#it’s play-on-repeat kind of shit it’s the vibe it’s the tone

[ladybeug]

Number 17!

Solar Power by Lorde! 🌞

[hazbinshusk]

can we see prompt #8 with Husk in like almost a hurt/comfort, father figure way pretty please?

I'm not so good at writing the father-figure vibe for men I wanna bone (despite the apparent daddy issues I clearly have with them), so this could be read as both platonic and maybe a little ((eventually) romantic, but not super 'dad' vibes (I don't think). Hope you still like it :)

prompt #8: a platonic kiss

You sniffle, wiping your hands over your face as you notice a shadow cut across you where you sit in the gutter, your knees drawn up to your chest. “I’m fine, Husk.” you say, a slight unevenness to your voice betraying your pasted on tone of reassurance. “It’s all good.”

You tilt your head up to meet his eye, attempting a smile. He doesn’t look convinced – an eyebrow raised. But there’s a soft smile of his own playing on his features, and that small amount of kindness is enough to make your bottom lip tremble.

“Are you?” Husk says disbelievingly, his tone almost amused. “You’re doin’ a hell of a job showin’ it.”

You choke on a laugh, dropping your head forward to rest it against your knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m nailing it.”

Husk groans slightly as he lowers himself down to sit beside you, his wings flapping a few times before settling. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug with a sigh, eyes trained across the street and unfocused. “Y’know, I know Hell isn’t supposed to be a treat. I know that; I’m not an idiot. But I figured… I thought I was getting the hang of this…” you gesture a hand loosely. “This… shit.”

“You are,” he tells you gently. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have bad days, too. Like you said, it’s kinda the sellin’ point of the brochure around here.”

You breathe a pained laugh, shaking your head. “I kinda hate it here.”

“Would hope so,” he tells you, his own soft amusement colouring his voice. “I’d be more worried if you didn’t.”

You sigh, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. Husk stiffens for a moment before relaxing, and you feel his wing slowly move to wrap around your shoulders. The two of you sit there for a while, comfort in the silence that stretches between you.

Wiping your eyes again, you exhale, giving him a sidelong look. “Can I amend my previous statement?”

Husk raises a brow, but nods. “Which statement is that?”

“I kinda hate it here,” you repeat slowly. “But… but some parts of it aren’t so bad.”

A small smile tilts his lips, and he leans over to press a light, fleeting kiss to your cheekbone. He stands, holding out a hand to you. You swallow, taking it and letting him to pull you to your feet. “Yeah, doll. Some parts ain’t so bad.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[inkykeiji]

hiii clari!!! i hope you’re having a great day, i’m working my ass off at the moment since i’m moving and as i was ripping pages and paint off my wall with a scraper some thoughts popped into my head! i constantly have your touya-nii au! and bmb au! on my mind and i REALLY wanna make an au and story like the two of those but i don’t know where to start!

i was wondering how you thought of the two of those au’s? the plot and storylines, layout, etc. and how you came up with “break my bones but act as my spine” for the bmb au?

AAAA i hope this isn’t too much trouble of an ask!!!! (also omgomgomgomg if possible can i be the 📖 anon? LUV YOU MWAHH)

hi lovie!! <3 i am actually sick in bed with a steadily climbing fever LMAO but thank you sweetpea <3 i hope your day is going swell!!

oooh that’s a really interesting question! i get a lot of my inspiration from music, actually! (which is also why 97% of my fic titles are lyrics HAHA). i love making playlists that either fit a certain mood, vibe, or idea, or playlists centred around characters. usually then i just listen to them on repeat and let my mind wander!!! so for my main touya-nii series, it’s actually all inspired by save that shit by lil peep! each title is a song lyric that relates to the content of the piece itself:

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back: touya can take reader into this relationship, but once she’s entered into it, she’ll be fucked up for life, there’s no going back to who she was before she started fucking her stepbrother;

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit: all reader wants is for touya to feel an ounce of the hurt SHE feels when he’s off screwing around with other people—all reader wants is him, completely and wholly and entirely to herself;

do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back: does touya’s psychotic behaviour and extreme possessiveness scare her? will she take him back now that he’s ready and willing to be fully hers and no one else’s?

also, just the vibe of the song itself set the tone and the atmosphere for the main series!! the same happened with 16 lines, also by lil peep, which is where the lyric break my bones but act as my spine comes from! for this one, it was more the vibe of the song than anything else. that, and the fact that i personally love organized crime bosses, love love triangles, and love the classic bodyguard babysitter falls for the person they’re protecting trope.

anyway, i know they’re kind of abstract, but that’s one of the ways my ideas bloom in my head! the other thing i would suggest is study narratives you enjoy: books, movies, video games—anything with a narrative that really struck a chord with you, and figure out why you enjoyed it and what you love so much about it. i believe it is equally as important to consume art as it is to create it!! feed your brain!! i can give you a whole list of some of my inspirations for those pieces, and that still doesn’t scratch the surface! read, write, watch, play, study!

additionally, i always say creativity is a muscle; we all have it, but you have to exercise it to strengthen it. as such, i’d recommend you do some character + narrative writing exercises n warm ups! those will get the ideas flowing, and you might end up developing a story out of something you thought up during one of those exercises! you can also look into fiction prompts and see if anything sparks your interest!

also, if you’d like it, i also have a lil masterlist of my writing advice that discusses a technique we used to continuously generate ideas in my screenwriting class! <3 ahhhh i hope this helps bb, i wish you luck on your journey and i support you creating your own work one hundred million percent. please, create <3

and yes!! you can absolutely be book anon!!! welcome to the anon club sweetpea ⸜(���˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[oddygaul]

NieR Replicant

Creative, interesting, and deeply flawed. Comparing it to Automata, (which I’ll be doing a lot, as it’s kind of hard to avoid) it hits some higher highs, but when it stumbles, it really falls.

First off, this game has one of my favorite party dynamics of all time, and it’s backed up by stellar performances from the entire voice cast. Weiss and Kaine’s constant profanity-filled bickering, blanketed by the sweet layer of naivety Emil provides, lends such a bespoke vibe to this game. While the secondary NPCs are packed with tropes, the main party are all so distinct and weird in a way that sets Replicant apart from any other JRPG I’ve played. Also, this game’s genre-bending and perspective shifts fucking rule. From the spooky Resident Evil mansion, to the fully isometric underground lab, to the sections in Forest of Myth where the game turns into a choose-your-own-path text adventure for an hour, trapping you in a nightmarish flooding castle that exists only in the dreams of the dying, Replicant makes Automata’s mere camera angle switches feel quaint by comparison. Rather than flashy setpieces, Replicant feels like it actually experiments with form, and how player expectations shape the mood and tone.

Unfortunately, the rest of the gameplay and design drags the whole experience down. It’s a tough hand to be dealt to have your combat system compared to a Platinum game, no doubt - even if Automata is one of their shallower ones mechanically. Still, even in this improved remake, the combat feels rote by the second hour and never really evolves much beyond that (outside of the interesting Prohibited Actions section in Facade, which, due to the game’s structure, you’ll do once in the first leg of the game and never again). If we’re being honest, the fucked up part is that the combat isn’t even the main gameplay mechanic, by time spent - that dubious honor goes to repeatedly running back and forth across flat plains from location to location. Online, people in the fandom bond over the fact that by ending D, nearly every player will have naturally developed a racing line to get to Popola’s library in the most efficient manner possible, because you have to do it so often. Shit, by ending C I was looking up speedrun movement tech just to get from place to place faster. This is not good. If nearly every player of your story-focused narrative RPG starts essentially speedrunning the game before they’ve even completed it, you have a design problem.

The multiple endings / routes system is the roughest comparison to Automata; seeing how they’re handled in Replicant after playing the sequel, it’s hard to see the original NieR as anything but a rough draft. While Automata only has Route B repeat the same story beats before moving on to original content (and with much more differentiated gameplay than Replicant’s route B at that), Replicant forces you to replay the second half of the game three full times just to get different cutscenes at the end - and then to see Ending E you do a few more hours in a fresh save file. I understand the severe budget and time restrictions that were in place for the making of this game. Still, the sheer amount of times you must repeat the same dull actions to get what is, by all accounts, the real ending to the game does it a real disservice. It’s not just an issue of patience; the simple fact is, each successive ending hits a lot less hard when you’ve spent the last 3 hours skipping past cutscenes to get there instead of experiencing the story. Character moments that were devastating the first time lose their luster after a third viewing, so by the time I saw Ending C, for example, I felt detached and removed from the story and cast rather than immersed and ready for further developments.

Plus, to be honest, the endings beyond B didn’t even feel worth the effort to me. Ending B, similar to Automata’s, is largely about re-contextualizing the story, showing the other point of view, and painting Nier’s actions with a different brush - and it works. This is where the unofficial NieR tagline really hits home: you don’t have to be insane to kill someone, you just have to think you’re right. By the conclusion of ending B, you more or less understand all sides of the narrative, everyone’s motivations have become fully grey, and you’re left with the feeling that there’s no one to root for and no conceivable way that tragedy could have been averted. C & D, on the other hand, are largely focused on resolving Nier and Kaine’s arcs and giving them a happy ending. While route E has portions that are focused on fleshing out the world (and, for once, fresh, exciting new gameplay scenarios which I am livid that you’re unable to return to), its focus is still largely on the resolution of Nier and Kaine’s relationship. I personally wasn’t ever really sold on any sort of romance between the two, so C, D and E all kinda whiffed for me.

I would’ve much preferred additional content to give context to the story and world; for how much depth there is to the lore and worldbuilding of NieR's setting, shockingly little of it is shared in the actual game… if you want to really understand what a gestalt, replicant, or grimoire is, get ready to spend your time in wikis and forums reading transcripts of Japan-only drama CDs. Hell, even Automata tells you more about the backstory of the replicants than Replicant itself does.

Incidentally, having fully played through the game this time, I’m now wholeheartedly in the Brother Nier camp. My first experience of the original NieR was watching a Papa Nier (or as they called him, Dogface Nier) playthrough; at the time, it was hard to imagine a younger character working in the role, as the father-daughter bond seemed to provide such a strong impetus for the lead’s unwavering determination to rescue Yonah. On a replay, it’s clear that the most important themes of the game, especially as they relate to the main character, are radicalization, othering, and dehumanization… and those themes work incomparably better with Brother Nier. I would argue the timeskip and its effects on Nier are the single most important part of the character’s arc; the contrast between the boyish, JRPG-ass, fight for my friends 16-year-old Nier of Part 1 and the unrelenting, bloodlust-filled simmering hatred of Part 2 Nier is striking, and that transition simply doesn’t make sense with Papa Nier.

also Brother Nier has thigh highs, so.

I shouldn’t even need to say the music slaps, but of course it does. Kaine / Salvation has been stuck in my head for two weeks

[manysmallhands]

New album: Scarlet by Doja Cat

All things considered, I think that Scarlet will probably end up as my favourite record of 2023. While there have been plenty of others that I’ve enjoyed before now, there hasn’t really been anything else that I’ve obsessed over quite so much and played to absolute death as this. However, i'm not seeing many people who feel the same. While a few have declared themselves fully on board, reviews have often been middling, bemoaning its sharp turns of style and tone. Similarly, it's failed to gain much popular momentum, charting high in the first week but then dropping out of the charts at speed. So far as I can tell, anyone not put off by its embrace of hard rapping and old style beats appears to have balked at the relentless barbs directed at her online stans. Given how lonely my position feels, I figured that I ought make a case for it. No doubt sales will be impacted. Warn the pressing plants. Put Spotify on alert.

First of all, Doja comes out swinging. Megahit single “Paint The Town Red” is surely already familiar but it bears repeating what an extraordinary banger it is. The track appears relatively slight on first hearing, underpinned by a glitchy retro sample of Walk On By, but its real power comes from a bouncing bassline and Doja’s joyously unrepentant delivery - “Bitch, I said what I said” - as she rips into the losers and haters alike. This vibe dominates the front end of the album, with the stakes raised even higher on “Demons” and “Fuck the Girls”, tracks where she goes off at an absolute fever pitch. But while the music on “Demons” matches her ferocity with a heavy 808 attack, FTG feels like a musical harbinger for the rest of the record, its twitchy live bass forming a bridge into some of the easier going material. 

And it’s fair to say that, beyond these harder edged songs, most of the album sounds absolutely gorgeous. Tracks like the high octane pop of “Ouchies” and the warm, swirling RnB of “Gun” and “Go Off” are entirely absorbing, the kind of music that you don’t so much listen to as luxuriate in. If there is an issue here, it’s that it sometimes feels like Doja isn’t letting go as much as the music is. 97 is one of the best examples of the kind of disjointed funk that comes to dominate later on but her claim that it “looks like we don’t give a shit” is heavily undermined by how often she returns to attacking her enemies. When she (hilariously) begins a line with “…in a tweet that I’m probably gonna stand by…”, you start to get the feeling that Scarlet may be one of the most '...and another thing...' albums ever to be released.

And yet, I can’t say that I really mind. Being new to her, it may be that I just haven’t had time to get bored of it, but I’ve heard plenty of hip hop albums where rappers string out beefs like this whilst being far less entertaining. Say what you like about Doja but, a few clumsy rhymes aside, her rapping is generally excellent and she always has a choice insult for her detractors, whether they’re mocking her shaved head on Attention (“boo hoo my n-, I ain’t sad that you won’t fuck me”) or fretting over her mock-‘Satanic’ affectations on “Shutcho” (“got you cussin’ on a Sunday now - GOOD LORD!”). Do we get more of this stuff than we really need to? Yes, we probably do, but even where it wears out it’s welcome a bit, it’s a rare tune where she can’t make me crack a smile.

And in any case, there’s always something else worth focusing on. This continues to be true through the second half, where its softer elements mutate into dislocated neo-soul, full of twisting funk basslines and a strong late night vibe. This is especially so on Skull and Bones, where Doja’s overlapping vocal lines knit into an intoxicating psychedelic sweep, and the slinky sex track “Often”, a rare non-rap tune where she comes off like a huskier and hornier Erykah Badu. In general, the few love songs here feel genuinely touching, especially new single “Agora Hills” where her adoption of a teen girl persona only heightens her vulnerability as she gently pokes fun at it. And while even here the conflict isn’t quite done with (Doja’s desire to “rub it in their face” refers to the media controversy over her new and deeply unpleasant boyfriend), that softening is not just a welcome respite from the fury but a real ace in Scarlet’s sleeve.

Yet apparently it isn’t enough. And that's a perspective I can understand tbh: the people waiting for a Doja Cat album might be interested in the poppier material but they probably want to hear a lot more singing and they could certainly do without the relentless bitching and sniping. And from the other side, a lot of the people who might be interested this kind of hip hop are fairly unlikely to hear it: Doja Cat is a big pop star, whereas rap is notoriously focused on “keeping it real” and shunning the supposedly commercial (so long as it suits them anyway). Given the pace with which it's dropped out of the charts, it seems a bit late for Scarlet to find a mass audience now, though while its singles remain on the radio I guess that all is not yet lost. Regardless of anything, it’s a record that makes me extremely happy but for Doja Cat, I guess the challenge is to knit this - in all truth - absolutely breathtaking sound into something that makes a little less effort to rub everyone up the wrong way. But with the biggest single of the year still under her belt, I feel like she’s got a few lives left in her.

[amplexadversary]

I fucking hate what the race to the bottom has done to the "official" translations of more than one fucking manga now.

Fucking Kodansha started translating Witch Hat, so the scanlators stopped doing so, but the official version is so fucking lazy.

They aren't even checking if the romanizations of character names read as intended in the target language, let alone fitting the translated vocabulary to the context! You need people on your team that can read intent from the Japanese text AND the English one, because the latter is going to need proofreading! Getting the vibe of the text right of the original version gains nothing if you don't also have someone who can replicate it in the target language! If that someone's the same person that's great but you very much have to have both skillsets on your translation team!!!!

