#I'm hoping that this tool requiring a delicate touch will be good for my hand and not make it more challenging

[krawdad]

Found my old brush pen. Haven't touched the thing in years. It shockingly isn't dried out and still works great. I keep thinking about it this might be enough to get me doodling again.

[otherworldink]

Intro to "Woodworking"

Where do you go when you live in a tiny medieval fantasy village and need some basic sex ed? The woodshop apparently. Results may vary. Includes frank, if humorous, discussions of sexuality.

Read it below the cut, or continue reading on: Wattpad or Otherworld.Ink

Bren had never liked sharing personal information. He believed in the twin virtues of privacy and minding your own damn business, and he acted accordingly. Unfortunately, he'd come up against a problem that required advice. Expert advice.

And there was only one place in his backwater village he could get it.

The carpenter's workshop was a pleasantly open building with large windows that let in the light and broad double doors that could allow the passage of a finished table or bed frame. The scent of fresh-cut pine and the subtler scents of hardwoods permeated the air. In every corner there stood half-completed projects, from the disassembled pieces of little boxes to uncut slabs with measurements drawn in charcoal. Bren could even see a small spoked wheel, half-sanded—a spare for the wheeled chair Kole's father used.

Mercifully, the only people inside were the shop's two owners. The most conspicuous of the pair was Dorin, whose height and breadth led some to suspect he had a touch of giant blood somewhere in his ancestry. He sat hunched over a pair of carved wooden fawns, adding the last fine details with a small chisel.

Hale looked slight compared to his husband, but this was just an optical illusion. A point that was reinforced as the man casually lifted a slab of wood that must have weighed as much as Bren did. It was impressive, but not why Bren was here.

"Hi, Bren!" Hale greeted, looking up from examining the marks on the wood slab. "Did your mother change her mind on the dimensions for that shelf? I was just about to make the first cut."

"No, no. It's not about that. I just... I need some advice."

"Oh? Thinking of taking up woodworking?" Hale asked, half joking.

In his nervousness, Bren replied with a poor joke of his own.

"Different kind of 'wood' to be working with."

There was a pause as Hale processed. Then he grinned like someone had handed him a new chisel.

"I knew it! It's Kole, isn't it? That nice half-elf boy?"

Bren's ears burned, and his eyes glued themselves to the floor.

"It is!" Hale dropped the wood slab in his eagerness, shaking the ground on impact. He didn't seem to notice. "Tell me everything! What do you need to know?"

The excitement was not mutual. Bren had resolved to ask for help with the same enthusiasm one used to ask the blacksmith to pull a bad tooth. Mercifully, Dorin only looked mildly interested, sparing just a glance before continuing his carving.

"Look, I'm not here to share details. I just need to know how some things work, and I figure you two..." Bren glanced back and forth between the pair then cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"Right, right." Hale nodded with exaggerated understanding. "No need to overshare. ...Unless you want to, of course."

Hale wasn't the worst gossip Bren knew—that title went to Mrs. Fields who owned the mill—but Bren still thought he took a bit too much pleasure in having his nose in everyone's business.

"I just need to know how some things work."

"Like what?" Hale tapped his chin. "Don't tell me you need to know what goes where? I should have some blank paper around here if you need me to draw diagrams. I can think of a few positions that would be good for beginners."

"No! No, I already know about that stuff." Kind of. A bit. In any case, Bren didn't think his dignity could survive diagrams. "I just need to know about... logistics. Like how you figure out who, you know... tops."

It was hard to get the words out, and he regretted it as soon as he had. It felt like such a stupid question, like it was something he should already know instinctively. People certainly had their own ideas about how these things worked, but Bren and Kole were about the same age, height, and build so it was hard to say that any of the usual "guidelines" applied.

To his surprise, Dorin answered first.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," he said without looking up. "Just see what feels right when you get to that point. You can take turns trying or, hells, even flip a coin for it. There's more to sex than putting your dick in a hole. Focus on making each other feel good, and the rest will sort itself out."

That... actually sounded sensible. Reassuring, even. Maybe Bren had been making a big deal out of nothing.

"No, no, no! Hold on a minute, babe." Hale quickly covered Dorin's ears. "Listen to me, Bren: you are at a crossroads right now. This is where you set the tone for your entire relationship. You have a unique chance to secure the best position all for yourself. You have to be the bottom!"

Dorin snorted, but made no move to remove the hands from his head. Hale ignored him and continued.

"Topping is a fool's game! If you want to feel something around your dick, you can have your own hand any time. But when you want to get fucked, what are you supposed to do? Oh, you can try certain vegetables, and I've certainly carved a few things in the right shape, but then you've still got to do all the work yourself, and-"

Dorin cleared his throat, interrupting the deluge of far-too-personal information. A mercy, given that Bren was on the verge of bursting into awkward flames and disintegrating into the floor.

