#i’ll still Write but i’m much slower and it’ll probably be like once every few days

[adamanteine]

hellooooo just posting this bc idk how active I’ll be ic wise in the next three weeks bc my work schedule is insane and i have a few deadlines coming up that last till late april early may 🫵

[fanmoose12]

hiiiii🤗🤗 just wondering,have you ever write a levihan au where one of them is a school/university athlete and the other is like their admirer or besfriend, that never fails to come to every single match and is the loudest cheering audience? you know how it goes hehe..

this idea just pop in my mind and i just have this idea where levi is like the top player be it any kind of sport (ehem! how bout basketball😏 or maybe volleyball 😍) and hange is like the secret admirer who came to cheer for him in every match, although hange tries to be discreet an all that, levi notice her anyway bcos she's famous(hange's a school president i think😁), and clever and kind and pretty and on top of that he also has a crush on her.😳😳

p/s: just an idea., and i reaaally hope this ask gets to you. THANK YOU VERY MUCH😙

With but a few minutes left before start of the game, Levi scans the bleachers, his eyes narrowed and gaze focused. He knows what - who - he's looking for but- he can't find the person he expects to.

He looks over gym once more, this time slower, more careful. And still he doesn't see the glint of glasses and the mop of brown hair.

Where the fuck is that insolent four-eyes? Why Levi can't see her?

Usually, she sits in the first row, claps the loudest, cheers the loudest, fucking jumps every time Levi's team score.

...Not that Levi pays much attention to shitty glasses or what she's doing. She's just... hard to miss.

And that's precisely why he noticed that she's absent during tonight's game. There is no other reason - obviously, Levi doesn't expect, wait or want for her to show up. And he doesn't care where she is, he doesn't worry that something might have happened.

Four-eyes probably forgot about the game. Or is caught up in her studies. Or maybe she got sick of the volleyball or him and-

Okay, alright, maybe, he does care about four-eyes. Just a little bit. It's not serious. She's just... a sort of a lucky charm for him. Whenever she's present at the game, they always win.

Naturally, it's not in any way connected to his desire to impress her. Who would want to impress some dorky nerd anyway? Although... as nerdy as she is, four-eyes is certainly... an eye-catcher.

Not that she catches Levi's eyes, of course, but her face is- pleasing to look at. Maybe. Kind of. Levi doesn't look at her, doesn't stare in fascination.

And he doesn't care if four-eyes shows up for the game or not.

They'll win anyway, they always do.

---

They lose the first set. Spectacularly. Shockingly. Shamefully.

Levi scowls as he trudges back to his team, his head hanged low to avoid the annoyingly pleased smirk on the face of the captain of the opposing team. Zeke is way too gleeful for someone who has lost all the previous matches in the season. So, yeah, maybe, the Scouts are not at their best today. They'll still give Warriors a run for their money in the second set.

Probably. If Levi manages to get his shit together.

"Everything alright?" Mike, his teammate, asks.

Levi grimaces instead of answering.

Is everything alright? No! Because he spent the entirety of the first set, wondering where the fuck four-eyes is. If she got bored of volleyball, she could have... told it to his face. Not just abandon him like that, without any kind of warning.

And it's stupid, unreasonable, Levi doesn't remember ever having as much as a conversation with her, but- he feels like he was dumped.

By a person he had exchanged all but a couple of words and a few dozens of meaningful gazes with. Certainly, his loneliness is reaching new heights every day.

The giant scoreboard taunts him, yet another evidence of his loss. Levi glances at it - as briefly as he can - to check when the second set is going to begin. Levi curses - less than a minute left.

Fuck. So, another embarrassment awaits him?

And just then, when all hope leaves and Levi's spirits lower, that's when four-eyes enters, waltzes inside the gym, hastily shoving people aside to get to her usual place in the first row.

What a fucking asshole. He almost lost another set because of her- her absence, to be precise.

But for now - the game is afoot.

When the game is over, after Levi wins, he'll have a couple of words with four-eyes.

---

After thirty minutes of running, jumping and sweating, Levi's team wins the second set. By a landslide.

And then they win the third one too.

Levi briefly pats Mike's shoulder, high fives several other team members, gives Zeke a victorious smirk and a middle finger, and then leaves the celebration to seek his goal.

Which allows them - thank fuck - to win the entire game.

Four-eyes is by the exit when he catches up with her.

Levi seizes her elbow and stirs her aside, away from the curious gazes of other students.

"You were late to the game," is the first thing he tells her.

Four-eyes opens her mouth. Promptly closes it. Then opens it again.

"You noticed?" and then, before Levi can give any sort of reply, she adds, with no small amount of bewilder, "So what if I did?"

Four-eyes seems lost, even more confusion appearing on her face. "I... don't follow."

"So what?" Levi gasps. So what, she asks! How dare she! "We almost lost because of you," he hisses.

Levi curses. Then turns away from her. Runs a hand through his hair. Right words still elude him.

He tries to explain anyway.

"We always win when you're present at the game. And when you didn't show up at the beginning..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he nods, pleased that four-eyes is smart enough to catch up with him.

"So you're saying..." the confusion is all but gone from her face, eyes and voice. Now she's showing him a brilliant smile. "That I'm your lucky charm?"

No. Of course, he didn't mean that. He didn't, right? Levi rewinded their conversation. Fuck, perhaps... he did mean that.

Shit.

Well, anyway, what's said is said. No point denying it, it'll only make it worse.

"Maybe, you are," he grunts at last. "So if it won't inconvenience you terribly... don't be late to the next game. I'll... treat you to dinner after that."

Instead of a joyful outcry Levi expected, four-eyes cocks an eyebrow. "Are you that desperate to win?"

"That," Levi agrees, tilting his head to compensate for the difference in their heights. "And I also want to... get to know my lucky charm a little better."

"Oh," four-eyes blushes, adorably so. Something inside Levi's chest tightens, his stomach fluttering pleasantly. "If that's so, I'll be sure to arrive early."

Levi nods, a bit numbly, not knowing what else to say. Four-eyes helps him with that as well.

"See you later," she promises, and disappears into the crowd.

Levi watches her go for another moment, then goes to return to his team.

He smiles as he rejoins them. They won this game, and with four-eyes' help, they'll win another one.

---

It's the end of the season and the tensions are high as ever. Scouts are facing Warriors once more, and the shadow of their last game is as ominous as ever.

Warriors think they can push a little more, and the victory is theirs, along with a championship.

But Levi knows better. His lucky charm, his four-eyes is by his side, and when Hange kisses him, whispering 'good luck', Levi knows for sure - there is no way he can lose. Not when Hange is watching him.

And when he scores the last point, he does it for her.

[solliewriter]

Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is  less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through. 

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY 

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age. 

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

 2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking 

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics 

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

[darthkruge]

hey could you do a jess mariano x reader where the reader has dyslexia but loves to read. someone at school makes a comment about her being dumb and she gets insecure but jess is super reassuring to the reader about how intelligent she is. also they can either be already dating or have mutual crushes. whatever you think fits better. <3

Jess Mariano x Dyslexic!Reader ~ All of You

Summary: Someone at school insults the dyslexic reader and their boyfriend, Jess, provides reassurance. 

Warnings: Bullying, language, insecurities, I think that’s it? 

Words: 2.1k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so, so sorry this took me so long to get to! I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t mean to keep you in the ask box void. I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting! I decided to make them already be dating because that’s where my brain went hehe. I hope you like it :)

You walked to school hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, as always. Even though it took him about 15-20 minutes out of the way, Jess never missed walking with you. He hated the thought of you starting your day by yourself and never wanted you to feel forgotten about or lonely. Thus, the tradition began and it has stayed the way you start your day, everyday, for the last few months that you’ve been dating. 

Jess pulled you behind the science building, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands instinctively wove into his hair and his arms wound around your waist, pulling your bodies together. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away from your lips and gently moving his kisses down the side of your neck. You hummed in content before moving to meet his face again, once again pressing your lips to his. 

These stolen moments were what you lived for. You’d never felt too confident in yourself, at least as far as relationships went, and you weren’t used to this kind of affection. Even so, you loved every moment of it. Everything with Jess felt so natural. No matter what, you came first to him and he never failed to show it. 

You both pulled away and he softly kissed your forehead.

“See you after second period?”

“Of course” 

“Okay, love. Text me if you need me. Or if you’re bored. Or if you miss me”

“Oh, yes! That Jess Mariano charm. I’m not sure how I’ll endure two classes without it!”

“I’m sure it’ll prove quite e difficult,” Jess said, laughing. The bell rang and he gave you one last smile before you parted. 

You walked into your English class with a smile on your face, giddy after the experience with him. He made you feel alive. It was the kind of feeling you didn’t know you needed, but once you felt it you couldn’t imagine losing it. 

You sat down in your seat, waiting for the teacher to start class. 

“Okay, everyone. Today we’re just going to be doing some silent reading for the first half of class and then I’ll put you in small groups to work on a new project”

Fuck. Group projects were the fucking worst. Unless you got one of your friends, people were normally assholes and impossible to work with. 

Even though you were upset with the new development, you were excited to have time to read. You pulled out your copy of The Great Gatsby that Jess had lent you and picked up where you last left off. Because you read so much and generally did well or at least half-decent in school, people never assumed you had dyslexia. Lots of people had this false narrative that if you have dyslexia, you must hate reading. It was something you were used to, the stupid comments and assumptions. You tried to not let it get to you but you sometimes felt frustrated. You’d run into loads of ignorant people in your life and while you weren’t ashamed to have dyslexia, you hated having to explain it to every new teacher, every new friend in your life. You never knew how’d they’d react.

Even so, reading was one of your greatest joys in life. Losing yourself in the work, in the story, it was enthralling. You loved to find characters that you connected with. Their emotions were palpable and made you feel validated and less alone. Reading was one of the main things that brought you and Jess together. He knew you had dyslexia and, thankfully, never treated you like you were any less. You were afraid he would break up with you once you told him, but, of course, he didn’t. You were still you, and that’s all he cared about. 

He loved trading books with you and hearing your thoughts on them. In doing so, he felt the two of you were brought closer together. Discussing literature was an almost intimate experience in your relationship. Learning which characters and themes resonated with a person was truly illuminating about their personality and mind. Right now, as you read Gatsby, Jess was reading Pride and Prejudice. You loved Jane Austen, as did Jess, and you completely enjoyed discussing her work. 

After a few moments lost in thought, your teacher’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Alright! Okay so for the group project you will be analyzing the short story “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. Please read it together today and discuss what you think the most pertinent theme is. I’ve already assigned the groups and I’ll display them on the board right now.”

Your teacher stepped back and turned on the projector so you could see the groups. Scanning for your name, you internally groaned when you saw who you were with. Sarah, Justin, and Alex. They were all close and their friend group didn’t exactly have the best reputation. You grabbed your bag, walked over to them, and sat down.

“So, y’all just wanna read it? Then just talk about it, I guess. We’re looking for themes, right?” Sarah asked.

Everyone nodded, opening up the copies of the short story placed on your desks. You jumped in and immediately felt yourself pulled into the writing. After a few minutes, your eyes glued to the story, you heard the rest of your group closing their packets. 

“Alright, everyone done?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, you?” Alex said

Sarah nodded in agreement.

You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks flush. You were only about 70% through the story. “Sorry, I just need a bit more time, is that okay?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just hurry up,” Sarah groaned. 

Your face burning, you went back to the reading. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying, you were! They just wouldn’t understand it. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had told you to just “focus more”. It made your blood boil, honestly. It was so dismissive and you couldn't believe people still thought that way. You always focused and it wasn’t your fault, and, yet, morons like these three persisted. After a few more minutes, you heard Alex again.

“Come on! You can’t possibly still be reading?”

“I’m sorry, just-” You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “Please, just a few more minutes?”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid. No wonder no one wants to work with you. All you do is hold people up, you’re a goddamn idiot” Alex said.

Your eyes burned and unshed tears started to push their way up but you fought them down. You wouldn’t let yourself cry in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see how they’d affected you. 

Finally, the bell went off and you were able to leave. Your group glared at you and you realized you  hadn’t discussed the themes. 

“It’s, um, the story’s about the juxtaposition of peace and violence. Even though the people are in a calm, controlled setting, they resort to violence every year. It’s an outdated tradition they keep up and, thus, it highlights the difference between their actions and how they want to be perceived.” You said quickly, voice wavering. 

Your group scoffed before walking off. That didn’t bother you too much. You knew your analysis was accurate and probably far better than anything they could have come up with, even if they’d spent the last 15 minutes of class discussing it. Despite this, you still felt deflated. The shit they’d said, the way they’d treated you? You couldn’t deny it, it got to you. 

You walked over to your locker and put your stuff away. After that, you decided you were just going to go home. You could call the school later and say you were feeling sick or something. Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were just so drained, you needed to get away from this place and the people in it.

However, you didn’t want Jess to worry. You sent him a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and put on your headphones before walking out of the school.

What you didn’t expect was Jess to come flying out of nowhere, appearing by your side as if you’d summoned him.

“Jess! What are you doing? Don’t you have class!”

He shrugged. “You weren’t feeling well. Did you honestly expect I’d leave you by yourself? And, seriously, Y/N, you know I hate this place. You’re the only thing that makes it bearable so if you  wouldn’t be here, why should I?”

You nodded and kept walking forward. Jess looked at you quizzically, trying to decode your dejected state. He kept quiet, knowing not to push you to talk. He trusted you’d come to him when you were ready. Therefore, he simply followed you until you made it off campus, where you turned into a random alley and suddenly stopped walking.

Jess caught himself, almost running right into you. You suddenly turned around, dropped your bag, and bolted right into his chest. He was caught off guard but instinctively brought his arms around you, trying to comfort you. He noticed you were crying, your broken sobs getting muffled in his shirt. He soothingly rubbed his arms up and down your back, desperately trying to give you solace. After you finally quieted down, Jess gently and slowly pulled you back.

His hands gripped your shoulders as he studied your face, your sad gaze meeting his. “What happened?”

“Stupid English, that’s all”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t shut me out. What happened?” He said, his tone kind.

“I-” You trailed off, trying to keep your composure. “Some kids just said some shit. I was just reading slower than them and they said some shit. It’s not a big deal, I just- it got to me, okay?”

“Who?” Jess said, firmly this time.

“Jess-”

“Who, Y/N?”

“Alex, Justin, and Sarah.” 

Jess groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fuck them, Y/N. They’re fucking ridiculous and they don’t know anything about you”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m so goddamn frustrated! Because, like, it did get to me. Jess- Jess, they’re right. I felt like an idiot today, I felt stupid. And I hate feeling that way!” Hot tears smarmed in your eyes, the frustration and anger bringing them out. 

Jess’s gaze softened. As livid as he felt toward the three of them, he knew that’s not what you needed right now. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Love, take a breath. I’ve got you, okay?” 

You nodded, your breathing shaky from the stress of the day. 

“I’m sorry that happened today. Listen to me, Y/N. You’re so smart. You’re smarter than I am, hell, you’re smarter than anyone at that school! They’ve got nothing on you!”

You looked at him and smiled at his words but shook your head. “You don’t need to do that, Jess”

“Yes, I do. We promised we’d be honest in our relationship, right? Well, that’s all I’m doing. Seriously, Y/N, who else at that school could debate the themes in literature with me like you? Who could discuss the importance of accurate representation in books with me? Who could talk to me about just how influential YA books are and why they should be taken seriously-?”

“They are and they should!” You cut in.

Jess laughs, nodding in agreement. “Exactly!! You’re amazing, Y/N. And I swear those fuckheads are gonna get what’s coming to them”

“Jess-” You warn.

“Okay, okay!” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “They just- they messed with you and made you upset and I fucking hate that”

“I hated it too. I hate doubting myself because of my dyslexia. I feel so shit about myself when I get in that headspace and I start spiraling and it gets out of control so fast.” 

“I know. It’s not your fault when those spirals happen. And I know you know this, but I’m just gonna remind you: you’re not any less because you’re dyslexic. It doesn’t make you stupid or anything. It’s a part of you and I love you, all of you”

Your heart swelled at his words. Everyone thought Jess wasn’t good expressing his emotions but you knew the truth. He was quite eloquent when he wanted to be, he just sometimes had trouble with vulnerability. You didn’t blame him for it, with his past it made perfect sense. But when you needed that reassurement, that compassion, you could always count on him for it. 

He moved to place a kiss on your forehead before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay” You smiled up at him and kissed him once more before tucking your head into his shoulder. He pulled you closer and you grabbed his free hand with yours as you continued to walk through the Stars Hollow streets together.

[marmosa]

evenings with you.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: none!

A/N: harry potter won’t be the only thing i write about, but for now it might be since a few of my friends are really rekindling my love for the universe (not jkr tho, fuck that bitch).  

***

The common room buzzed with people running about, chatting among themselves and waiting impatiently for their slower friends so they could make their way down to the stand for this week’s Quidditch match. The fireplace crackled nearby, a sharp undercurrent beneath all the busy conversation. 

“You know [y/n],” Evie spoke up, leaning her head back over the armrest of the couch, “red eyeliner really suits you, you should wear it more often.” 

“Thank you darling, I’m not so sure it’ll become a regular part of my attire, but it sure does make spirit wear even more fun to wear,” [y/n] chuckled, glancing at her reflection in the tiny handheld mirror she kept with her at almost all times. 

“Whatever you say. I personally think that that Weasley boy you fancy is going to love it, he does seem like the type to enjoy bold colors,” Evie hummed pretending to ignore the daggers being shot at her form [y/n]’s eyes. 

“Would you quiet down! What if he hears you? We’re all Gryffindor’s you absolute fool,” [y/n] hissed, reaching forward and imitating a strangling motion. 

“I’ll start quieting down once you two go on a proper date, it’s so boring that you’re still taking this long to have finally made a first move,” Evie drawled, pushing herself into a sitting position, “besides-,” she paused and small smirk drawing onto her features, “speak of the red-headed devil.” 

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she quickly composed herself, panicking on not only what she planned to say but why he’d decided to approach them in the first place. 

“Hey Evie,” Fred chimed cheerily, turning to [y/n] with a more reserved gentleness, “hey [y/n]. You two heading down the pitch yet? The game starts soon and we’re gonna need as much support as we can get.” 

“You boys don’t need the flattery, your ego’s already too big from the last two games you absolutely crushed,” Evie scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully at Fred’s request. 

“Hey, you never know how things can turn out. One wrong move and our winning streak could fall apart!” Fred feigned offence at her remark, placing his hand over his chest. 

“If you really need a good luck charm, I heard [y/n]’s kisses are one of the most lucky charms there is,” Evie teased, sticking her tongue out at her now hot-faced friend. 

“I’m not kissing anybody, especially not a quidditch player, it’ll go straight to their head,” [y/n] muttered, tipping her head up in pride to prove her point, “besides, Fred here does just fine without any sort of charm.” 

“Now don’t be that way [y/n], that’s just rude. You know I’ll take any luck I can get though, if the offer still stands,” Fred teased, plopping down on the sofa next to her and tapping his cheek suggestively. 

“Watch it,” [y/n] grit, elbowing him in the side.

“Hey! Careful with the merchandise! I have a match to win,” Fred frowned, holding his hands up to protect himself from any other preemptive attacks. 

“Whatever,” [y/n] muttered, rolling her eyes, “If you so desperately need a good luck charm, here.” She reached behind her and un-clipped her necklace, dangling the golden pendent with the heart charm at the end in front of him. 

“Are you sure,” Fred whispered, eyeing the chain cautiously, “I wouldn’t want to break it.” 

“It’s not fragile, besides, you can repair it with a quick spell can’t you?” She grinned, letting the chain sink into his palm. 