It's perfectly possible to preserve the meaning and style of the original, even to the point where from sentence structure that gets rearranged to preserve a reveal or a metaphor is introduced to the new audience for the first time WITHOUT the text feeling janky in the target language! I've seen it! It used to be the norm before the race to the bottom trend in business got so universal since the mid to late tens! Stop being lazy and give your fucking translators the time and pay to do a good fucking job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I still haven't forgiven what this trend did to Dungeon Meshi and I don't think that grudge is ever going to go away. You could have called it "Dungeon Food," or "Cooking in the Dungeon" and kept the bluntness of the original. You could have spun it up fancily as a kind of title familiar to the audience, and called it "The Chef's Guide to Dungeoneering" or "The Survivalist's Guide to Dungeon Food," or even "Man Versus Dungeon," in a play on Man v Wild. You could have straight up kept the Japanese title and either explained in a translator's note or added a subtitle that repeats the concept in English. Even "Delicious in the Dungeon," while still awkward as all SHIT, still scans as a sentence that makes sense! Why did you go with your actual fucking decision???!?!?!??!!? How hard is "Dungeon Meshi: A Practical Guide to Cooking Monsters?" That took me less than a minute!

If it's worth doing at all in an official capacity, it's worth doing it properly and leveraging your fucking corporate-scale resources to do a better job! Taking advantage of the unspoken agreement that scanlators have to yield to an official translation only to basically undercut them and do a worse job is scummy as all hell! Just fucking pick one of the major scanlator teams and hire them if you're going to cut corners!

Stop lowering the standards of quality stop lowering the standards of quality stop it stop it stop it STOP IT STOP IT!

Like, there's room to argue whether a more literal or more tone-tailored or even a highly creative Ace Attorney-Style translation is most appropriate for a particular work but at least PICK ONE and put in the effort to do that style translation as well as possible! And by ''put in the effort" I mean pay your fucking translators enough that they can take the time to do it right!!!

[itsoutrageouss]

brooo (can I call you bro) that Elliot fic was the best thing I've read in a while can I request a continuation of that part where Elliot takes her home to his and they kind of sober up a bit where she admits she's been crushing on him and then they start to drink and smoke and fuck again but this time they know they can take their sweet time with it?

(I'm obsessed with how you wrote Elliot, especially the part where he took her hands to guide them to his dick like that's so in character for him)

What you do to me II

A/N : Fuckk yeah you can call me bro!! And tysm for the praise- the whole motivation for the piece was that one hand to dick scene lol. sorry for being gone so long life sucks but I’m not dead yet- and sorry for shit ending

Words: yeah no idea like 1k

Warnings: weed, unprotected sex, grinding and cuteness

Part 2 of this one shot 

——🕊

You can’t fucking stop staring at him. The whole ride to his place is kind of a blur, except for his side profile, his soft sloped nose and the way his face shines the red and green hues of the traffic lights. He’s a casual driver, one arm nonchalantly hanging over the steering wheel with the other placed on his thigh and eventually on yours. Dark eyes continuously flash over to yours who looks adoringly at him. He can hardly keep his focus on the road with the way your presence has gone from a distant craving to right here next to him. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

Eventually you arrive, and he follows you directly up to the top floor that’s mainly his, he explains. The bed is messy, several blankets sprawled over it and a few pillows tossed on the floor, complimented with graphic tees and hoodies. He doesn’t excuse the mess, which you appreciate, for the vibe of it is exactly what you expected and wanted. “

Music?” he asks turning around to look at where you lay on his bed with raised brows. “Sure,” your smile is captivating, and he clears his throat before turning the volume down a bit. The alcohol is slowly seeping its way out of your systems, as he lay down next to you, both your legs still on the ground. 

“So,” he begins, and you feel your heart flutter. Not only by the tone of his voice, but it seems that you are finally sobering up enough to get a hold of the situation. You are here, in Elliot’s bed. With Elliot. The boy you’ve always looked so longingly at. When he started looking back, everything inside your brain got messed up. You couldn’t focus on school anymore, finding any excuse to meet his gaze. When something funny happened, you’d smile at each other. When the teacher would announce a test, you’d roll your eyes in annoyance. Always to each other. The silent communication was enough to keep you going for so long, but you want more. You want him. You want people to see you together, to hold his hand and kiss his lips. 

“So,” you repeat, ironically enough too nervous to meet his gaze this time. He studied your features as you tried your best to count something, anything on the ceiling. 

“This is what had to happen for you to hang out with me, huh?” he teases, an amused smile playing on his plumb lips. You got the sense that he likes to push your buttons, to test you. 

“You are so stupid. I couldn’t just fucking walk up to you,” you reply honestly with a dry chuckle, hands folded across your stomach. Your foot taps along to the beat of whatever song was playing. You are really fucking nervous, scared that you are going to say something wrong- or that he’ll find out how much you suck to be around.

“Yeah you could, if you weren’t such a pussy,” his voice raises an octave and he nudges you with his elbow. It feels natural for him to be around you, he can tell already. There is no awkward tension or nervousness for him. You on the other hand is scared shitless. Yet, you let out a genuine laugh at his response before looking at him with a pretend-offended face. It’s when you meet his eyes that you finally relax. It’s familiar to look at him, and you can see him so closely now. 

“Why have you never talked to me?” he asks, looking genuinely curious, and you gulp at the way he’s clearly studying your face and your expressions.

“You know why,” you can’t make yourself say it, can’t make yourself be so vulnerable when this is basically the first conversation you’ve ever had with him.

“No I want you to say it” he says seriosuly, but you can see the glimt in his eyes and the way his lip curls upwards. He really does enjoy pushing your buttons.

“Fuck you. I like you. Thought you’d figured that much.” you can’t help smiling at the sort of excitement you see rushing through him at your words. It’s borderline smug, and you want to tell him off but you’re too nervous to say anything more that could make the damage worse.

But there was no damage in sight. “You wanna get high?” he asks, getting up from the bed and looking over his shoulder to meet your eyes again. His smile i soft and sincere this time, telling you everything he didn’t say. yet.

----

You were laughing hysterically. Whatever Elliot had said, which you don’t remember, was extremely funny. You had already felt your anxiety slip away with every word of his, and your inhibitions were let loose. He listened to everything you said with a genuine interest, in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time. His eyes kept glazing over you with a certain, heavy-lidded look that made your thighs clench.

‘You’re so fucking cute when you laugh like that,’ he breathes, leaning over you while being propped on an elbow. His breath was warm on your lips, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something indescribable. It made you surge forward and press your lips to his again. Your hand pulled him by the shirt, and he obliged happily, slipping his tongue into your mouth as well as his hand under your shirt.

His warm palm and fingers splaying on your waist made you shiver- it felt electric, the way he was touching you, and before you knew it he had flipped you over, so your thighs straddled his as he leaned back. It was his way of showing, of telling that he was all yours. You smiled at the subtle display of submission from him, a smile which he reciprocated. Your kiss was slow. You knew you had all night, all the time in world frankly, to feel each other.

You felt like you were floating as he undressed you, slowly. His fingers fumbled with your bra until it unclaspes, and that heavy look of desire made you squirm under him.

“Best fucking tits in town’ he sighed happily, pressing wet and sloppy kissed down your sternum. You arched like a cat towards him, simultaneously grinding down on his hips.

‘This isn’t fair’ you stuttered out, gesturing to his fully clothed body. He snickers, pulling his shirt over his head. You couldn’t help the gawking of your eyes as you took in his stomach, and he smiled softly at the loving look on your face.

‘Stop that right now or I’ll cream my pants’ he whined, referring to the heated gaze you bore. It made you laugh again, looking to the ceiling. You stood up to drag down your pants, and he did the same while holding your gaze. It was a challenge. You kept looking, until you both were completely bare and finally let your eyes roam each other. He licked his lips and beckoned you over to him again, where you sat on his thighs.

He sat up to meet your lips again, travelling them down your jaw and neck, all the ah to your breasts where he sucked gently on your nipple. It made you lean into him again, one hand tangling in his unruly curls. His hands where everywhere- he wanted his skin to have touched all of yours, wanted to map you out and feel you in a way nobody else had. He wanted to be special to you.

You rolled your hips forward, succeeding in pressing his dick into your folds. The direct, intimate contact made you blush and moan at the same time. He cursed softly, lips leaving your tits to look down at where you now both met. He was flushed red, coated in a sheen layer of you now, where you rubbed against him. His eyes closed in pleasure, leaning back into his pillows. He just wanted to feel you, w wanted nothing else on his mind, on his body.

You lifted up then, nudging him at your fluttering hole. You were aching for him, wet since he put his hand on your thigh in that car- hell since what happened in the bathroom.

You wanted this to be special, too. To convey what you felt, you pulled him up again so he sat, feeling his breath on your face. Your hands another along his neck and stayed there, making him look into your eyes again. As he did, you began to sink down on him. The stretch made you delirious with pleasure and pain, and it felt endless as you sat down fully, feeling every part of him inside you. It was molten and tight, and so wet it made you keen.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, muttering your name. His voice was slurred, both of the weed and the feeling of you clenching around him so tight. The way you held him there, your eyes burning into his- he could’ve cum from just that.

You slowly started lifting up and down. His eyes rolled back and he squeezed them tight as his head went to the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and biting you gently. His hands went up and down your back in a soothing motion.

Everything was slow and unrushed- it had never felt so good. He was hitting things inside you that you didn’t even know was possible, and you felt every ridge and vein sliding into you again and again. A sheen layer of sweat covered his chest, and you leaned into it, pressing yourself to him unt you both were lying down. “I think uh-“ he breathed, pecking your lips before continuing, “- I think I like you too” he snickered, before gulping at the way you clenched around him tightly.

You kissed him deeper as a response, still rocking against him. His hands gripped your hips now, and he started to push up into you in time with yours. Nothing else was said then, it was just his lips on your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck and tits, his hands everywhere else, hick dick inside you over and over until you gripped him like a vice and stuttered his name ‘elliot, elliot, elliot’ into his neck. He pulled out of you swiftly and he took your hand into his, wrapping it around his dick, leaning precum that slid down the length of him. Together, you made him cum. Together you watched as he coated both your stomachs. Together you cleaned up and fell asleep quickly after.

Breaking the silence between you had been the best decision of you life, was the last thought that drifted into your head

[hades--baby]

The Alpha Up North

Summary: Quinn thought he could escape all of his problems by trekking up north with his bruised, bloody, and nearly dead misfit of a wolf in tow. However, the old-blooded vampire failed to realize that David Shaw wasn't the only alpha that swore to protect Darlin with everything he had. The alpha up north made that clear real fast.

Note: Gregory Keaton just gives off this fatherly love kind of vibe and I thought that I'd extend that love to Darlin (because lord knows they need some of that in their life right now). Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word Count: 6330

Quinn’s lips were tainted in a dull red tint that matched perfectly to the shade of thick crimson blood flowing from the horrendous open bite marks on Tank’s exposed neck. He’d been relentlessly draining them the entire drive up north, ensuring they only had enough blood in their system to keep them alive and (barely) breathing. The draining hadn’t come to a pause until their face had fallen deathly pale and their skin turned incredulously cold to the touch—just how he wanted them to be. 

And though he would never fully admit it aloud, part of him missed the vibrant warmth that used to radiate from his little misfit of a wolf. The same vibrant warmth that used to counter his own sullen cynicism that he’d adhered to over his undead years. 

He missed the way they used to show off their sly, confident grin at crowded bars as the two of them threw back an obnoxious amount of liquor and hustled pool to earn some extra cash from the poor souls that dared to play against them. He missed how the two of them used to have fun together. He missed the old them.

The one that actually liked wreaking havoc through the streets of Dahlia as if they had nothing better to do with their time. The one that didn’t give two shits about the unempowered brats they were supposedly friends with nowadays. The one that didn’t report him to the fucking department over some minuscule situation that wasn’t even that big of a goddamn deal. 

Well, it wasn’t a big deal to him, at least. 

“Where the fuck are you taking me?”

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath, startled from his thoughts thanks to Tank’s strained voice filling the cab of his truck. He flicked his gaze into the rearview mirror, looking over the roughed-up wolf. The bright moonlight graced their face, showing off how little color they still had under their smooth skin. Their eyes were heavily lidded, barely propped open as they tried to scan the dark moving landscape just outside of the car's tinted windows.

Quinn’s hands tightened around the steering wheel until he was practically white-knuckling the round mechanism. The thick sole of his boot pressed down on the accelerator a little more. He needed to get to the cabin he had secured before Tank could gain their strength back. And even though it wasn’t very likely that the slumped wolf would gain their strength back that quickly, it didn’t hurt to get there sooner than later. 

“Where the fuck are you taking me, Quinn?” Tank repeated, adding a little more animosity to their tone. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Misfit. All you need to know is that we’ll be there soon enough,” he said, watching them through the rearview mirror for a little while longer before looking back at the open road.

In all honesty, Quinn wasn’t all that worried about keeping a close eye on them. The amount of blood that he had drained from their veins was surely enough to keep them from doing anything rash. Of course, the thought of trancing them to keep them still and complaint had crossed his mind when he first got the jump on them, but he decided that he’d rather play on with a little psychological torture instead.

He wanted them to know that they were too weak to save themself. 

That they truly couldn’t do a damn thing to get out of this situation, regardless of how badly they wanted to.  

So he opted for just checking in on them every few miles in the rearview mirror of his dusty truck. 

He could see them messing with the tight restraints that were skillfully wrapped around their wrists, twisting and turning in an attempt to loosen the ropes, but that did nothing but cinch them tighter than before. They didn’t stop fidgeting until Quinn pulled into a long gravel driveway that led to a small cabin he’d been thinking about the entire drive up north. 

Tank was on high alert the moment the tires of the sedan crunched against the loose gravel of the driveway. Their shoulders tensed and their head whipped around with the little strength that was still pumping through their body. A small smirk graced the sadistic vampire’s face as he saw almost all sense of hope slip away from their tired eyes, depleting into near nothing. 

Had they finally come to terms with the fact that they weren’t going to be getting away this time?

That tonight would be their last night alive?

That this would be the end for them?

Whatever they were thinking, he hoped it was something drastically hopeless. 

He popped the driver’s side door open and practically ripped the back door open. He cinched a grip on Tank’s shirt collar and yanked them out of the back seat just to have them land on the sharp gravel spread over the ground beneath them. The injured wolf groaned in pain, trying to get back on their feet, but Quinn grabbed onto their collar again and started dragging them towards the front door before the soles of their boots could even attempt to plant on the ground. He was expeditiously becoming careless with the way he handled them, completely disregarding their attempts to get away from him. 

He didn’t care if he got their scent all over the damn place anymore. He had managed to hide their scent all the way up from Dahlia to this shit-hole backwater county in the middle of nowhere. There was no way that anyone from the Shaw Pack or the Solaire Clan would find them out here with them being completely off the grid. 

There was no way that anyone would find them out here. 

Quinn kicked the front door open, threw their limp body inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. Fear quickly flooded Tank’s chest and slowly crept up their throat as the entire cabin was enveloped in utter darkness. Not even the faintest glimmer of moonlight found its way inside. 

Much to their dismay, the old vampiric bastard had bashed their face to the point of their own blood backlogging their sense of smell, making it practically impossible for their nose to pick up on anything other than the metallic savor of the crimson liquid that was supposed to be pumping through their veins. 

So with no sense of smell and no source of light to aid their already struggling eyes, all they could do was lie there and listen to Quinn’s feather-like movements as he moved about the cabin. 

Tank hated this feeling. 

They hated feeling… helpless. 

They couldn’t use the enhanced senses that they had always relied on as a wolf, they couldn’t get free from the damn ropes that were tightly wrapped around their sore wrists, and they couldn’t get the fuck away from Quinn. 

They wanted to scream and fight with all their might, but they couldn’t. 

And that infuriated them. 

Before they knew it, a few low-light lamps flickered on and Tank was slowly granted their sight back. They took a chance to look around, moving nothing but their eyes to take in their surroundings. 

The cabin was notably small. It wasn’t really anything but a simple one-room structure with little to no furniture to fill its space. It was quite evident that nobody actually lived in it and they figured that it was probably just some throw-away place that Quinn had managed to get his hands on. 

Tank warily pushed themself up onto their hands and knees, but their limbs shook with exhaustion and their tied wrists made it even harder to keep themself upright. They eventually fell back to the hardwood floor, helpless and ready to close their eyes for good. 