"Hush!" Hale scolded his husband. "I'm passing on my wisdom. And you can't hear right now!"

He returned his earnest attention to Bren. "What I'm saying is, no matter what anyone tells you, it is surprisingly hard to 'go fuck yourself'. If you ever get the opportunity to have someone else do it, do not pass it up!"

"He's only saying that because he's lazy in bed," Dorin said, apparently giving up on withholding personal information. Hale made an offended noise.

"You! You can't hear, remember!"

Bren wished he couldn't hear anything.

"Is there anything useful you can tell me, or should I just leave?"

"Always use oil," Dorin said, finally brushing Hale's hands away from his ears. "More than you think you need. It makes everything more pleasant."

"Except for oral!" Hale added.

"Yeah. Except that."

"Okay, that's... good to know," Bren said. "So, like, the oil you use on tools, or...?"

"NO!" The objection came from both of them simultaneously.

Dorin cleared his throat.

"Ah, no. Different oil."

Hale grimaced.

"Otherwise you're in for an awkward trip to the healer."

Bren could tell there was a story there. A story he absolutely never needed to hear.

"Then... what kind are you supposed to use?" And where could he get it? Ideally without anyone guessing what he intended to use it for.

"We'll send you off with something," Dorin said. "It's better than you getting desperate and using whatever's on hand."

"Trust us on that," Hale added.

On this matter, Bren would.

In short order, the two set him up with a small jar of oil and instructions on where to discretely buy more. He also found himself holding the two fawns.

"You can pay us back by delivering them," Dorin explained. "They're for Leda on the other side of town."

"They're actually for her daughter," Hale added. "Leda hopes that if the kid has some nice toy fawns, she'll stop trying to bring home the real ones she finds out in the fields."

The palm-sized fawns were impressively lifelike: one curled flat and low like it was hiding in the grass, the other half-sprawled, pushing itself up on delicate forelimbs with its ears pricked alertly. Bren wasn't sure they'd be enough to persuade a determined child to give up the real thing, but they might come close.

Dorin offered some parting words.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. Just take it slow, listen to each other, and have fun."

"And for fuck's sake, let him top!" Hale added, unable to help himself.

Bren mumbled something approaching a polite goodbye and hurriedly retreated with the fawns, the oil, the advice, and what remained of his dignity.

His initial plan had been to make the delivery and retreat home to bury his face in his pillow until the embarrassment receded, but fate was not so accommodating. Less than halfway across town, he spotted Kole at the blacksmith's shop, saying his goodbyes. Bren paused on reflex, and when Kole turned away from the workshop, he spotted him.

Kole smiled—partly bashful, entirely charming—and Bren's stomach flipped.

Kole had moved into town a few months back with his parents: an elven mother and a human father who had recently survived an unpleasant encounter with a wyvern. Years ago, Hale had made a wheeled chair for his elderly aunt, and since then, anyone within a week's travel who needed one would order from him.

The family had made the journey to have the chair properly fitted and had ended up staying. Something about wanting to live "somewhere quiet" and enjoying the "lovely pastoral scenery". Which all sounded like nice euphemisms for "boring", but Bren supposed boring might be what you wanted after getting mauled by a wyvern.

"They're cute," Kole said, nodding at the carved fawns in Bren's hands.

"They're not mine!" Bren said hastily. "I'm just delivering them."

"Right." Kole's gaze lowered. "What's that?"

Bren realized, with some alarm, that he was looking at the bottle of oil sticking out of his trouser pocket. He hadn't thought it would be a problem since there was nothing suggestive about it's appearance, but he hadn't prepared for anyone to ask about it!

"Nothing!" His voice came out slightly more panicked than intended.

Amusement flickered on Kole's face, as if he could tell Bren was hiding something but was nice enough not to call him out on it.

"Who are you delivering them to?" Kole asked, mercifully turning the conversation back to the wooden fawns.

This was why Kole was the actual best. He had the decency to let things lie. (Or, at least, to let Bren lie to save some face.)

"Leda. They're for her daughter."

"Oh yeah. The little 'fawn-napper'." Kole chuckled. "Do you need help delivering those?"

"No, they're not heavy or anything." It was only after he'd said this that he realized Kole was making an excuse to join him. "Uh... I mean, you could..."

"I could carry one? In case you need a free hand."

"Yeah. That'd be good."

Kole accepted one of the fawns and fell in step next to Bren.