He pressed his lips together to hide his smile, making quick work of putting on the necklace and tucking the pendent under his collar, grinning widely at an amused [y/n], “I have a good feeling about this match.”

“You say that about every match,” [y/n] teased. 

“I mean it this time,” Fred beamed, looking up as Oliver called his name from the portraits entrance, “Well, I must take my leave. Send me your luck from the stands ladies, I bid you adieu,” He nodded before jogging off, scooping his helmet off a nearby table as he ducked out of the common room. 

Before [y/n] could get lost in her thought, Evie squealed loudly and nearly pounced on her, squeezing her arm, “You two were so flirting! That has got to be the cutest thing I have ever seen, I can’t believe you two haven’t made out already!” 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” [y/n] bit back a smile, leaning her head onto her friends shoulder as she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of their small interaction, “Anyways, we have a match to go watch, up and at it now, yeah?” 

“Hot chocolate and gossip afterwards?” Evie asked, shimmying excitedly. 

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else,” [y/n] grinned.

***

“YOU COULD’VE HIT THAT, FOCUS WEASLEY, FOCUS!” [y/n] screamed from the stands, her cries probably getting drowned out among the other student’s commotion. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have teased him so much, it might’ve rubbed off,” Evie sighed, nudging [y/n] slightly, trying to gain her attention. 

“Probably,” [y/n] muttered, furrowing her brows as she eyes the scoreboard, the players, and the commentators, “should’ve given him that kiss,” [y/n] continued, more to herself than anyone else. 

The game continued on, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff holding their own as the time ticked by to the end. As soon as it had started it had finished, Gryffindor scoring the victory by less than 15 extra points, relief flooding over the students packing into the stands. 

“I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!” [y/n] called out from the stands, as the students jeered and began making their way out of the stands and back into the castle.

Fred caught her eye as he soared around on his broom, beaming wider than she could’ve hoped for, waving at her frantically and nearly falling off his broom in the process. She laughed to herself, muttering a few insults under her breath as Evie dragged her along, insistent on getting their favored spot in the commons before anyone else could. 

The Gryffindor victory did nothing short of energize the entire house, the common room nearly shaking with joy and pride, drinks and snacks alike being shared like the last supper they’d ever have. 

Evie cheered with everyone else, still bounding on the same adrenaline high everyone else was. She plopped back down on the couch, wrapping an arm around [y/n]‘s shoulder, “Have you seen Weasley yet?” she questioned as quiet as she could against the deafening noise of the common room. 

“Nope, not yet, he’s probably off doing something stupid with the boys,” [y/n] shrugged, a little bummed she didn’t get to see him, but still overjoyed with the outcome of the match nonetheless. 

The night passed by in a blur. A few hours packed full of speeches, songs, jokes, stories, and food, everyone eventually falling upon the inevitable crash of exhaustion. Nearly everyone but a few stragglers had retired to their rooms for the night, the common room surprisingly clean for how much chaos had already ensued. 

“I’m heading to bed, you coming?” Evie offered, pushing herself off the couch and onto her feet, sore from the hours of insistent standing. 

“I think I’m going to hang around for a bit, you head up. I’ll make sure I’m as quiet as mouse when I return, won’t wake a soul,” [y/n] promised, waving goodbye to her friend as she snuggled into the couch, the crackling of the fireplace becoming the background to her nightly pondering session. 

She remained engulfed in thought as she recalled the events of today, he face running hot as she remembered Fred’s witty remarks along with the thought that he was indeed wearing her necklace. Her mind reeled enough that she didn’t notice the mop of red hair rapidly approaching her as silent as could be. 

“[y/n]!” Fred whisper-yelled, startling her out of her reverie.

“Shit-! Fred? Don’t scare me like that you moron,” She hissed, shooting her leg out to kick at his defenseless legs. 

He hopped backwards and situated himself on the couch as soon as she’d stopped kicking, “Still got some fight in you huh, the party didn’t wear you out?” 

“Of course it did, I’m just,” She shrugged, unsure of what to answer, “congrats on the win today. You did a,” she paused, pondering her words, “average job. Could’ve been better.” 

Fred’s mouth dropped open as he absorbed her words, shocked and amused that she’d jab at him like that, “You are just being a little spitfire today, aren’t you?” 

“And what’s it to you, Weasley,” She hummed, turning her body to face him, knees still hugged tightly to her chest. 

“I’m starting to think you hate me,” He mumbled, pouting and leaning his head onto the back of the couch. 

“Close but not quite. You can be charming,” She smiled, “sometimes.”  

“You know what,” he sighed, “I’ll take it. Perhaps me keeping your necklace in tact will earn me a few points?” 

He pulled the charm out from under the collar of his hoodie, holding it out like a medal of honor. [y/n] leaned forward and held the pendant in her palm, examining the gold heart for any dents or scratches. Fred held his breath, batting his eyes a few times at how close she was, the smell of cinnamon and sugar heavy coming faintly from her. 

“It seems you did keep it in tact, I’m impressed,” She grinned, letting the pendant swing back onto his chest, tapping it reassuringly with her fingertips. 

“I-uh, thanks,” He stumbled over his words, still recuperating from her closeness, “Do you- do you want it back?” 

“Hm? Oh no, you can keep it. I have a feeling you could use some luck on your side,” She hummed, leaning her chin into the divot between her two knees, looking up at him with inviting eyes. 

“I’ll cherish it until my dying day,” He proclaimed proudly, squaring his shoulder for a moment to enlarge his frame. 

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will,” she giggled, her heart being overtaken by a fuzzy feeling, head lolling to the side. 

Fred glanced down at her sleepy face, her eyes blinking in a slow manner and her body moving sluggishly, “I think you’re ready for bed.” 

“Says who? I’m not even tired,” [y/n] yawned, defeating her entire point. 

“Here, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll give you my hoodie, just like you gave me your necklace, if you go to sleep right now,” Fred offered, heart hammering in his chest as he realized just how direct he was probably being with such a request. 

Her eyes widened slightly before sinking back down, a lazy smile pulling its way onto her lips, “It’s a deal.” 

Fred grinned widely, yanking his hoodie off by the back of the collar, stretching his arms up and over his head to get it off. 

[y/n] couldn’t help but catch the quick glimpse of his toned abdomen that wormed its way into the open as he forced off his hoodie. She quickly composed herself, trying to not let him see how her eyes were nearly ready to pop out of their sockets. 

“Here, I hope my cologne isn’t too overbearing,” He handed her the hoodie, the locket now on display in the center of divot in his neck. 

She took it graciously and inhaled his scent out of curiosity, her brain going fuzzy at the lovely smell of ceder-wood, evergreen, and mint that filled her nose, “It’s actually really nice, keep buying whatever cologne this is.” 

“Why thank you, that’s actually very kind of you,” Fred smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Of course,” She smiled, “well, a deal’s a deal. Off to bed I go.” 

“Yeah, Of course.”

The two of them stood up, [y/n] pulling on the hoodie and basking in the glow that was Fred. He looked down at her as she fiddled with the sleeves, turning side to side to get a feel for it, the gesture itself making Fred’s face burn red. 

“I think I look ready to take on the world, what’s your take?” She chuckled, being slightly taken aback when she looked back up to see Fred covering the bottom half of his face with his hand, the tips of his ears burning red. 

“It, yeah, it looks great. Grey suits you, you should wear it more often,” he nodded, still refusing to make eye contact with her. 

“Thanks,” [y/n] nodded, suddenly embarrassed to have even agreed to take it in the first place, “Well, goodnight Fred.” 

“Goodnight [y/n],” he passed her a tight-lipped smile as she shuffled off to her dormitory, he mind suddenly clouded with doubt. 

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” Fred muttered to himself, watching her disappear around the bend, cursing under his breath and heading off to his own dormitory. 

***

“HE GAVE YOU HIS HOODIE!” Evie shouted, shaking [y/n] awake as their other two roommates chuckled to themselves, running around as they got ready for breakfast. 

“That he did,” [y/n] replied in a groggy voice, stretching out her limbs as Evie paced back and forth next to her bed, going on about “a date not being far behind” or something of the sort. 

“Woah, woah, woah, slow your roll there chief,” [y/n] sat up and rubbed at her sunken eyes, “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Evie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at [y/n] with complete disbelief, “You’re kidding right? That’s the most idiotic thing that has ever come out of your mouth, and you’ve said some pretty dumb shit.” 

“It’s not idiotic! He looked at me weird when I put it on and he probably regret it anyways, it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll just return it to him when we go to breakfast,” [y/n] muttered, sitting up and beginning to work on her morning routine. 

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Evie scoffed, returning to whatever she had been doing before she decided to corner [y/n]. 

“Mhm,” [y/n] replied. 

The Great Hall was already bustling with students when the two girls arrived, both of them eyeing where they’d be sitting. They settled on a spot between two second years and a few people from the upper years, plopping down in the seats. 

[y/n] couldn’t help by feel nauseous as she cradled the sweatshirt in her lap, glancing up and down the table for the boy that was most likely obliviously responsible for making her regret every advance she’d ever made on him. 

Evie looked over at her poor friend, reaching over and rubbing her back softly to try and sooth the obvious nervous knot that had tied itself in her stomach, “It’s okay. Things will work out just fine.” 

Evie had her downfalls as a friend, insisting that [y/n] be bolder and more direct with the way she carried herself day to day, but when it came down to it she loved her friends dearly and would put them above anything else. 

“Thanks,” [y/n] muttered, poking the french toast around on her plate. 

The two finished their food quickly, [y/n] not taking much time at all as she had chosen not to eat very much anyway. As they made their way out to go spend some free time before their first class of the day, the same mop of fiery red hair made its appearance. 

“Hey [y/n], Evie, how’re you on this fine morning,” Fred smiled, stopping in his tracks as his brother George and their pal Seamus continued on their way to secure spots at the table.

“Just fine thank you Fred,” Evie smiled softly, “I was actually heading to the library to study before my potions exam, so I’ll leave you and [y/n] to it,” she gave [y/n]’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before heading off. 

“Good morning [y/n],” Fred chirped, a nervous edge to his voice as he stared down at [y/n]. 

“Good morning Fred,” [y/n] smiled halfheartedly, rocking back and forth on her heels as she worked up the courage to confirm her supposed rejection. 

“What’cha got there,” Fred quipped, pointing to the object clutched in [y/n]’s hands behind her back, “you’re not hiding things from me now, are ya?” 

“Not at all,” [y/n] chuckled sadly, “It’s, uhm, it’s actually your hoodie,” she held it out in front of her, refusing to make direct eye contact with Fred. 

Fred’s face fell, not even trying to hide his disappointment at this sudden turn of events, “Oh,” he reached forward and took it from her. 

“I figured you’d probably want it back, and I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, cause y’know were not, like dating, or anything. And you probably wanted it back anyway, it was stupid of me to take it in the first place,” She started to ramble, heart wrenching at the absolutely broken expression Fred was giving her right then, her mind screaming abort as she wished she could have just taken everything back right then and there. 

“I get it,” Fred muttered, his words clipped short, “Thanks for the hoodie back.” 

Without another word Fred turned on his heel and walked into the Great Hall, leaving behind a cracked [y/n] and blanket of regret. [y/n] started choking up, swiveling around and sprinting to her dormitory, her robes billowing behind her. 

What had she done?

***

The next week had passed by painfully slow. Each day felt like a stab to the gut, the blade being turned deeper and deeper into the wound. [y/n] was miserable, no matter what he friends tries, she was a lost cause, sucked into her own regret. Evie did everything in her power to get [y/n] to warm up again, but she knew it was no particular use. 

Fred had chosen to give [y/n] the silent treatment, even going as far as to avoid her in the halls, common room, quidditch field, you name it. That week had absolutely broken the two of them. [y/n]  had never been so upset over a guy before, that it was exhausting for her to even focus on anything else but the sour taste in her mouth. Fred wasn’t taking it well either, his brother having to practically drag him out of bed for quidditch practice.

This week had a rapidly approaching quidditch match, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, and the prospects were not looking too well on Gryffindor’s side. Students had taken to relaxing a bit as they slowed down school work to let the quidditch players prep and the other students rest. 

Evie had to go to breakfast herself the morning before the quidditch math as [y/n] had opted to sleep in as she had two free periods that morning. [y/n] wanted to curl up and cry more than anything, the locket she’d lent Fred swinging beneath her shut eyelids almost taunting her. She knew prospects were looking grim for their victory, Oliver Wood would have a breakdown nearly every other day leading up to the match, and she could only wonder how Fred was taking the teams fruitless practices. 

Fred, on the other hand, spent that morning curled up in the common rooms, toying with the locket as he stared out the windows towards the field he’d be playing on later that day. He felt sick to his stomach, his good luck charm feeling less than lucky that day. More than anything, he wondered what he’d done to get her to be so repulsed by his advance, his eyes watering at the notion that she’d done nothing more than respond to him in a friendly manner that he’d just selfishly misinterpreted. 

The quidditch match had finally arrived, the team stalking out of the common room as the other students sat in lackluster enthusiasm, a few of the upper years demanding they show at least a little spirit to hype the team. It was a wasted effort, but the stand still vibrated with anticipation nonetheless. 

The match came and went and it was painful to watch to say the least. Gryffindor did so poorly it was as if you were watching a completely different team. Students left the stands that afternoon, solemn and sad, totally bummed at the outcome. 

[y/n] got caught in the current and ended up at the back of the pack as they filed out of the stands, her hands tucked in her pockets to keep them warm from the cool breeze. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and felt a pang in her chest as she recalled just how cozy she’d felt in Fred’s hoodie. Cursing under her breath, she descended the steps, lost in her own mind, completely overlooking the quidditch team that appeared behind her. 

She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see a mop of red hair, but quickly calmed down when she realized it was the other twin, “Hey George,” She muttered sympathetically. 

“Hey [y/n],” He smiled weakly, obviously torn down by the loss. 

“Sorry for the loss. We’re proud of you guys either way,” She reassured him, reaching over and squeezing him in a side hug. 

He leaned into her and smiled softly, “Thank you. I appreciate the consolation. But, uh, I think Fred needs it more,” he nodded his head backwards towards the back of the group, Fred hanging his head low with his brows furrowed painfully close.

[y/n] was taken aback, but swallowed her pride nonetheless and nodded understandingly, excusing herself as she carefully pushed through the crowd, until she ended up at the back.

“Hey,” she whispered, clutching her hands in front of her. 

Fred looked up, his face wet with tears, quickly wiping them off with the back of his hand as he realized who he was talking to, “[y/n]? I thought you already went in?” 

“Nope, got caught up in the surge,” she chuckled. 

“Oh,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” she chewed on her bottom lip, concluding on her choice of words, “can we talk?” 

Fred wanted nothing more than to say no and run away, his heart wrenching at the inevitable conversation they were going to have where she turned him down gently in that smooth voice she always used when she wanted to be empathetic, but he knew it was unavoidable, “Sure.”

The two broke off from the crowd and settled in a small study room, a hall or two away from the boys changing room where he’d deposited his broom and helmet. They sat on one of the couches that was pushed against the wall, [y/n] with her knees facing Fred who’d rigidly sat facing forward. 

“I’m sorry about the-,”  [y/n] began, only to be cut off. 

“I know you’re here to reject me and I’m sorry I if I ever made you uncomfortable with my advances, it was never my intention to make you feel bad, so you don’t have to say anything or pity me because it’s fine, I should have know from the beginning, and quite frankly-,” Fred began to ramble, all his feelings tumbling out at once, his filter failing him. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Slow down darling, that wasn’t even where I was going to start,” she backtracked, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers, “I was going to say sorry for the game. I was going to build up to that, but, what do you mean I’m here to reject you?” 

Fred finally looked up from his lap and over at her, his face starting to flame a bright red, “oh, I’m sorry.” His eyes started to well up and he exhaled deeply, trying to blink the tears back, but ultimately failing. 

“Oh, come here darling,” she cooed, pulling him to her as he cried into her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tightly to his chest. 

They sat like that for a while, Fred dumping all his bottled up emotions into [y/n]’s shoulder while she rubbed gentle circles into his back. Her hand traced up and rubbed at the nape of his neck, fluffing up the curls that lay there. When it seemed like he’d finally gained some composure, she pulled back, sliding her hands up to cup his cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry I ignored you for so long,” He whispered, grasping her wrists ever so softly as she thumbed away the lingering tears on his cheek. 

“And I’m sorry I did too,” She muttered, frowning slightly, “I never thought your advances were uncomfortable. I relished them, actually,” she chuckled awkwardly, biting back her own tears now, “I returned the hoodie and said those shitty things because I didn’t know what to do when you looked at me like that. I thought “there was no way he likes me that much” and I convinced myself I was right.” 

She dropped her hands and started rubbing furiously at her eyes, the pent up emotions finally shoving their way out. Fred pulled her close once more, pressing her head into his chest as she cried into his shirt, his hand caressing her hair reassuringly. 

“I ignored you because I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Fred confessed as she calmed down, “I liked you so much that the thought of you not wanting anything more hurt more than anything. I couldn’t fathom how stupid I’d been, because I didn’t want to. And when you said those things it was like the final nail in the coffin, I realized I had to come to terms with your rejection.” 

“You like me?” [y/n] muttered, looking up at him, somehow in awe. 

“Have I not made that clear enough yet?” Fred chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head, “we’re hopeless. Absolutely and completely hopeless.”

She broke into laughter as he grabbed her and pulled her down onto the couch with him, a shrill giggle leaving her lips as she fell along with him, pressed to his chest.

“Evie was right, I am an idiot,” [y/n] sighed, pushing herself up so she was eye level with Fred. 

“The most idiotic, idiot I know,” Fred concurred, giggling when she gave him an offended look, “Okay maybe not the most idiotic.” 

“You’re impossible,” she huffed, glancing away from him. 

“And you’re infuriating,” Fred muttered, grabbing her chin gently and turning her to face him. 

She watched in silence as he thumbed over her lips, still wet from the tears that had fallen down her face moments ago. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“I though you’d never ask,” she breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down and connecting their lips. 

It was salty and slow, both of them moving in tandem to bandage one another’s bruised hearts. She caressed the sides of his face lovingly, curling her fingers in his mess of fiery red hair while he pressed her as close as he could, flattening his hands against the curve of her back.

They pulled apart for a moment, both smiling softly, reeling in the moment.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that,” Fred confessed, breathing a sigh of satisfaction. 

“Guess that makes two of us,” [y/n] grinned. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Fred quipped, excitement getting the best of him. 

“You don’t even have to ask,” [y/n] replied, pressing her lips to his once more. 

[sindrafalcone]

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 4

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Still fluff, with a bit of steam  at the end.

Author’s Note: Surprise! I wrote this part right after finishing the last one. I was on a roll. lol But, fair warning, part 5 will probably take me a little while. Still I hope you all enjoy this one. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1   Part 2  Part 3

“There is no way I'm prepared to have this conversation without alcohol.” Seunghyun said as the two of you hung up your coats and slid out of your shoes.

You simply murmured your agreement as he headed off to the kitchen, presumably for more wine.

The taxi ride back to the hotel had been awkward, to say the least. You'd kind of run out of things to talk about & neither of you wanted to discuss the proverbial 'elephant in the room' until you got back to the hotel.  So most of the ride was spent in awkward silence in between bits of random small talk.

In just a few moments you were both seated on the sofa facing each other, just as you had earlier that same evening, glasses of liquid courage in hand.

“I guess the best way is to just tell you...” he said, taking a deep gulp of his wine.

You nodded in encouragement. “Like a band-aid, all at once.”

“I'm a rapper.” Seunghyun blurted. The look of disbelief on your face only made him talk even faster.

“Well, I'm a rapper, an actor and a sometimes model. I'm part of an incredibly popular group, Bigbang. They call us the “Kings” of Kpop. So, that's why Mrs. Tran recognized me.”