Quinn abruptly slammed a wood chair beside their shaking form and pulled them up onto it. He cut the ropes away from their wrists only to retire them to the uncomfortable armrests of the chair. He then tied their ankles to the legs, making sure to pull tighter than he really needed to. 

“Blood-sucking prick,” Tank muttered under their breath. 

“My dear Misfit, you are in no position to be calling me such mean names,” Quinn taunted, looking up at them from his kneeled position in front of them. He tightened the ropes even more before standing upright. “You know, I’ve always thought that this little thing between us would end in some big glorious fight. The type that would leave both of us bruised and battered and almost dead. But here you are, tied up in front of me with no means of escape and little to no fight left in you.”

Tank barely mustered up enough energy to clench their hands into fists, but they weren’t able to hold it for long and they ended up releasing the tension to rest their palms flat against the armrests. The old vampire smiled at the subtle sign of weakness they tried to conceal, thrilled to see that his little wolf really didn’t stand a chance against him anymore. 

Quinn unexpectedly shot his hand forward and wrapped his fingers around their neck, squeezing nice and tight. His nails dug into their skin, making them wince in pain as his fingers dug right into one of their open wounds. Most of them had stopped bleeding, but the sudden jerk prompted blood to start seeping from them again. 

“Oh, don’t hold yourself back, Misfit,” Quinn said, shaking his head as his grip tightened. His eyes were wide and manic; his pupils nearly dilated to the edge of his glowing irises. A devilish grin spread over his face and his fangs emerged a little more. He let out a deep chuckle, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. “No one but me is going to be able to hear your cries out here, so you might as well let loose.”

It had been hours since Quinn had started his ruthless assault on Tank. 

The poor wolf had endured hours of the vampire's relentless torture and he wasn’t showing any sign of stopping. And for once in their life, Tank wasn’t so sure how much more they could take before they’d give in and give up. 

They were slightly amused by the fact that they were actually admitting that to themself. 

Out of everyone in their life, they had been the most stubborn about giving up. They had always been the one to pull through, no matter the situation and no matter the cost. Hell, they had been scolded halfway to hell about how reckless they’d been with their lack of self-preservation, yet they always managed to make it out alive. But as they sat strapped to that damn wood chair with blood seeping out of every place imaginable, they really weren’t too sure if they could hold out any longer. 

“Well, I think I’m done playing with my food,” Quinn sighed, lazily strolling back over to their limp figure. He stopped right in front of them, the toes of his boots knocking against their own. He cupped their jaw and slowly tilted their head back, forcing them to look into his eyes. “What do you think, Misfit? Should I just end it all here for you? Or should I keep our fun little game running a little while longer?” 

Tank clenched their jaw, wanting to snarl some sort of harsh obscenity at him, but they couldn’t manage to get anything out. They attempted to bare their teeth at the age-old vampire, but they could barely get their canines to peek past their bloody lips. Quinn hummed at their cute attempt of aggression. 

“I suppose I’ll just put an end to our little game. It was fun while it lasted,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and taking his hand away from their jaw so their head limply dropped back to their chest. 

Fuck. 

They were going to die in this stupid drabby cabin at the hands of a goddamn monstrosity of a person and there was near nothing that they could do about it. 

“How should I do this? Snap your neck? Drain you? Turn you?” he prompted, adding a devilish grin to the last option. 

Tank found the strength to tilt their head back enough to look him in the eye again, an almost begging look falling over their face. Quinn smirked and narrowed his eyes at them before cocking his head to the side. 

Quinn had never seen or heard Tank beg before. 

And he thought he never would. 

But now that he’d had a tiny taste of what that looked like…

Now he wanted to see more. 

“What’s wrong, Misfit? Afraid to have me as your maker?” he asked as he took a small step toward them. “Or are you more scared about losing the wolf in you?”

Tank squirmed in their chair at the thought of Quinn turning them. They didn’t want to become a vampire and they sure as hell didn’t want him to be their fucking maker. They’d probably end up being like that Adam guy that Vincent and Lovely had talked about. Apparently, the guy had killed his own maker and kept on living (sort of) with that heavy secret under his belt. Except Tank would make sure that everyone knew exactly who tore off Quinn’s fucking head. 

“Now that I really think about it, turning you seems like a much more favorable option,” he said, smiling a little more while kneeling down in front of the wolf. “Turning you so you can endure an endless amount of suffering just by my hands alone… sounds fucking extravagant, don’t you think?”

They tilted their head further back in an attempt to get away from him, but they soon realized that they had exposed more of their neck and they immediately snapped their head back down to hide their bloody jugular. Though, that did nothing to stop Quinn from committing his atrocities. 

“You know, I always told myself that I’d never actually turn anyone. Too much responsibility in having progeny to take care of. Too much work. But maybe—just maybe—I’ll make an exception for you,” he said, running his tongue over his fangs. 

He cupped their jaw with one hand again and roughly forced their head back to expose their neck as he stood up straight. He placed one of his knees on the seat of the chair right between their legs, hovering right over them as he stared deeply into their wide eyes. His thumb gently pulled at their bloody bottom lip before trailing all the way down to the middle of their throat. His eyes scoured their neck for a few long moments, then he took a steady deep breath and slowly lowered his head. 

But before he could truly reach their neck, he froze in place and his eyes widened ever so slightly. His head ticked to the side and his eyes flicked toward the front door of the cabin. After a few silent seconds, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. 

He had sensed something that they hadn’t, but what was it?

“Hold that thought, Misfit,” he said with an eerie calmness, looking back into their eyes for a split second before pushing off of them. Their chair rocked back slightly from the force of his shove, but it soon settled back on all four legs. They watched as he peeked past the thick black-out curtains that were covering the windows before making his way to the door and slipping out of the cabin. They let their head slowly teeter before it slumped back down, chin hitting their chest. 

Well… fuck. 

If he wasn’t going to kill them or turn them now, then they might actually just die on their own from blood loss. They had been feeling like absolute shit for hours, but now it was really starting to hit them. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and an excruciating amount of pain was starting to set in. 

Their head felt far too light, their entire body was shivering with merciless chills, and they could feel their mind finally slipping away from the reality of their situation. Their breath was rapid and shallow, their heart was racing, and they were fighting just to keep their eyes open. 

They despised the feeling of being out of control. 

It all felt wrong.  

And for the first time in a very long time, Tank admitted to themself that they were scared. 

They’re not sure how long they had been sitting in their fuzzy state of limbo, but a careful pair of footsteps entered the cabin and that was enough to pull them from their daze. They were afraid that it was just Quinn coming back from whatever mindless hunt he had just gone on, but the person who had just walked in didn’t spit some snarky comment like he would have. If it had been the old-blooded vampire, he would’ve been talking their ear off about how he was going to finally end them with some sort of wicked grin on his face. 

No, it wasn’t Quinn who had just walked in. 

A large, warm hand gently cupped Tank’s face and tilted their head up. Tank slowly peeled their eyes open, silently wondering when they had closed them. Once their vision focused, they immediately thought that they might have actually died because what they were seeing was impossible. They had to be completely fucking delusional or some shit because what they were seeing couldn’t be real. 

“Gabe?” they rasped out while narrowing their eyes. 

They were quite aware that there was no way that the man standing in front of them could be Gabe Shaw, but they didn’t care for logic anymore. They let the full weight of their head slump into the man’s hand, to which the mystery man let out a deep chuckle as he shook his head. 

“Not quite, kiddo. I’m Gregory Keaton. Remember me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over their bloody cheekbone. 

Gregory.

Yeah. 

They remembered him. 

He and Gabe were practically brothers all those years ago. And even though the two alphas had gone their separate ways to assemble their own respective packs, Greg always seemed to find some extra time to spend with the Shaw family. Hell, he had actually been the one to help Tank feel a little more at home when Gabe and David weren’t around to do that themselves. 

After their initial introduction—which had been a little rough because all introductions with Tank were a little rough—Greg had quickly found that the young wolf wasn’t really the talking type, so he found other ways to get to know them and to simply spend time with them. 

He showed them how to fix up some of the old upholstery on their motorcycle and in Gabe’s old ‘62 Chevy Camaro when they were in high school. He would mutter dumb little dad jokes that Tank pretended to hate even though they secretly loved them. And when Gabe and David couldn’t get through to them, Greg always managed to get them to listen a little (it might take a good thirty-minute motorcycle ride and a heart-to-heart, but he always managed to get through to them one way or another).

It had been years since they had seen him. 

The last time they had actually seen him was at… Gabe’s funeral. 

Tank had to admit, they really missed the old bastard. 

“You still with me, kiddo?”

Their eyes focused back on his face before they slowly nodded. The minuscule movement made their head spin and they immediately stilled, squeezing their eyes shut while leaning their head into his hand some more. 

“Yeah, I remember you, Greg,” Tank muttered.

“Good. Let’s get these ropes off of you and get you home,” he said, gently patting their cheek once before kneeling down in front of them. Their head lulled a bit as they watched him cut away the rough ropes.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“Already taken care of,” he said, trusting that the members of his pack had already offed the bloodsucker. He continued to work the ropes off, frowning at the sight of their wounds as he grazed his fingertips over the raw skin of their wrists. The amount of blood, gashes, and bites that littered their skin made him wonder how they had managed to hold out as long as they did. “He won’t be bothering you or anybody else anymore.” 

“Good.”

Once the ropes were off, they involuntarily slumped forward. Greg caught them and picked them up with ease, his arms hooked under their limp legs and back in the process of it all. Their head tucked into the crook of his neck, finding solace in his warm embrace. 

“How’d you find me?” Tank asked, their rapid breath starting to slow down. 

“Ansel noticed that Quinn had been spending an awful lot of time in this little cabin for the past month or so. Once David gave me a call to tell me that you had gone missing and there had been a sighting of him heading out of Dahlia, we assumed that this is where he might have taken you,” he answered, stepping through the door and into the cold forest. 

Tall pine trees loomed up above them and the dark sky peeked through the very tips of the fresh green tops. 

Tank loved the sight of the star-ridden sky.  

They desperately wished that they could keep their eyes open long enough to get a good look at all of the shining stars, but they could barely manage to keep peeling their eyes open after blinking, so they had a feeling stargazing was out of the question. Even so, they tilted their head back to rest against Greg’s shoulder and forced their eyes open so they could watch the stars one last time. 

“Hey, Greg?” they started, swallowing hard as they continued to stare at the shimmering abyss above them. 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I think I’m dying,” they concluded in a strained tone, letting a heavy breath trail their words. “And I think I’m a little scared.”

“You are not dying on my watch. You hear me?” he said, shaking his head as he trekked over to his truck a little faster. 

A large group of the Keaton Pack had accompanied their alpha on his mission to rescue Tank. They had been tasked with the job of tearing Quinn limb from limb while their alpha sought out the young wolf that had been snatched away from their own pack. And since the entire group was waiting by his truck, he could only assume that they had taken care of the bastard leech for good. 

Greg rested Tank in the bed of his truck and climbed in as he called his healers over. He settled himself in the middle and gently set the younger wolf’s head on his lap, running his fingers through their hair in an attempt to soothe them.  

“You’re going to be just fine, alright?” he said, looking down at them. Their eyes were unfocused and he could tell that they were staring past his face and at the stars instead. He remembered that they had a knack for stargazing. There had been countless times he and Gabe had found them lying out on the roof of the Shaw house just to stargaze in peace. “Plus, I have a feeling Gabe would come back to haunt my ass if he ever found out you died on my watch.”

Tank let out a huff of a laugh at that. 

“Yeah, he probably would,” they said, a small smile flashing over their face as they thought about what Gabe might have said to them right then and there if he were still around.

And as Tank stared at the glimmering stars with Greg’s fingers soothingly working through their hair, they couldn’t help but feel at peace as they slowly slipped away. 

Tank wasn’t all that sure where they were when they’d woken up, but they knew it wasn’t home. 

They weren’t at their shitty little apartment in the shady industrial district of Dahlia, nor were they tucked away at Sam’s comfy cabin in the middle of the woods. 

So yeah. 

They weren’t home. 

And that kind of terrified them. 

They couldn’t really remember much of what had happened, but they did remember bits and pieces. 

Though, part of their memory felt more like a dream than a reality. 

Like Gregory Keaton. 

Part of them felt like the old alpha had just been a figment of their imagination as they slowly descended into the madness of blood loss that Quinn had so graciously bestowed upon them. But it soon became apparent that they weren’t imagining anything as the bedroom door beside them opened and the person they’d been thinking about stepped into the room. They forced themself upright, hoping to get a clearer view. And the sight was almost enough to send them reeling back onto the mattress. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Greg greeted as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. His weight made Tank sink towards him and they had to plant one of their hands down to keep themself from slamming into his side. He set a hand on their shoulder to keep them from falling any further, which they were more than grateful for because they weren’t too sure if they could have stopped completely on their own. “You gave us a bit of a fright back there. We thought we had lost you for a minute before one of my healers could find your pulse again.”

Tank didn’t know what to say. 

They hadn’t seen him in such a long time and with the situation at hand, they didn’t really know what to do, what to say, or what to even think. They felt like they were everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

“Here. Drink this. Feels like you’re still running a little cold and this should help warm you up a bit,” he said, gently patting their back as he handed them a cup of what looked to be tea. Tank took it in their shaking hands, happy to get something warm in their system. They just needed something to soothe their soul a bit. “Your pack is on the way. They should be rolling in soon. Oh, and David mentioned something about your mate tagging along too.”

Their eyes widened at his last statement. 

The fact that Sam was coming along wasn’t what surprised them. 

What surprised them was the fact that David had told Greg. 

“So you found yourself a mate, huh?” he teased with a smile as he playfully nudged their shoulder. They nodded before taking a long sip of the warm tea. He had added honey to it. He must’ve remembered that they liked their tea that way. “Does he treat you well?”

“He does,” they answered, smiling slightly. “More than well.”

“Good. You let me know if he ever treats you differently, you hear?” he said, giving them a faux stern look. They nodded their head in response. “But from what I’ve been told, I don’t think I have to worry about that all that much. A vampire with a knack for healing magic? That’s not something you see every day.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty damn special,” they said, their words slurring a bit as they spoke. Greg just assumed that the healing magic was still pumping through their veins pretty hard. “He’s saved me more times than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve got a couple of wolf packs and a vamp clan looking out for you now,” he joked, huffing out a light laugh. 

“Greg,” someone called from the entrance of the bedroom. The alpha looked up and perked his brows to let the person know that he was listening. “Shaw’s here.”

Tank perked up slightly and took a deep breath through their nose in hopes of catching the comforting scent of their pack, but they weren’t able to pick anything up. They furrowed their brows and slumped slightly, which Greg seemed to notice with ease. 

“Senses still shot?” he asked, looking at them with a sympathetic look. They nodded and looked down at their cup of tea. He set a hand on their back and gently patted them a couple of times. “It might take some time for your senses to come back. That bloodsucker did quite a number on you.”

“Right,” they muttered, nodding their head once more. 

David soon appeared in the opening of the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on Tank and they could see visible relief roll off of him. Tank let a small smile pull at their lips before it dropped and disappeared completely. They were too drained to really hold anything up right now. Even the hot cup of tea cradled in their hands started to be too much for them to hold. Greg must’ve noticed that too because he placed his hand under the cup and carried the weight in the palm of his hand. 

“Let me take that for you,” he said. Tank was grateful that they could drop their hands back to their lap as he took the mug from them and made his way over to where David was standing. 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done tonight,” David started, but he was promptly interrupted by Greg letting out a light chuckle. He placed a hand on the younger alpha’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. 

“I already told you, David. You and the rest of the Shaw Pack are like family, especially that one over there,” Greg said, gesturing his head toward Tank. He couldn’t help but smile at the young wolf. He viewed them as one of his own kids. Same with David. “I’d do anything to protect you two.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, go on in. They just woke up a few minutes ago,” Greg said, patting David on the back a couple of times before looking over at Tank. “Can I get you anything else, kiddo?”

“I’m alright,” they said, shaking their head. “Thanks, Greg.”

The older alpha nodded once more, gave them both one last reassuring look, and then disappeared into the hallway. David stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments, looking Tank over a couple of times as they kept their eyes trained on the hardwood floor set below them. The tall alpha stepped towards Tank, keeping his strides steady and methodical. He kneeled down in front of them and fell still again.