The two of them had been intimate before, but always alone. Bren was too much a private person to allow anything else. But when Kole casually laid a hand on Bren's lower back, Bren really couldn't bring himself to object. It felt... nice. And it's not like anyone was paying special attention to them.

Did he mention it felt nice?

Given where Bren had just come from, it was impossible not to reflect on the recent conversation. He tried to keep his thoughts decent, out of respect for the carved fawn in his hands. It was far too innocent for anyone to be having those kinds of thoughts around it.

Still, though...

Maybe Hale had a point.

[codango]

I'd love anything (100) with Aone! or 3. 'You don’t have to worry, I’m here.' with anyone from Haikyuu if you're not feeling Aone rn. I'm excited for the drabbles regardless of what you write!

EDIT: It occurred to me, Anon, that you might not have asked this because you knew about my Aone fic on AO3 (That’s not what he’s saying). Hence, a short explanation: I answered your prompt as Chapter 2 of a short fic about Aone falling in love with an OC of mine, Tatsu. Tatsu makes his first appearance in another Haikyuu fic of mine (Wingmen are supposed to be supportive).

I really hope this clears up any confusion I may have caused!

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You don’t have to worry, I’m here (2,432 words)

It began with breakfast.

Aone didn’t think anything of it beyond how the conversation was somewhat awkward. How could it not have been? Breakfast the morning after, with Tatsu and Tatsu’s sister and Tatsu’s sister’s boyfriend, who happened to be the best friend of one of Aone’s teammates, was plenty to be dealing with on its own.

Aone didn’t even realize Tatsu had paid for breakfast until Tanaka started protesting. Loudly, as was his nature.

“You aren’t paying for shit,” Tanaka insisted. He was behind the bar, cleaning up the last of the breakfast he’d made for the four of them in his father’s pub.

“Of course not. I’m paying for an excellent breakfast prepared by a professional chef.” Tatsu shrugged on his coat, not so much as glancing at the cash on the bar. He looked at Aone. “Ready?” So casual. Like friends leaving a once-a-month get-together.

Tanaka ran a hand over his shaved head, clearly exasperated. “Look, you can’t—I mean, I just—not when I—” He waved his hand helplessly at the tall blonde woman bringing the last dishes from their table.

Tatsu raised a delicate eyebrow at her. “I can’t pay for our meals because you’re banging my sister? Need a hand there, Shizuku love?”

Shizuku set the plates down on the bar with a touch more force than necessary. “Always lovely to see you, Tatsu, bye now.” Her face was staining pink.

“But he can’t—” Tanaka tried.

“Let him leave his entire goddamn wallet if he wants to!” Shizuku barked. She shot Aone a look, half pleading, half threatening. “Nice to meet you, Aone-san. Get him out of here.”

Aone did not think for a moment of disobeying. He cupped Tatsu’s elbow, bowed his gratitude to Tanaka, and walked Tatsu firmly out the door. Reaching for his back pocket, Aone opened his mouth to say something about paying his own way when Tatsu put a hand to his chest and stretched up for a kiss.

Visions of last night exploded behind Aone’s closed eyes, and his hand reached for that pale ponytail. He wanted to pull it loose again, wanted to feel it against his face like he had hours before.

Tatsu stepped back, hand still flat on Aone’s chest. His smile was pleased. “I have to get back to the gallery,” he said softly, gray eyes roaming Aone’s face at leisure. “I have a client meeting first thing tomorrow morning I have to prepare for.”

“Oh.” Aone willed his hand to drop from Tatsu’s hair. It wasn’t easy. Of course he had to go back. His work, his life, was two hours away from the college campus. Tatsu was an adult, with responsibilities Aone had yet to know. Of course he couldn’t while a Sunday away. Frankly, Aone couldn’t afford to either, there were exams to consider—

“I can hear you thinking,” Tatsu teased.

“My apologies, Tatsu-san.” Aone bowed his head. “I’ve kept you from your obligations far too long. I can show you the nearest station.”

Tatsu blinked. “I know I should be used to your abruptness by now, but I confess my ego is reeling.” He brushed the back of his hand against Aone’s jacket collar. “You want me away so quickly?” His voice was low, with a tone that sent shivers up Aone’s spine.

“It’s not what I want,” Aone managed.

Tatsu looked up at him. “Do tell?”

“I want…” to take you back to my room. To be lazy with you today. To forget what our Mondays will bring. “…to see you again.” Aone held his gaze firm. “If I may.”

Tatsu’s eyes went wide. “Well,” he said after a moment, “it has been quite some time since someone asked so sweetly for my company.” He slipped his arm through Aone’s, his lean frame pressed tight against Aone’s side. “Show me to that station?”