“And that explains why you wanted to eat in the private room.” you smiled at him. “I thought maybe you had a phobia of crowds.”

He laughed a little at that. “Well, I don't really like crowds. But only because if I get recognized, it can cause a mob scene.” “You're really that popular?”

“It's worse in Asia.” he admitted. “But it can happen anywhere. We have to be really careful.”

You took a sip of your own wine, gears turning in your head; and it was then that sudden comprehension dawned on you. It took all that you had to not spit it out in surprise & Seunghyun watched in concern as you choked a little.

“Wait a minute...” you managed to gasp. “Is your name Choi Seunghyun?” you tried to keep your voice level.

He nodded sheepishly.

“I'm such an idiot...” you lightly smacked your hand up against your forehead before taking another drink. “I've been spending the entire evening with THE Choi Seunghyun and I didn't even realize it.”

“So, you've heard of the group then?” Seunghuyn asked, his voice a little bitter, thinking that perhaps you'd been leading him on all night.

You shook your head.  “No, that's not it... Um, maybe it will help if I spill my secret now. Do you happen to still have that pamphlet from the museum?”

“Yeah. It's in my coat pocket.”

“Would you mind going to get it, please? It'll make this a lot easier.” you murmured.

Seunghyun gave you a curious glance before setting his glass down on the table. Unfolding himself from the couch, he strode over to the entryway of the room & dug around in the inside pockets of his coat for a bit before he found the piece of folded paper. He handed it to you before sitting back down & to your surprise, he plunked the fortune cookies from the restaurant on the table as well. You felt yourself swallow thickly as you set your own glass down.

“Okay, so the Surrealist exhibit... you liked it, right?” you asked, bending the paper and folding it so that the back was prominently displayed.

He bobbed his head eagerly. “I loved it. It was both innovative and immersive. Not to mention that it featured work by some of my favorite artists.”  

“I'll take that as a compliment.” you told him, feeling the heat rise to your face at his genuine words.

Seunghyun looked confused, so you handed him the pamphlet, shyly pointing at the bottom of the paper.

His eyes scanned over a list of names that he didn't know; donors, directors, and managers of the museum... until he came to a line that stopped him cold. Surrealist Exhibit Curator: __________ ______________.

He pointed where your finger had just left. “That's.... that's your name. You're the curator of the exhibit I've been dying to see for  months?”

You tried your best not to be offended by the disbelief you thought you heard in his voice. “Yeah, that's me. Surprise... I guess? Small world.”

Seunghyun sat there in stunned silence for a moment as he thought things out, giving you the perfect opportunity to finish off the wine in your glass. He drank the rest of his as well, then poured fresh for you both.

“I thought...” he began, his voice soft. “I thought you worked there as a tour guide.” “Technically, I do.” you sighed. “I have a masters degree in art history, as well as a minor in public relations. It helps with the marketing and fundraising aspects.” you explained before sighing heavily. “But the job market to be a curator is stupidly competitive, not to mention, heavily dominated by men. So... I took what I could.” you had another sip of wine, slower this time because you could feel it starting to go to your head. “I figured I could start at the bottom and work my way up.”

“And you finally convinced them to let you curate an exhibit.” he said, taking his own drink. “How?”

You shrugged. “The Museum chief envisioned Surrealism and no one else wanted to do it. So, I more-or-less pulled double time for a few months while I put it together.”

“Did they pay you more?” Seunghyun asked, anger evident in his voice.

You just shook your head. “Not in the budget.”

He snorted. “Bullshit. I'll bet the chief gave himself a nice, fat bonus with the money that should have gone to you for all that extra work. And all you got was your name on the back of the tour pamphlet... in tiny print... at the very bottom.” Seunghyun grimaced and took a drink.

“No need to rub it in.” you grumbled, looking down at your feet, face flaming in embarrassment.

“No! That's not what I meant...Ugh, I'm making a mess of this.” he gently took the wine glass from your hand & set both his and yours down, then he turned back to you. Seunghyun slowly reached out his hand and settled the tips of his long fingers under your chin, gently moving your head up until you were looking into his eyes. “I'm not trying to make fun of you. If anything, I am enraged on your behalf. What they did to you was wrong and you shouldn't have to tolerate it.”

“I can't afford to quit.”you sniffed. “Besides, I get to lead people through the exhibit every day and see their reactions to it... good or bad. Most don't really appreciate it, at least... not the way you did. But it gets people thinking.”

“Wait...” Seunghyun said, reaching out and taking your hands in his. “Just a minute ago, you were shocked that you had spent the evening with “THE” Choi Seunghyun & hadn't realized it. What did you mean by that? If you don't know me by my music or acting, then...” he let the sentence hang there, unsaid.

You took a deep breath and blew it out awkwardly. “Mark has been trying to get me to agree to meet with you for months. I've kept putting him off, mostly because I can't afford to fly out there right now. But... I've heard your name come up in the art circles occasionally & I'll admit, I felt intimidated....”

“Mark?” he interrupted. “Mark Grotjhan?”

“The one and only.” you laughed. “We met a while back when our museum was doing a showcase of his work. And he helped me get in touch with some artists and donors when I was curating for the Surrealist exhibit.”

“Wow...” Seunghyun breathed. “It really is a small world.”

“I know, right? What are the odds that I ended up being your babysitter for tonight? I mean, you got to see the exhibit, which otherwise would have been closed. And I got to meet you... even if I didn't realize it was you at the time.”

“Why did he want you to meet with me?”

“Connections, I think. You know how the art world works as much as I do. It's all about who you know and what influence you have.”

Seunghyun nodded. “That makes sense.” Then he surprised you by pulling out his phone and patting his thigh.

You just shot him a questioning look. “What?”

“We may as well let him know we found each other.” he laughed. “Come here, _________.”

The way that smile lit up his face, especially his eyes, had you crawling across the couch and  into his lap before he could change his mind. The two of you put your heads close to each other and smiled for one picture. Then Seunghyun made a funny face, so you did too & he snapped another. He took a few more with various poses before he seemed satisfied.

You sat there while he typed out a quick message and sent it, not knowing what else to do. But you did notice that he still had the smile plastered on his handsome face. Once he was finished he looked over to you, seeming to realize for the first time that you were still in his lap.

It could have been your imagination or the wine, but it seemed like his expression completely changed. One second, he had a boyish grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The next, it had shifted to a look of pure hunger, with maybe just a touch of lust.

You cleared your throat. “Um... we, uh... still haven't eaten our fortune cookies.” you tried lamely, pointing to where he had left them on the table.

“Is that so?” his voice practically purred.

You felt one of his arms snake its way around your waist as he leaned forward to grab one off the table. Seunghyun settled back into the sofa, arms still around you as he unwrapped the cookie and broke it. He offered up half to you, which you took, surprising him by just grabbing it from his fingers with your mouth. He popped the other half  into his before unfolding and reading the piece of paper it had contained:

You are very talented in many ways.

As you read the fortune, you started laughing. It began as a small chuckle and just progressed further and further, until it was an outright, full on belly laugh. You could feel the tears just beginning to prick the sides of your eyes when he finally spoke.

“I don't see what's so funny.” Seunghyun deadpanned around a mouthful of cookie. “I am very talented in many ways.”

His statement only made you laugh harder. It took you a few minutes, but when you realized that he wasn't laughing, you began to recover enough so that you could finally explain. “Don't tell me you don't know how to play the game!” you finally managed to wheeze.

“Game?” he asked, genuinely intrigued. “What game?”

“The fortune cookie game!” you sat up straighter. “One of my friends in college taught it to me because we would get Chinese takeout at least once a week.”

“So what exactly is this game and why is it so funny to you?”

You suddenly felt a little embarrassed. “Well you, um... you take your fortune and add 'in bed' to the end of  it.” you felt your voice trail off at the end.

“You are very talented in many ways...” he paused. “... in bed?”

You nodded and giggled again slightly. “Sometimes it works out and it's really funny like that one. Other times it doesn't really make sense, but it's still fun to try.”

“I don't see how this one is funny...” his voice rumbled darkly.

You were about to get up, afraid that you had  possibly offended him, when Seunghyun took gentle hold of your shoulders firmly keeping you in place. And that's when you felt it.... his lips pressing softly onto the side of your neck.

“I am very talented in many ways...”  he asserted again, his breath ghosting across your heated skin.

[mypimpademia]

Bakugo, Todoroki, and Shinso quarantining w black s/o

Bakugo x Todoroki x black!reader x Shinso

TW: Swearing, refers to sexual activities at the end of each of them

Note: Yes, I did do most of this stuff in quarantine. [And they're aged up as always]

BAKUGO

He honestly feels like he's losing his shit

And he probably would if he did have you with him

You guys are staying up all night and watching Wild n Out, Basic to Bougie, 90 Day Fiance, all that shit

And of course Bad Girls Club

He claims he hates 90 Day Fiance and BGC, but he stays watching that shit, even if he has the remote or youre on his phone

His sleep schedule is fucked up

And by fucked up, I mean its a few hours past the old man's bed time

He goes to bed at 1 am now instead of 9 pm

But still wakes up at 9 am

He took a leave on hero work because of covid

He loves his job almost as much as he loves you (aw💖)

But hes not gonna risk his health for it

"Fuck all that bullshit, as much as I love my job, I'm staying my ass in this house. And you are too. I'll be damned if you catch it, especially if its from me."

Yall only go out once a week

He could minimize it to once every other week, but he tried that and it almost drove him crazy

There aren't any exceptions unless there's an emergency

Makes you wear gloves and use a reusable mask that he washes as soon as yall get home

And you get mostly essentials but he'll ask you if you want candy or anything and he'll buy a big box of brownie mix if you like brownies just to hold you over for a while

Also stocks up on meds like pain killers and allergy pills

No fucks given, he will hit up different stores for toilet paper

"WHY ARE ALL THESE FUCKIN IDIOTS TAKING THE TOILET PAPER?? I KNOW DAMN FUCKIN WELL YALL DONT SHIT THAT MUCH, AND HALF OF YALL PROBABLY DONT EVEN WIPE."

Hes gonna experiment with cooking more now that he has time

Writes down all the recipes that work out

Youre his taste tester so you best believe you bouta be eatin good 😌

If you want your hair done he'll order it online unless yall are already out

Hes gonna make sure that you're eating good and feeling okay because these are tough times 🥺

But hes gonna do it in his own way and act like he's not concerned

"Hey idiot, do you wanna pass out? You haven't been drinking water today, I can tell. I'm getting you a full cup, you better drink it all."

"You haven't eaten anything today, I'm making you dinner."

"Your hair is dry, come here so I can help you put oil on it. I keep telling you to take care of it, ill laught at you if you go bald." He wont

Also has you work out with him do you can stay in shape

Libido?

Yessir

Every other day, anywhere (except in public because hes not about to get sick), at anytime

It goes 50/50

Sometimes its just because hes in the mood

Other times hes feeling really soft and wants to show you that he loves you

All in all its a mixture of Bakugo losing his shit and loving you all in one

TODOROKI

He's pretty chill about it

Just super bored

Starts watching BGC, binges Basic to Bougie and 90 Day Fiance

Oddly enough he really enjoys watching Love & Hip Hop????

He finds it interesting

Especially likes Cardis season because its funny and hella memes came out of it

Don't get me wrong tho I aint a Cardi stan but you gotta admit that she's mad funny im a barb at heart tho

His crackhead really comes out over quarantine

He'll start referencing random ass memes

Hes mostly on leave for hero work unless they really need him

In that case he wears a mask and gloves out

When he gets home the first thing he does is reference BGC

"WHATS UP BAD BITCHES"

And thats how you know he's home

Goes to bed at like 1:30 - 2 am

Only because he doesn't want to be passed out if he's needed for hero duties

Goes out every other week

Mainly for basic essentials, but if you want a little extra he'll buy it

Anything else he'll buy online

Also goes to other stores to buy more toilet paper

Figured out that hes really good at crochets

So if you want your hair done he'll order any crochets you want off Amazon and do them for you

Takes care of you and makes sure your doing well all together

"Did you eat today baby?"

"How much water have you had today?"

"Have you been putting oil on your hair?"

Lotsss of cold soba

But he cooks a few other things so that its not the same thing 24/7

Asks Fuyumi for help when he doesn't know how to cook something super well

If you're the type to go to bed hella late, he'll make sure you sleep a full 8 hours

Even if you wake up after 5 he'll ask you to take a nap with him

Has you work out with him every now and then so you can both stay healthy

Not too much libido

He didn't get in the mood like that even before quarantine

Its not every other day like Bakugo though

More like twice a week

Anymore than that and it'll probably be because you needed it rather than him

If its after a mission it'll be slower just so he can show you how much he loves and appreciates you for being someone he can come home to and just being you

If its more spontaneous he'll be slightly rough but still a pretty slow

But it's a lot of crackhead Todoroki and soft Todoroki

SHINSO

He's doing fine

Just more bored than usual

I feel like Shinso likes cartoons so hes rewatching a bunch of childhood cartoons

Steven Universe, Adventure Time, Regular Show, all that good shit

Lotsss of cartoon quotes

Yall are having a pillow fight and he grabs 2 pillows and claps you?

"Cheatin ass bitch."

"Street rules, man." (Regular Show quote for those who don't know)

Please sing the bacon pancake song (Adventure Time) with him while yall make breakfast

He'll be so happy

If you do something stupid hes gonna do a lemon grab (Adventure time) quote

"UNACCEPTABLE"

On leave for hero work

Really doesn't care about getting himself sick unless he gets super sick or dies

But hes not about to get you sick

He'd genuinely rather get himself sick and die than get you sick

Yall go out twice a week

Once to get essentials and another just to get out

I feel like shinso is a decent cook so he'll cook for you

Write down recipes that you like

Also gets some off the internet

Works better with natural hair than braids and crochets

So he'll do slick backs for you and maybe give you a ponytail or something if you ask but he'd rather do 100% natural just because hes better at it and he likes natural black hair

Can also do half wigs

Takes care of you more than himself

So you have to take care of each other

"Did you drink water today, Doll?"

"I did, did you?"

"Did you eat today?"

"No, and you haven't either. What should we eat for lunch?"

"You havent been putting oil on you hair. Do you want me to help you, kitty?"

Small work out sessions

Maybe like 15 min a day

Full body tho because hes too lazy to split up days

Does to bed at like 4 - 6 am

Mostly just watching YouTube and binging cartoons and eating

Insomnia Cookies? (If you dont know, its a cookie place that delivers till 3 am and theyre so good-)

YESSIRRR

Yall gain back any weight you burned off from exercising earlier that day

Pizza, cookies, chicken nuggets, fries, fried chicken, etc.

Basically just a constant sleep over

Libido to the max

Once or twice a day

Nothing public because germs

Normally rough

But every now and then he'll get soft and just tell you how much he loves you and appreciates you

His aftercare for times like that consists of a bubble bath, lots of hugs, food and cartoons😌

[arahul-abyssia]

Festive

Writing number 4 for Nintember (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern )! To hopefully escape the pit of Emotions™ that was the first three stories, here's some hopefully much much much lighter, more slice-of-life-ish fare.

This does correspond to prompts 16-20, but I got caught up in Real Life for a while, so it's going up mega-late, and also it's kinda... abridged from its original concept, and less polished. 'Tis the way the cookie hath crumbled this year...

~~ Horse, Color, Hats, World, Music ~~

Layna awoke to a loud and repetitive hooting in her ear. She blearily turned her head to the side to find a pair of black-framed bright red eyes staring at her with interest. It took several moments of staring before she was mentally present enough to avert her gaze, sit up, and look out the window at the horizon. As she had expected, the sun had only barely risen fully above it.

She turned back to her greeter. “Relos! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?”

Relos merely, and quite literally, hooted with laughter and flew off out of her room. Layna knew it was futile to keep telling him not to wake her, not because of any obligation or the masterful internal clock of his, but because he knew she didn’t like it and he was a mischief-mongering imp.

Normally, she’d roll over and try to get a few more minutes of sleep, but that day was the first of one of the best weeks of the entire year, and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She quickly pulled herself from her bed, cleaned and dressed herself, grabbed the pack she had prepared the night before, and hurried downstairs, hoping to get through the delightfully aromatic kitchen and out the door before--

“Aaaalwaaaalrwaaa!”

Standing between Layna and the door was the soft pink-and-cream form of Infra, who was gazing up at her with strikingly accusatory eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Infra, I know I haven’t eaten.”

“Laaalruuwaar!”

“It’s the first day of the festival and I want to do as much as I can! I’ll get something from one of the vendors.”

“Luulrwarraalyaaa!”

“Ugh…! Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

Begrudgingly, she returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, as Infra went to the stove, gingerly placed an assortment of breakfast foods onto a plate, and set it before Layna, smiling at her with fairy-pink eyes that had nary a semblance of her previous visage. Unlike the rest of Pokémon in her family’s home, who were all quite content to leave the human part of the family to do as they pleased, the Audino practically operated like another mother to her, as if she needed a third one on top of her human two (who also were often subject to Infra’s mothering). Somehow, she had learned how to do a whole plethora of human home tasks and chores, and she never let Layna leave home in the morning without ensuring that she’d eaten. An outside observer might wonder why a Pokémon was apparently her morning caretaker, and not either or both of her mothers, but with both of them having jobs that began long before dawn, it was simply how things were in their house.

She had to admit that Infra was a surprisingly good cook. This evaluation, however, was not based upon the food that she was at that moment rapidly stuffing into her mouth, but rather upon the numerous meals from days where she wasn’t dead-set on going elsewhere as soon as possible. That morning’s breakfast, while certainly of Infra’s normal calibre, was given no time to rest upon Layna’s taste buds, and may as well have been tasteless for all she cared.

As soon as the last bite of egg left her fork, she jumped to her feet, practically threw the plate and silverware into the sink, and darted for the door, calling out as she left, “‘Kthankyoubyyyyeeeeee!”

Infra was not impressed with her, as projectile kitchenware was dangerous and eating that quickly would likely give her a stomachache, but she’d have time later to worry about such things. Her next task was to prepare food for the rest of the Pokémon scattered about the house, who all were beginning to come to consciousness, probably due to the clatter of cutlery, and she set about with the same dutifulness and joy she always did.

Layna, of course, hadn’t even a single neuron focused upon Infra’s judgment, as she was far more concerned with sprinting down a steep road with wanton abandon, the countless colors and lights and tents and tarps of the festival visible in the distance. It had already entered full swing, always beginning with the dawn, and she wanted to explore as much as she could. She had considered bringing along some of the Pokémon, but not long later decided to bring them along later in the day instead. She did not know why she made this decision, nor did she care.

The streets that had been blocked off for the festival were already bustling with people and Pokémon alike, almost each and every one nearly as energized as Layna was. She promptly began to wander the streets, turning and spinning and looking about enough that she ought to have made herself sick, but this had not lasted for even five minutes before she was drawn to a larger vendor stall by an overpowering floral and fruity aroma.

As should be expected, an impossibly wide variety of flowers and fruits were on display, some having been made presentory and others still being attached to their plants, with countless more options upon the boards hanging from the awning.

“Well, hello there, young miss!” said one of the farmers behind the stand. “How can we help ya?”

“Oh, I’m just looking right now, sir.” She paused a moment, then was overtaken by a rather sudden curiosity. “There are so many flowers and berries here, how do you manage to pick and move them all?”

The farmer chuckled. “We have a lot of help, ‘specially around this time of year. Lot of it comes from extra hands, but it would still be impossible without the help of all our Pokémon, like ol’ Sitrus here.”

At this, he gestured to a Mudsdale beside him, which Layna had somehow managed to miss entirely.

“She’s lovely! And so… big…! I’ll bet she must be really strong, too!”

“More ‘n any of us could’ve expected! And she’s friendly, too; wanna pet her?”

