @one-piece-dumpster-fire for assuring me that what i wrote somehow makes sense

Warning: i had this in my drafts for over a year. now thats an achievement + the gif is law’s alternate reaction. bonus headcanons at the end!

Word Count: 1,1k

“It’s so obvious that you’re staring,” she sighs. “I’m not gonna do it if you look.”

“I just need my pen back.”

“You could easily get it back with your creepy Room thing.”

“I don’t have the energy. I’ve been studying for so long, how can you be so cruel?”

“I’ll bite you.”

He just smirks and locks his eyes on the textbook, seemingly engrossed in it; but she knows he’s just playing coy with her. The second she turns, he’ll be staring and - what a terrifying thought - calling his crewmates over to see her for themselves.

His famous girlfriend, a slick lizard.

“I swear. If I catch you stealing even a peek, I’ll inject all my venom-”

“Could you please hurry up? I need to write down a word before I forget it. Axoneme. Do you know what axoneme means?

No, and I don’t care. But she just grits her teeth without a voiced answer and gives the chest of drawers a once-over. When she thinks about it, it seems rather suspicious that Law just happened to drop his favorite pen so that it landed underneath the furniture, as far from reach as possible.

He’ll nag her about it until she drops dead, so there’s not much choice. Of course, she could drag it in time, but that might be exactly what he wants. To prolong the torture.

She sighs for the last time and, making sure Law is still behind the desk, pseudo-fascinated by his textbook, drops to the floor and tries to spot the pen. It’s not too difficult - the tiny Bepo’s head figurine at the end is bright white.

The chest of drawers begins to feel bigger and bigger as she uses her power until it gets enormous; what seemed like just a few steps to Law’s desk now turned into the whole Mojave Desert diving them. Quickly, before Law gets a chance to do something he’d most definitely regret later, she dives under the piece of furniture.

There. Now she can relax.

Stretching, she relishes in the way her smoothly-arranged scales ripple with every movement. She wants to spread out her wings as well - oh, how she would love to have a few rounds in the air, sharp turns, descends, climbs, maybe a couple of corkscrews? Unfortunately, there’s little room underneath the chest of drawers to even straighten out her wings, let alone to take to the air.

Eventually, she gets moving. As far as she could tell, this was supposed to be child’s play. What she hasn’t taken into account, however, is the fact that clumps of dust would fill the entire area, successfully preventing her from reaching the pen in a straight line - she needs to make her way around or else her wings get tangled up in the dustballs.

As a general rule, Law sticks to his cleaning schedule religiously, although he hadn’t had enough time to keep up with it as of late. Despite her mixed feelings about him presenting themselves during her current situation - she is so sure Law is going to humiliate her in some way or another - she can’t be mad at him. He has always possessed the habit of overworking himself to a brink, which left him with little time for housework; or, rather, submarine-work.

Despite her deepest efforts, a few dusty clumps manage to stick to her wings as she finally grabs the pen between her tiny teeth and makes her way back.

“What’s taking you so long down there, (Name)-ya?”

The gap between the furniture and the floor is suddenly filled with Law’s face as he lays on the floor, gaze wandering around in search of her. She wants to grind her teeth in annoyance but it only results in them sinking into the pen and getting stuck there - no matter how much she tries, she can’t unclasp her bite.

Stepping wobbly from underneath the chest of drawers, she looks up at him, tail waving in hope he reads it as the most hostile signal she could muster. He wasn’t supposed to see her like this!

First, he tries to choke back a chuckle but soon gives up and starts smirking. The smirk then turns into a full-blown smile; such a rare sight when it comes to Law.

“You’re even smaller than I imagined. And what’s with this tail? Are you trying to poke my eye out?”

She growls through the pen, assuming a defensive pose, wings flailing in animosity.

“Okay, that’s enough. Give me that pen.” Still smirking, he grabs it but she’s not able to let it go. Instead, she produces an irritated groan.