Tank couldn’t bring themself to look him in the eye. 

They wondered if he knew the whole story behind the night's events. 

They hoped he knew that they didn’t go after Quinn. That the damned old-blooded vampire had jumped and snatched them while they were on their way home from work. That they didn’t go looking for him on their own. That they didn’t break the very promise that they had made to him and Sam. 

They hoped he knew that. 

They hoped he knew all of that. 

David slowly and steadily raised one of his hands into the air, not wanting to startle them with any quick movement. He set his warm palm on the back of their head and eased them forward, pressing their foreheads together. They both closed their eyes and took a deep breath before Tank completely slumped forward to rest their head against his broad shoulder. He held them up with ease, letting them put their entire weight on him. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered, embracing them comfortingly. 

Tank squeezed their eyes shut and frowned, pressing their forehead against his shoulder even harder.

Tank wanted to cry. 

They wanted to just cry and let it all out. 

But they couldn’t bring themself to do that in front of David right now.

“I didn’t go after him on my own. I swear to fucking God, I didn’t go after him on my own. I don’t know how but he fucking jumped me and almost drained me and then we were in the middle of the woods in some fucking cabin and then—” Tank tried to explain in desperate rambles. 

“Hey,” David said, shaking his head while slowly pulling them away. He looked them in the eye, making sure to keep them upright and steady as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. 

He had never seen them so… vulnerable. 

Tank had never been the type to show what was truly going on in their head or in their heart. 

They had never been the type to show—what they would call—a moment of weakness. 

Seeing them in such a state almost made him freeze. 

“You’re not in trouble, Tank,” he started, keeping his voice as straight as he could. “I know you didn’t go after him on your own. And even if you had, you still wouldn’t be in trouble. The only thing the pack and I care about is whether or not you’re okay.”

Tank stared back at him with a wide-eyed look for a few beats before slowly nodding their head in response. 

A set of car lights peeked through the blinds of the room, making both of their heads whip toward the window.  

“That should be Ash, Milo, and Sam,” David said, sitting back to give them a little space. 

The sounds of the front door opening, hushed deep voices, and rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway and led right to the bedroom. Sam soon appeared in the doorway in a flash, almost ramming into the doorway as he slid to a halt. His eyes met Tank’s and he let out a heavy sigh of relief before stepping forward and dropping to his knees in front of them. 

David got back up to his feet to make ample space for the two to properly reunite. He made his way back over to the bedroom door, looked back at the pair once more, and then headed out to the living room, where the others were undoubtedly waiting to hear how the young wolf was doing.

“Can I touch, Darlin?” Sam asked as he hastily looked them over. Tears filled their eyes as they nodded their head in response. And the moment his hands gently graced their skin, they lunged forward and fell right into his embrace. Sam held onto them tight, not showing a damn sign of letting go anytime soon. He pulled them close into his chest, cradling his tough wolf. 

“I swear I didn’t go after him, Sam,” Tank sobbed, finally breaking down in their mate’s arms. Hot tears streamed from their eyes and their shoulders shook from the intensity of their sobbing. “I swear I didn’t go after him. I promised that I wouldn’t and I swear I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head while gently patting their hair down on the back of their head. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t go after him. I know he got the jump on you.”

“I swear I didn’t break my promise,” they whispered, trying to speak coherently with their shaking voice. 

“I know you didn’t, Darlin. I know you didn’t,” he reassured, pulling them in even more. He kissed their forehead and silently looked them over as he gently rocked them back and forth in hopes of soothing them. “Another healer got to you before I could, huh?” he said, smiling a bit while playfully jostling them around.

They smiled as their tears started to slow down. 

They smiled. 

And that was enough to make Sam’s heart melt even more. 

“Mr. Keaton seems to care about you a whole lot. Nearly stared me down when he first opened the door,” he continued to joke, hoping to pull a little more of a smile from them as they started to calm down some more. He could hear their heart slowing down from the rapid pace it had once been set at. 

“He’s protective, is all. It’s been a few years since I’ve really seen him and he’s still the same,” they muttered in response, slumping comfortably against his chest. “But don’t worry. I’m pretty sure he already likes you.”

“Now that’s just the healin’ magic gettin’ to your head,” he said, shaking his own head a bit. 

They let out a light huff of a laugh. 

Their heart had finally calmed down and Sam could tell that they were starting to slow down altogether. Healing magic had always struggled with putting Tank down. They seemed to always fight through the usual drowsy effects that typically came along with healing magic. But Sam could see that they were giving into it for once. He could see that they were accepting the fact that they needed rest and that they needed to—for once in their damn life—sleep and heal.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” they asked, slowly tilting their head up to look at him. 

“Damn right I’ll be here, Darlin,” he said, nodding his head. They tilted their head up and managed to press a gentle kiss to his lips (with the help of him leaning down a bit to not strain their neck). “I’ll be right here.”

“Mkay,” they muttered, nodding their head as their eyes closed. 

Sam didn’t care that they were sitting on the floor in their own little awkward bundle. He could wake up with a crick in his neck or a bad back and he still wouldn’t care. He was just happy to have his dear Darlin in his arms, listening to their heart beating clearly, and their lungs breathing in air. 

Quinn was dead. 

His mate was still breathing. 

And they were okay. 

They were okay. 

[eremiie]

i dont know if its ok to ask but- jealous possesive eren pleassee.. tyy🤸‍♀️

no, nothing;

❥ eren x reader | 2.4k words | modern au

❥ content: possessive eren wooo, wall sex??, cum play i guess

❥ a/n; yes yes this is late idk what happened??? anyways this is season 4 eren, that’s the vibes this gives me

"what are you doing?"

eren had your jaw in between his fingertips, head pointed up towards him yet eyes darting around to avoid his gaze.

you hated when he was like this— when he thought every little interaction with anyone other than him was some kind of advancement. it irked your nerves, yet your mouth stayed quiet and you stayed compliant when he spoke to you, when he confronted you.

your fingers danced up and down the material of his sweats to distract yourself. "nothing." your voice came out in a low mumble, nervous that if you spoke any louder than you were, eren would find it offensive.

"nothing?"

at least to you it was nothing, only a couple minutes ago before eren called you to stand in between his legs from where he was perched on the railing of the stairs, you were a distance away with your other friends, namely sasha, jean and connie.

it was late at night, moon in the sky as the five of you goofed off in front of connie and sasha's apartment. you had no reason to be out so late— other than the fact that you all were bored. you'd decided to get together at their shared apartment for a small get together but the house quickly became a bore.

connie tried to teach you a skateboard trick that sasha couldn't seem to get the hang of, although he deemed it as "one of the easiest tricks to learn." and since the title of the trick was self proclaimed, you wanted to try to see if it really was that easy. you didn't see any harm in that, you didn't see any harm when you finally attempted the trick and almost fell back, the rough surface of the skateboard flying out from underneath you and jean having to catch you before you injured yourself.

the four of you had a moment of laughter, and you had thanked jean for catching you. you didn't process what you were doing at the time because once again— you found nothing wrong with what you were doing. you found nothing wrong when your hands were encased with connie's for him to steady you, because it was just to steady you. you found nothing wrong when his hands were around your waist to prevent you from falling, and you found nothing wrong when you and jean were play fighting, you getting him back for letting the smoke from the joint ghost right in your face.

but eren did, he always did. every little gesture that was just friendly to you was flirty to him, every little gesture that mean nothing meant something in his eyes. it was irritating, you could always feel his eyes burning into your back, and you always felt like you had to watch your back. you felt like prey that was constantly being hunted, constantly being stalked and watched.

eren took a drag of the joint between the fingertips of his other hand, turning his head to the side to blow the smoke out before looking back down at you again. his gaze was intimidating, the way his eyes were low lidded in boredom— as if he's not surprised. like you have done this before and still haven't learned, even though there was nothing to learn, and a viridian stare that felt like it was looking right through you didn't help to ease the tense feeling in your muscles either.

"what do you mean nothing? you didn't see how they were all over you?" he asked you, tone low much like yours earlier, except it was steady and made you shrink from below him.

do you shake your head no? you didn't see how they were "all over you," but no didn't seem like a good answer for you, then again, you had no reason to lie to him.

"no."

you felt the tips of his fingers on your jaw tighten. eren let out a small incredulous laugh, as if he was in disbelief with your answer. wasn't it obvious? how could you not see the way they were touching you, messing with you, they were practically trying to make eren upset, they always did, and he didn't know how he was the only one who saw it.

his eyes trailed over your body, almost as if he was searching for something. "look at what you're wearing." your eyes skimmed over your attire. it was simple, his jacket draped over your shoulders at his request, covering both you shirt and your shorts completely as it was too big on you.

"eren, theres nothing wrong with what i'm wearing, they don't care,"

"how do you know?" eren furrowed his eyebrows at you in confusion, or maybe slight frustration at the fact that you weren't getting it. his hand dropped down from your jaw to your neck, resting it there while his thumb smoothed over your jawline in a relaxing manner if it wasn't for the conversation at hand. "baby, you're not watching them, i am."

the joint was brought back up to his mouth as he took another hit before letting go of you and sliding off the railing. "sasha," he called out for the girl, her hickory ponytail whipping as she looked towards the two of you. "here." his hand was out with the drug in hand, using his fingers to beckon her over to retrieve it while his other hand snaked around your waist pulling you close to him in a possessive manner.

sasha scurried over from where she was sat on the concrete, saying something to jean and connie before jogging over. "where are you guys going?" she asked as she plucked the joint from eren's fingers, putting it up to her own lips.

"______ needs to get something in the house, we'll be back in a minute."

you shuffled on your feet at his words— you didn't have anything to get.

sasha dismissed the two of you with a nod of her head, walking back over to the other two and repeating what eren said as he took you up the stairs of the apartment complex. he twisted the knob to the apartment until the door swung open, pushing you inside and shutting the door behind the two of you.

"eren, what—" his hand flew to your hips to push you against the door, your back hitting it with a thud that you were sure could've been heard by someone on the other side of the door. he towered over you, eyebrows coming together in aggravation.

"why can't you just fucking listen?" his question came out laced with venom, and you let out a small whimper with how tight he was holding you in place, his hips pressing into yours keeping the distance between the two of you almost nonexistent. "i'm not just saying this shit for no reason, you don't need to be letting them touch all over you. is that what you want?"

"eren—"

"huh?"

you repressed rolling your eyes and held your tongue, not responding to him once more. it almost seemed like your favorite thing to do— leaving him without a response, leaving what you were thinking up for interpretation although it looked like he already knew what you were thinking.

"i'm just trying to do you a favor." he murmured as he studied your face, grip softening just like the features on his face when you didn't respond, only a small pout gracing your features. his hand dipped down until it was underneath the fabric of his jacket, smoothing over the skin on your hip when it slipped between your shorts and shirt. "here,"

his mouth came down to kiss your forehead before pecking kissed down the side of your face, and you closed your eyes. you were used to this, it was the same process every time, he'd get envious, talk to you about it as if it was your fault, and then try to sweet talk you, convince you that it's you, and that it's okay, as if there was an issue in the first place. it happened every time.

eren let both of his hands slide to your ass, lifting you up until you were pushed against the door and leveled with his face. he held you up by your thighs, pressing his self into you and continuing his kisses down your neck.

his teeth nibbled at the soft skin and you held back the noises trying to elicit from your throat. it felt good, it did, he felt warm against you, and despite how he tended to act sometimes; you felt safe when you had him so close to you.

"since you seem to forgot," his hands moved quick, one of them wrapping around your torso to hold you up while the other one moved to pull down your shorts. the cold air of the apartment hit your legs all too quick— goosebumps spreading over your skin that were quickly soothed by eren's warm hand smoothing over your thigh once more. "let me remind you who you belong to."

and there he went, grinding himself against you, attacking your neck with kisses, you were sure he left a couple hickeys that'd be visible in the right lighting.

eren groaned when his finger went down to pull your underwear aside, the warm slick from your cunt meeting the side of his fingers.

he brought his hand up to his mouth, tongue sliding over his index finger as he tasted you, and you bit your lip feeling yourself clench around nothing.

eren shuffled to untie his sweatpants with one hand, then pulling them to his thighs along with his boxers before holding your underwear to the side and sliding into you with one quick motion. "fuck," he groaned feeling you sheath him inside of you.

a soft moan left your parted lips and you grabbed onto eren for support, your fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt as you held onto him, like how he held on to your waist.

his head buried into your shoulder as he pulled out and back into you, groaning into your neck as he continued to kiss you, your back hitting the door with every thrust. "oh, shit—" your sentence came out choppy, every stroke of his was hard, cause you to jolt up every time.

one of eren's hands went down to rub at your thighs before trailing back up your back to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck more to him. you winced, but the hold he had on your hair soon felt like nothing when his lips were on your skin again.

"nobody fucks you like this, yeah?" his voice came out muffled as he spoke against your neck.

you struggled to respond, pleasure was flooding your body and you almost felt incoherent with the way he was fucking you, it felt all too good, it always felt too good. it was something about the way he wanted to fuck you and let you know that you were his, and that you'll never be anyone else's.

"yes, yes." your voice was shaky, and you could feel eren smiling against you. he let go of your locks and moved his hand just a little bit further south to grab your neck instead.

he sped his pace up, and your hips moved to get him deeper— you were practically impaling yourself on him, every time he fucked up into you, you tried to meet his hips.

the lewd noises between the two of you were dirty, they made eren want to fuck you harder, knowing that despite everything that was happening moments ago you were always ready to let him fuck you good. "god, eren," you choked out, feeling his hand around your neck tighten.

you weren't worried about anything else— not about the fact that the other three could walk in at any moment, not about the black spots that were appearing in the corner of your eyes, not about the fact that this was supposed to be your lesson. you were only worried about the way his cock slid against your walls, the way that small tinge of pain made your body jerk when he would hit your cervix yet feel so good at the same time. your were worried about how your clit would hit the fabric of his shirt every time he fucked into you, and how close you were.

and by the way his hips were stuttering, the way his movements were becoming more sloppy, and his grip loosening on your neck, you knew he was close too. "what?" he breathed out, it almost sounded like a pant.

"i'm gonna cum," you moaned, and he dropped his hand from your neck to reach in between the two of you, thumb rubbing your clit in large messy circles until you tightened around eren, a cry of what could have only been his name leaving you as you came around him.

his eyes screwed shut as he felt your slick run down him, when he pulled a little out of you he could see the white ring you left around the base of his cock and he groaned as he used you to get himself off, thrusting into you a few more times before filling you up with his own cum with a grunt.

your legs felt weak, if he were to put you down now you weren't sure if you would be able to stand. so you sat there in his arms for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath and come down from your high. your head was rested against his shoulder and his against your chest.

finally, eren slowly pulled out with a hiss, he was still a little sensitive. he let you step down, still holding onto him to not fall and he pulled your underwear back into place, his fingers pressing the cloth against your cunt  until he could feel his cum wetting the fabric, the squelching noises making you whimper.

"now let's go back out there," he sighed, content with the way you still gripped onto him as you pulled your shorts back up unsteadily.

"and remember who's cum you're filled with when we do."

[edoro]

Between Andrias and Belos who do you think is the most evil and twisted of both?

Oh 100% Belos, again, no contest. I like Amphibia and think it's a fun and good show but its scope and tone are rly just a lot different from TOH.

Andrias is a Captain Planet villain. He's the ancient prince of an advanced dimensional parasite/colonizer society who hardened his heart and set his face as stone against his closest friends and regards it as his greatest failure, so he's gonna strip mine his own planet about it. He's a jovial manipulator who is himself being expertly manipulated by some kind of fucked up machine hivemind he installed in a 14 year old girl who he mentored. He's vaguely pathetic and haunted by memories and rly not loving this.

Belos is a 400 year old puritan witch hunter who murdered his own brother for leaving him for a witch, carved magical glyphs onto his own body, eats the souls of magic animals, mutilated himself for a disguise, and has spent centuries cloning and abusing and murdering said brother over and over again.

His "for real sexual predator" energies are off the charts and his vibes are radioactive. He's weirdly, playfully obsessed with the 14 year old protag and on screen canonically in the show covertly/emotionally incests his nephew-son who is a brother-clone.