Layna’s eyes immediately lit up. “Would I?!! I mean, uh, if she’ll let me…!”

The farmer laughed and brought the horse forward, and Layna tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her face. Sitrus took a moment to consider her latest contact, then, judging her satisfactory in that esoteric way few can ever decipher, leaned in to her touch. She giggled and stroked her a few times more, noting her fur’s strange combination of roughness and softness, before pulling her hand away. Sitrus, in turn, snorted a puff of hot air at Layna’s face before backing into the shade again.

“Aw, that means she likes you! Well, let me or any one of us know if ya want anything.”

“Will do, thank you!” Layna had no intention to buy anything at that time, not when there were countless other things to do and find and see at the festival. She proceeded to bury her face in several of the flowers around the stall, enveloping herself in their different, yet undeniably pleasant, scents, before scampering off to find some other point of interest.

She could have easily checked the maps of the festival area, which were scattered on boards and holographic signs all about the city and even available online, but this sounded boring and unfun, so she did not. Upon her winding, meandering, unfocused path through the streets were innumerable stalls and stands and attractions to take note of--more fruits and vegetables, tickets to special shows on later days, a ferris wheel to ride with someone else later, foreign cuisine and sweets--but it was not until she overheard the faint but unmistakable sound of music that she was drawn in once again.

Upon the boardwalk was a small stage with a frighteningly energetic group of musicians, surrounded by an even more enthusiastic crowd. They seemed to be in the middle of a rendition of a song Layna heard on the radio nearly every day, an anthem for Trainers detailing their goal to “Catch ‘em All.” She never saw the appeal--both of the song and of the objective--but it apparently spoke quite well to most others.

As they finished their performance--and on a much more somber note than the original song did--their main singer pulled the microphone from its stand and began pacing the stage. “I hope you folks are enjoying the show! Now, however, I’d like to take a break from the hype, and sing something a bit slower, something that’s… rather close to my heart.”

Layna watched as a Toxtricity--which had evidently been playing with the rest of the band, but which, just like the Mudsdale, she had failed at first to notice--stepped forward and began playing a slow guitar piece. The lead singer waited a moment, then began to sing a ballad in a tongue Layna could not understand. It was one she was certain she had heard before, but could not manage to identify it any way beyond that it was not the common tongue known by almost everyone across the world.

She tried to stay and listen, but immediately found that, beautiful though his singing was, she was not in the mood for slow music. Along with a small chunk of the band’s crowd, she turned and left, and returned to her aimless wandering and exploration.

Eventually, she found herself in a quarter rife with food vendors, most of whom had one or two individuals calling out and offering free samples. By the smells and descriptions alone, she was greatly tempted to take every single one she could. Of course, her mothers would likely have tried to limit how many she took so that she wouldn’t spoil her appetite for lunch, and Infra would surely have balked at the notion for the same reasons; also, most of the food in the area was rather far from being healthy. Indeed, she had significant reason to not do what she wanted to do.

However, none of those individuals were here to remind her, and as it turned out, the aromas were very persuasive. Layna marched forward and nabbed every sample in sight, only barely stopping to enjoy them before moving on to the next, and only doing so because of the crowds and lines slowing her down.

Her frenzy ended not fifteen minutes later, and as she looked about to find her next target of interest, she realized she had wound up on the very same street she had started on. Obviously, this would not do, as there were so many other, more interesting circles to walk in the festival’s streets.

However, with home being so near once again, she had half a mind to return to grab something to combat the rapidly rising sun, whose rays were just beginning to take too much precedence over the comfortable morning breeze…

“Twee-tweeoo-twrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Or maybe I won’t have to after all!

A black-and-brown blur was barrelling toward her from the sky, making a frankly obscene level of noise. She stood firm and faced it, staring unblinking at the rapidly encroaching avian, before ducking at a perfect, precise, and repeatedly practiced moment. Like clockwork, Layna’s vision was shaded by an off-kilter hat (which she quickly adjusted), and the feathery form of a Taillow alighted upon her shoulder, whose face she began to delicately stroke.

“Thank you for bringing me my hat, Lond! Wherever would I be without you?”

“Twrrrt-t-twiii!”

“Wait, no, don’t tell me: Infra wanted me to not burn in the sun and you wanted to not be stuck inside with Relos.”

“Twrr-twrr-twrr!”

“I thought so… well, now that you’re here, how about sticking with me for a bit of exploration? I’m sure there'll be plenty of stuff to try!”

Lond pretended to think for a moment, then gave another enthusiastic chirp.

Layna giggled. “In that case, we mustn’t waste any more time! Onward!”

And with no decay to her exuberance, she sprinted off into the festival once more.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape: the b-sides

welcome to mixtape, the b-sides! these are little blurbs/bonus content related to mixtape, which you can read here. these little snippets are just for fun, and you don’t have to read them to follow the story! but, if you want to see all of them in one place, check them out here

track: wildfire by ben rector

Author’s Note: this is gray and indy’s first morning in jersey :’) andddd it’s dedicated to the wonderful mar, aka @sunshineforgray because her sweet words actually broke me out of my writers block hope you enjoy!!

Indiana hadn’t slept in many beds with many boys. It wasn’t that she was opposed to it - the opportunity just hadn’t really risen. She was usually ‘married to her books’ as her dad always said, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a few high school flings that fizzled out. But not before she managed to sneak them into her house at least once for some nerve-ridden nights under the sheets.

But damn if she didn’t know that she was ruined for any boy that dared come after Grayson Bailey Dolan as soon as she woke up. It took her a minute to orient to where she was as she looked around - unfamiliar walls, a tan dresser, a shirt. Grayson’s. She was in Jersey.

It clicked then, and she remembered the night before, coming inside from their sweet moment on the swing to a quiet house, her shower, climbing into bed with him. 

They’d made it under the covers at some point and fallen asleep - her hoodie had ridden up around her chest, Grayson’s warm arm wrapped around her entirely, holding it in place. His hand was tucked under her ribs to hold her against him, which made it difficult, but not impossible to twist around to face him.

He grumbled at her movements, brows knitting together as he shifted, arm tightening against her back and pinning her to him. She brought her hands to his chest, tracing her fingertips over his warm skin. There were a few spots, little white flecks across his skin that seemed to be fading away. She found a few scars in her search, little tribulations to moments passed. Her favorite discovery was the slightly coarse, short regrowth of his chest hair - had he shaved it? She wondered why, but only for a moment, because then he was really moving, his other arm coming up to stretch out as he buried his face in his elbow. 

His eyes were puffy when he finally opened them, and he blinked hard a few times - she could practically see the wheels turning in his head as the night before came back to him. And then he was smiling his sleepy smile, the one that only had the energy to lift the corners of his lips up a tiny bit and squint his eyes shut. She wiggled up, only managing to get where she wanted to be when he caught on and flexed his arm, pulling her up onto his chest as he rolled onto his back. She licked her dry lips before she pressed them against his, soft and welcoming as the song of the birds that were starting to rouse outside. 

“Good morning,” he hummed, chest rumbling a bit with the bass of it. “What time is it?”

She reached for his arm, turning his wrist and reading his watch. 

“8:34,” she mumbled, relaxing down against him, cheek on his chest as he breathed.

“So we’re both early risers. Good to know. Couple goals.” 

She scoffed against him, but it was for show. It was nice to have a subtle confirmation that she hadn’t dreamed up everything from the evening before. They basked in the silence for a moment and Indy found herself tracing letters again, feather light touch over his ribs. I-N-D-Y. And then D-E-E. 

“Dee.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what you wrote, right? D-E-E.”

She nodded against him with a smile.

“Write something, I’ll try to guess,” she said. She went to roll her sleeve up, but he had other plans. His hand moved to her back, up under her hoodie to land on soft skin. She focused in on the feeling, tried to visualize what he was drawing.

W-A-R-M.

“I’m warm huh? That’s a first. It’s only cause you’re a space heater though.”

“Your turn.”

She wrote a bit faster against his chest.

C-O-F-F

“Hey, take it easy, I’m dyslexic. Gotta give me a chance,” he frowned, making her press a kiss to his shoulder quickly to muffle her laugh. She started over, slower this time. 

C-O-F-F-E-E.

“That can be arranged,” Grayson smiled. “You need it now? Or can we stay in bed a little longer.” 

“I could probably be persuaded,” she mused, scrunching her nose at him before both his arms snaked around her shoulders, trapping her there. He craned his neck forward to kiss her a few times before he thought of a better option, rolling her over so she was underneath him. She was pretty sure it was the best view that anyone could ever have - her shirtless boyfriend above her, chain hanging down, chilly against her neck when he leaned down and peppered kisses across her face. She eventually caught his lips and convinced him to stay there for a moment, long enough for her to get her hand into his hair, making him hum against her.

“We’re having sleepovers every night. No exceptions,” he breathed.

“My bed’s comfier,” she giggled, chasing after his lips as his hands roamed, so big that she felt like they could wrap around her.

Indy didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually she was on her side facing him and his hand traced down to her hip. His eyes shone hazel in the light that peeked in through the window, showing off flecks of gold and green. 

“What do you have on the agenda today?”

“Gotta study for my medical terminology quiz, read for bio, and study for my anatomy exam. And then Bekah later.”

“Shit. So I need to get you back to your place then.”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes, but there was a disappointed understanding in his voice that had her resolve wavering. Sure, she’d have to grind to get it all done but…

“I can stay for breakfast. If you’re cooking.” 

“Really?” His eyes lit up, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Depends on what you’re making.”

“I’ll make whatever you want, as long as it’s vegan.” 

“I’m not much of a breakfast person actually, so I’m down for anything.”

He mocked offense, bringing his hand to his chest dramatically.

“Oh you will be after my vegan french toast.”

“That a promise?”

“Fuck yeah it is,” he laughed, burying his face in her neck one last time before he rolled off, standing up and stretching out. She knew she was staring, but she didn’t care. The way his muscles moved under his skin was mesmerizing - she could have watched it for another hour, but he reached out for her hand and coaxed her out of bed. She headed down the hallway behind him, down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

There was a morning chill over the house that she tried to fight off by sticking close to Grayson until he started to move around the kitchen, gathering a bowl, a pan, bread, some vegan egg replacement from the fridge. 

“Is that oat milk?” It caught her eye in the fridge door. 

“Yeah, that’s the good shit.”

“You want coffee?”

He nodded, smiling as she snuck behind him and grabbed the bottle from the fridge.

Indy had always imagined this - an early morning with a boy, the whole throwing-flour-at-each other and over the top flirting trope sticking in her head from cheesy pinterest pictures and unrealistic movies. Still, she wanted it. But that morning, it wasn’t like the pictures, or the movies. She went around the corner and made the lattes, spending extra time on Grayson’s to make sure it was perfect. And he put a little extra cinnamon on her french toast, made sure it was prepped just the right way.

And somehow, it was better. 

Probably because when she came around the corner with the mugs and climbed up onto the counter, Grayson took his spare hand and rested it on her thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. The conversation moved easily after that, only broken up by pauses for sips of coffee and toast transfers. 

Gray suggested breakfast on the porch, but not until he’d found an old blanket in the chest in the living room for Indy to put over her shorts-clad legs. They ended up sharing it, throwing it over their laps as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the bench with their plates balanced carefully. Grayson watched her take her first bite, a prideful smile spreading across his face when she groaned.

“Holy shit that’s good. Is that your recipe?”

He nodded, ignoring the nagging thought in his head that Ethan had definitely been a part of that development.

“Told you so.” He nudged her shoulder.

Grayson finished his toast before Indy had even moved on to her second piece, but he didn’t mind. He just sat there with her, leaned against her, laughed quietly to himself when she wiggled a bit as she ate - he’d heard that girls did that, but he’d never actually seen it. 

Eventually the plates were moved to the side and the mugs emptied, and they found themselves in each other’s arms again, watching the rest of the woods wake up.

“Do you like being out here? In Jersey?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “It’s a good break, from the city.” 

“Good, cause I like having you out here. It’ll be even better when I have my own place instead of being at mom’s,” he mused. Indy perked up at that with a frown.

“I like your mom.” 

“I know, it’s nothing against her. I just like having you all to myself.” 

Her cheeks were warm again.

“Well, you have me all to yourself right now,” she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him. He gave her a devious grin, hand moving down her thigh so he could pull her over practically into his lap. 

“I could get used to that.”

[pan-fangirl-345]

Purple Heliotropes and Red Salvias

Summary: Tadashi didn’t think that loving his best friend would lead anywhere, and yet there he is, puking up flowers in a school bathroom. Where will he end up?

TW: Mentions of blood, vomit, and death. No one actually dies, but there are mentions of character deaths.

A/N: I’ve been going through a Hanahaki Disease AU phase, and now I’m subjecting you guys to it too. Good luck. I promise that it has a happy ending.

Tadashi knew something was wrong during practice.

He was slower than usual, and his breathing was becoming  hell of a lot harder than he thought was normal, but he hadn't been feeling very good lately, so he didn't think much of it until Suga said something.

"I promise, I'm okay," Tadashi assured his former vice-captain. The former third years had stopped by to see how the new team was doing, which meant that they were all much more preceptive than usual.

"You don't have a fever. Are you sure that you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, I just don't feel the greatest, I think it might be allergies," Tadashi explained, attempting to wave away his former vice-captain.

"If it gets any worse-"

"I'll let you know," Tadashi promised.

It didn't get worse, but it didn't get better either, and by the end of practice Tadashi was panting.

"Tadashi," Tsukishima murmured, laying a hand on Tadashi's back. Concern was lacing his facial features as they locked eyes.

"I'm fine," he gasped, hands on his knees as he tried to breath.

Suddenly, there was something coming up, clogging his throat.

"I-" He paused. "I'll be right back. I have to use the bathroom," he muttered, trying to walk as calmly as he could to the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tadashi was on his knees in front of the toilet, coughing and hacking as he tried to get it out of his throat.

When he was finally able to clear his throat, he stared in horror at the small purple petals that were floating on the surface of the water.

"No, no, no, no, no," he whispered, shaking his head.

This couldn't be happening. He was not doing this. Not now. Not when they were so close to their tournament.

He couldn't do this, he wasn't going to go through the hassle of trying to figure out who it was, what he was going to do about it, and why this was happening to him now.

"Tadashi?" Hinata asked, rubbing his back as he appeared. "Oh no."

"You can't tell anyone," he croaked, voice and throat raw. "Not until I figure this out."

"Yamaguchi, I need to tell Suga, or Daichi! Or Tsukishima so he can-"

"Tsukki can't know," Tadashi ordered. "He doesn't need this, and I can't burden him with this," he rasped.

"But . . . isn't he the reason that you-"

"Probably, but I've been expecting this, probably more than anything," Tadashi whispered, voice still hoarse.

Hanahaki wasn't rare, and he was likely to get it, he had been in love with he friend every day since they were kids, and it was about as unrequited as it could've gotten in their scenario.

There was a kind of beauty to the flowers, Tadashi supposed, having gone through a small botany phase when he was younger.

Heliotropes represented eternal love and devotion, and Tadashi supposed that it made sense.

There was a kind of sadness to the flowers too, with how small the petals were.

"Tadashi, you know that you'll have to confess right?" Hinata asked, crouching down beside Tadashi as he rubbed the pinch server's back.

"No." It slipped out before Tadashi even had time to think the answer through.

"No? But Tadashi! If you don't then . . . ." Hinata trailed off, looking close to tears.

"I'll die, I know," Tadashi whispered. "I know, but . . . have you ever been in love Hinata?" Tadashi asked.

"Yes."

The answer was so firm that Tadashi turned to look at the small red-head. There was nothing but a small, fond smile on the red-head's face.

"Would you want to get the surgery? If it was you in my position?" Tadashi asked. "Would you want to get rid of something that made you smile like that whenever you thought about the person? Would you want to forget the little things that they do to make you smile? The little things that only you know about? Would you want to forget the things they did to make you fall in love?"

"No."

"Then you can't tell me that I need the surgery," Tadashi told him.

"There's a difference between want and need," Hinata said, getting a sad look on his face.

"Maybe, but I've made my choice," Tadashi murmured.

"Sometimes I envy you Tadashi," Hinata admitted, sinking to the floor with him. "I envy the way that Tsukishima looks at you. The way you look at each other. I envy what you have. My person . . . they'll never look at me like you look at each other. They'll never care for me like that."

Coughing wracked Hinata's body, and Tadashi realized that they were in the same boat, just in different stages.

A full flower was sitting peacefully on top of the water, dying it pink with Hinata's blood. 

The black sunflower looked menacing to Tadashi, but there was something about it.

"Kageyama," Tadashi whispered.

"Ding, ding, ding," Hinata rasped, leaning against the wall heavily.

It was concerning, how big the flower was, and how small Hinata was in comparison.

"How long?"

"A couple of months. It'll start taking something out of me soon, and my mom has already scheduled the surgery," Hinata said.

"Do you want the surgery?"

"No," Hinata admitted.

Tadashi tucked Hinata into his side, a small comfort, from someone who understood.

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," Tadashi murmured.

"Deal," Hinata agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were okay for a few weeks, Tadashi decided. He wasn't coughing flowers very much yet, and Hinata was still fighting, still flying high.

Then Hinata pulled Tadashi aside and said, "I need your help. My surgery, it's this weekend, and I want to let Kageyama know how I feel now, before that feeling leaves, and I need your help."

"Okay, what do you plan on doing?"

"I was thinking about writing a letter."

"That's a good idea. I'll come by after practice to help, okay?" Tadashi asked.

Hinata nodded then gave Tadashi a teary-eyed smile.

"I'm sorry, Tadashi," he murmured, before he went wide eyed and dashed down the hallway again.

Tadashi was wondering what he was sorry for, but then there was someone spinning him around and he was faced with the rage of Kageyama.

"What was he talking to you about?" Kageyama snarled.

"Hey, King, can you get your hands off my friend?" Tsukishima said, not really asking.

"Oh, right, sorry," Kageyama murmured, letting Tadashi go. "But he's been avoiding me like the plague. What was he talking to you about?"

"Homework. He wanted some help with his homework, and Yachi was busy," Tadashi murmured, giving Kageyama a small smile.

"Homework. Right."

Kageyama clearly didn't believe him, but he didn't press, probably because Tsukishima was standing at Tadashi's back, an intimidating presence.

"Are you okay?" Tsukishima asked.

"Yeah, thanks Tsukki," Tadashi said, giving him a wide smile, holding back the flowers that were crawling up his throat quickly.

"So what was the Shorty actually talking to you about?"

"He's . . . confessing to someone, and wanted my help."

"What would you know about confessions?" Tsukishima drawled.

Tadashi didn't say anything, he couldn't there were flowers clogging his throat, but the words hurt.

Tadashi's eyes watered as he held it in.

He squinted at the clock, decided he had enough time, and headed for the bathroom coughing into his handkerchief, trying to collect all the petals.

Once he was sure he was alone, he fell to his knees, kneecaps groaning in protest as he hit hard, cold tile, but he had more important things to worry about as he gagged, throwing up whatever was in his stomach into the toilet, small flowers floating on the surface peacefully.

Full flowers. That wasn't a good sign.

Next there would be stems, then leaves, the roots, until they started to puncture his lungs and squeeze his heart until he choked to death trying to cough up something that shouldn't have been in his lungs in the first place.

Tadashi sucked in a quick breath, flushed the toilet and rinsed out his mouth.

He needed to act normally, even though he was dying. He had a mission, and he would fight to see it accomplished.

Hinata had been fighting for a long time, and if he could do it, Tadashi could too.

It took more out of him than he thought it would. He hadn't realized how much time he spent with Tsukki until he got Hanahaki.

He'd coughed up seven more flowers by lunch, and had almost thrown up three times.