“Stuck? See, that’s what you get from threatening me.”

In spite of his snarky tone, he catches hold of her snout using two fingers with unexpected care and gentleness. She can feel her jaw slowly releasing from the pen until it eventually pops off and she’s free to speak again.

“Trafalgar Law!” she yells, but her voice is thin and distorted. “I will murder you where you stand!”

His only response is a chuckle as he shifts his position on the floor, now gently grabbing her wing and lifting up in awe.

“So cool. You look like a tiny axolotl without gills. I can’t believe you haven’t let me see you like this sooner.”

“And I can’t believe I let you set me up like this! It’s the last time, so enjoy it.”

“Oh, I am enjoying it. Every second,” he mutters, picking a dustball stuck to her wing and throwing it away. “Would you get on my palm?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” She shakes the remaining dust off and turns human again, now laying in front of him on the floor.

No matter what she’d say, it probably wouldn’t bother him so she gets up to leave, pouting. However, before she has a chance to stand up, he grabs her hand, pulling her back down.

“Now I’m serious, (Name)-ya. This is such a cool power. If I was someone else, I’d envy you.”

“But you don’t, because you have one of the best Devil Fruits in the world,” she snaps.

He gives her a smirk, rotating the Bepo pen in between his fingers. “Maybe. But are you aware of just how many possibilities you have with this? Enemies can’t spot you, either when you’re in the air on a battlefield or sneaking inside their headquarters. And with just one bite, you can send anyone to their grave.” He pauses, then suddenly reaches to touch her cheek. “It would be an honor to study your anatomy. You’re one of a kind.”

“Fine, fine, you don’t need to lay it on so thick. I’m saying maybe.” The excited spark in Law’s eyes already makes her regret saying it. “I’m so tiny, though. Drake can turn into a whole dinosaur. Now that is the definition of cool.”

“You’re not tiny, (Name)-ya. You’re just pocket-sized.” He gets up from the floor, seemingly content. She observes as he goes back behind his desk. Indeed, maybe a wyvern isn’t as bad as she previously thought. Before she has time to reflect on it, she hears Law’s displeased bark.

“Wait. You left teeth marks on my Bepo pen?!”

Bonus Headcanons:

🐉 with enough unrelenting nagging from Law’s side, she’d eventually agree to show herself to the world - i can only imagine it as one morning, Law would show up for breakfast with his tiny girlfriend curled up on top of his hat; they would both pretend as if everything was normal

🐉 “C-Captain...What’s that on your head?”

🐉 ”It’s my hat, Bepo.”

🐉 when she’s comfortable enough to stay in her wyvern form for longer, Law would use her as a paperweight whenever he studies - he claims it’s essential for his productivity (in reality she’s just too tiny to fit on a whole sheet of paper, but he likes the sight of a mythical wyvern snoring on his notes)

🐉 ^ This is how Law’s interrogations of captured pirates/Marines would start to look like

🐉 “Oh, so you’re not going to talk? Very well. Bite him, (Name)-ya.”

#trafalgar law #one piece #xoxobb #trafalgar d. water law #one piece scenario #op scenario #wyvern #imagine #op imagines #one piece imagines #op headcanons #one piece headcanons

171 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

A/N: Feeling writers block so I thought I’d throw in headcannons with some of my fave boys that has been sitting in my drafts! If you want me to continue this with more characters, request em!

————————————

Intentionally or Unintentionally CockTeasing The Haikyuu Boys Because They Can’t Have Sex

(Slight NSFW)

————————————

So this is wah gwan/

Background for Understanding:

Your boyfriend was playing volleyball and pulled the groin muscle in his inner thigh. After several x-rays, he would be out a little longer than a month before making a full recovery. But the doctor told him that the boy MUST refrain from ANY and ALL sexual activity if they ever want to play again. The look on his face looked like he had just been told that the world was ending lmao. You snickered and hugged him. Reassuring them that “It’ll be fine, babe.”

