i'm not going to deny it i'm in a complete writing slump

Hanamaki shivers, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. His body trembles from the snow coming down around him, soaking into his thin cotton shirt and his light jeans. Every step he takes makes his shoes sink slightly into the snow, soaking through them and freezing his feet.

Granted, he should’ve dressed properly. But he was so shocked and maybe just a little hurt, and he didn’t want to face his problems so he bolted out the door before anyone could even say a word.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and with his hands violently shaking– because, yes, he also forgot his gloves– he pulls the device out. He hunches his body forward to shield the screen from the snow, squinting down at who’s calling him.

He’s not surprised to see Iwaizumi calling him. He swipes his thumb across the screen, denying the call. Immediately afterwards, he gets from one from Oikawa and does the same. Then Matsukawa calls, and again, he denies it.

He just wants some time. That’s all.


By the time he returns home, his clothes and hair drenched from show, it’s already night out. He barely can get the key into the lock, his whole body shaking violently, his lip wobbling. He doesn’t know why he didn’t go to find shelter.

The moment he steps in, the warm air surrounds him like a blanket. It takes a whole five minutes to yank his shoes off, barely able to move his fingers. Stumbling further into the house, he runs right into Matsukawa.

“Hiro, you’re ba– oh my god, you’re freezing!

Hanamaki tries to reply, but he only shivers, teeth chattering. Matsukawa quickly takes his own sweater off, forcing it over Hanamaki’s head. The warmth is very welcomed, and he slumps against Matsukawa.

“Issei? What’s– Taka!” Oikawa says, face brightening up. It instantly turns into a look of worry as he gets closer, looking at Matsukawa with furrowed eyebrows.

Matsukawa gently hands Hanamaki to Oikawa, slipping away to start a hot bath. Oikawa instantly gasps as he touches Hanamaki’s skin, and he gathers the shivering teen into his arms.

“Oh, Hiro, I’m sorry.”

Hanamaki simply shakes his head. “Nnn-n-no-not you-you-”

Oikawa huffs out a small laugh at his attempt to speak, and he grunts as he lifts Hanamaki into his arms and shuffles into the living room. Iwaizumi is there, gathering blankets. Matsukawa must’ve told him what’s going on.

“Takahiro,” Iwaizumi breathes out, running forward. “Are you okay?”

He nods wordlessly, not getting a single word out as Oikawa ushers him to the restroom. He’s passed back to Matsukawa, ordered to take a shower and bath and then, as Oikawa says, he’s “scheduled for some cuddles.”


Feeling much more warm and relaxed, Hanamaki shuffles into the living room. He collapses onto the couch next to Iwaizumi, mumbling some nonsense. He misses their look of concern, still scared that that he could be more injured and sick than originally thought to be.

Hanamaki rests his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, yawning around his “I’m okay.” Iwaizumi simply chuckles, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him closer.

Oikawa’s feet swing off the ground, landing on Iwaizumi and Hanamaki’s laps. He sits in Matsukawa’s lap, snuggled against him as he makes himself comfortable.

“I’m sorry about your painting,” Iwaizumi mumbles, placing a kiss to his temple.

Hanamaki sighs, shaking his head. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“But, you worked so hard on it…” Matsukawa whispers.

“And you made it for us,” Oikawa adds in a guilty voice.

Hanamaki feels his body relax, eyes slipping close. “It’s okay,” he assures them, giving them a sleepy smile. “Accidents happen.” He then slumps completely against Iwaizumi and falls asleep.

kanadka  asked:

oh boy oh boy if you would take a prompt (perhaps later), how about more Prussia + Lithuania interaction (romantic if you like, but not necessary!) and #7? or #24? or something equally sassy. (were you the one who said these?? they're hilarious!)

Prompts (#7)

So this got massively out of control and a lot more serious and awful than the prompt was supposed to be!  But ahh thank you for the ask and also the inspiration more generally……I think this is more than a little inspired by your last PruLiet thing actually, kinda riffing on a situation/time/place-ish~  And our discussions about Lithuania being too perfect and calm (by this time)—that’s exactly Prussia’s problem with him.

Wellp, then they’re neither of them being very nice here.  And, they’re neither of them alright currently, but the difference is that Prussia’s not admitting that.  He’s just. Demonstrating it really thoroughly.

Tiny bit nsfw/Mature dialogue-wise: sexual themes in a dysfunctional relationship, bad language, brief 20th C history refs.

The relevant comics are here and here

Prussia leans nonchalantly against the open door with his legs and arms crossed, and waits for Lithuania to notice.

“Don’t you have your own work to do?”

“Uh, yeah.  Not doing it.  Russia’s away, so who cares.”

“…Right.” When Lithuania speaks again he sounds as if he’s explaining something to an idiot child, as if he’s an even more supercilious person than he in fact is: “Russia goes away, and later he comes back, and at that point he will expect you to have finished your work.  You don’t seem to understand the basic concepts of how it works here.”

“And you’re going to explain them to me?  Nah, I don’t have any interest in learning how to be Russia’s bitch, thanks.”

Not so much as a roll of the eyes from Lithuania.  Well, that was an old jibe.

“So… whatcha doing?”

Lithuania sighs as Prussia propels himself off the door frame and into the little study.  In the corner by the door stands the filing cabinet, then the smaller desk with the typewriter under the window, and Lithuania sits facing the door at the big desk nearly as wide as the room itself.

“Ohh, you’re writing?  Whatcha writing? Dear Mr. Russia, oooooh Prussia was so terrible today, he skipped out on his work and distracted me for a whole five minutes, so I’m telling on him. Please punish him thoroughly until he’s ground down to be a good little serf like me.

Still nothing.  Prussia sits down on the desk.

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