The excuse of helping Hinata write his letter made it easier to leave Tsukki when they parted ways, but there was still the ache in his chest. 

It was either suffer through the pain of Hanahaki, or the pain of not having the love of his life by his side.

"Your flowers are growing a lot faster now, aren't they?" Hinata asked when Tadashi coughed them into a bucket Hinata had hidden under his bed.

Tadashi nodded, letting Hinata inspect the contents.

"Yours are growing faster than mine did."

"I've been in love with Tsukki for a long time Hinata, for longer than you've even known about Kageyama," Tadashi explained.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"I'm not confessing, and the surgery isn't an option, so I guess I'm dying," Tadashi admitted.

Hinata sighed.

"This sucks ass," Hinata muttered. "Would you confess, if you knew he loved you back?"

"Maybe, but that's the thing. He doesn't return my feelings, and I've known that for a while. He doesn't return my feelings and I can't say that I blame him."

"What does it feeling like for you Tadashi? Being in love I mean?"

"I know he'll always be by my side. I know that no matter what batshit crazy things come out of my mouth he'll understand, in some way. It's a reassuring feeling of belonging. It's lazy Sundays filled with sleeping in and comfy clothes and home."

"It's so different from mine," Hinata confessed. "For me, it's like running through a field and it's all 'fwaaahh' and 'haha!'."

"Because your heart isn't meant to be tamed, it meant to be ran with. You're an very free spirit, Hinata, kind of like a horse. To you, Kageyama is the wolf friend that runs with you."

"We're crows that fly together," Hinata mumbled.

"Exactly," Tadashi told him.

"I should write that down," Hinata murmured.

"Are you gonna sign it? Or are you going to let him brew on it?" Tadashi asked.

Hinata took a few minutes to respond since he was coughing up flowers, making Tadashi wince at the flowers that resided in the now-shared bucket.

"No. It won't make a difference if he knows it's me or not. It won't change how he feels. It might just inflate his ego a little bit," Hinata rasped, spitting into the bucket after washing his mouth out.

"That doesn't answer my question Hinata," Tadashi told him.

"I don't think I will," Hinata admitted. "I won't remember him after this weekend. The feelings won't ever come back."

"He'll want to know who it's from. He might go looking. Start asking question," Tadashi informed Hinata, who shrugged.

"Hinata, he has a right to know."

"Maybe, but . . . I think it'll hurt him more than help him," Hinata confessed.

"Hinata, put your name on that letter. Kageyama is a lot of things, subtle isn't one of them. He loves you, Hinata, but he's just not very good at proving it."

"He's in love with someone," Hinata agrees. "It just isn't me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was going to confess, when this whole thing first started, but . . . when I asked him if he had ever been in love, he said yes, and he wouldn't tell me who it was. He doesn't love me back Tadashi, and I'm okay with that."

"How? How can you be okay with that?" Tadashi asked quietly.

"You didn't see the smile on his face when he talked about them Tadashi. He got this really fond smile, and it softened his entire face like 'awwww', and he looked so . . . happy, Tadashi. He never looks at me like that. I don't care if he doesn't love me back. As long as he's happy, then I can be okay with it."

Hinata had tears streaking down his face and when the hacking started Tadashi felt like crying himself.

"I'm so sorry, Hinata, I'm so sorry," Tadashi whispered, wrapping his arms around his friend as the tears started to leak from his own eyes and his voice cracked with emotions.

________________

The next day, Hinata looked drained, he wasn't exuding his normal excitement.

"Hinata?" Tadashi asked.

"There was a stem this morning, when we raced each other to the school. It's getting worse. At this rate, I'll be dead before the surgery even happens," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"Did he see it?"

"Kinda hard to miss," Hinata said, looking close to tears. "He had no clue what was wrong. Tadashi . . . the way he looked at me, the panic in his face . . . ." Hinata really did start crying then, big tears, like the ones they had shed the night before.

"I know, I know," Tadashi murmured, wrapping Hinata in a hug, moving them to a bathroom.

"I added something to the letter this morning. I told him it was me and explained everything that was going on. I slipped it into his bag while we were racing. He's probably found it by now, and I don't know what to expect. Tadashi, I'm terrified," Hinata admitted, once he got his composure back.

"I know, I know," Tadashi repeated slowly, curling his hands through Hinata's hair, trying to soothe the small middle blocker.

"Tadashi, what do I do?" Hinata asked.

"I don't know Hinata, hope for the best?"

Hinata sobbed and Tadashi wondered what would happen to him if he confessed to Tsukishima and he got rejected. He wasn't getting the surgery, he would never willingly give this up, but . . . what if he had no choice? What if someone found out and told his moms?

The pain in his throat crawled up and he let Hinata go to cough into the toilet.

Tears pricked his eyes and he could practically feel the plant ripping his throat on the way up.

He gagged, feeling his stomach roil around as the flowers flowed from his mouth like a river.

"Yours is almost as bad as mine," Hinata remarked sadly.

Tadashi nodded.

"At least we aren't going through this alone," Hinata murmured, giving Tadashi a hand up after he flushed the toilet.

"True, but it would be better if we weren't going through it at all," Tadashi grumbled, making Hinata laugh sadly.

"Ain't that the truth," he murmured, following Tadashi back to his classroom.

Hinata's eyes went wide, and he bolted, so Tadashi assumed he had spotted Kageyama.

"You and the Shrimp are spending a lot of time together lately 'Dashi," Tsukishima mused, hard look on his face. "Anything I should know about?"

For a nanosecond, for a fraction of the smallest slice of time, Tadashi considered telling Tsukishima everything, about Hinata, about himself, about he had been feeling since middle school, and then it was all wiped away by the worst case scenario. By the thought of Tsukishima throwing it all back in his face and laughing. Of Tsukishima walking away and leaving him behind again.

"It's nothing Tsukki, don't worry about it. You might want to take your seat, the teacher warned us about what would happen-"

"Fuck the teacher Tadashi," Tsukishima snapped, nearly slamming his hands down on his friend's desk. "There's something wrong, and I want to know what it is. For god's sake Tadashi, when did you start hiding things from me?"

"When I started to have something to lose," Tadashi replied, letting the mask fall for a moment. "You don't need to know about this Kei, not right now. I can't risk-"

Tadashi shut his mouth so quickly that his teeth clacked together audibly.

"Fine, talk to me when you're ready to stop lying to my face," Tsukishima snapped.

Tadashi blinked back tears, tearing a hand through his hair.

He and Tsukishima had fought before, but never like this, they had usually made up by the end of it, having forgotten what they were even arguing about.

Tadashi suddenly realized how tired he was, how deep the ache in his bones really was, how heavy his body was, how much effort it took to keep his eyes open.

Just one more day, just one more week, you can do this Tadashi, he thought to himself as he forced himself to pay attention in class, to not let into the ache.

It all came to a head at practice that night.

He'd been feeling worse and worse throughout the day, and Hinata had reported the same thing.

"I . . . will . . . reach . . . the . . . summit," Hinata panted, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Kageyama nodded beside him, giving Hinata a fond look.

Tsukishima had never looked at Tadashi like that, and he doubted that he would now.

The ache throbbed and so did Tadsahi's lungs.

Or maybe Tadashi's lungs were causing the ache and his body was responding to it.

Tadashi's vision blurred in front of him as the whistle blew and Kageyama whispered something to Hinata.

Tadashi's serve went up, and so did he, but, as the ball hit the other side of the court, Tadashi hit the floor heavily, coughs wracked his body, flowers ripping out of him with a vengeance as he tried to keep them hidden in his hands.

Not now, not here, Tadashi begged whatever higher being and deity was listening. Not in front of Kei, not in front of my team.

"-Dashi! Tadashi!"

Tadashi tried to open his eyes to look up at Tsukishima, but he couldn't. He was tired, and he just wanted to sleep.

"S-Sorry Tsukki," he gasped, coughing up more flowers in between words, trying and failing to get enough oxygen into his lungs.

His vision was blurry, getting darker around the edges.

"I'm s-sorry," he whispered.

____________________

(Tsukishima's POV)

The incessant beeping of the heart monitor was annoying, but it was the only thing convincing Kei that his best friend was even alive.

The rise and fall of his chest was so shallow, and the drip of the IV was concerning.

Kei had been holding Tadashi's hand since he had gotten to his side.

He also hadn't stopped crying since he had gotten to Tadashi.

Kei should've known, he should've known that something was wrong. Tadashi had been his best friend since they were kids, he should've known that Tadashi was sick.

He should've noticed the flowers sooner, he should've seen the signs. He was suffering from them too after all.

Daichi was standing by the door, as were Nishinoya and Narita. Asahi was there too, and the others were with Hinata, who had collapsed after blocking a spike from Tanaka, couching up blood and big black sunflowers.

Tadashi had been coughing up purple heliotropes, and Kei had automatically known who Tadashi was in love with.

They'd gone through a botany phase together as children, before Tsukishima had gotten into dinosaurs and Tadashi had become interested in art.

Kei had been coughing up red salvias for about two weeks, right after Tadashi had started acting different.

He knew what was happening, but Tadashi had been pulling away, talking with Hinata more often than not, touching him constantly, and Kei had assumed that they were getting closer.

He hadn't expected this.

Tadashi hadn't told him, hadn't wanted to lose what they had, so he had been killing himself.

"You idiot," Kei snapped, his first words in hours.

"Tsukishima, take it easy," Nishinoya murmured.

Kei ignored him.

"You honestly thought I would reject you? You thought I would throw away the only friend I've ever had? That I didn't care about you like this? 'Dashi, how could you be so blind?" Kei asked, kissing Tadashi's knuckles lightly.

He had never thought Tadashi would got his far. Kei had thought that Tadashi had known how he felt. It wasn't like he put up with anyone else, except maybe Yachi, and that was purely platonic.

"Please, just wake up," Kei pleaded, laying his head on the bed.

"I'm going to call Yamaguchi's moms again," Daichi murmured, slipping out.

Narita convinced Noya to go check on Hinata before slipping out himself, laying a comforting hand on Kei's shoulder.

"Tadashi please," Kei begged. "I need you. I need you to be okay. I need you to be by my side. I need you. I'm in love with you Tadashi, and you can't leave before I tell you to your face, okay? I need to tell you, to apologize for earlier, for every time I-"

Kei stopped as he choked on a sob.

"You're my best friend, idiot, I love you!"

The tears returned full force, landing in wet splotched on Tadashi's arm, splattering over the covers, landing in Kei's hands where they were clutching Tadashi's tightly.

"Ts-Tsukki?"

Kei's head popped up as Tadashi blinked blearily at him.

"Tadashi," he whispered, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Where am I?"

"The hospital. You had a flower fit, remember?"

"Where are the others?"

"Either with Hinata or waiting in the lobby for parents," Kei explained.

"Hinata? Did they take him in for surgery?" Tadashi tried for sit up but ended up coughing up a bunch of bloody flowers instead.

"Don't try to sit up, moron," Kei hissed, pushing him back down by his shoulders. "The King already spilled his guts about everything to the Shrimp. Hinata's fine now, tired and in need of some serious training to get back where he was, but fine."

"Thank goodness," Tadashi murmured, relaxing under Kei's hands. "Listen, I'm sorr-"

"Don't apologize to me Tadashi," Kei murmured, stroking Tadashi's face with his thumb lightly, running it over the freckles he loved so much. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten jealous and mad at you, it was stupid and I just want you to be-"

A coughing fit over took Kei, who grimaced, releasing Tadashi's hands.

"Tsukki?" Tadashi reached out to him. "Tsukki, what's-"

His question stopped when he glanced at the little red petals in Kei's hands, glaringly obvious against Kei's paler complextion, and Tadashi's hands went to his mouth.

"Oh, Tsukki, I'm so sorry," Tadashi whispered. "Who are they for? I bet it's that girl from Class 5, right? The one with the-"

"They aren't for some . . . girl, Tadashi," Kei snapped, snatching Tadashi's hands up from where they were resting against his stomach. "They're for you."

"That's not funny Kei," Tadashi said, angrily.

"I know it's not," Kei replied, just as serious as Tadashi was. "I've been coughing them up for two weeks. I knew who they were for as soon as I coughed up the first petal. They're red salvias, Tadashi. Do you remember what they mean?"

"Forever mine," Tadashi whispered. "They mean forever mine," he said, a little bit louder.

"How did you not notice Tadashi?" Kei asked, giving his best friend a small smile, rubbing soothing circles on Tadashi's skin.

"You just never . . . I mean, we never . . . I never thought that . . . ." Tadashi trailed off and stared at their joined hands for a moment before he said, "I just never thought that you would ever think about me like that."

"Tadashi," Kei murmured, leaning their foreheads together. "I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Tadashi murmured, pulling one hand away from Kei's so that he could tangle it in Kei's hair.

"I'm in love with you, and I have been for a while," Kei admitted, and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Me too," Tadashi said, the teasing lilt in his voice apparent. "I love you, Tsukishima Kei."

Kei smiled at him, real, and wide, and Tadashi smiled back at him.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" Tsukishima asked.

"Like I said, I just never though that you were interested in me," Tadashi muttered, glancing everywhere but his friend.

Kei frowned.

Looking back, he had never really shown any romantic interest towards Tadashi, he had been so worried about letting it show that he had been kind of an asshole.

"I'm sorry," Kei mumbled. "I should've-"

"I know now," Tadashi said, cutting him off, moving his hand deeper into Kei's hair.

Kei nodded, nudging Tadashi's nose with his own.

The sounds of crying made them both pull away, and they saw Tadashi's mother hurtling around the corner.

Kei moved so she could sit beside her son. She was rightly upset, since she didn't seem to have known that her son was sick.

His mom was there in the next five minutes, trying to comfort her wife and her son at the same time and looking more than a little panicked.

Kei slipped out, heading down to the cafeteria. 

He hadn't been eating much, and as much as hospital food didn't sound appealing, he was willing to eat pretty much anything.

He got something for Tadashi too, and then, ten minutes later, left it on a spare chair in his room, before starting to slip out.

"Tsukki? Where are you going?"

"I . . . I wasn't sure you wanted me around, so I was going to go home."

"Kei, come here," Tadashi ordered, opening his arms. "The IV itches and pinches and I am this close to just yanking it out."

Deciding that Tadashi really couldn't do that, Kei moved to sit in the chair, but Tadashi made a small noise of protest, tugging on Kei's sleeve.

"Come here," Tadashi demanded, pulling his friend into the bed with him.

"I'm not sure this is-"

"Kei," Tadashi grumbled, more of a whine than anything. "I want cuddles!"

Kei . . . couldn't argue with that. They hadn't been touching as much and he missed the solid warmth of his friend tucked into his side.

"What about your moms? And the team?"

"Fuck 'em," Tadashi muttered, burying his face in Kei's shirt, tangling their legs together.

Kei snorted, then regretted it when his throat protested.

"Kei, I'm really sorry," Tadashi murmured.

"If I can't apologize then neither can you," Kei countered, burying his face in Tadashi's hair.

Tadashi opened his mouth again, then shut it. 

"I really missed you," Tadashi whispered.

"I missed you too," Kei murmured, burying his face in Tadashi's hair.

"Hey, Yamaguchi-" Suga stopped in the doorway, giving them a soft smile. "I'm glad things worked out."

He disappeared down the hallway again and Kei couldn't help the blush that crept up his cheeks.

"We do this all the time at home, why does this embarrass you?" Tadashi asked, touching Kei's face lightly.

"It doesn't," Kei said.

"Then why is your face a strawberry?"

"It's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"Sh-Shut up Dashi!"

"You love me and you know it."

"I do."

He really did.

[bbaronpiper]

Darkness

Hi guys! here’s another story I wrote for you. This one’s a bit personal. My demons are stronger than me tonight soooo. yeah. I didn’t go into details but I dunno maybe it may trigger yours a bit too. so please be cautious and don’t continue reading if you feel it may trigger you. love you all! Night! I’m off to bed <3

I hope I lived up to your expectation anon. Also sorry to the lovely anon who requested fluff. I promise I’ll write yours after this. <3 

i already know its gonna break my heart but can u write a fic with either 23 or 35 from the angst prompt list? thanks so much ❤️

23.”How do I make you love me again?”

35.” Can I have one last kiss?”

not my GIF. Credits to @anderaron​

Aron Piper x Reader

Your life is a fucking routine and you’re getting tired of it. Every day you wake up, go to your 9 am to 5 pm job, pass by the grocery or fast food chain for your dinner, go back to your apartment, eat, watch TV then go to bed, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Every. Damn. Single. Day.  You never felt genuine happiness and you’re convinced you probably never will. Yes, you smile and you laugh but you always had this darkness in you which goes a long way back in your childhood days. It’s a feeling of emptiness.

Until he came along. Yet you never considered him as your knight in shinning armor. You hated the thought that women needed men to save them. No, women are built strong, they can save themselves and besides you’re not sure if you want to be saved. However, you can’t deny the fact that Arón spiced up your life. He brought different kind of positive feeling without even trying and for a moment, you forgot about this certain darkness of yours. You bury it deep inside you as an unfamiliar, pleasant feeling emerged.

You met him in a photoshoot as you were working in a production house but this was way before his career took off, before Elite. The “simpler times” as he used to say.

“You wanna go for a drive?” he asked you smiling.

“as long as I’m driving” you stick out your tongue at him. He never let you drive not because his car is expensive as shit but because you are a reckless driver.

“How about no?” he said almost laughing and put his arms around you as you both walk to his car. “I Have a few on my bucket list that I haven’t crossed yet” he winked

You just laughed at him and pinch him on the arm earning a low “oww” from him. You love watching him drive though. The way his arm muscles flex a little every time he shifted gears. His short glances from the road to you as you sit beside him. The way he put his arm behind your seat when he’s backing up. Damn. That shit turns you on more than he knows.

You both found yourselves at Cerro del Tio Pio Park. Both of you love going up here enjoying the nice quiet time it provides not to mention the beautiful view of the city lights. Arón may have loved this place a bit more than anyone. He always come here every time the noise in his head gets too loud for him, get some steam off or just enjoy the sunset with you.

you felt his hand rest on your thigh. you looked at him and saw he had a small smile playing on his lips while looking forward, straight at the sun as it sinks down.  You then place your hand on top of his.

“Arón”

“Hmm?” he answered still looking at the sky.

“Te quiero.” you said simply. Blush slowly creeping in on your cheeks. He looked at you and grins. “I think I love you moooorrrreee than you love me” you played trying to get a little something from him.

“Nahhh. That’s not possible. Yo te quiero mas.” (I love you more) and with that he leaned in to give you a kiss.

His kisses are passionate most of the time. so passionate that you always get lost in it as you feel yourself melt. Your hand traveled up to his neck just behind his ears, deepening the kiss. This goes on for a few minutes before you both pulled back gasping for air. You see him smiling at you hinting at something. You rolled your eyes, laughed and nodded yes knowing he’s asking you to make love with him. He then got out of the car and went to your side.  Imagine having sex in a two- seater car. Damn right.

“Uhh. It’s tight in here” he said not knowing how to position himself.

“yeah I heard that before. Just last night, I think?” you laughed relieving the words he said while he pounds into you the night before.

“whatever, Y/N. you know you loved it too” biting his lips as you see his growing bulge. He sat on the passenger seat lifting his ass up a little to help you get off of his pants and he did the same to you. you positioned yourself on his lap, your legs draped on either side of him and kiss him. His hands traveled down your pussy and played with your clit, rubbing circles making you moan in his mouth.

“Gotta wet you first bebe” he said in between kisses. You didn’t respond as the pleasure took over you. “you like that huh?”

“hmm” again, no words just moans.