But it wouldn’t be.

Because you were a little shit (unintentional or not).

Needless to say, they were having a tough time refraining from any and all sexual activity—

Here’s why:

Wakatoshi

“Y/N. Do you think this is funny?” Asks your boyfriend seriously as he gives you a disapproving look. You’d think he was your school principal by the way he was chastising you.

You feigned innocence as you pouted at him with wide eyes. “What? What am I doing now, Toshiiii?”

He didn’t blink.

“Must you practice your splits for cheerleading right here? In front of me? Wearing a thong? Why not go to the den.”

Suppressing your urge to giggle, you leaned further into your almost-middle splits as you flipped your hair—looking back at him over your shoulder.

“No, I want to be near you, Tosh.”

Your boyfriend scoffed at your response, unimpressed and frankly pissed.

“I do not want you near me doing that. Go. Now.”

You smile because as your giant serious boyfriend spoke he stared intently at your ass only. You could see the tent forming in his jeans as he watched you stretch.

“You’ll have much more space to do this in the den.” He added.

“Oh? You want me to go to the den because I’ll have more space, love? Or could it be because you want to help me stretch out elsewhere—maybe the inside of my pussy—but the doctor said you can’t?”

Toshi’s mouth fell open at your insinuation. Annoyed and undeniably horny, he makes himself shut his mouth again. You reached your hands forward in the stretch to give your man a better visual of your ass and you could hear him groan from behind you.

Ushijima made a move to take you upstairs before remembering the doctors orders and stopping. He reminded himself why he cared so much about that sport that was standing in his way from fucking his girlfriend to oblivion and tried to calm his anger at you for teasing him.

“I’ll go, then.” He stated angrily. “I’m going to Tendou’s. Tell me when you’re done stretching, and I’ll be back.”

You waved at your boyfriend happily as he left because he looked funny marching out with a huge boner sticking out from his front.

“Okay, baby! I will!”

Hinata

“Whoaa....” Murmured Shōyo as he watched you with wide eyes. For the past three minutes he has had his eyes glued to you while you devoured the ice cream cone he had just gotten you two from your fridge.

You used your tongue to lick all around the vanilla treat. Swirling your tongue up, down, and around, sometimes making a slurpy sound that sounded quite familiar to the boy who missed your blow jobs so much.

Mans sat there watching your tongue like he was in a trance, his eyes flicking from your mouth to his attention-starved dick then back to your mouth.

When the ice cream shrunk enough to be swallowed like your boyfriends cock, you enclosed your lips around it suggestively and met your boyfriends pleading eyes as you did it.

You finished the rest of your frozen treat happily, knowing you just made your boyfriend incoherent with lust.

“Mmmm......it’s so sticky........and tastes so good....” you sigh in delight as you lick your fingers of the white creamy sweetness.

“Shōyo? You haven’t even touched your ice cream. And it’s dripping all over your hand!”

After calling his name twice more Hinata snapped out of his trance, he looked over at his dripping strawberry ice cream cone that he’d forgotten he even had as soon as he heard your first slurp.

“Oh, Y/N. Here, please, take mine too!” He shoved his ice cream in your direction and you slowly take it from your oddly acting boyfriend.

“You want me to..... have your ice cream?”

Hinata nodded enthusiastically before he quickly wiped his hands clean with a paper towel. He leaned his head on his knuckles as he got comfortable, preparing himself to watch you swirl your tongue around ice cream again like this was his favourite Marvel movie!

“Okay, I’m ready.” He says with bright, eager eyes.

Actual footage of your boyfriend Shōyo:

“Go.”

Aran

“Babe. You had to pick this movie on your choice of movie night?” Your boyfriend wiped his face as a show of stress. He begrudgily stared at his screen and then looked down at you through the slits of his eyes.

Pressed to his side on the couch, you smiled up at him innocently.

“365 Days? What’s wrong with it? I think it’s interesting so far. Plus, Atsumu suggested it to me. He told me to play it on our next movie night!”