He homebrewed magic cult catholicism in order to brainwash an entire society (whose history he has personally suppressed and destroyed over centuries) into letting him Heaven's Gate them.

He's also very pathetic and haunted by his own past and wading through a hip-deep lake of blood he's spilled to get where he is, he's a sort of eternal child frozen in suspended development who can't bear to be wrong and sees himself as a constant wounded martyr and victim who keeps repeating the exact same patterns of behavior that have been making him miserable for centuries, but he's convinced himself he's righteous and it's worth it. And he is also definitely getting played by the Collector.

They are both literal cartoon villains but Belos is also just a very intimately real and personal sort of monster, under all the you know witch shit. No contest.

[hyogonokitsune]

faint -- suna rintarou x reader

here’s a continuation of this, and part 3 is here

back at it again with the suna smut, this time with some slight choking 🥴

the song suna plays in this fic is snow in gothenburg by kasbo, idk I just imagine that’s the type of music he listens to dsdskjfs I actually have a playlist full of suna-vibe songs that I listen to when I write this shit

2000 words

--

“I can’t believe I actually put in the effort to pirate this.”

“Shush, we’re not even halfway through, give it a chance,” you said, prodding Suna in the side with your elbow.

“Alright, fine, you little optimist,” he replied. He was trying to sound annoyed, but you could hear the faint smile in his voice.

To be fair, the movie was pretty terrible so far. You had been interested in seeing it for a while, so when Suna had told you at practice earlier that day that he had downloaded it you were excited to watch it with him. Disappointment had already set in, but you weren’t one to quit something once you had started. You were determined to suffer through it until the end, even if that meant making Suna suffer alongside you.

Besides, focusing your attention on trying to find a redeeming quality in the movie was distracting you from the fact that this was the first time you had been alone with Suna since you lost your virginity to him. You tried to keep your eyes on the laptop screen in front of you, ignoring how close he was. Understandably, you were a little nervous around him after seeing him, and being seen by him, in such an intimate way. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little frustrating that he seemed completely unfazed by it. He was treating you the same as he always had in class, at practice, and now with just the two of you in his room together, sitting side by side on the floor in the dark. He was the same cool, collected Suna.

He reached up then to scratch at his cheek, the back of his hand brushing up against your arm as he lifted it. The brief contact reminded you of how he had touched you last week, and you could feel your face heating up at the memory; you were grateful that the lights were off in his room.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you pick a movie for us again,” he said when the credits finally rolled, snapping his laptop shut and standing up to return it to his desk.  

“That’s fair,” you sighed, stretching your arms out in front of you. “That was two hours I’m never getting back.”

“Every hour of your life is an hour you’re not getting back.”

“Oh, Suna, your wit continues to astound me,” you said, eyes rolling as he sniggered. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Wait.”

You had been about to stand up, but you paused when he spoke, looking up at him in surprise at his almost forceful tone of voice.

“I heard this song the other day, I thought you might like it,” he explained, scrolling through his phone to find it. It started playing through the speaker on his desk.

“Oh, I do like this.” You shifted to lie flat on your back, looking up at the dark ceiling. Suna said nothing, only smiling at you before moving to mirror your position, his feet pointing in the opposite direction, head coming to rest next to your own.

Your eyes were closed, body relaxed. The only things you were aware of in that moment were the music and the sound of Suna’s soft breathing. It felt nice to just lie there, completely at ease, all of your other senses shut off.

When the song ended you opened your eyes and turned your head to face him, only to find that he was already looking at you. Has he been watching me this whole time? It didn’t even matter if he had been, because the way he was looking at you now made your breath catch in your throat. His gaze held such tenderness that you found yourself leaning towards him before you were aware of what you were doing. You kissed him, and without hesitation he returned it, pressing his mouth against yours earnestly.

“Rintarou,” you breathed, and in an instant you were both sitting up, lips seeking each other out hungrily, hands tearing off clothing with urgency.

It was chilly in the room, but Suna’s hands were hot as they roamed over your body. You wanted to feel him, have him touch you everywhere. It was never enough.

His lips traced a line from your mouth to your ear, teeth nibbling at it lightly and sending a shiver through your body. He shifted, intending to lay you back down on the floor, but you placed your hands on his shoulders to stop him.

“Rin,” you said in a husky voice, “can I try being on top?”

Suna grinned, both at your request and the blush rising up your face. He kissed you once before laying down, his fingers running lazy circles over the top of your thigh. Exhaling shakily, you crawled on top of him, hands on his stomach to steady yourself. You reached down to guide his cock towards your entrance, but your hand was trembling slightly out of nervousness.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he said softly, the smile on his face almost painfully gentle as one of his hands wrapped around your own to help you. He dragged the head of his cock between the folds of your pussy, gathering up the wetness there before pressing it into you. With a sigh, you sank down onto him, taking all of him inside you in one go.

“God,” he groaned, eyes closing and head tipping back. “God, you feel so good…”

It was different with you on top; it felt like his cock was deeper in you than before, reaching a place that was already bringing you close to the edge. You moved your hips back, almost gasping at the sensation against your clit. Your movements were making Suna’s chest rise and fall heavily; the sight of him coming undone emboldened you. You grinded your hips against him, gradually increasing the speed, each moan that you were able to draw out of him tightening the knot in your stomach.

“Rin,” you panted, grasping desperately at his chest.

His hands grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “What is it, baby?” He bucked his hips up into you, making you gasp. “You gonna cum for me already?”

“Sh-shut up,” you told him. It was embarrassing how close you were after such a short time. Suna was snapping his hips into you harder now, fingertips digging into you insistently; you could feel the bruises starting to form.

“You’re such a needy little girl,” he smirked, “I barely even have to touch you to have you creaming all over my cock.”

Your face was flushed from his words, and you were more than a little frustrated at how right he was. You had been thinking about him all week, and all it took was one kiss for your pussy to be dripping between your legs. “Shut up,” you repeated, breathing hard as you continued to grind against him, trying to focus on the sensation on your clit.

“I can feel how close you are, baby.” That smirk was still on his face. “Is it that easy for me to make you—”

“I said, shut up, Rin.” Without thinking, your hand reached out and wrapped around his neck. His eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment, but then he tilted his head back, exposing his throat for you, silently asking you to apply more pressure. Your fingers pressed into the sides of his neck, where his pulse was beating fast, limiting the blood flow to his head. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your hips work against him even faster.

You were hurtling towards an orgasm quicker than you thought was possible. The friction against your clit, the way his thick cock stretched you out, the sight of him beneath you panting and moaning from what you were doing to him; it was all becoming too much.

“Rin, I’m s-so close,” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” His voice was as low as yours, his face flushed from your hand around his throat and the feeling of you riding him. “Please don’t stop.”

“I want you to cum with me, baby,” you told him. Suna moaned at your words, and the sound of it sent you over the edge.

Your pussy clenched hard around his cock as you kept grinding against him, panting hard and legs trembling. You wanted to shut your eyes against the pleasure, but you kept your gaze trained on Suna’s face.

“Oh god, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming… fuck,” he groaned. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, feel his warm cum filling your pussy. You released your hold on his neck, but your hips continued to grind into his.

The look on his face was so beautiful. His eyes were shut tight, brows drawn together under a sheen of sweat, his mouth hanging open as a string of curses and moans flew past his lips. His hands were gripping you almost painfully hard, the muscles in his arms and torso tensing as ecstasy washed over him.

“God, baby, stop stop stop, please stop!” he begged as the overstimulation became too much for him. You stilled immediately, leaning down instead to press soft kisses into his neck.

“Was I any good?” you purred into his ear.

“Yes,” he managed weakly, struggling to catch his breath. “You were amazing.”

You pulled away to look at him; his cheeks were glowing, strands of dark hair sticking to his damp forehead. You gently brushed them away, and the soft smile that he gave you made your heart melt. Suna sat up, pressing into your chest as he kissed you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he used the other to push himself off the floor, his cock still inside you as he lifted you up.

“Rintarou!” you cried out, more than a little shocked at how easily he was able to carry you.

“Shh,” he hushed, setting you down on his bed. He laid down beside you and pulled the covers over your bodies. “Just lay with me for a bit.”

You stretched an arm out over him, wiggling closer to rest your cheek on his chest. His heart was pounding against your ear, still pumping hard from his high.

“Kind of embarrassing how fast we both finished, huh?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh.

“A little bit,” you giggled in turn, tracing tiny patterns into his skin with your fingertip.

The two of you lay in silence in his dark room, the only sound coming from the heater that had finally turned on beneath the window. It was late, and although you didn’t have class the next day, you really should have been home a while ago.

“Rin, I should go,” you said, but you made no move to sit up.

“It’s already so late, you should just stay the night,” he mumbled, careful to keep his tone casual, but the way his arm wrapped around you to hug you closer to his body betrayed him.

You didn’t want to leave, either. It was warm under the covers, Suna’s body heat seeping into you, his scent surrounding you; the darkness of the room and the aftereffects of sex were making you sleepy. Laying on his firm chest with his arm around your body, you realized that there wasn’t any place else you’d rather be in that moment. It would be worth finding an excuse to explain why you were out all night the next day, and dealing with any ramifications then, if it meant you didn’t have to leave him now.

You snuggled closer to him, arm tightening around his side. “You’re lucky I’m tired,” you murmured into his skin.

“Mm hmm,” he hummed. His hand moved up to bury itself in your hair, long fingers winding their way through your locks. If you had lifted your face to look at him then, you would have seen the faint smile on his lips.

--

➣ masterlist

[avinaccia]

A Completely Objective and Logical Ranking of Every Hetalia Character Song

New character songs are dropping,  I have too much time on my hands, let’s go. 

Also here’s a Youtube playlist for the ~✨nostalgia✨~

Bring it on in the tags 

71. Ah Legendary Class⭐The Awesome Me Highway [Prussia]: Absolutely tearing it up on the drums and on the vocal cords alike (I pray for Atsushi Kousaka). Great for the memes. 

70.  Happy Thoughts Museum [???]: This is listed as an official song but I had literally never heard of the title. Then I listened to it and BAM! Smack back to 2013 watching the teasers for the show on Funimation. Not sure I’d count it as a character song though...

69. (Nice)  My Song that is written by me for me [Prussia]: Deafened me but I can appreciate the industrial grind.

68.  My House is...Quiet. ~With the Trolls~ [Norway]: I have never heard this song, nor can I find any version of it online. By default it goes here and I am so sorry Norge.

67.  Make a Wish to Santa♪ [Sealand]: The discordant notes and childish exuberance only serve to make this sound like a demonic plea to Santa to eliminate the singer’s enemies.

66.  Heaven and Hell on Earth [Rome]: Rome sounds like he’s been in the corner of a restroom. Extra points for the metal version, minus points for the fact that the beach scene was replayed like 1764 times.

65. Canada Complete Introduction [Canada]: Quiet af until Kumacheerio shows up and blows out your speakers. they did you dirty my darling 😔

64.  It’s Easy!!! [America]: I don't think any video of this has ever stayed up for more than 20 seconds. Sounds cool, but like I was listening to 20 different genres at once, someone make him calm down.

63.  Bù Zàiyì the Small Stuff ☆ [China]: I cannot for the life of me find the complete song anywhere, clips have a cool beat though

62.  Let's Boil Hot Water♪ [Italy]: Exactly what it says on the tin..though a bit too close to elevator music for my tastes.

61.  The Fragrance of Early Summer [Japan]: Very ‘from the books’ Japan-esque song

60.  Peace Sounds Nice…[Baltic Trio]: All well and good until the radio demon shows up

59.  W●D●C ~World Dancing~ [America]: How a song can sound like it’s from 4 different decades at once is beyond me

58.  Overflowing Passion [BFT]: This is just drunken karaoke and I have 0 clue what’s going on #iconicforallthewrongreasons

57. Ren●Ren●Renaissance♪ [Rome+Chibitalia]: Wholesome Grandpa with Grandson content - barring the fact that Italy sounds on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Rome has had too much wine.

56.  Roma Antiqua [Rome]: Similar energy to any one of China’s songs - there’s a part of the song where it sounds like he’s singing in the shower, and I will never not laugh at [CENSORED]

55.  Country From Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu [Japan]: Very chill, very Japan, but just meh for me.

54.  Moon Over Emei Shan [China]: Good message, okay song.

53.  My Friend [England]: What a mind palace you must have Mr. Kirkland

52.  With Love, from Iceland [Iceland]: Three words: Heavy. Metal. Puffin.

51.  Having Friends is Nice...♫ [Russia]: Russia is the cutest thing ever

50.  Mm. [Sweden]: Smooth transition from WWE Smackdown to shopping at IKEA.

49.  Why don’t you come over? ~Beyond the Northern Lights~ [Iceland]: I don’t want to be mean but...this does sound like the second closing theme to an anime whose first closing was much more popular (à la Soul Eater)

48. Gakuen☆Festa [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Sounds like a 60s song of the summer but oh dear their voices do not go together. Hella cute though.

47.  Wa! Wa!! World Ondo [Main Cast]: One time I travelled 10 hours in a coach bus with a bunch of teenagers to a city of note in my country, and the only souvenir I bought was the fucking PAINT IT WHITE DVD. Perfectly chaotic, UN ĐĕùX~~

46.  In the Bluebell Woods [England]: In the album cover for this song he’s holding a guitar but this is not a rock song. Still has ‘running through the hills’ levels of dramatism though.

45.  Poi Poi Poi♪ [Taiwan]: You’re telling me that Taiwan, someone whose has *ONE LINE* in Beautiful World (which is criminal tbh what kind of representation-) managed to get an eNTIRE CHARACTER SONG???????

44.  White Flame [Russia]: There’s something to be said for a song that is 3x the length of any Hetalia episode

43.  Ich liebe… [Germany]: Baking cakes for your friends has never been so wholesome.

42.  We Wish you a Merry Christmas [America, China, England, France, Russia]: Nice to see they’ve gotten their shit together since United Nations Sta-hmm.

41.  Ah, Worldwide à la mode [France]: Sounds like a Disney Princess song, hard not to picture France frolicking in a field of flowers.

40.  Che Bello! ~My House is the Greatest!⭐~ [Italy]: Would not be out of place in an advertisement for Sea World.

39.  May You Smile Today [Japan]: THE feel good song of the summer

38.  Let’s Look Behind the Rainbow [Italy]: I will protect you.

37.  I'm your HERO☆ [America]: “Anyone who’s sad or sullen will be arrested” did NOT age well.

36.  Mein Gott! [Prussia]: Alternating headphone effect at the beginning is cool, so is the confidence...the actual singing on the other hand...

35. Nihao⭐China [China]: Listen, all of China’s character songs are great, I just can’t vibe with this one like some of the others.

34.  Pechka ~Light My Heart~ [Russia]: I’m still having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that this and Winter were released at the same time.

33.  Pukapuka⭐Vacation [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Seems just a bit too much like they’re running on a treadmill that’s picking up speed and trying to sing at the same time. Peppy.

32.  Santa Claus is Coming to Town [Germany, Italy, Japan]: This is unironically the best song sung by this trio; can only vibe with for two months out of the year though.

31.  Excuse Me, I Am Sorry [Japan]: Japan’s character traits speedrun. Gives me barbershop quartet vibes for some reason but is catchy as hell.

30.  The Story of Snow and Dreams [Russia]: A superhero anime opening in the making

29. England’s Evil Demon Summoning Song [England]: Sir that is not how you roast a marshmallow, don’t cut yourself on that edge.

28.  Moi Moi Sauna♪ [Finland]: Exactly the type of song you’d expect and it’s wonderful

27.  United Nations Star⭐ [America, China, England, France, Russia]: This isn’t as much of a song as it is a four minute struggle for everyone to sing without America yelling every 5 seconds...Like a particularly musical episode of Hetalia.

26.  Paris is Indeed Splendid [France]: Paris-pa-pa-pa-paris

25.  Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman [England]: Poppy, rocky, polka-dotty

24.  Vorwärts Marsch! [Germany]: To quote the comment section: “This sounds like a German version of I’ll Make a Man out of you.” There’s some truth to that.

23.  Hamburger Street [America]: The product of America’s rapper phase. 8/10 because he’s trying so hard and because I can unironically sing along to all of this.