“words Y/N” he demanded as he pushed two fingers inside you. you moan in pleasure at the sudden feeling. “Y-yes” you stammered. You buried your face deep into his neck as he moves his finger faster and curled it. he pulled out completely after a few pumps making you groan at the loss of touch. You decided to play him again and started to rub your pussy against his length a few times. Earning a low moan from him“You like that baby?” you said mimicking his words earlier. You then positioned yourself on his tip. As you were about sink down on him, you stopped and got only a few inch of him in. “words, Arón” you said close to his ears. He just grunts in return growing impatient and put his hands on your waist and slammed you down into him. You screamed his name so loud you think you startled the birds on the tree.  “Si, I liked that” he teased you.

He lets you adjust for a few seconds. Your nails dug into his forearms as you feel him stretching you out. Damn, he’s huge. You slowly rise up and sink down again slowly. Moaning his name while doing so. Repeating this until you had the urge to go faster.  You looked at Arón as he watched his dick disappear and appear inside your pussy. You cupped his face making him look at you while you moan his name. he smashed his lips into yours silencing you while his hand grabbed your left ass cheek and the other went down on your clit again rubbing it fast. “Cum for me Y/N” he then licked your nipple, sucking and biting it lightly and soon enough you felt your pussy clench around him “Oh, fuck.. fucckkk.. fuck.. Arón!!” and cum on his dick. He slammed into you a few more times before letting himself go. You both collapsed on the seat catching your breath. His arm automatically went to your waist holding you tightly and the other at the back of your neck. Your foreheads pressed together savoring the moment.

But this was almost a year ago. If you only knew then what you know now, you would’ve hold on to him a bit longer that night.

You lied on your bed watching him sleep, your hand placed on his chest caressing it slowly with your thumb. Contemplating on how you’re supposed to tell him. Tell him that the darkness within you resurfaced and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were not sure if it was because of your busy schedules, the months being away from each other, his constantly partying leaving you alone in bed or it’s just that there’s really something wrong going on with you. Nevertheless, it’s back. You felt it once again: The emptiness, you thought was long gone.

“Good morning princesa” his husky voice broke you out of your thoughts. You just smiled at him in return. A smile that didn’t reach your eyes and he knew right there and then that there’s something wrong. He turned to face you completely. Lifting your chin up. “A penny for your thoughts?”

You opened your mouth just to close it again. Not knowing where to start. Arón knows you had issues like this and he always understand and helped you with it just as you do to him. Your chin starts to quiver but you’re trying your best not to shed a tear. When Arón noticed, this is when he start to be more alert and awake.

“C’mon baby, you can tell me. I’m here” scooting closer to you.

“we need to break up” you said quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“What’s that baby? try that again but slower.”

“Arón” your voice starts to tremble. “I think we should break up”

He looked at you with what seems like forever not saying a single word. It took him a lot of strength to sit up on his side of the bed, with this back turned on you, rubbing his hands on his face like he always do when he’s frustrated. You then sat up on the bed too resting your back on the head board. Afraid of how’s he gonna react.

“No” his voice muffled as his hands are still on his face.

“Arón-” he cut you off

“I said no” his voice stern still had his back turned on you.

You knew he loves you. and you love him. With everything you have. But you didn’t wanna drag him down with you nor ask him to save you from this. So you had to lie, you know it’ll break him but it's for the best.

“I don’t love you anymore” looking down on the sheets. Your fingers fidgeting.

He instantly turned his head to you. “Que?” his face has a mixed look of shocked and pain. “Don’t say that baby. Tell me you’re lying Y/N”

“No, Arón. I’m sorry but it’s the truth” you heart breaks at every word. The look on his face killed you. you wanted to take it back but you know the damage has been done.

“How? Why? When? What the fuck Y/N?” questions after questions after questions. He just kept on throwing them at you and you couldn’t comprehend. Everything went into slow motion and you couldn’t hear a word he says, you’re too focused on the pained expression on his face. Your Arón. You broke him. You couldn’t give him answers. you just sat there looking at him with tears streaming down your face.

“Y’N!!!” he screamed, frustrated. You were startled and afraid. “answer me! ” You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry, it has to be this way.” You stood up from the bed. Went to your shared cabinet and starts to load your clothes on your luggage. Your tears are now streaming down your face like a waterfall. You couldn’t stop it but you tried your best not to make a sound which made it difficult to breath. He can’t see you like this. He would see through you and your plan wouldn’t work. You’ll just fall back into his arms again in one snap. He sat there on the bed as his leg bounced up and down, looking at you as you packed your things. Unable to grasp the reality.

He then stood up and walked out the room probably to smoke. You continued to pack your things pacing from the bathroom to the bedroom gathering your things. your heart was pounding in your chest you can almost hear it. You know you had to do this quickly as you felt that you’re about to breakdown. You were zipping your luggage when he walked back in the room. You slowly stood up and turn to face him only to see him inches away from you. his eyes red and his cheeks are flushed.

“How do I make you love me again?” he whispered while he searched for your eyes hoping for a slight chance he has with you. His hands went to touch both of your forearms with his thumb caressing your skin. Desparation evident in his eyes.

A stab in the heart. That’s what it felt like when you heard his words. But you believe you’re doing this for him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat “You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Arón” his looked down as he shut his eyes tightly. Not the answer he wanted to hear but he knows there’s nothing he can do to change your mind now. He lost you.

“Can I have a one last kiss?” you can feel the pain in his voice and all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and tell him you’re sorry. That you change your mind and that you love him dearly. But unfortunately, the darkness in you won. Again.

You closed the gap between you, cupped his face and kiss him with every passion and love you have in your body and he did the same to you. You can feel his hiccups from crying but he continued to kiss you, never wanting it to end.  You both pulled away but he refused to let go. so he place another quick kiss on your lips and said. “I have never loved anyone this much in my life but if this is what you really want, I’ll give it to you. I love you too damn much.”

You wept. You cried in his arms as he did to you. you were standing in the room holding onto each other for the last time and you never felt this kind of sadness in 3 years you’ve been together. But again, you had to. you pulled away pushing his chest lightly.

“Thank you for everything Arón. Te quiero but this is for the best.” You sniffled and wipe your tears. trying to limit the words you say because you had to get out as soon as possible and drown yourself in your own tears. You then grabbed your luggage and begun to walk away when you heard him say…

“Maybe for you Y/N, but not for me”

[risthebrave]

hi!! i was wondering if you had any tips for writing smut?? i’m terrible at it and would love some of your h o l y advice <3

hi!! of course! i’m so so sorry this is so late! it’s been a busy (and emotionally exhausting) few days but i hope whoever sent this still sees this!! it’s sort of a mess but *hopefully* includes something helpful.

i’m going to put it under the cut though just in case:

first i want to link this super helpful smut writing 101 post that’s my go-to for providing references. it’s what helped me a lot when i was first attempting to write smut back in my first fic and was intimidated about where to start! in my opinion, it’s really thorough so i highly suggest giving it a read!

this one is also rather helpful! i got it from the @bottomlouisficfest writing tips tag which is another great place to look for writing resources and tips if you ever need any!

i don’t want to repeat what’s been said in those posts (probably way more eloquently than i could ever attempt) but i’m still going to list a few things that i tend to keep in mind/do when writing smut. just want to emphasize real quickly that there’s no “one correct set of rules” for writing smut and i’m surely not the single expert (or even an expert at all, lol) so read this and if something resonates with you, keep it mind, but if you disagree, then that’s fine too! it’s your writing and it should be what you want/like first and foremost.

now for the actual “tips” :

- analyzing smut scenes that you’ve thought to be “well-done”

just want to clarify that ‘analyzing’ never in a million years means ‘copying.’ all words you put down on that document should be 100% your own - i shouldn’t even have to explain that. but when you’ve never written smut before (or you have but not frequently), looking at smut scenes that you deem to be successful is a great way to get an idea of how to set up a scene. look at what they focus on and emphasize, how they balance description and dialogue, and how much they delve into the sensations/actions.

i can say pretty confidently that no one who’s never read a smut scene will be able to write a (good) smut scene, so read!! read and learn from what you read!

- be clear about what kind of scene you want to write

1. intent/purpose

what is the intent of this scene? okay, that sounds a bit confusing - it’s smut. the purpose is pretty much always going to be achieving intimacy between the characters, and/or portraying dynamics/etc but make sure you’re achieving those goals when writing smut/smut scenes. i know it may seem like you have to add smut to every fic you write (and i know i’m not one to talk considering all my fics so far have included - and some of them a lot of - smut) but it’s not a requirement! if you don’t want to write it or you don’t think it fits in with the story, don’t force it!

that being said, there is usually a “point” to the scene. sometimes people use smut as a plot device which is fine too (creating drama/angst - like fwb where one is pining or something like that - IDK) but you should know what that intent is before you write the scene so it aids your goal rather than contradicts it or worse, confuses reader. this sort of relates to the 3: atmosphere too so i’ll come back to this!

2. language

depending on the type of scene you want to write, your language and prose should reflect your intent/goal from before.

- cock vs other words: this one is less about the intent, and more just about language choices in general. ‘cock’ is the most widely used word for ‘penis’ in smut scenes for a reason, so i highly suggest using it. i know people don’t want to be repetitive so they try to use multiple words, but ‘cock’ is seriously your best best. if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it, and all that. ‘dick,’ ‘length,’ and maybe ‘shaft,’ or ‘prick,’ can be used too depending on the circumstances/atmosphere (for example, i’ll only use ‘dick’ in fics where the smut is “dirtier” because imo it stands out as a bit more crude?)

- come/cum: this is a differentiation that varies from writer to writer but what i personally tend to do is ‘coming/come’ for the verb and ‘cum’ for the noun. even then, i typically don’t use ‘cum’ in fics where the smut is less dirty, more romantic because again, it’s more ‘crude/dirty’ than the counterpart - once again, people’s opinions on this vary though, so think about what flows better with the type of scene you want to write.

and some more general writing tips: be precise with your word choice (this is actually sort of related to the above two things as well but i felt those needed to be separate dhjdkd) - words like ‘gripping’ and ‘grasping’ while seemingly being the same, tend to denote slightly different meanings, at least for me when i read! ‘gripping’ is more firm while ‘grasping’ is more desperate. things like this also connect to atmosphere but it’s language so i’m keeping it here! 

some words/phrases that i keep in a list and that also may give you a good idea of the kind of writing that’s typical to smut scenes are: pumping fingers in vs fingers pressing in (those two also have different meanings/pictures), hips snapping forward vs hips drawing forward (again! it’s all about word choice), nails cutting shapes into the skin of his back, slow drag of his hips vs ramming in, cock thick and pressing deep, pushing deep with agonizing precision, fingers grasping helplessly at the sheets, toes curling into the mattress, skin slick with sweat, throat fluttering with every breath, head lolling back, body going slack, heart racing/thundering in his ears, etc etc. 

think about the five senses and what the characters are feeling. think about the dynamic between them. all of that should be reflected in the writing style (and oftentimes already is, just subconsciously, but it never hurts to be aware). 

3. atmosphere

in other words, is this scene meant to be romantic? dirty? is it more light-hearted or intense? these are things that should impact the way you write the scene. if i’m writing a romantic smut scene, then i’ll pay less attention to the actual acts itself and more to the emotions and tenderness behind it. there’ll probably be more metaphors (but also: never overuse metaphors because that also gets confusing) and sweet nothings being whispered in comparison to a scene with lots of dirty talk and more significance to the physical aspect (it’ll also probably include rougher sex in comparison to sweeter, slower sex).

if it’s a more light-hearted scene, consider adding elements such as humor to enhance that goal/intent (see, they’re back!) it’s all about what you want this scene to accomplish in the reader’s eyes!

just some other quick things: when you have multiple smut scenes in a fic, it can be hard to not get repetitive but you also don’t want them to be too similar. as a general recommendation, differences between scenes shouldn’t come from language or anything like that, but from things like setting or content (positions, actual sexual acts, etcetera). if they fuck in a bedroom twice, then maybe change it up - make it the shower or against the wall next time. and again, the atmosphere! switch it up!!!

also remember that you don’t have to include penetration to write a successful/satisfying smut scene! there’s plenty of other things your characters can do to get off and establish intimacy. i think one of the above resources mentions it but you also don’t always have to include the foreplay or every single step for the smut scene, especially if there’s already been a smut scene with all of those components. obviously, make it clear that the prep occurred already and that they’re being safe, etc, but you don’t actually have to show all of that stuff if you don’t want! and contrastingly, if there’s only one smut scene and it’s a longer fic, feel free to include more of the foreplay/build-up!

- balancing physical and emotional aspects

this one depends again on what type of scene you’re writing but it’s also good general advice. you don’t want to write a smut scene that glosses over all the physical aspects and just focuses on the feelings of a character to the point that you have no idea what they’re even doing but you also don’t want the opposite.

one thing i try to do is keep the descriptions of movements/actions to a minimum - that’s majority of what gets repetitive when you start to have multiple scenes in a fic and sometimes it includes unnecessary explanations for things. that isn’t to say you shouldn’t make sure the reader understands what’s going on (this is why watching porn is helpful - so you can see the best way to describe different positions and how bodies are moving in relation to each other. i know a lot of people don’t like porn but if you can tolerate it, this is literally one of the best ways to see visually what you want to write).

- dialogue

okay this wasn’t initially part of my list, but i just wanted to make a small note on it! dialogue during smut is honestly one of the most intimidating parts, at least in my opinion but a general rule to follow if you’re like me is: less is more. 

and again!! dialogue should reflect the type of scene you’re writing. dirty talk is vastly differently from sappy compliments and you can have both in one, but thee has to be a balance! 

dialogue is also one of the best ways to differentiate the participating characters and establish their dynamic. this goes beyond dialogue actually, but this whole post is unorganized at this point so let’s go with it. no two characters will act the same during sex! some are loud, some are quiet, some are dominant, and some are submissive. and guess what? that shows through when they talk!! things like begging, teasing/taunting, praising, and other verbal components all tell you something about the character so keep that in mind too! 

also not quite dialogue but still verbal so sounds! things like whimpering, whining, gasping, groaning, moaning, grunting, growling (if it’s abo... or one of them just likes that sort of thing), and also screaming/yelping/crying out are all things that are regularly seen in smut scenes. 

- practice!!

this may go without saying but i’m still going to say it. the only way to get better at something is by doing it again and again and the more you do it, the more you’ll learn and improve and the easier it’ll get. it may seem daunting right now but eventually it’ll be like second nature. the first full smut scene i ever wrote was literally less than a year ago (march, i believe) and i’ve written many many since then, some better than others, all showcasing new knowledge and techniques that i may not have utilized before. i honestly don’t even want to reread that first scene but i also know i don’t have to reread it to know i’ve improved a lot since then and so can anyone!

i have absolutely no idea if this is helpful or not but hopefully it is in some small way?? if you or anyone has any more specific questions that i can maybe help with, let me know! and sorry again that this is so unbelievably late!

[thepetulantpen]

(A short addition to my blind!Geralt AU! Bit of a sickfic, this time.)

“You’re sick.”

Jaskier startles at Geralt’s voice, bed creaking beneath him. He’d been writing in his notebook- hard at work with another song, if Geralt had to guess- apparently thinking Geralt was asleep.

“What? No, I’m not.”

Geralt sits up and thumps Jaskier lightly- though, not lightly enough judging by his responding grunt- on the back. The vibration rattles in Jaskier’s chest and reveals exactly what he’s already smelled. 

“Yes, you are.”

Concentrating, Geralt can hear Jaskier’s mouth turn downward in a frown. It’s not very hard- he’s not sure whether the exaggeration is a product of Jaskier’s personality, or an attempt to make it easier for Geralt to “see”. More likely a healthy mix of both, coupled with Jaskier’s considerable need for attention. 

“And how can you tell that?” Jaskier sounds genuinely curious, but doesn’t wait for an answer, “Can you hear the mucus? Smell it? Feel the tiny bacteria in the air?”

“Something like that.” Geralt smiles, hearing Jaskier’s heartbeat pick up in a way he’s taken to interpreting as indignant. 

“I won’t stand for this blatant invasion of my privacy. Keep your witcher-y senses to yourself, you-”

Geralt hums and pulls Jaskier towards him, against his chest, making him interrupt himself with a surprised yelp. He bats at Geralt’s hands weakly, laughing as they trace up his doublet, feeling for the pattern. 

“I’m not exactly reading your diary, Jaskier. I’d find out later, with or without your confession.”

“I’m not convinced you wouldn’t read my diary, if you could.” Jaskier shifts Geralt’s hand slightly, moving it to an embroidered flower. “It’s gold, by the way.”

Geralt nods, satisfied he’s solved the mystery of Jaskier’s fashion choices for the day, and gets up, using one hand to push Jaskier back down when he tries to follow. “You’ll stay here and rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“For now, maybe. We’ll see how you feel tonight.”

Jaskier groans and falls back against his pillow, the thump echoing through their small room. He grumbles under his breath about boredom, but he may as well have said it out loud- it’s all the same to Geralt. 

Convinced that Jaskier isn’t an immediate flight risk, Geralt turns to pack up his bag, running his hands over everything to double check. It’s well-organized, which he can thank Jaskier for. He wouldn’t have thought to rearrange it with a less visually dependent system- he hadn’t changed much, in recent years, figuring his senses would compensate. 

Jaskier, to put it lightly, had thought this was lunatic. 

“Why not give yourself shortcuts? You’re taking an extra minute to do something when you could just help yourself out beforehand.”

“I don’t need-“

“It’s not about need, Geralt. Let me show you.”

One of many instances of Jaskier improving Geralt’s life through sheer force of will. He’s adopted an insistence on convenience and efficiency that Geralt can’t- or won’t, to save himself the indignity- argue with. 

He’ll be able to return the favor by taking care of Jaskier today. With any luck, it’ll be a simple cold, cleared up with rest before it truly sets in. He’s going to run errands, pick up human medicine, and be back by midday to check on him. His hunt can wait until the afternoon, once he’s confident Jaskier will be alright.

“Think about it as a chance to rest your voice.” 

Jaskier flicks him off and Geralt doesn’t bother letting him know that he can sense that. 

…

Before he even enters the room, Geralt can tell Jaskier’s gotten worse. The scent of sickness is stronger, his breathing worse. He’ll need to check Jaskier’s temperature, and make sure he hasn’t taken a drastic turn for the worse.

It’s challenging, between the barrier of the door and the relative lack of sound in the room, but Geralt focuses on the draft as it bounces against things, outlining the scene and giving him an idea of what he’s walking into. Jaskier is curled up on the bed, writing quietly in his journal- slower than the fast, presumably messy, scratches Geralt is used to. 

Jaskier must hear him step up to the door because he tenses, writing coming to an abrupt stop. Geralt opens the door before he can worry and starts pulling out what he’s bought, kicking the door shut to keep his hands free. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier greets, voice more hoarse than it was this morning, “how’d it go?”

“I’ve got stuff for tea.” 

He has... something for tea. The store had been so packed with herbs it was difficult to distinguish between them, and he didn’t want to sniff every ingredient with the owner watching. He thinks he’s found the right things, more or less. 

Jaskier pulls back the covers and climbs out of bed, crouching beside Geralt and his bag to supervise. “Your tea is always nasty.”

“My tea is healthy.” He pushes Jaskier’s hand away, knowing he’s just going to complain about whatever he ends up putting in.

“For someone with a great nose, you really haven’t grasped human taste buds. Would it kill you to add some honey, once in a while?”

“Well,” Geralt tries not to smile, turning away to start mixing, “I was going to use a little of this fresh honey I bought, but I think I’ll have to save it for someone more grateful.”

“Geralt-“ Jaskier starts, but breaks off with a cough, ending his whine before it can reach the truly annoying, high-pitched range. It would be a blessing- if the coughing stopped. 