Aran clenched his fists under the blanket at your words, secretly promising himself to tell his best friend’s new girlfriend how many girls Atsumu has really been with before her the next time Aran went over there.

LMFAOOOOO

“Oh he did, did he? Atsumu. That angel.....” He grimaced. “Was this before or after you told him about the doctors orders when he was worried?” Aran asked between clenched teeth.

“Uhhh.....after, I’m pretty sure. But, Aran, shhhhhhh! It’s getting to a good part!” Aran watched your beautiful eyes light up as the two characters in the movie started fucking on the yacht like animals.

“Ouuu, baby. We should try that position tonight!” You quip, pointing at the screen then taking a sip of your coke.

Aran cursed his stupid friend. “I—“

“Oh right, sorry! I forgot you can’t, poo. But as soon as you are cured, can we try that?!”

Your boyfriend stared you down in mental agony as he pictured pistoning his dick in you mirroring the position on screen—only right now on this couch. His dick jumped.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “When I’m cured.”

“How long again?” You asked as you grabbed the remote to turn up the sound volume during another hot sex scene.

“Too damn long.” He rolled his eyes as he looked back at the porn-disguised-as a-romantic-movie on screen too.

Yams

“Auuuuuuhhhhhhhhh. Yesssssssssss. F-f-f-feels soooooooo g-o-o-o-d-d-d-d, Tadashi.....”

With a violent blush, your boyfriend gave the Furniture store worker a thumbs up.

“I umm.... guess she likes it.” Tadashi reasoned, putting his hand on your shoulder. He squeezed your shoulder silently trying to tell you to quiet down in the store.

Sitting in the turbo massage chair, you moaned some more, letting your boyfriend and the worker know how much you liked how it felt. Tadashi’s ears perked up at every sigh and moan you made. He couldn’t rid his mind of memories of you moaning just like that when you’re on top of him and he has a vibrator pressed to your clit. It was clouding his thoughts. He bit his lip as he zoned out thinking about the fun you two could have on this chair at home with a vibrator. Only a month longer from this stupid injury and you’d be extra sensitive on his dick with the help of this chair....

“—and the parts will be sold separately. Should I ring you up, sir?”

Tadashi was startled when his girlfriend slapped him blindly on the chest to get his attention back to the sales associate.

What is wrong with him? You thought as you felt your lower back getting kneaded. The man is standing right in front of him and he’s zoning out? Get it together, Space Cadet Yams.

“Huh?! Excuse me?! Sorry, what?” Tadashi rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I was distracted. Can you repeat that?!” He apologized.

The sales associate smiled kindly.

“Sure thing Mr. Tadashi.....so, I was just explaining that the massage chair is the best of its generation. If you look right here on the remote I have— it has 8 brilliant speeds and intensity adjustments. Your girlfriend is on 2 right now which means that if I increase it to, let’s say, 5 ...”

As the associate spoke, Yams was pulled from paying attention to him as you moaned louder when the level setting increased. “O-o-oh my G-g-god.....Dashi y-y-y-es.”

Picturing you saying this while you were grinding on his cunt-buried dick, Yams knew he was on the verge of defying his doctors orders and just fucking you in the car....

The massage chair dug into your tense shoulders yes LORD—

“Oh b-b-baby. T-th-thats-s th-the sp-p-p-o-t-t..”

As a last ditch effort to save his volleyball career, Yams rudely snatched the remote from the employee’s hands, scattering to hide his new erection behind the massage chair.

He clicked a button on the remote to turn the massage chair off fully while blushing at the employees shocked expression due to being interrupted and basically assaulted.

“Um, sorry! We’ll take it!” Yams freaked out apologetically.

“😱 Yamaguchi!” You scolded your boyfriend’s sudden rudeness. “That was so impolit—“ turning in the chair to see your boyfriends dark blush that you recognized to be his horny face, you stopped. It only took one look at him for you to understand exactly why he just acted completely out of character and rude. It reminded you that you have been on this sex strike with him for far too long, ugh.