22.  Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy [Hong Kong]: A song that would absolutely destroy the ankles of anyone in DDR.

21.  I Am German-Made [Germany]: There was once a version that had Germany and Prussia singing at the same time and it sounded positively demonic and Broadway could never

20.  La pasión no se detiene ~Unstoppable Passion~ [Spain]: Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping...

19.  Fall in Love, Mademoiselle [France]: Sounds like it should be in Mozart Opera Rock, I have kiss kiss falled in love.

18. Embrace the Très Bien Moi [France]: This is the definition of SELF LOVE PEOPLE. 

17. Carrot and Stick [Belarus&Ukraine]: Absolutely DRIPPING in 2000s power ballad energy. The type of song that plays on repeat in the mind of the widow whose millionaire husband ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (and the only legit character song ever acknowledged by the anime)

16. C.B.C (Cowboyz Boot Camp) Vol. 1 [America]: AH MAH GAWWDDD

15. Winter [Russia]: Heavy metal fever dream and the perfect song for an angst-ridden teenager

14.  Seychelles Here ⭐ Vacation Island [Seychelles]: UN👏DER👏RA👏TED SONG👏OF 👏THE 👏SUM👏MER👏

13.  Nah, it will settle itself somehow [Romano]: One day I aspire to reach this level of chill

12.  Let’s Enjoy Today [England]: I will never not feel happy when listening to this.

11.  Einsamkeit [Germany]: Ludwig manages to air every single one of his worries about not being good enough compared to his friends and always being perceived as mean or uptight when he’s actually just a softie and now my heart hurts. 💔

10.  Aiyaa Four Thousand Years [China]: A very poignant and beautiful song about the passage of time and the inevitability of its passing; comparable to an ancient ballad complete with explosive crescendos and meaningful lyrics.

9.  Bon Bon Bon❤️C’est Bon C’est Bon! [France]: Peppy, cheerful, adorable, groundbreaking; has been my alarm tone for six years and I’ve yet to tire of it. 9/10 The moaning interspersed throughout has been an interesting wake-up call.

8.  Let’s Enjoy! Let’s Get Excited! Cheers! [Denmark]: This is on par with Everytime we Touch by Cascada in terms of rage potential unlocked (the good kind)

7.  Dream Journey [Japan]: Whoever’s playing the shakuhachi is absolutely KILLING IT. Dramatic, wonderful, great metaphors.

6.  Gourmet’s Heart Beginner Level [China]: Absolute banger, I’m a vegetarian but this would inspire me to eat shumai.

5.  Always with you...Nordic Five! [Nordic FIVVVVVEEEE]: Everyone harmonizes beautifully except for Denmark. Extremely catchy, number placement seemed appropriate. 

4.  Pub and GO! [England]: I love this trash man

3. Maji Kandou⭐Hong Kong Night [Hong Kong]: If you thought Denmark’s song was a banger JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL BLOW OUT MY SPEAKERS LISTENING TO LO-HA-SU.

2. Steady Rhythmus [Germany]: THIS SONG IS METAL AF. Seriously, if it can be classified as ‘hardcore’ by my father and his group of 50-somethings who have decided to single-handedly gatekeep the metal and hardrock genres, it can do anything.

1.  The Delicious Tomato Song 🍅 [Romano]: Beautiful, absolutely awe-inspiring, poignant, catchy lyrics with an extremely deep meaning that only years of meticulous research and analysis can unlock, Romano I love you.

BONUS: Closing Songs

5. Hatafutte Parade (World Series) 

4. Hetalian⭐Jet (The World Twinkle): The song is good, the dancing is cursed 

3. Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda (World⭐Stars)

2. Marukaite Chikyuu (Hetalia: Axis Powers): nE NE PaPA

1. Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo (The Beautiful World)

[kriscynical]

It's Time for BotW 2 E3 '21 Trailer Babbling.

Just like two years ago, I haven't watched any theory videos about this trailer yet, nor have I looked beyond a couple dozen posts on my dash that were mostly gifs and fanart (how the fuck do y'all work so fast??), so anything here that's obvious, stupid, or flat out wrong? Ignore me. These are initial thoughts after going through the trailer frame by frame. With Mom of the Wild (MotW) sitting next to me, ofc. She's stoked.

I'm inserting a cut here because I kept going and going until I ran into Tumblr's brick wall on post content. As I always say, if you're on mobile and the cut doesn't work, go bitch at Staff. Or a wall. Both will be just about as productive.

First off: holy mother of fuck I am absolutely enamored with the animation and physics of Link's loose hair. I joked with MotW that I think Nintendo put all of the additional polys for Link's character model in his hair alone. I was a sucker for playing with his hair in my work before, so thank you, Nintendo, for giving me a canonical reason to continue to do so.

Now to go in some semblance of order within the trailer:

If that's malice going in to his arm, I'm wondering if the reason the bluegreen light goes into his arm as well is to drive out or cleanse the malice out of him, since having malice consume any part of him would presumably kill him.

That bluegreen color has been associated with Farore and the element of Courage in general, so I wonder if it's some kind of extension of Farore assisting her champion or what. That's one that I'm probably dead wrong about but it's interesting to think about nonetheless.

Just like in the first trailer, Zelda does not have the Sheikah Slate here. Since all of the towers, shrines, and pillars surrounding the castle seem to be gone in every wide scenic shot we have of this game so far, I'm wondering if the slate just stopped working or its power source finally died or something. It will be interesting to see how and if Nintendo tells us what happened to it.

The pattern where the green of the arm transitions into his normal skin tone also immediately reminded me of the sky portals in Twilight Princess.

But besides that, skydiving from Skyward Swooooooooooooooord even though a lot of the sky architecture is giving me a combination of Zonai/Windwaker/City in the Sky vibes.

I already thought the sequel was going to tell us more about the Zonai -- or even be ABOUT what happened to the Zonai -- since the original trailer dropped. Why would Nintendo have introduced an entirely new tribe/race into the lore only to say they had mysteriously disappeared without explanation? I think the repeated cries for help we can hear in the reversed audio of both trailers has something to do with the Zonai needing help, and that they aren't actually extinct.

Maybe they just went up to the sky.

Meanwhile, in the department of shit that looks really fun but also has the potential to be really, really irritating to fight... a Talus fort. And apparently Bokoblins are now unicorns.

Okay so when we see Link phase through the stone at the end of the trailer (which I'm going to get to because holy shit), his arm is lit up with that same bluegreen light. In this scene, though, his arm is that dormant dark jade color and only a spot on the back of his hand is lit up with golden light, which makes me wonder if this has anything to do with his Triforce piece. The Triforce was curiously absent from the first game.

Whatever this plant thing is strongly reminds me of Kalle Demos in Windwaker. Either way, yes, Link, burn it with fire.

Hello, awesome flame thrower shield. Hello, dragon head iconography we see everywhere in Zonai architecture.

When I first saw this shot I was thinking that couldn't be Link's arm because of the fingernails being too long.

But then I had the thought that maybe it's just a mid-transition between the long nails on the blue hand and the short nails on Link, and they'll just kind of withdraw until we see the hand that's on Link in the rest of the trailer.

And last but not least:

What.

The fuck.

Is this.

How is it going to be utilized.

And holy hell it looks like it will be fun as shit.

In closing:

I wanted to put a couple more images in this but Tumblr limits you to 10. Fuck you, Tumblr, seriously. I'm too verbose for these archaic limitations. Also:

"Aiming for a 2022 release."

Please. Nintendo. Please. It will have been five years. PLEASE do not delay this game three times like you did the first one.

PLEASE.

[itsapapisongo]

DON'T LET IT PASS | N. JAEMIN

Cast: Jaemin x Female!Protagonist ft. Taeil, Johnny, Yuta, and Jeno

Genre: Angst | Dramedy

Word Count: 4.7K

Word/Object: Bouncy Ball (tennis-sized ball)

Warnings: Allusions and brief mentions of suicide and strong language throughout.

Summary: Admitted to an underfunded psychiatric clinic, Na Jaemin feels stuck and the “nice” girl that always says hi and waves at him isn't helping.

Collab: “A Vibe”

“I WONDER IF you get your kicks off of being problematic,” said Jeno, his wet black hair practically covering his brow and eyes like a thick curtain. “And, to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”

Jaemin, who was laying in bed and reading a porno mag he’d managed to sneak into the clinic, shrugged. He didn’t have to look at his bunkmate to know that Jeno (1) had taken a shower and (2) was staring right at him. He had heard him talking with one of the orderlies, their conversation frustratingly cheery for two people stuck in a nuthouse.

He chuckled. Remembering that if Jeno—or anyone else, for that matter—heard him refer to the clinic as a nuthouse, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. It wasn’t positive language, they’d told him. Jaemin would find it funny if it weren’t so ridiculously depressing. People were sensitive like that. People lied to themselves like that.

Call it a psychiatric clinic, a hospital, a mental ward, or what have you but the truth was that every single person that had been admitted to this damn place was off their nut.

But, hey, people kept themselves sane in strange ways. Calling things by other names seemed to make them forget—no, repress—their reality of their lives.

Whatever floats your boats, Jaemin often thought.

“I think I’ll just keep you wondering,” Jaemin replied, smirking. He passed a page and whistled. “Nice b—”

“Could you not?” Jeno cringed as he dried his hair. “I've had my share of horniness today.”

That made Jaemin look up and ignore the porno mag for a second. He slightly lifted his head, that wicked smirk of his plastered on his face, and wiggled his eyebrows. Jeno, who was too focused on hanging on his towel by the window, missed this. He got to see again when he turned and was met by Jaemin sitting on the edge of his bed, magazine flat on his lap as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fair share, you’d say?”

“Yeah, fair share . . .” Jeno trailed off, raising an eyebrow. He felt the spotlight on him and it was a burning and shameful sensation. “What are—what are you on about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Jaeming shrugged one shoulder, winking. “Only that sharing is caring, you sly fox.”

Jeno scoffed as he sat on his bed, opposite Jaemin’s. For a second, he remained unfazed until he sniggered. His eyes became nonexistent, a wide smile reaching them and touching them with a glint of embarrassed amusement. Jeno seemed to open his mouth to share but instead shook his head and turned away.

Above his bed, a collection of manga and manhwas was alphabetically organized and stacked on a wall bookshelf he’d put himself. Jeno was very proud and possessive of all of his volumes. They were one of the few things that offered comfort and enjoyment in this rather dull and isolating place. Jaemin never touched them and was more than okay with admiring them from afar. Not because he wasn’t interested but because he knew how much they meant to Jeno.

“So, puppy boy, who was horny today?” Jaemin asked, intently watching as Jeno reached for a manga volume he’d read over four times this month alone. “Come on. Don’t be a tease.”

“No one,” Jeno replied sheepishly. He laid on his bed, opened the manga, and stared at it.

“C’mon! You said you had your fair share of—” Jaemin paused, searching for the right word. It fell on the tip of his lips and his smirk reached his eyes. They had a distinctive glint of mischief as he added, “—arousal.”

Jeno blinked, uncomfortable. “Well that—that slipped out.”

“How very freudian of you.”

Jeno said nothing, pretended to read. Jaemin swore he saw the hint of a smile on his face, but he relented from asking him again. He wasn’t going to push him any further. Not tonight, anyhow.

With a huff and a chuckle, Jaemin hid the porno mag underneath his mattress, laid back on his bed, and decided to call it a night. He could annoy the ever living shit out of Jeno—and everyone else—in the morning.

THE NEXT MORNING, as he entered the cafeteria, Jaemin saw her before she saw him.

She was finishing her cereal as she talked with a guy. He was older than both of Jaemin and her, had pink hair, and was kinda loud. She was laughing at something he said and Jaemin felt an urge to ask her what the fuck was so funny and punch him right in the gut. He’d ask him the same question, but he really hated repeating himself.

“There she is,” Jaemin grumbled, barely parting his lips. “Miss Waves-A-Lot.”

Jeno, who was skimming through the fifth volume in the manga series he’d recently started reading, looked up and immediately squealed when he felt Jaemin pinching his forearm. It hurt so much he almost dropped the manga and cussed out loud.

“What was that for?” Jeno asked, gently rubbing his forearm. He gave the rec room a quick glance and saw who Jaemin was aggressively staring at. “What happens when she catches you looking at her like a psycho?”

“She’s not gonna catch me.”

She wouldn’t. She was too focused on Pink Hair to pay Jaemin any attention. Or so he thought.

Just as Jaemin blinked and thought about looking away, she met his gaze and they made eye contact. That’s when Jaemin noticed something. Though her hair was short and dyed blue, she had turquoise highlights he had previously missed.

“Fuck!” Jaemin gritted his teeth.

“Could you be more obvious?” Jeno rolled his eyes. “The least you can do is pretend you’re not looking.”

“Looking?” Jaemin scoffed. She was looking at him. He was looking at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jeno scoffed. “Way to play dumb.”

“Did you just call me—”

“Good morning!”

“JESUS!” Jaemin screamed in a high-pitched voice. He punched the air—twice and upward—when he noticed who had startled him. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Morning,” Jeno greeted her with a warm smile. “Sorry about my—” he paused, looking for the right word. “—roomie. He can be very loud.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, smiling. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Jaemin scoffed, grumbling, “You could have just waved.”

That made Jeno and her turn to Jaemin. One had an eyebrow raised, the other looked surprised. While Jeno shook his head and mouthed “what the fuck is wrong with you”, she simply shrugged and said she felt it was better if she actually introduced herself for a change. Jaemin felt something akin to butterflies in his stomach. Whether he was hungry or genuinely feeling something due to how she was looking at him, he couldn’t tell.

“I see you guys often, but I hadn’t gathered the courage to say hi face to face.”

“We’re idiots.” Jeno pointed to himself, but relented from pointing at Jaemin. “We’re alright. We don’t bite.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Speak for yourself, puppy boy.” He looked at her, smirking. “I bite.”

“Not hard, I imagine,” she retorted, her tone casual and affable. “You look like the type of guy that’s all bark and no bite.”

“All bark and no—yah—when were you born?” He pointed a firm finger at her, pushed it against her shoulder.

She looked at him, glanced at the finger, and removed it with such calm that Jaemin felt his blood boil. Jeno seemed to have realized Jaemin was close to doing something incredibly and stupidly impulsive because he tried to drag his roommate back to no avail. Jeno glanced over his shoulder, backed off, and disappeared from view. They barely registered that it was not the two of them.

“1998,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Bullshit.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“To fuck with me.”

“Really?” She smiled. It was both beautiful and irritating. “Just you?”

Jaemin tilted his head to the side, pushed his tongue against his cheek.

“When were you born?” he asked again.

“I already told you.” She reached out and took his hand, shaking it. “Name’s Ryu. Born June 30th, 1998.” She let go of his hand and winked. “Let’s treat each other well, okay?”

“Bull—”

“Jaemin, Ryu,” said a familiar voice. “Is everything okay here?”

Ryu smiled a small smile and bowed. “Everything’s okay, Yuta-san.”

Jaemin didn’t have to turn to see Yuta nor did he have to guess who had brought him. He nodded and, without turning, said, “Yeah. Everything is okay, Yuta-san.”

Yuta stood between Jaemin and Ryu, smiling that friendly smile of his. Jaemin didn’t meet his gaze but he could tell his hyung was looking intently at him and that he no doubt had that disappointed glint in his eye.

“Drop the honorifics,” said Yuta, beaming at Ryu. “It’s too early for that.”

“If you say so.” Ryu shrugged one shoulder, slightly bowed, and turned to Jaemin. “See you when I see you, lanky.”

Lanky? Did she just—you cheeky shit, Jaemin thought. He feigned a smile and a chuckle, waving her off when she left. It took him a second to realize that it was now just him and Yuta. Great.

“You’re looking a little worked up there, Nana.” Yuta gently clapped him in the shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

Yuta shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, half-smiling. “You do know that it’s too early to get this worked up, right?”

Jaemin bit his tongue but before he could nod and come up with some lame answer, he heard himself say: “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow then smiled fully, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He clapped Jaemin in the shoulder then nodded towards the cafeteria’s small line.

“Try your best to be kind,” Yuta advised in a gentle voice. His gaze was stern but not unkind. “Try your best to not be—”

“An asshole?”