Geralt pats Jaskier on the back through the coughing fit, fumbling for his water-skin with his other hand. Jaskier finds it first, unscrewing the cap with shaking hands and almost choking from drinking too fast. 

When he’s done, Jaskier pauses to regain his breath and goes quiet- it takes a second for Geralt to concentrate enough to realize he’s smiling, trying to reassure Geralt. 

Geralt frowns and puts the tea aside to face Jaskier- for all the good that’ll do. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”

“No, no,” Jaskier coughs again, and clears his throat, forcing his voice to sound almost normal, “Your hunt is more important. It’s just a cold.”

“Jaskier-“

Jaskier puts his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and leans on, so their foreheads touch. “Geralt. The people here need you more than me, right now.”

He takes Geralt’s hand and places it on his chest, under his shirt. The skin is warmer- slightly hotter than it should be- and the rhythm of his breathing isn’t great, but it’s steady. It’s a cold, nothing that Jaskier can’t handle, after these years of travel. 

“I’m still going to make you tea.”

Jaskier laughs, the sound broken up by his sore throat. “I suppose it wouldn’t be that easy to get out of, would it?”

Geralt doesn’t respond, just adds a more generous dollop of honey.

...

It’s a miracle that the hunt ends successfully at all- he’s distracted the whole time, thinking about Jaskier. He gets lucky with a few strikes, more reckless than wise, and ends it quickly, collecting his coin without counting it. 

The smell of sickness is obvious at the top of the stairs, from the opposite end of the hallway.

Jaskier is in bed, under the blankets, and shivering, despite the heat of his skin. It permeates the air around him; Geralt doesn’t even have to touch him to feel the temperature. He puts a hand to Jaskier’s forehead anyway- running a fever, but not a dangerous one, yet. Any higher and he’ll have to seek out a healer, but there’s no point dragging Jaskier out of bed for the same tea they can make here, where he’s relatively comfortable. 

His teacup sits empty at his bedside, and Geralt picks it up to fill it again, mixing stronger herbs, this time. Jaskier stirs and props himself up as Geralt works, blinking slowly, blearily. 

“Ger-“

He cuts off with a cough, a deep, harsh sound. It makes Geralt’s ears ring, and he almost doesn’t notice Jaskier waving, gesturing for something. 

“What is it?” He hates to make him talk, when his voice is clearly shot, but he can’t tell what he’s pointing at. 

“Candle.” Jaskier clears his throat, trying again, with more success, “Some light, please.”

He spends a second debating whether Igni is too dangerous for a small target, then another fumbling with a match. He’s pretty sure he’s lit it, based on the heat around the wick, but Jaskier makes a low hum, confirming. 

Once the candle is placed on the bedside table, next to a new cup of tea, Geralt sits at the edge of the bed, all his senses focused on Jaskier. He helps Jaskier sit up and drink, then goes still as Jaskier leans against him, under Geralt’s arm. 

“I’d read you a bedtime story, but,” Geralt waves, vaguely in the direction of Jaskier’s notebook, now abandoned, “well, that’s usually your job.”

“Next time, I’ll slay the drowners, and you write the story,” Jaskier rasps and laughs, a breathy exhale. 

They fall into silence for a few minutes, none of Jaskier’s usual chatter to fill it. He’s still awake- Geralt can tell from the pattern of his breathing- probably too uncomfortable to fall asleep. In the meantime, he’s making a valiant effort to drain the teacup. No amount of honey disguises the bitter medicinal herbs, and Jaskier’s sore throat makes him wince with every swallow, so it’s slow going. 

“I’ll tell you a story, anyway,” Geralt offers, before he can second guess himself, “Of one my older hunts. Before I was blinded.”

It’s a strange memory to relive- the details are fuzzier than he thought they’d be. He’s struggling to recall the visual elements that Jaskier tends to prioritize when describing things, by habit. He does his best, and decides the color of the monster doesn’t actually make a difference. Jaskier has never been picky- always happy to know how things sounded, how they smelled, how they felt. 

“Your world,” Jaskier told him, once, “is so vivid. I can’t even imagine it.”

“It’s missing a little something, too,” Geralt joked, only half-kidding. 

“No,” Jaskier insisted, “it’s all of mine and more. Sounds and smells and textures I’ll never experience, except through you. Thank you, for sharing it with me.”

Jaskier hums contentedly now, starting to nod off halfway through the third story. His hands twitch, as if aching to take notes, but sleep finds him before he can fidget too much. 

Geralt sits by him all night, carefully monitoring his breathing, heartbeat and temperature. He’s listening carefully for any change for the worse, but the medicine in the tea takes hold and Jaskier only improves as he sleeps. 

(In the morning, Jaskier uses his newly healed voice to yell at Geralt for staying up all night, lecturing him again on taking care of himself. 

It’s worth it, just to hear his voice again.)

[bldreamer]

You See Me Bare | TT

TharnType:

Summary: Type takes care of Tharn.  Genre: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Ep 12 tag. Missing Scene. Warnings: None?

A/N: Extra special thanks to @kdramama xo

It’s almost three in the morning and Type is staring at the ceiling. Face throbbing something fierce. Thoughts buzzing around in his head.

Tharn is laid beside him, curled under the covers, one hand clinging to Type’s fingers even in sleep. It’s like he’s afraid if he lets go, he’ll be forced to let go forever.

Type lets out a slow breath. He has a lot of making up to do. A lot of trust to rebuild. Tharn won’t hold anything against him for long. He’s too good for that. Too pure. But Type will do better in any case. For Tharn, whos been forced to lose so much in his life. Type will make up for each and every soul Tharn is missing.

Even Lhong.

Because as much as he loathes the man with every fiber of his being. For his selfishness and his twisted imitation of love. For the pain and anguish he’s caused Tharn over the past four years. He was still Tharn’s best friend, his unwavering shadow. And now he’s gone. Another missing piece to add to Tharn’s broken collection of voids.

The thought alone almost makes Type question whether or not he did the right thing. He knows Lhong deserves every bit of misery the world has to spare. Type only wishes he could have spared Tharn the heartache that came with exposing him.

Tharn twitches next to him, his breath hitching in his sleep.

Type turns to lay on his side. He reaches his free hand out to brush Tharn’s fringe back. His skin feels warm. A little clammy.

“Ssh,” Type whispers in the dark, cupping his face gently.

There are dark smudges under Tharn eyes, frown lines even in his sleep. Type’s chest aches because he knows he put them there. On Tharn’s beautiful face. He put those ugly marks there.

A tear falls from Tharn’s closed eyelid and falls over his nose.

Type brushes it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he whispers, a lump building his throat. “I don’t think I can stand it again.”

Type never understood this kind of love before. The kind people write songs and sonnets about. The kind where people say they’d rather suffer unbearable agony for a thousand years than watch their loved one shed a tear for even a second.

Type always thought it was some kind of myth.

Until Tharn.

Until he got on his knees and begged. Begging him not to go. He’d do anything. It was then Type knew he’d do anything in return. Anything for Tharn. Including letting him go.

A too warm hand tightens around his fingers. Tharn’s kiss bruised lips mumbling something unintelligible.

Type vaguely remembers once clinging to Tharn’s shirt, fingers gripping the white fabric, nails digging into Tharn’s skin. Begging him to help as his most horrid memories flashed through his unconscious. The only person that’s ever been able to comfort him had been his father before that day. He’s lost count how many times since Tharn has rubbed a soothing hand over his shoulder or muttered a kind word to get his mind off of something bugging him.

Type shuffles closer, tucking Tharn’s head under his chin. The pillow catches the bruises on his cheek but he doesn’t mind. It’s worth it when Tharn moves to fit perfectly into his chest. His hot breath next to his collarbone.

“I’m here,” Type promises, smoothing Tharn’s hair at the back of his neck. The warmth radiating from him. “I’m here with you.”

Type doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what he did to deserve such a person like Tharn. But he’ll stop questioning it. He’ll learn to let it be.

Type presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll never leave again.”

Tharn’s breathing evens out, fingers loosening their grip. He shifts on the pillow and lets out a long sigh, damp blearing eyes blinking up.

Even in the dark, his face looks more flushed than it did five minutes ago. Type thinks about the first-aid still laid in the middle of the floor. The glass of ice now melted into cool water on the bedside table behind him.

“Tharn?” he whispers, gently waking him up the rest of the way. “Hey, Tharn?”

Tharn responds by tucking himself closer, laying on Type’s arm.

Type pulls away, puts a hand to his cheek. “Tharn, wake up a second.”

“Hmm, Ty-?”

“Mh, I need to get up.”

Tharn frowns, “Why?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.    

“I think you’re getting a fever,” Type explains. “I saw some medicine in the box earlier.”

Tharn shakes his head.

“If you get sick, it’ll be my fault.” Type moves to pull his arm out from under Tharn’s head. “Just let me get them.”

“Don’t leave,” Tharn pouts, tugging his hand closer under the covers.

Type smiles fondly. It’s so rare he sees this side of Tharn. The one that pouts and demands affection and care. He’s always so intent on giving it, he misses out on being the receiver. It’s another thing Type mentally adds to the list for the future.  

“I’m not leaving. It’s right there on the floor.” Type gestures to it.

“‘'m tired.”

Type huffs a quiet chuckle. “I know. But my fingers are starting to go numb and you’re sweaty.”

Sleepy Tharn always takes longer to think about things than regular Tharn. Sleepy feverish and emotionally bruised Tharn takes what feels like a lifetime to consider Type’s proposal. Eventually, he nods and gingerly lets go of the hand he’s had in a vice grip since they laid down.  

Type flexes his fingers -he wasn’t kidding about the numbness- and crawls to the end of the bed to reach for the first aid kit. He remembers Tharn insisting on getting one when they first moved in together. He thought it was a waste of money and told Tharn as much, complaining the whole way around the store. It seems so silly now.

He snaps the lid open on the box and taps out two pills into his hand after reading the recommended dose on the bottle inside. He’s been awake so long his eyes have adjusted to the moonlight coming in through their thin linen curtains.

“Here,” he says, holding a hand out. “Sit up and take them.”

Tharn pouts, bottom lip curling, head on the pillow meant to be Type’s.

Type sighs, shaking his head. “You’re really going to make me do it?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical.

He puts the pills next to the glass of melted ice and puts his hands under Tharn’s armpits to pull him up and against his chest.

“Here, you big baby,” he teases, wrapping an arm around Tharn and feeding him the pills one at a time, pushing them between his bruised lips before offering him the water to wash them down with.

Type presses a soft kiss to his mouth after he swallows, his nose nudging Tharn’s warm cheek.

Tharn’s fingers brush the fingerprints on his neck that have started to blossom in the last few hours. By morning his voice will probably sound like he’s chewed on gravel all night but what’s done is done.

“Does it hurt?” Tharn asks, catching his red skin. Eyes a little more alert.

Type tuts, pulling his hand away. “What do you think?”

He threads their fingers together, noticing how much bigger Tharn’s hands than his. He’s never noticed it before now. They’ve never held hands before now. Type refused, until now.

“Why did you just lay there?”

“I could have taken him, right?” Type smirks. He sighs when he sees the lingering pain in Tharn’s eyes. “That wasn’t the point. I was trying to get him to show his true colors. Not have me show mine.”  

“Mh.” Tharn nudges closer. “I couldn’t move.”

Type’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“I saw his hands around your neck and I couldn’t move. I tried. But it was like my feet were paralyzed. You just seemed so far away. So out of reach. If I’d have gotten there sooner-”

“You weren’t supposed to be there at all,” Type cuts him short. “Damn, Thorn.”

“I keep thinking, what if I was a second later, what if my feet had been a moment slower, and he picked up the rock before we could stop him.”

Type tuts and flicks in between Tharn’s eyes, earning him a half-hearted whine. “Idiot,” he mutters. “Stop thinking this is still your fault. If anything would have happened to me, it would have been my own responsibility.” He leans back against the headboard and pulls Tharn with him. “Besides, this will be the first and last time I lose a fight.”

“No more fights,” Tharn quickly says into his chest. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Type knows he isn’t just talking about physical punches. The words hang in the air like a thick fog. Making it hard to Type to breath.

“No more fights,” he promises, pushing Tharn’s hair back to feel his forehead. “Still warm,” he says. “Do you have a headache?”

Tharn slowly nods.

“Go to sleep. What is it they say? Everything will seem better by morning.” Type pulls the covers up and around Tharn’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Tharn whispers.

Type smiles.

Despite everything. It’s the one lesson Type is grateful for. The lesson in how much he loves Tharn. And Type knows he loves Tharn the most.

“I love you too,” he says.

It gets easier each time he does.

[astralda0602]

Hello there!

And, there we have it folks! The last chapter. I really hope you enjoyed this fic, I had a lot of fun writing it. I'm sorry these past few updates were all over the place, and not really the best, and I know the upload schedule is really screwed up, but it is what it is. But even with all that, I am proud of this fic, and I really put my heart and soul into every bit of it. Once more, I really hope you liked it.

As promised, there will be an epilogue coming soon, probably next week. I'm divided between these two ideas, so if you guys want to see any of these, please drop your favorite concept, or any ideas you might have, in the comments: -Christmas; -Annabeth/Percy's birthday.

Once more, I really loved this fic, and I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving it a chance, and thank you for all your support. It truly means the world to me. Your lovely comments made me want to keep going with this, and they brought a huge smile on my face whenever I read them. I tried to reply to all of them in the best way possible and as fast as I could. But honestly guys, thank you for reading this, thank you for the kudos, the bookmarks, thank you for the comments, thank you for the support, the lovely words. Thank you for being awesome. I love you all!

As for any future Percabeth stories, I'll be taking a little break from this pairing for a little while. I'm gonna work on maybe some one-shots, because I have officially started working on a new Percabeth fic, one that will be a lot longer and a lot slower-paced, and will include more of other characters besides Percy and Annabeth. But I'm also working on some stuff for other fandoms, so I want to have at least the first six or seven chapters pre-written, so in case I ever lose some motivation or don't have time to write like I did with this one near the end, I'll have some stuff already prepared. The chapters will be 8-12k words long (I think), just as this one, so the updates will probably be slow.

But we'll see all that when I actually start posting it. Like I said, for now, I'm maybe gonna post some short one-shots in between this fic and the new one, to keep y'all entertained, and we'll see for the stuff that comes after. There will be stuff from and for other fandoms too in the mix, so there's something to look forward to.

As always, if you wish to contact me here on Tumblr, or you can just ask me anything on AO3, in the comments or wherever. Just as it is on any other chapter, feedback is welcome and much appreciated. Like I said, I love reading your comments, and I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this finale. And once more, for the epilogue, please tell me which idea you prefer, or I might just have to roll a dice and see.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'll see you guys on the epilogue next week, and hopefully, in future works! Thank you all for everything one more time! I love you all, you're the best! <3

-Astralda  🦇

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this story, or any of the songs or lyrics mentioned!

WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of unconsentual kissing!

They were sitting at the bar-counter in Thalia's kitchen, the music blasting from the other room dulled down by the closed door. Percy had made them both milkshakes, and they were just sipping from their cups, talking about this and that. The sound of his singing voice still rang in her ears. She was positive she had never heard something that beautiful. He sounded so relaxed, so happy, so overjoyed, so Percy. She was pretty sure something bad would hit him in the morning, the bad memories of his days as the singer of the band, the nightmares from the past, because he had had to get at least a little drunk to sing, and he sang because of peer pressure of the others present at the party, but he did seem somewhat happy. Annabeth was sure she had never felt better than singing when she was singing You're My Best Friend with him.

“You were great out there,” she finally broke the silence they had fallen into. Percy looked up at her from his glass, eyebrows raised slightly in question. “When you were singing. You really sound great.”

“Uh, thanks,” Percy smiled shyly, looking back down to his milkshake, “I have to say, I missed it. I missed that feeling. It's not the same as being on stage, ya know, but I still missed it.”

“I get it,” Annabeth nodded, taking a sip from her glass, “I mean, I've never had or lost something like that, but I think I get what you mean.”

“Ya know, I've sung about a million times in my life before, but I think this one, singing with you, was my favorite,” he whispered. Annabeth looked up to see him staring at her with the softest smile she had ever seen. It was contagious, she couldn't help herself but respond in the same way. Percy had that effect on her, he managed to make her smile just by looking at her with those big, soft, painfully green eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Percy nodded, his smile spreading into a small grin, “So much that it almost made me want to give the whole music thing another go...” he looked back down at the marble counter.

Annabeth reached over, cupping her tiny hand over his big one, squeezing it lightly, “Maybe you should. If you feel like it's the right thing to do. But if you think it'll hurt again, then don't. No one is forcing you into anything. The way they made you sing tonight wasn't right, but if it made you happy for even just a second, then I'm glad they did it. But whatever you decide, I'll be by your side.”

“You will?” he looked back at her, his eyes full of pure hope.

Annabeth smiled, “Yes. Always.”

“Thanks, Wise Girl,” he squeezed her hand, smiling softly at her again.

The two lapsed into silence after that, but it wasn't weird, but it also wasn't comfortable either. There was something on the tip of Annabeth's tongue, something she desperately wanted to say to him, but she couldn't pin-point it. She had had this feeling for a while now, something trying to claw its way out of her mouth and mind, but she didn't know what this something was.

Thankfully for her, Percy broke the silence before she could blurt out something she didn't really understand. “Ya know, there's uh, there's something I've wanted to tell you. Um, something important. And, for, for a while now, but I guess I, uh, I never really knew how. But um, I guess now is as good a time as any. So, uh... I, uh...” He was fidgeting with his hands, avoiding her questioning gaze, and she could hear his foot tapping against the barstool. To be honest, Annabeth was a little concerned. Percy only got like this if it was something really important if he was really anxious over something.

But before he could say anything further, there was a beep, and the screen of his phone tossed to the side lit up. Percy shot her an apologetic little smile and picked it up. It was well past midnight, so whatever it was, it had to be important. Annabeth nodded and waited silently for him to finish whatever was happening.

She assumes now that that's when things went wrong.

(Keep reading on AO3)

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

A thin line

(Hayffie ❤️🔥. NSFW. A lot of angsty sexual content, per the prompt. I don’t see Haymitch and Effie taking their trauma histories out on one another with intention. I see them arguing often and getting off on their volatile chemistry. I see them loving each other with ferocity, tender care, playfulness, and a mix of selfishness and devotion which they both struggle to balance. I responded to the prompt with this character analysis in mind. This was exhausting to write and really stretched me.)

***

ONE

“The last word. YOU think I always have to have the last word?!”

“EVERY argument. You walk away mutttering it under your breath or saying it in your head!”

“How could you know what’s in my head, and how is that even having the last word?!”

“I just KNOW. And it just IS!”

“Why shouldn’t I have the last word when you take ALL the others?”

“I don’t take ALL the others. You’re talking right now!”

“Because you’re arguing with me about arguing. For once, would you just shut up.”

“Ha! Like THAT’S going to happen. ...Try and make me.”

Her words were a dare. He picked her up and draped her over his shoulder with his arms around her legs and a hand on her ass.

“Haymitch! This is barbaric.” She squirmed without conviction.

He flopped her onto the bed, and she landed face up alongside the pillows. In a huff, she propped up on her elbows. He rested his palm on her chest.

“WHAT do you think you’re doing?”

“Be still, sweetheart.” He caressed along her sternum until she lay back. He pulled off his shirt and unzipped his pants.

“You told me to ‘shut up,’ and now you want sex?”

He inched up her dress and brushed his fingers over her panties. For a moment everything stopped except his fingertips. “Got any objections?”

She shook her head ‘no.’ “Be careful, honey. Don’t snag the lace.”

Controlling as ever.

He considered doing that just to spite her, but had a better idea. He let go and walked to the foot of the bed.

“You’re leaving NOW!?”