Aone might have been disappointed that Tatsu really did leave so quickly. If, that is, he hadn’t pulled Aone off to the side for a long kiss and some heavy breathing. If Aone hadn’t felt Tatsu get half hard against him. If Tatsu hadn’t whispered, “I’ll call you tonight,” with his lips against Aone’s ear. Then, yes, Aone might have been disappointed.

As it was, he was staring sightlessly into his textbooks that afternoon before he realized that he had never paid Tatsu back for breakfast.

———

A couple days later, a box arrived at the house. Kuroo delivered it to Aone’s door with his dinner balanced on top. “Kawatabi made curry and way overestimated how much. You can grab a bowl if you drop some cash in the jar next to the stove.”

Aone nodded but wasn’t really listening. He hadn’t ordered anything recently. His mother always sent him an email ahead of time if she was sending a package. He set it on his bed.

Inside the cardboard shipper was a sleek black box. It was stamped with silver in a brand name he didn’t recognize. The lid lifted to reveal, nestled in un-dyed tissue paper, the most beautiful briefcase Aone had ever seen. Soft-sided, it was made of leather worked over so finely as to feel like velvet. He took a moment, exploring the pockets, testing the zippers, admiring the tooled strap, before he noticed the small card in the bottom of the box.

A-To aid in your pursuit of knowledge. Best luck in your studies,T

Aone set the bag aside immediately and reached for his phone. Two hours later, Aone was staring red-faced at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he could make it to the shower or if he had to jerk off right there. He’d intended to make a simple thank-you call. Tatsu’s voice over the phone had a way of making more complicated things happen.

Aone clenched his eyes shut, bit into the flesh of his thumb, and slid a hand down his jeans. At least he knew he wasn’t as loud as Kuroo.

———

Spring came, and so did a selection of fine shirts from a brand Aone did recognize. His father favored the workmanship but only indulged in one a year.

A-Will you be viewing the cherry blossoms with friends?The blue one would be stunning against the flowers.T

Aone went with Kuroo, Azumane, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Shizuku, and two of Shizuku’s friends to a nearby park that weekend. He handed Shizuku his phone and asked her quietly if she could take a photo. She was a little less likely to tease than the others, and he wanted to look as relaxed as he could. Not an easy feat.

“Ohhh.” Shizuku cooed over the first photo. “That blue is amazing against the blossoms!” She held up the phone to take another, and Aone felt himself smile.

Aone sent the photo late that night. Tatsu texted him immediately after. Thirty minutes later, Aone sent another photo of himself wearing the blue shirt. Technically wearing the blue shirt.

———

During one late-night call, Aone confessed to nearly sleeping through a class.

“You’re not getting enough rest?” Tatsu sounded concerned.

Aone wiped a hand over his face. “Practice, workouts, end-of-year projects. It adds up.” He would not breathe a word about how his deplorable sleep schedule was mostly down to Tatsu and his sinful phone calls.

“Ah.” Tatsu apparently bought the excuse. “It’s important to stay organized with your time management in these situations.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow when Aone wore his new smart watch to practice that week, but didn’t say anything.

———

The team’s house didn’t have a wine cellar. It would never have occurred to Aone to let Tatsu in on this fact. When the industrial wine rack showed up with an assortment of fifty vintages ranging from rare to trendy, Kuroo rolled his eyes and helped Aone clear out some space in the garage.

A- Would love to hear your opinion on the 2004 Kaesler shiraz.T

“Surprisingly floral for something so dry and smooth,” Aone said. He’d brought a bottle to Tanaka’s pub one night, with serious instruction that it was to be enjoyed with intentionality over a careful menu. Tanaka had risen to the occasion masterfully, and he and Shizuku had been fabulous to compare notes with about the wine. The three of them had gotten a tiny bit buzzed from finishing the bottle themselves that night, but what else was to be done really?

“Exactly what I thought. I wasn’t as put off by the bouquet as I thought I might be.” Tatsu laughed. “But perhaps it was where I had it? The Barossa Valley would make anything taste like heaven.”

“It must be gorgeous.” Aone had mixed feelings when Tatsu shared stories about all the places he’d been. It made him feel at once far too young for him and far too excited about all the wonder the world held for him to see.

“It was like nowhere I’d seen before.” Tatsu was quiet for a moment. “We should go someday.”

Aone caught his breath. The statement had been casual. Light. There was too little there to read into.

“Perhaps,” Tatsu went on. “After graduation of course? And if you’d rather go somewhere else first, we should talk about that.”

Aone’s lungs released softly. “The Barossa Valley sounds wonderful.”

Tatsu hummed, low and sensuous and just right for setting Aone’s skin on fire.