You stood up from the chair, calling the confused associates attention away from your horny boyfriend. “Um.... I can sign the paper work. Want to bring me to the cash?” You asked him professionally.

The salesman blinked at Yams before looking down at you. “Uh, of-of course ma’am. Follow me.”

As you two walked away Yams’ top half collapsed on the head rest of the chair. He tried to will his hard member to soften but with the massage chair currently under his skin and so close to him, he couldn’t get your vibrated moans out of his head.

He decided that a stroll through the store’s bathroom section might help.

Ya, that would definitely help.

Akaashi

“I know what you’re doing.” Your boyfriend deadpanned as you showed up late to dinner wearing an extremely low cut dress in the chest area. Your breasts could stop traffic in that and you had only just taken off your trench coat after you and Akaashi sat down so he and the female server were basically the only ones who got an eyeful the entire night.

“I like this dress, Kashi. Don’t you? Can you pass me the salad, please?”

Challenging you with his eyes and trying his best not to look down at your remarkable chest, Akaashi reached over to share you some Mediterranean salad onto your plate like a gentleman.

“Say when.” He insisted.

You smiled and leaned forward to peer at his serving so that your boobs were pressed to the forearm he held the bowl with. Akaashi’s breath hitched. After sharing way more than you could eat, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered

“When.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes flickered down to your boobs before he adjusted himself to relieve the tightening in his pants.

“So, how is your injury, babe?” You ask sweetly, taking a bite of the salad and smiling at him.

“It’s fine. As long as I get to play again it’s manageable, but I believe—“

“Crap.” You pretended to be just as uncomfortable as your boyfriend sitting with a boner as you clutched the bottom of your boobs. You pressed them upward, re-situating them with purpose. Akaashi stared at your breasts openly as he took a shaky deep breath.

“What’s the matter?” He asked hungrily, calling back his composure.

“Oh, my bra wire is just bugging me. Boys wouldn’t understand......” You fixed them some more.

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N.” Akaashi licked his lips and watched you basically fondle your soft breasts in front of him. It made his mouth water, but he tried not to show it.

“Hm. You’re the smartest person I know, so I reckon you do know what I’m doing....” You quirked an eyebrow as you removed your hands from your girls and took a gentle sip of your water.

“—Is it working?” You winked at him like a trained seductress-assassinator in a major motion picture.

Akaashi leaned back in his seat, he undressed you with his eyes; also like a trained seductress-assasinator in a major motion picture.

You shivered under the insanely beautiful man’s intensive gaze, closing your thighs to relieve the tension you suddenly felt in your private area since he made you beyond horny with that look.

“It’s working. Yes.” The side of Keiji’s lip quirked up in a half grin. “But I’m fairly certain you don’t know that the doctor called 3 days ago and told me that I am recovering exceptionally fast. He gave me the green light for physical activity again. Sexual: physical activity. I double checked.”

The blood drained from your face as you felt a wave of upcoming pleasure wash through you. You had been waiting 23 days without sex and in a flash you regrettably remembered just how much of your teasing over that period your gorgeous boyfriend had to endure. How much he had to pay you back for.

Akaashi smirked ever so sexily at your shocked reaction. Good, he thought to himself. So you knew what was in store for you tonight.

You stared at him like 👁👄👁

“Waiter.” Your hubby called over your head in his attractive voice with an elegant lift of his glass. He dropped his eyes to look back at you with a panty-dropping stare. As you shivered again, Akaashi proclaimed the weighted words that would inaugurate a long night of screams, kisses, and earth shattering orgasms:

“Cheque please.”

#haikyuu boys #tadashi yamaguchi #hinata shoyo #aran ojiro #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyu headcannons #akaashi keiji #hinata x reader #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcannons #hq headcanons #hq sexy stories #hq sexy reader

405 notes · View notes