Yuta’s eyes widened for a second. There wasn’t anger or disappointment or pity in them but heartache.

“You see yourself as an asshole?”

“Everyone else does. Why should I see myself any differently?”

Before Yuta could reply, Jaemin bowed and said he’d rather get in line before the banana milk he liked was gone.

HE SAW HER again in the rec room.

Ryu was playing dominoes with Pink Hair when he sat down with Jeno and pretended to be entertained by a bouncy ball—about the size of a tennis ball—he’d nicked off someone.

(Jaemin couldn’t remember who it was. He just knew he managed to get his hands on it and that was all that mattered.)

Whether Ryu was too focused on her game with Pink Hair to notice him or she was genuinely ignoring him, Jaemin couldn’t tell. After a while, he stopped caring. And with good reason—he fell asleep on the couch.

After what felt like hours, but had only been about twenty minutes, he woke up and noticed someone had left a note. They had stuffed it on the waistband of his sweatpants. He opened it and scoffed.

The note read:

you never told me when you were born

Jaemin thought about crushing it into a ball, tossing it aside, ripping it apart. He didn’t.

He gently closed it and stuffed it in his pocket.

RYU HAD BEEN admitted about three months prior.

Jaemin had seen her once or twice, but had never paid attention to her. And, sure, she was pretty and he had noticed, but he was more concerned with more important stuff. Like, say, getting away with sneaking porno mags and cigarettes and bouncy balls into the clinic. Granted, the smuggling wasn’t his job, but he helped to enable it.

So when she started saying hi and waving at him, he felt like she was onto something. She was too friendly, too enthusiastic, for Jaemin’s taste. He preferred it when people ignored him or gave him shit. At least that way he could play dumb or trade patter with them, hurling insults that would definitely shatter someone’s self-esteem and were occasionally played off as good fun.

The more she waved, the more she said hi, the more Jaemin grew irritated by her. He did his best to avoid her but about a week ago they were placed in the same therapy session. Ryu often sat two or three seats to his right and Jaemin could feel her staring.

For an entire week, he ignored her—her stares, her soft but enthusiastic greetings, her incessant waving—and felt he was doing a fine job of it until this morning.

What the fuck does she want?

That’s all he could think about as he aimlessly wandered around the clinic. He walked past the lobby, the cafeteria, and one of the outdoorsy areas—the one everyone referred to as the wee park—but found himself without a glimpse of Ryu.

After half an hour, Jaemin decided to call it a day and renew his nap.

Not in the rec room, though. That place reeked of neglect.

JAEMIN HAD BEEN admitted about two weeks prior to Ryu’s admission.

To no one’s surprise, he had issues. Which was a condescending way of saying he wasn’t in the best headspace. Ryu had asked around about why he’d been admitted but no one really had an answer. Every time someone asked him, Jaemin would answer differently and contradict himself. It seemed funny to him.

It wasn’t. On the contrary, it was genuinely frustrating because the staff couldn’t help him take the necessary steps to achieve some kind of positive progress. Ryu wanted to understand why he was such a pain in the ass and had tried time and time again to catch his attention. He ignored her—rudely, blatantly, every chance he got—and that only made it more intriguing for her.

“He’s handsome but he sure is mean,” mumbled Hendery, playing with his pink hair as he chewed on the biggest wad of chewing gum Ryu had ever seen. “He cussed at me just for looking at him.”

“Na Jaemin’s a sweetheart,” said Yuta one day as they—him and Ryu—cleaned the rec room. “But he has a mean streak.”

“Heard that before,” Ryu replied, nodding.

Yuta shrugged. “Dr. Choi mentioned it’s a coping mechanism.”

And maybe it was. Maybe he was just an asshole. Whatever the reason, whatever the motivation, Ryu gathered he wasn’t the easiest guy to be around. And yet . . . she felt some type of camaraderie with him. They no doubt came from different places, had lived different experiences, but she related to this impulse to put up a wall, a preemptive measure against anything that could hurt you.

Na Jaemin was no different.

Difference was that while he put on this snarky and confident façade, Ryu wore her emotions on her sleeve and kept her head held high even when she felt like crumbling. Being vulnerable didn’t equate to weakness in her mind. Vulnerability was acknowledging that every once in a while she might need a word of advice or a hug or simply someone beside her, sharing the silence when words failed.

Jaemin seemed to reject that idea. Ryu knew not because she had seen it but because she had sensed it. That and she had lived it. Once upon a time, she put a wall so high and thick that it took a lonely walk in the middle of the night and a stop by a bridge to make her reconsider her life and they way she was living it.

Whenever she remembered that night, Ryu remembered how cold it was. She remembered how angry, sad, and lonely she felt. There were days she wished she didn’t remember that cold night in Busan. And then there were days when she looked back and felt genuine relief that she had decided to step away from the ledge.

“The road to recovery is a long one,” Dr. Choi had told her, smiling softly. She was a woman in her thirties with a motherly aura. “Some days you’ll walk with your head held high. Others, you’ll stumble. And you know what? That’s okay.”

Ryu took these words to heart. She embraced them, keeping them in a little corner near her heart so that whenever she felt close to the edge, she was reminded she wasn’t alone and that she was capable of healing.

JAEMIN FOUND HER in the studio.

It obviously wasn’t really a studio, but it sort of functioned as one. Here, there were several instruments and the space to play them freely. The whole point of it was to release stress, learn something new, or otherwise just play for the sake of playing.

He was walking past the studio when he caught her silhouette through his periphery. Ryu was sitting on a small stool, plucking the shit out of a gayageum’s strings that had no place being there. The plucked zither was old but had been taken care of and Jaemin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ryu wasn’t playing alone. She was jamming with—was that Yuta? Holy shit. It was. He sat behind a drum kit, jamming, eyes closed, a goofy smile spread across his face. Standing opposite Ryu was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with long brown hair tied in a man-bun; he was playing bass. They were caught up in the moment and unaware that they had an audience—inside and outside the studio—as they grooved to the funky groove of Dr. John’s Right Place, Wrong Time.

Jaemin smiled in sheer disbelief, unconsciously tapping his foot to the song’s beat. He realized that Ryu and Yuta were singing the chorus whereas the bassist was singing the song, putting on a gruff voice that didn’t match his appearance.

“Good shit, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off—” Jaemin gritted teeth, slowly turning to meet Moon Taeil, and immediately felt his face drop. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “Taeil-ssi.”

Taeil was looking forward, smirking. “Do you play?”

“That’s a very vague question.”

“Music.”

“What about it?”

Taeil sighed, a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He looked at Jaemin and tilted his head to the side, showing a smile that reached his eyes. He wasn’t mad or annoyed or disappointed; he was just looking at Jaemin with endearment in his gaze.

“You’re being deliberately dense, aren’t you?” he asked, calmly.

“No—” Jaemin blinked, then deflated. “Yeah.”

Taeil chuckled with a small nod. “So . . . do you play?”

“Piano,” he replied, “but I haven’t played in forever . . .”

“Shame. I heard you were a pretty good player.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, feeling a glare coming up. “Did my mother put you up to this?” he asked, doing his very best to sound even-tempered.

“What if she did?” Taeil shrugged.

“Yeah? Well, she’s the reason I no longer play the fuck—”

Taeil laid a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, smiling ruefully. “I know,” he said in a low, understanding voice. “But it’s never too late to try again.”

Jaemin groaned, closed his eyes, and threw his head backwards. “Sure,” he grumbled, reluctantly nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good to hear!” Taeil clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget. Therapy session at—”

“3:30. Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Taeil gave him a thumbs-up. He knocked on the studio’s wide window, nodded with a smile and a wave, then walked off without another word. All eyes were now on Jaemin—Ryu, Yuta, and Mr. Bass—and he desperately wished for the ground to open up and swallowed him whole. They had stopped playing, which meant the studio and the corridor had fallen silent. He awkwardly waved and cringed when Ryu met his gaze and waved back.

Yuta waved at him, motioning for Jaemin to join them in the studio, but was met with a stiff head shake from the youth. Jaemin opted for pointing at Ryu and motioning for her to meet him outside. She glanced at Yuta and Mr. Bass, shrugged, then joined Jaemin in the corridor.

“Whatcha think?” she asked, smiling.

Jaemin frowned. “About?”

“About us playing?”

“Oh, that. You were gre—okay. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Ryu raised an eyebrow, curious.

“I mean the bassist is pretty damn good.”

Ryu looked at Mr. Bass. “Yeah, Johnny’s a hell of a player,” she agreed. “But what about Yuta-san and I?”

“Yeah, you were good—”

“I smell bullshit, but okay.”

Jaemin blinked at that. She had a mouth on her, didn’t she? Then again, he supposed, so did he. Instead of feeling irritated, he felt at ease; he couldn’t understand why. Ryu knocked on the studio’s window, mouthed that she was taking a break, and pointed at Jaemin.

“What was that about?”

Ryu blinked then shrugged. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Walk—er—no—” Jaemin began to protest, but was yanked by his forearm away from the studio and into the God knew where. “What are you doing?”

“Dragging you away so that we can have a civil conversation.”

“Civil? I’m being kidnapped!” Jaemin grasped Ryu’s wrist and tried to squeeze it, but instead found himself on the ground, groaning and moaning. “Ouchwhatthefuck?”

Ryu put him on a hold by twisting his wrist and she was glaring daggers at him. It took her a second to realize what she was doing and immediately looked apologetic.

“It was—I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, sheepishly. “It was just—”

Jaemin raised a finger and looked at her intently. “If I come with you, promise me you won’t assault me,” he said, almost pleading.

She nodded, offering her pinkie. “Promise.”

“Okay—fuck—lead the way,” he said, offering his own pinkie to seal the deal.

THUD-A-POMP!

They were throwing the bouncy ball against a wall on the courtyard. They stood about six feet apart to not bump into each other when they moved to catch the ball.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it. Ryu caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Ryu threw it, glanced at Jaemin, and smiled at him when he caught it.

Thud-A-Pomp!

Jaemin threw it harder than usual, winced, and guffawed, rather impressed, when Ryu caught the ball without looking. To his surprise, she was staring at him.

“Something in your mind, dear?” he asked, smiling smugly.

“Loads of things, really,” said Ryu, throwing and catching the ball without breaking eye contact. “But nothing that I’d bother sharing.”

The smug expression disappeared from his face. He looked more confused than anything; he felt himself slipping and giving into irritation.

“I thought you wanted to have a civil conversation,” he grumbled, hands on his hip.

Ryu sniggered. “Yup.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

“Oh-kay,” Jaemin intoned, rolling his eyes. He caught the ball, gave it the once-over, then—thud-a-pomp!—threw it again. He sighed and cracked his neck, staring at the clear blue sky above them. “I was born in 2000.”

Thud-A-Pomp!

A wide, proud smile spread across Ryu’s face. She tapped her foot and nodded, tongue in cheek.

“So that makes me your noona, huh?”

Jaemin’s annoyance was palpable. “Aish,” he groaned. “I guess so.”

“I’m older,” she said, giddy to the point of dancing, “which means you must be respectful.”

He twirled the ball in mid-air, watched it return to his hand a resting bitch face. “Yeah, yeah, reverence and low bows and all that jazz.”

Ryu chuckled, though it wasn’t an amused sound. It was the sound of someone running empty on sympathy. When he looked at her, he saw that she was running her hand through her hand and pulling on the roots; it looked like a bad habit. She was staring at the ground, a frown disfiguring her beautiful features.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she replied, calmly.

“Something in your—”

“Why are you here?”

Jaemin blinked, aghast. “Excuse me?”

“Honestly, why are you here? You seem like you’d rather be elsewhere.”

“It’s not like I had a choice!” he retorted, throwing the ball at her instead of bouncing it off the wall. “It’s not like I enjoy being here!”

“Seems like you really dig this place. Doing what you want. Talking to everyone and anyone without a filter.”

“If you got something to say, don’t mince words.” Jaemin crossed his hands. “Sugarcoating is a waste of time.”

Ryu nodded, raising both eyebrows. Her posture displayed that she wasn’t afraid of conflict or calling others out. It reminded Jaemin of Yuta and Taeil. She looked between the ball and the wall then hurled it with all of her might.

“You’re an asshole,” she finally said.

“I’m a—did you just call me an asshole?”

“You heard me right, Jaemin, so stop being coy.”

Jaemin squeezed the ball hard, felt its material giving in but not quite breaking. He looked away and feigned laughter. He wanted to throw the ball as hard as he could and watch it explode against the wall or the ground, but he disasuded himself from the idea when he simply dropped it to the ground. The small thump-thump it made was equal to the low thudding of his heart as he tried to calm himself down.

“Why are you here?” Jaemin threw Ryu’s question back at her.

“Depression,” she replied without a hint of embarrassment. “That and a bungled—” she paused, unsure if to use the word. “—incident.”

“Did you try to—”

She nodded, grimacing. “Yup.”

The question slipped out of his lips before he could reconsider asking it. But his tone wasn’t malicious or mocking; it was instead one of preoccupation and dread.

“How?”

“Leap of faith.” She motioned with someone walking on the edge of something then plunging into the depths below. “Or lack thereof.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, then looked at her. “Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything really? You’re not in the best headspace when you’re close to . . .” Ryu trailed off with a small shrug. She noticed Jaemin looking at her differently. Not with pity, but with understanding. “My brother left to study abroad. My parents found themselves falling out of love. They divorce and were very open about how much they disliked each other. Things changed. The life I thought was almost perfect sort of—” she closed a fist and slowly opened it, making a sound akin to an explosion. “—imploded. Everything just went down the drain.”

Jaemin heard what she wasn’t saying—the desperation, the loneliness, the fear—and the wall he had worked so hard to put up and keep others away began to crack. The way she was looking at him showed him a person that had descended into rock bottom—not crashed like he had, but instead slowly found themselves in the depths of their own despair—and was finding their way back.

“Now,” she piped up, stirring him from his reverie, “why are you here?”

He shrugged, pouting. “Anger issues . . . depression . . . delusions of grandeur . . . stubbornness,” he replied, nonchalantly. “Take your pick ‘cause I don’t really know.”

She stared, said nothing, then picked the ball from the ground and—thud-a-pomp!—threw it.

“It’s never too late to start again, y’know? To try and better yourself.”

“Heard that before.” He scoffed.

“Don’t let it pass, Jaemin.”

A frown. “Don’t let what pass?”

“Life.”

“Life,” he repeated, as if the concept was foreign to him. “Easy to say, don’t you think?”

“Very fucking easy, yeah,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But nothing in life is easy. Progress requires work and time. Everything starts, y’know, way from within.”

He looked at her, gobsmacked. “You really are wise for your age,” he said, using aegyo. “Noona, teach me your ways.”

“Oh—” she threw the ball at him, “—fuck you!”

His laughter echoed in the courtyard, warming her heart.

Her smile was contagious, reminding him of what happiness was.

IN THE COMING weeks, these are the things that will occur:

Na Jaemin will make an effort to make progress and deal with his anger, and other unresolved but heavy emotional baggage. The wall, which had already cracked, will crumble and he’ll strive to be a better person. Even after leaving the clinic, he’ll visit the few friends he made; the people he promised to support.

Ryu finds that talking about her experience helps her strengthen her resolve. She helps those that have found themselves contemplating suicide; she supports them and secures resources for the clinic through her brother. She and Jaemin maintain contact. It will bloom into something wonderful.

Jeno will donate his manga collection to the clinic. Letting go is one of the things he learns. He and Jaemin become roommates. He’ll be exasperated for the next four years until he ultimately decides to live with his penpal, a Chinese lad with artistic aspirations.

Everything will eventually be well.

[alfredosauce50]

Island Escapade [Ex-con 2p! America x reader x Denmark] 10

Island Escapade - 10 - Swimming pools Content warning: A little soft-core. Dubious consent. Mature audiences only. Wordcount: 2, 510 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A/N: I was inspired by Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming pools”

Allen could drink like it was his job. But throughout the whole of his career, he’d never felt this nauseous. The skidding of the boat, the churn in his stomach, watching you and Mathias—it was all too much. Thanks to the dim light on board, he could see everything as clear as day during the night. You were half-awake on the Dane’s lap, fighting to stay in control of your body with seven shots’ worth of alcohol in your system. Poor thing.