———

The last game of the season ended with a sound victory but at the expense of Aone’s shoulder. He’d come down from the winning block, slipped on a sweaty patch of floor, and the ligaments, overworked from three hard matches, let go on impact.

Through the ambulance, the ER, the manhandling required to set a dislocated shoulder, Aone had kept up his impassive face. Inside, his mind was a spiderweb, crawling with worry.

Dislocated joints are always weaker.

The scholarship is no good without volleyball.

The therapy will take time, but at least this happened at the end of a season.

Months of hard work and maybe I’ll be back up to everyone else’s level by fall.

I’m not ready to be done with volleyball.

I’m not ready for this to be over.

I’m not ready.

They sent him home with massive painkillers and dire threats about any activity remotely resembling athleticism for a month. Aone wanted to scream, but Kuroo kept shooting him looks as he drove them away from the hospital. He kept his mouth shut.

“Need anything?” Kuroo finally asked when they reached Aone’s room.

Aone didn’t turn around. “I’m fine.” He struggled to unlock the door with his left hand. Dropped his key on the floor. He stared at it, his throat getting tight.

Kuroo had the key in hand in a moment, pushing the door open, setting Aone’s phone and water bottle next to his bed, turning on a lamp. It was when he began fluffing a pillow that Aone reached out his left hand. “Kuroo.”

“Yes! Right, yeah.” He backed away from the bed, hands raised, grin sheepish. He was nearly out the door when he turned, chewing on his lip. “Um. Just so you know.”

Aone looked at him and tried to focus. It was probably time for another pain pill.

Kuroo ran a hand over his perpetual bedhead. “I called him. Your, uh, boyfriend? I looked up his number on your phone while you were…while we were at the hospital.”

Aone stared at him.

“Yeah, so, anyway, he’s coming? I guess?”

“You guess? What…what does that mean, you guess?”

“Ahahaha, okay, you’re right.” Kuroo edged farther out the door. “He’s totally coming. Said he’d get a train tonight. So. Yay?”

Aone’s mind latched onto something concrete to keep from spinning out of control. “Tatsu-san isn’t my boyfriend.”

Kuroo’s face lost its tension, his expression going flat.

Aone held his gaze and refused to give in.

“…sugar daddy?” Kuroo enunciated neatly.

Aone glared at him.

“Whatever he is, he’s staying in your room.” Kuroo walked out the door. Popped his head back in. “And I know that’s not gonna be a problem. I’m just saying I’ve gone through a pack of ear plugs.”

Aone walked calmly to the door and shut it in his face. If someone was going to lecture someone else about intimate noise, that someone had no business being Kuroo.

He’d had every intention of staying awake until Tatsu arrived. Unfortunately, the pain meds had other plans. When he opened his eyes, the room was dark except for the small lamp on his desk. His shoulder throbbed. His mouth was dry. He tried to sit up, groaning. How was everything in his entire body connected to his shoulder?

“Wait, hang on, what do you need?” A soft voice, a rustling sound.

Aone blinked sleep from his eyes, and there was Tatsu, getting to his feet from the floor. His jacket was folded neatly as a seat cushion against the wall, two or three overstuffed bags nearby.

“Tatsu…san?” Aone croaked.

Tatsu grabbed the water bottle on the desk. “Is this what you want? Do you need something for the pain?” He glanced over the desk, reached for a small pill bottle. “These?”

Aone watched him, silent and glowing inside. The lamp turned Tatsu’s ponytail gold. They’d seen each other a couple times since that night in Tanaka’s pub, always both of them impeccably dressed until they weren’t, both striving to impress the other until they forgot to. Never like this…Tatsu in jeans and a thin T-shirt that was probably never expensive. Aone incapable of dazzling anyone with his body at the moment.

Tatsu offered a pill and water. “You don’t have to move, I’ve got it.” Aone lifted his good hand, but Tatsu frowned. “Just open your mouth.” His voice was quiet. It lacked the tone that Aone knew was meant to arouse, but nonetheless his heart picked up the pace.

“You don’t have to worry.” Tatsu dropped the pill on Aone’s tongue with no sensuality, just care. “I’m here.”

Aone would speak. Eventually. He would get the words out that were crowding his throat. He’d ask the questions that refused to leave his brain—will you? do you want to? could we? am i? are you? do you? please? But for this moment, he scooted over on the bed. Patted the sheets next to him, never taking his eyes off Tatsu, glowing in lamplight.

The way Tatsu’s face softened was beautiful. He settled on the bed, every movement graceful, and curled into Aone’s side without a single jostle.

Aone leaned his head back and closed his eyes, smiling.

##