He moved around the other side to where her head draped slightly over the edge. She gazed up at him with fiery uncertainty, and he dropped his pants.

“So you’re not leaving...”

This time he was the one to shake his head. Without a word, he turned her onto her stomach, unzipped her dress, then rolled her back.

“I said be careful... I’m not a rag doll!”

“Shhh.” He knelt on the floor and kissed her forehead as he peeled the bodice of her dress down to her waist. Her corset cupped below her breasts, leaving them mostly exposed.

He stood up and slid his hands down from her collarbones. “Mmm... I like this one.”

“I can tell.” With her head tilted back, his dick hovered near her mouth. “You think this is going to *shut me up*?”

“Depends.”

She took the tip between her lips, swirled her tongue around him, then let go. This was HER game, and she wanted him to know it. He stifled a groan, trying not to seem too invested in this.

“You want to go deep and come in my throat?”

Fuck, yes. “Are you gonna bite my dick off if I do?”

“Only if you’re not pleasuring me too. Don’t make me do it myself.”

“We’ll see...” He followed the stays of her corset over her stomach, and slipped a hand inside her panties.

In one fluid motion, she sucked him beyond the back of her throat.

“Oh, fuck.” He thrust once. Sure he’d been angry when they’d started this, but he didn’t want to choke her. Not like this anyway.

She reached for his hips, and encouraged him to keep going.

“Jesus, Effie...” He’d never been so deep in anybody’s mouth before.

He dipped his fingers in her and stroked with his thumb. The sound she made vibratied around him, and his pace quickened in response.

Is this alright? He might have thought to ask, but the feeling of her mouth was too much for thought.

His touch was primal, instinctual. She lifted her hips and swelled like the tide. She was already close.

He held the edge between wanting to make this last and needing release. He held it as tightly as the knife he clutched in sleep. He was so alive with her. So goddamn alive.

***

TWO

“Are you seeing her?” Effie asked about the dark haired woman whose eyes had been fixed on them in the market.

Haymitch took a bite of supper, answering slowly and without evasion. “Sometimes.”

“How often?”

“Why does it matter? You see other people, and I don’t ask about ‘em.”

“You don’t ask because you don’t want to know.”

“You’re right. I don’t wanna know.” Whenever he thought about some other guy’s hands on her body, he couldn’t even see straight.

“Well, I want to know.”

Shit. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere good. “...A few times a month maybe.”

She recognized he probably spent more time with that girl than he did with her. Living 2000 miles apart kept getting harder.

“Where do you *see* her?”

“Her place, mostly.”

Effie set down her fork, having lost her appetite. “You sleep there?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Does she sleep here?”

“Why are you asking questions when you know you’re not gonna like the answers?”

Imagining him in other women’s homes was maddening enough, but it was a knife in her chest to picture them in this place where SHE hung curtains, and swept out dust and goose feathers, and drank coffee, and ate supper, and had sex in front of the fireplace... and in his bed — their bed.

“Does she sleep here?!” She needed to hear it.

“Sometimes.”

Her cheeks flushed with rage. “Do you fall asleep with her?!”

“You KNOW I don’t!”

“I don’t want her here.” The words came out quiet, like lava seeping from a volcano before the whole mountain explodes.

“That’s not your call. I don’t get a say about what dicks come and go from YOUR place.”

“Do you even want a say?!”

He didn’t want any of those men there, but what would it mean to admit that? “Shit, honey, I don’t know.”

“How do you not know! How does it feel picturing me having sex with someone else?”

“I’m NOT gonna picture that, and I don’t wanna talk about how I FEEL!” His tone was mocking.

She pushed her chair back from the table and unhooked the top of her sweater. It was a soft thing, pale blue like the sky, made from rabbit fur and tiny pearl buttons.

“What are you doing?”

She unfastened the rest, and her sweater gaped open. There was nothing underneath except her. Her skin, her body.

“How does it feel picturing me doing this with someone else?”

She was pressing him to a place where his mind didn’t want to go. If she weren’t so intoxicating, he’d tell her to fuck off.

She moved from her chair and straddled his lap in a flowy skirt that she often wore around the house. He pushed the table forward and slid his hands up her back.

“And how does it feel picturing someone else doing this with me?”

“I HATE it,” he surrendered, resting his forehead against her neck and caressing every inch of her beneath the sweater. This is MY girl. She’s mine. ...And I can’t stop it.

Effie reached for the pins that held her hair up in a twist. When she slipped them out, her hair fell to her shoulders.

“What are you doing to me?” he pleaded.

“I’m gonna fuck you, honey. So good that it’ll make you forget about her. Because I HATE picturing her doing this with you.”

“Stop talking about her.” He threaded his fingers in Effie’s hair and drew her into a kiss. She melted into his mouth, letting the connection be for a moment whatever he needed.

She held his face and slid her thumbs to the pulse at the sides of his throat. The most terrifying aspects of intimacy are the things we can’t hide, even when we want to. His heart was thrumming.

He broke the kiss to tell her what she already knew. “You make me crazy.”

She tugged up his shirt, and he let her strip it off so he could feel her breasts against him.

She opened his pants and freed him. He reached up her skirt and slid her thong to the side. She stood on tiptoes to shift her position in his lap, then came down hard and he slipped inside her.

God... The first thrust was always the best. Reunion.

She sighed nonsensical words, growing louder as she fucked him. There was an urgency about it. He made her want things she wasn’t ready for. “Crazy...” she echoed, “I feel it.”

He gripped her ass and rocked with her. The insistence was real, bordering on desperation. “Oh, hell. I want a say. I say nobody. ...Nobody but you and me, sweetheart.”

The mountain shattered in the words.

***

THREE

“We aren’t leaving until you change that shirt.”

“I’ll wear what I damn well please.”

“The collar is frayed, and it’s missing a button.”

“A missing button? For Christ sake, it must be the apocalypse.”

“I REFUSE to be seen in public with you wearing that old thing! Take it off.”

Haymitch plopped down on the couch. “Going out was your idea anyway. If you want it off, then YOU take it off.”

She moved behind the sofa and slid her fingers along the back of his neck. Whenever she did that, his eyes closed like those plastic dolls she’d played with as a child. She enjoyed the subtle power. She traced along the frayed edge of the collar and unhooked the top few buttons. Grasping the shirt on both sides, she yanked it apart.

His eyes shot open as the cloth ripped and buttons scattered on the floor. “What the hell?!”

“Oops.” Her tone oozed sarcasm as she played over his chest like piano keys.

“I LIKED that shirt.” He seethed.

“I’ve bought you at least a dozen decent shirts. Go put on one of those.”

“Fine.” He stood up and made as if to head to the bedroom. Then he scooped her up, dropped her onto the couch, hopped over it and straddled her.

“Haymitch! That shirt was an affront to fashion. I did you a favor.” She tried to wriggle her pelvis out from under him. When the pressure started feeling good, she moved more deliberately at a slower pace.

He kept time with her movements. “I could do YOU a favor...”

“We’ll miss our reservation...” Her protest was unconvincing.

He traced the neckline of her dress. It was V shaped and dipped low between her breasts. The dress was one of her favorites. He positioned himself more directly against the soft flesh below her pubic bone. “I can be quick, honey.”

“I know...” Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted more, and unfastened his pants.

He slipped his fingers into her dress. No corset. ...Even better. He yanked the fabric, and the bodice ripped open. Her gaping mouth was a match.

“Was that quick enough?”

“Damn you! This is SATIN! I loved this dress!”

“I like it better now.” He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and folded it open.

Her heart beat up her neck, igniting fire in her cheeks. “Am I supposed to thank you for not defiling my bra too?”

Effie’s breasts were timeless things that really hadn’t aged in the years he’d been looking at them. He wanted them in his mouth, but he couldn’t do that unless he was willing to let her move.

“You started this, sweetheart. You want me to finish it?” He brushed his thumbs across her nipples.

She was angry about the dress, but she had indeed been the one to initiate the clothing massacre. “...I suppose it would be a shame to waste a ruined dress...”

“I’m gonna get up. Don’t move. Since I killed your dress, I don’t trust you not to rip something else off me.”

She laughed. “Afraid I might wax hair off places you want to keep it?”

“Wax anything off my body, and ALL your dresses will be dead.”

“Truce?” She unzipped his pants.

When he got off of her, she drew her dress up to her waist and slipped off her panties.

“What? Don’t trust me not to rip those too?” He grinned.

“Will you shut up and fuck me?”

“Only because you asked so *nice*.” He kicked off his pants and eased onto her, into her.

“Make me come fast, and we might still make that reservation.”

With the reservation in mind, he planned to do this as slowly as possible.

***

FOUR

She found him after midnight in a bar across town. She stood on the sidewalk, peering through the window. The place was nearly deserted. Haymitch was a shadow in dim lighting at a booth in back. She’d recognize him anywhere, so why did he keep walking away and hiding within himself? Finding him each time was a cocktail of relief and infuriation injected in her veins. He made her high.

She opened the door and marched straight back, ignoring the bartender who told her he’d be closing in an hour.

“Nine hours, Haymitch. Nine!!” They’d fought that afternoon, and he stormed out. Since he left his bag in the apartment, she knew he hadn’t taken the train home, but she didn’t know where he’d gone.

“I can tell time, sweetheart.” He was sitting with the companionship of an empty liquor bottle, a glass, a bowl of peanuts, and their shells scattered across the table.

“I searched four other bars before this one!” She was frazzled. In a heavy coat, a long skirt and boots, she hadn’t taken the time to dress fancy before heading out.

“Nobody asked you to come looking.“ As angry as he’d been earlier, he’d mellowed with drinks and time. It scared him to think about her walking alone through the Capitol streets at night. That fear agitated him again.

“You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to walk for hours in heels!”

“Then buy some regular shoes. You shouldn’t be out here this late alone anyway.”

“Then don’t leave me alone without a word. And don’t make me wonder if you’re dead somewhere! Don’t do that to me! After all this time, are you really that blind about what you mean to me?”

He didn’t know what to say. He scooted over to make room for her to sit beside him. She stood obstinately for another minute, but her aching feet won out over her frustration.

“I’ll sit with you, but I’m too irate to look at you right now!” She sat with perfect posture, as close to the edge of the booth as possible.

“You’re free to leave...”

“I’m not leaving!”

“Then you’re free to close your eyes.”

“Fine!” She closed her eyes and took a long breath.

Her hair was windblown and her makeup worn out ...and she was so beautiful. She could be with anybody. Why the hell did she chase after him each time he was a jackass?

He moved closer to her. She felt the warmth of his thigh against hers and his breath above her ear. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m not ready for an apology.”

Fine. “Then what do you want from me?”

She touched his leg. “I want you to stay. I want you to let me be angry until I’m not.” She turned her head slightly, and his mouth brushed her temple, accidentally, and neither of them moved.

Then he moved — just his mouth — kissing her temple, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks... and bracing for her to smack him.

The hit didn’t come. She slid her hand up the inside of his thigh and stroked his crotch with the nail of her pinky.

“Are you gonna maul my dick?” His lips were on her ear now.

“Not maul.” She slipped off her coat and laid it across his lap... and hers too.

“Is this an invitation?”

“Since when do you wait for an invitation to finger me in the back of a bar?”

“You’re pissed, Effie. How should I know?”

“Because I’m telling you. ...Touch me.” Her hand was back on his groin, using all her nails now to stir him.

If he was gonna get a hand job here after being a jerk to her all day, then he needed to reevaluate his understanding of the world. Her touch felt incredible, and he regretted the wasted hours. “I wanna kiss you.”

“I’m not ready to kiss you. And I don’t want to be kicked out of here for being overtly indecent. ...Just touch me, like you’re telling a secret.”

He lifted her skirt, drew a line along her inner thigh, and caressed her through her panties. “You’re wet, honey.”

“Since the moment I found you.”

Did she mean tonight? Or years ago. He didn’t ask.

She opened his pants and took his dick in her hand. She stroked the tip to slicken her palm. Wrapping her hand around him, she tugged and stroked and tugged again. Relentless.

“Fuck... You’re really doing this.” He slipped a finger inside her and drew moisture up her folds. He rubbed her clit from the inside and out, slowly at first, then faster as intensity surged inside him.

“Ohh...” she started.

“You gotta be quiet, honey. Give me the sounds ...like you’re telling a secret.”

She spilled them into his mouth as she kissed him. Decent or not, she was ready to offer this much forgiveness.

She tasted like coffee and cinnamon gum — and her. He forgot about their argument from the afternoon. He forgot about the bartender and where they were. Understanding the world in that moment was simple. It was her — his girl, his gorgeous girl.

She opened her eyes. His were already on her. It was like pouring whiskey on fire.

“Why is it like this between us?” she panted.

“Now?”

“Always.”

***

FIVE

Some days she questioned moving to 12. Her desire to share a life with Haymitch had become more compelling than the reasons not to. She’d known what she was getting into, but she hadn’t anticipated everything she’d feel once she was existing in that reality.

Some days he wondered why he’d asked her to move in with him. The choice to live together had been a long time coming. He was relieved to stop feigning indifference about having a life with her. He’d wanted it without question. But in the thick of it, he was questioning.

He startled awake at 6am by dishes clanging in the sink, the faucet spraying, and cupboards opening. Rolling onto his side, he covered his head with her pillow, but there was no falling back to sleep, especially without her next to him.

He dragged himself out of bed and threw on his bathrobe. “Damn it, Effie, the sky is BLACK!” he hollered.

“Am I supposed to do something about that?” she yelled back.

“SLEEPING is what *normal* people do when the sky is black.” He followed the fragrance of coffee down the staircase.

“You’re saying I’m ABNORMAL?! Tell that to your birds who have been honking at each other for an hour!”

“Maybe they’re trying to hear each other over the racket in the kitchen!”

Effie faced him with her hands on her hips. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to her elbows. Her nightgown peeked out underneath, and her legs were bare from mid thigh to her slippers. Touching her suddenly seemed more appealing than picking a fight, but he’d already started the latter.

“If YOU washed dishes when you used them, then they wouldn’t pile up on the counter! And if you oiled the hinges on these doors, they wouldn’t creak as if this place is haunted!” She opened and closed one several times as an annoying demonstration.

“You’re wearing my sweater. Why do you borrow my clothes when yours fill the entire closet?! You’ve got a hundred pairs of shoes that you never wear!”

She pulled off the sweater and threw it in his face. “I can’t even walk to the street without stepping through mud and goose shit! I refuse to ruin those shoes. If you were willing to hire a landscaper, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Never needed a landscaper before. It’s a waste of money.” He took a step toward her. Looking at her in that nightgown took some of the punch out of arguing. He wanted other things, like feeling her breasts through silk.

“The dirt you track into this house is ridiculous! I need to vacuum twice each day. Imagine the savings on the electric bill if you’d fix the yard, or even just leave your shoes at the door when you come inside.” She took a step toward him. She was shivering now without his sweater, and she knew how warm she’d be if she opened that bathrobe and held him.

“I ain’t taking off my shoes in my own house! And I can’t relax around here with you cleaning all the time!”

“Your OWN house? What happened to this being OUR house? And if you’d remember to close the door, there would be less to clean. There was a LIZARD on the floor this morning! It scurried somewhere when I turned on the lights. Now it’s waiting for me in a closet or something. I DON’T live with reptiles!”

“Clearly it’s OUR house because your hair keeps clogging the bathroom sink. I’m TIRED of having to snake the drain.” He immediately regretted the comment because she slipped a band from her wrist and tied her hair up. He loved her hair. What the fuck was he doing complaining about it?

“You’re TIRED because you stay up half the night drinking...” Taking the fight to this place was a risk. His drinking was what unsettled her most. She hadn’t seen him drink this much in years. Not since the Games.

“I’m using a goddamn COASTER. What more do you want from me?! I’m not gonna stop drinking. That’s NOT part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just want to understand...” She took another step. She could reach out and touch him, but she held back. “...Do you even want me here?”

He gathered a bit of her nightgown between his thumb and fingers. He held onto that much of her. “Do you even want to be here?”

She leaned into his touch. It raised goosebumps on her arms. “This is me, honey... I wake up early. I need things to be clean and orderly. I like my clothes from my old life. I like the shoes I can’t wear here on the gravel streets. I keep busy because I don’t know who I’ll be here if I stop...” She asked him again, “Do you want me here?”

He slipped the band from her hair. “I’ve been on my own a long time. I’m used to things being the ways they’ve been for longer than I care to think about. I’m trying. I sleep late. I wash dishes when I run out of clean ones. I don’t mind dirt on the floor or rings on the coffee table. I’m a drunk. You know all this shit.” He asked her again, “Do you want to be here?”

She untied the belt of his robe. Inside he was naked and aroused, and she wanted to be with him, just as he was. She closed the distance between them and slipped inside with him, silk against skin.

She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opened, taking her in like a starving person. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She wasn’t wearing panties, and he was tempted to fuck her right there.

“Let’s go to bed,” she murmured into his mouth.

“Are you gonna make me carry you up the damn staircase when we could do this right here?”

“I want you in our bed.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He was already climbing the stairs. “...Fortunately you’re not a cow.”

“Fortunately you’re not a lizard, otherwise I’d have to squash you.”

He fell back on the bed with her on top of him. He groaned in jest and in the relief of simply having her.

They shifted toward the pillows. He sat up with her in his lap and kissed her as he shook the robe off. She lifted the hem of her nightgown.

“Leave it. I wanna take it off you when you’re riding me.”

She slid along the length of him three times. “Do you want to come fast or slow?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think we’re gonna have a choice.”

She laughed as she drew him inside her.

“God... I want you here. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“I want to be here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

SIX

On a blanket in a meadow, he’d made love to his girl — his first one — the day before the Reaping. They were 16. He told her he loved her, in case it was his only chance. But what did he know then of love? Only the way it filled him, not yet what a thief it would be. His girl was killed because he’d loved her. His family too, and he hadn’t said the words since then.

Haymitch spent a quarter of a century evading love entirely — filling the void with liquor, fucking sometimes but dodging intimacy. He had enough blood on his hands for a hundred lifetimes. He’d wanted nothing to do with the thief — until love filled him again in a way that defied evasion.

So what could he say now to his girl — this one who met him in the void in the middle of his life and refused to leave? The soulful part of him that he’d thought dead was feeling again. What could he say to his stubborn girl on a blanket in a meadow as they were creating again and again the thing that fills and steals.

‘I love you’? ...No way. Calling it by its name would give it too much power. He wasn’t ready.

He was deep inside her with his hands in her hair. Intensity welled up like a wave about to crest. He wanted the words. Ready or not, he NEEDED them.

“Wait,” she demanded, pushing his hips away, single handedly holding back the tide, “I want to be on top.”

“Effie, I’m right at the edge. Are you trying to kill me?”

“The grass is poking my back.”

“We’re on a goddamn blanket!”

“I have sensitive skin!”

He rolled over, swapping places with her, and the words came, “I... hate you, you know. ...Your skin...” He traced her spine. “...Your neck...” He sucked her throat hard enough to leave a mark. “...Your breasts...” He caressed the curves along her sides. “...These eyes that keep seeing me... I hate you so damn much.”

His hair was damp with sweat. She brushed it away from from his eyes, overcome with emotion. “I hate you too, honey. I’ve hated you for so long... I can hardly remember who I was before you.”

Her breasts grazed his chest in a rush of sensation. He held her, warm from the sun as they swayed and their bodies thrust together, making unfathomable beauty. She kissed him until she shuddered.

“Oh, God... I’m right there... Right there... I’m coming now... Ohhh...” She cried out long and sweet enough for mockingjays to start singing.

The pulsing of her body set him off. “Ahh, holy shit...” The wave swelled and crested and crashed. “Fuck, honey... It’s so good... So good.”

They filled each other. Like laughter and tears, feeling everything and coming undone. There was no stopping it.