Mathias was talking about taking you back to his house, even. Something about tablets. Medicine. If anything, going to his place was the last thing you wanted. Allen knew that much.

And yet, he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it. Not while his head was filled with hot water, leaving his mind in a haze. Alcohol was his weakness, and he never dropped the habit of making bad decisions under the influence.

Just as he thought, he was still the same.

When the boat finally docked at the wharf, he never lifted a finger when Mathias carried you off. He wasn’t walking in the direction of your house either. And yet, all Allen did was stand on the beach, mulling over the heat that overwhelmed his body. A searing headache was pounding in his skull, but it didn’t quite hurt like the ache in his chest.

He was giving up again. After trying so hard to get his shit together, he was giving up again.

It wasn’t the first time, so why was he crying?

He’d seen the look in your eyes. The way you stared at him like he was the best thing in the world. It was hard to believe, but deep down, he knew Mathias wasn’t the only one. The only difference was that you trusted him. You trusted Allen. You wanted to be with him. But he was letting you go, letting you down all over again, letting Mathias become the one thing he wanted to be. Yours.

I think that I'm feelin' the vibe, I see the love in her eyes I see the feelin', the freedom is granted As soon as the damage of vodka arrive

After giving you some water, bread, and crackers, you eventually felt well enough to move on your own. A shower was in order after a night out in the club, but he wasn't entertaining the idea of any drunken accidents. So while you adjusted the temperature, he joined you in the cubicle. "You should've brought me with you if you were gonna drink," Mathias began, coiling two arms around your stomach.

"He doesn't know how much you can handle."

Pressing flush against you only made your heart pound like a drum. You could feel everything, from his wide chest and toned stomach to the space between his legs. This wasn't happening. "... I know my own limits, Mat. So maybe I wanted to get hammered," You murmured, tugging at his arms for him to let go. "It's fine. Allen's fine. He was looking after me before you came."

He released you, albeit reluctantly. "You're upset." His wet hair was slicked back, and steady streams of water were trailing down his face as he watched your frustrated expression. "Why?"

"Why?" You turned to him, in awe at how dense he was. It was becoming hard to believe it was just cluelessness. Entitlement sounded more like it. "Because I'm in the shower with you, that's why!" Mathias's eyes widened as you rose your voice. You shot an arm out to gesture at his crotch, but you really weren't much of an exception.

"I can see your dick, Mat. Don't you see anything wrong with this picture?"

He stared down at himself. When he glanced back up, it became clear to you he didn't—his stare on you was hard and unwilling. "... I'm just... I'm just trying to look after you. Can't I do that?" He responded, earning a huff from you. His deep frown spoke of untold regret, and you were sick of seeing it.

"You keep saying that, but you're pushing it. You could've stayed outside." Turning around to get some body wash into your hand, you lathered it all over your body. "Why are you so weird? Why am I so weird? Why am I even—" When you spun back around, your cheeks were flushed with a deep red. Whether it was from the alcohol or something else, Mathias didn't know.

"—why am I letting you do this?"

Deep creases formed between his brows. He knew the exact answer to that question, but he was too afraid to say it. "... I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You know everything. You just pretend that you don't." Digging a finger into his chest, you watched distress run across his face. If you were sober, you wouldn't even be saying these things. But the truth was finally stepping into the light, raw and unfiltered in the form of a drunken ramble. And you were onto him. "You knew what you were doing. Living with me, sleeping with me, it was all part of your little game to get me back. Well, guess what?"

Mathias's chest was rising and falling intensely at this point. While he breathed heavily, his heart was racing, threatening to burst out of his ribs. He could already predict what you were about to say, and yet, he was insanely nervous to hear it. "... What?"

"It’s working." Blood flushed his face until he was even redder than you—excitement, euphoria, love-sickness, it was all there. His eyes lit up with the most happiness you’ve seen him with, which spoke volumes when he was already a cheerful person. Was this it? Were you finally accepting him again? Not yet. "But if you think you won me over, you’ve jumped the gun. I’m not staying here. I need to get home."

You turned your back on him to keep washing. A deep pout scrunched up his face while he was left standing in a cloud of steam, heating up faster than the water from the showerhead. It’s working, you’d said. Lingering on the words made him burn up with lust so potent, he was left reeling. This was the part where he’d convince you to give in. Like every time you both got into a disagreement, he’d kiss you drunk and take you to bed to make up.

It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked every time. No wonder he was getting hard. His body sensed what was happening. His mind just picked up on it a little later. And he’d act on it once you were both done with the shower.

"I'll walk you back," Mathias murmured by the doorway. He watched you gather the last of your things in the living room. He'd spent so long at your place, he couldn't bear the sight of you walking out on him. Not again. It became apparent that sleeping alone in his own house wasn't an option. "But can I ask for one last thing?"

There was a subtle droop to his eyes. His hands were by his side, clenched in fists, and his frown was growing deeper at every second you failed to say anything—your breath hitched as you forced the word out. "... Yeah?" One last things never ended well with someone like Mathias. You knew that better than anyone. But the thought never occurred to your intoxicated self.

You just wanted him to stop looking at you like this.

"Can I kiss you?" He took your wrist and held it gently. "Just once."

It wasn't desire he sparked. Rather, it was a harrowing kind of bittersweetness that made your chest tighten up. And so, a deafening silence followed, but only because it was so loud. He had you again, and you weren't pushing him away. Instead, you did something free from your better judgment, which was long burned away by alcohol.

You reached up to his face, giving him the green light. So he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. The force was enough to move your head back, so when he pulled away, your lips seemed to follow his. Led on by nothing but an ache that never went away, one kiss turned into two, then three, then a heated lip-lock you couldn't remove yourself from. And Mathias knew.

It was a sin in itself to keep going, but the thought merely got his blood pumping. Without parting, he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. There on his bed, he pulled you onto his lap. Then, he kissed you until you'd have the taste of his mouth ingrained in your brain. You were breathless the whole time. And yet, the heavy panting never broke the thick ropes of saliva draping between your tongues.

He never let you get the air you desperately needed, let alone the chance to think. Mathias wanted you to lose yourself. He wanted you to feel the same hot yearning that had him in a chokehold.

He wanted you to make the same mistakes as you did in the past.

When you wrapped your arms around his strong neck, it became clear he was getting what he wanted. History was about to be repeated, and it would start with the growing tent in his boxers. If you didn't snap out of it soon, he'd have you naked in his bed and under him before you knew it. And to make up for all the time lost, a year's worth of it, a few hours of love-making wouldn't suffice.

"Just stay the night, eskler," Mathias whispered in your ear. "I miss you."

Having sex with him all night sounded more like it.

Breaking up with him would be history, and you'd be back to square one. Back to letting him do what he wanted, so long as he could put his hands on you. The man was a sex fiend. A bigger one than what Allen could ever be. And you were so foolish to not see it sooner.

Back in your house, Allen was raiding the fridge for anything to offset against the wooziness. He hated tearing through carbs so carelessly like this, but at least he wouldn't feel like complete shit. After scoffing down a packet of biscuits, he sauntered to his room and tried to take his mind off things. He never thought he'd willingly open Animal Crossing on your switch, but the cutesiness of it all made it worth a shot.

However, the longer he kept playing, the worse he felt.

Some island living he was going through. If only reality made it a permanent escape like the game did. In a month's time, he'd be out of here. The R and R he indulged in was about to end on a depressing note, and he'd be back to being a bum. What about you? Probably seeing Mathias again. He practically gagged at the thought. The sick churning in his stomach returned like an old friend, and it never stopped as he lingered on the earlier events that night.

But when he remembered what you told him, he had to hold himself back from vomiting on the spot.

Mathias loves kids, you'd said. And you know how selfish he can get.

That's why I had to break things off.

Allen paled with terror. What had he done? But the real concern wasn't that—it was what he failed to do.

He turned off the switch and scrambled outside. With nothing but a torch in hand, he ventured out into the dark, searching for a house he'd never been to. He didn't know what it looked like, but that never slowed him down. In fact, he ran even faster, tearing through the island like a madman to get to you. This was his last chance at redemption, his last chance at being there for you when you needed it. All the self-doubt had been staved off by this bout of desperation.

He could sulk later. For now, he needed to get to you.

Half an hour went by in fearful anticipation. He went house by house until he arrived at his destination. Without bothering to knock, he broke into one of the windows with his expert lock-picking skills. Allen didn't have time to worry about morals. Not that he stopped to second-guess anything. Not with you in mind. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Rapid footsteps thudded down the hall, slowing Mathias' movements to a stop. He had his fingers looped around the side of your underwear, and he would've pulled it down if it weren't for what he heard. Before he could register the intruder as the resident ex-con, his damnation and your salvation, they slammed the door open. In stormed Allen, looking like Hell.

When he saw Mathias hovering over you, half-dressed and dazed beyond compare, something inside him snapped. Marching over to rip the man off of you, he threw a hard punch right across his jaw. "That's for beating me up for no reason," He hissed, pulling his hand back for another strong strike. "And that's—" Allen pounded his fist into his face, again and again, driven by a fury so hot, he had to wonder if he'd gone insane. "—for taking advantage of her!"

He was never satisfied until Mathias fell unconscious. Giving his hand a brief shake to get rid of the blood, he cast a softened gaze over your limp form. Immediately, his anger simmered down. You were okay. A little fucked up, but okay. Scooping you up under your back and legs, he carried you all the way home. While he did, you never let go of his neck. After tonight's fiasco, you've never been so calm. The smell of his cologne, the clinking of his dog tags, you couldn't mistake it for anyone else. And it was all you needed for a good night's sleep.

Needless to say, Mathias wasn't allowed in your house anymore. After getting beat up like that, he learned his lesson and backed off. Allen did call himself a criminal, and Mathias got exactly what he paid for.

It was just you and Allen again, spending every minute of the day together for the rest of his sentence. There wasn't much time left, so you needed to make the most of what you had. And on one of those days, you hoped to remind him how much you adored him. But at each passing day running across the burning hot sand and wading through warm waters, the adoration seemed to swell into something greater.

He was abnormal in every way he could be—from his personality to his looks—but the idea of being more than friends gave you hope that you could be normal too. That you could finally move on. Allen didn't have many aspirations in life, but he was beginning to look more and more like the answer to your future.

[ethanesimp]

YOUR NAME // PROLOGUE

Pairing:  Ethan Torchio x Mexican GN! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: A name. Two words. Twelve letters. Five syllables… That was all it took for you to turn your life upside down after hearing the name a fortune-teller promised belonged to your soulmate.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: I made sure to remove every description that was too specific to the OC (ex. eye color, skin tone, etc.) but please let me know if I missed one :) I hope you like it 

July 3rd, 2012

There was nothing better than summer vacation. It was one of the few times of the year where you spent almost every waking moment with your friends and got to forget about school for a few months. Not to mention all the beautiful festivals and carnivals that were organized in the city during this season.

Earlier in the day, you had begged your parents to take you and your best friend to the carnival that was starting today. You had found out there be a drive-in and one of the films playing was going to be Dirty Dancing, which happened to be a favorite movie of yours. They'd agreed to take you only because friends of your father were going to and he wanted to meet up with them after years of not seeing each other.

At some point of the night, they'd gone to see their friends after giving you some of their pocket money, leaving your best friend, Emilio, and you alone. It hadn't taken you too long to spend all the money they'd given you until there was only enough money to pay for the tickets to the drive-in and ten additional pesos that weren't even enough to buy a bag of cotton candy or popcorn.

There was still about an hour left until the movie started and you had absolutely nothing to do so you just sat by the game stands and watched people play darts to pass the time. Most were terrible and would often miss their targets by a long shot, not like you were much better at it though.

You got bored of seeing people try and miss every single time, so your mind darted to the most pressing and annoying matter at the moment. Ever since summer began, your head had been completely blank of ideas to write about. During the school year it had been buzzing with new concepts to try out, but the moment you got out and actually had free time, all those ideas went poof.

You had started writing about two years ago after your mom bought you a Gabriel García Márquez book and you fell in love with the idea of maybe writing one of your own one day. Just to be clear, you were nowhere near good at writing, but it kept you happy, so you kept on doing it in hopes that you’d eventually improve. Emilio was your only audience. He'd read every single thing you wrote down and criticize it, not like he knew more than you did about writing, but it was still a good way to try and get better.

Amongst all the people in the crowd, you spotted a couple holding hands, and your mind couldn't help but make up a story about how they could've ended there. Perhaps it was their first date, maybe they'd been together for years or maybe you were just being ridiculous and too much of a hopeless romantic.

Either way, Emilio saw it fit to interrupt your thoughts by poking you on the rib and pointing to a stand you hadn't noticed before. There was a small sign placed outside that read: 'Hazle una pregunta a la adivina y conoce tu destino por tan sólo cinco pesos.' You couldn't help but snort. You had never been one to believe much on things like those. Emilio, on the other hand, was a firm believer. (Ask the fortune teller a question and get to know your destiny for only five pesos.)

He dragged you over to the tent and you didn't complain just because you wanted to know what it was all about. You paid the small fee and walked in together because he didn't want to go in by himself in case it was a trick and there was a kidnapper on the other side or something.

The dark tent was only illuminated by a crystal ball that sat in the middle of a small round table with two chairs. In one of them sat a woman with long and white curly hair. She looked to be at least fifty-five yet the smile that appeared on her face when you walked in screamed youth.

The room smelled strongly of incense, but not to the point where it bothered you. In fact, you found it quite calming because the smell reminded you of the dance classroom that always smelled of incense and coffee. You looked and Emilio and he gestured for you to go first, so you pulled the chair back and sat on it. You fumbled with the velvet tablecloth to distract yourself as you felt the lady's eyes inspect your face.

"So, what has brought you to me today? What is the question you need an answer to?" You opened your mouth to speak but closed it right away because truth be told, you had no clue. There were many questions that you needed an answer to, but most were far too personal to ask a stranger.

You turned to look at Emilio in hopes that he'd have an interesting question for you to ask and he didn't disappoint, "What's the name of her soulmate?" You giggled and shook your head. It was the perfect thing to ask, nothing too personal and funny. You wanted to see what the lady would come up with.

She reached for something underneath the table and placed it right in front of you. It was a small sack full of things that had rattled when she picked them up. The lady opened up the bag and you noticed it was full of scrabble tiles. You furrowed your eyebrows, what was she going to make you do? Get out letters and see which name they formed?

"Okay, what I want you to do is to take a deep breath, close your eyes and pick out two of the tiles," You tilted your head to the side and sighed, but did what she asked anyways. You moved your hand around the bag a few times and picked up several tiles only to let them fall again.

Before you could pull the tiles out, Emilio emitted a sound that sounded almost like a screech, "¡Mierda! Tenía que llamarle a mamá antes de las nueve, ya vuelvo." By the time you had opened your mouth to protest, Emilio was already gone and you were alone with the fortune teller. (Shit! I had to call mom before nine, I'll be right back.)

You shook your head and apologized to the lady before drawing out two tiles and placing them on the table. You looked at the letters scribbled down on them: E and T. The white-haired lady placed her neatly manicured hands over the letters and closed her eyes. She leaned her head back as if she was looking at the sky and you saw her lips move but heard no sound come out of her mouth.

With an awkward chuckle, you fumbled around with the necklace around your neck. You had no clue why but you were starting to get freaked out, something about the vibe and being alone gave you a queasy feeling. Your head shot up the moment the woman spoke, "Hmm, this is quite interesting. You see, I'm sensing this strong connection between you and this person."

"Whose name is?" You asked and felt kind of stupid. As much as you wanted to pretend you didn't really care, the romantic side of you was eager to know the name of the person, even if you knew this was probably all bullshit.

"Ethan," She finally said as she looked you dead in the eye, "Ethan Torchio."

By the time Emilio had returned and asked his question, you were waiting outside shaking. There was something about the way she had looked at you that had sent shivers down your spine and the name... God, as crazy as it sounded, it made you feel something when you heard it.

As you watched the film, you still couldn't get it out of your head. Ethan... Ethan. You kept repeating it over and over again inside your head as if it were a mantra. As if there was someone out there who owned that name. There was just something about it that felt so right, you knew it in your bones. That something was the only thing that allowed you to remember the name, even years after first hearing it.