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seita · 3 years

Text

— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #afton.writes

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bb-tings · 4 years

Text

unspoken magic - drew starkey

magic - gabrielle aplin

(10/10 reccomend ALL HER MUSIC)

so i found this song on spotify while i was looking for a song to write a cute fluffy drew fic to and it gave me such drew vibes bc homeboy doesn’t know how to use any form of social media lol...also the rant is literally me. like my thoughts and actions and beliefs. some of yall 13 year olds really don’t know the meaning of BOUNDARIES.

...anyways enjoy,

-BRI

if you want to join or get taken off the taglist just let me know in my messages or in the comments 😊

taglist: @ampanonyg @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @jjmbanks @maybanksbaby @1-800-jjslut @simpforstarkey @jellyfishbeansontoast

Remember when we snuck out of your birthday, didn't even say goodbye, 'Cause even there in a room full of faces, all I saw was you and I

Everyone was having a blast dancing around, drinking, laughing. It was Drew’s birthday after all. The cast had decided to rent out a club and invite family and friends, including everyone who worked on set, the workers have become more like family than colleagues. There was so much chaos going on and while Y/n was so proud of the cast and herself for pulling the event off for her boyfriend, she couldn’t help but feel a little antisocial. She was a social butterfly, but everyone knew that after days of being the life of the party and extroverted, she needed time alone and started to shut down, wanting to be alone. Y/n was so excited for the party but when it came time for her to get dressed up and drunk with her friends, she found herself sitting alone on a couch booth while sipping wine, not really seeing the fun in getting wasted and stupid drunk.

Y/n watched as Drew and Rudy drunkenly danced back to back, screaming out the words to OMG by Usher, she laughed as he made eye contact with the young girl and pointed to her, wiggling his finger for her to join him. She held her glass up and tried giving him a believable smile, but the older boy knew better, so he made his way over to her.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Drew slid his way next to his girlfriend and used the towel on the table to wipe the sweat off of his face. “Did somebody upset you?”

“Nothing bubba, I’m fine.”

Y/n looked up from her short-lived attempt at avoiding Drew’s eyes to him already looking at her. She watched as his hand moved toward her hair as he pushed a fallen piece behind her ear. He looked around her face and finally met her eyes, not believing her. “I’m fine, Drew. I promise.”

Drew sat back away from her as he let out a loud sigh. “Why do you do that? Why do you lie to my face and tell me that you’re ok like I’m going to buy it? Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”

“Drew, I really don’t wanna do this right now,” the young girl pleaded. “It’s your birthday, can’t we just have a good time and not worry about me right now?” To that Drew looked at his other half like she had grown another half.

“Ok, first of all, this,” He moved his finger quickly in the small space between them. “This Is not a fight. This is me being upset because my girlfriend won’t let me worry about her. I guess she doesn’t know how relationships work.” Drew teased the girl with a small smile on his face. “And second, we both know that I can’t have a good time if you’re sitting over here all sad and mopey.”

It's all the words you never say, the way I catch you watchin' me, I know that you love me, i know you can feel the magic, we don't need to talk about

After a little back and forth, the young boy had finally gotten the girl to spill the truth about needing some alone time and was now trying to sneak them out of his own birthday party. As the pair rode home, Y/n couldn’t help but look at Drew as he stared ahead. She watched as his changing blue eyes flickered between the path in front of him and the many cars behind him, also driving in the early hours of the morning.

Though there were many signs, lights, and flashes that caught her mind’s attention, basically begging her eyes to look, she couldn’t help but only see Drew. This was her favorite kind of Drew. When he is totally unbothered. He was doing something so simple, something that he had been doing since he turned 15, now 27 it only seems right that he should be used to it. However, Y/n couldn’t help to notice how he put all his effort into it, eyes never once leaving the road, she liked to believe that it was his way of self consciously protecting her. And even though she thought she was going unnoticed, the young girl wasn’t the only one admiring from not so far. Drew was watching her too but through his peripheral. He loved that she was enchanted by everything he did. He liked knowing that he wasn’t the only one completely and hopelessly in love.

No, we don't feel the need for colorful displays, 'cause it's not the kind of game we play, and why should we show the world how we feel, when it's not about them anyway

Everyone was over at Madelyn’s apartment chilling and hanging out with one another. The blonde was stationed on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table, with a live Instagram leaning on a few books. Y/n was sitting directly behind the girl, turned to the side with her legs pulled up to her chest. She had let Maddie use her phone, the 22-year-old being too lazy to walk to her room and get hers, so now she was just watching as Madelyn socialized with the fans.

“Ow, shit.”

Y/n turned her head to see Drew sitting on the edge of the couch next to her holding his foot with a worried stare. The younger girl let out a small snort. “Did you hit your toe bub?”

Drew let out a whiny noise and Maddie proceeded to also let out a laugh, then reusing one of her famous lines, “Never heard anyone whine like that before.” Y/n gently pushed the girl’s shoulder, teasingly telling her to leave the big baby alone. She then returned her vision to the raging comment section. Her once big smile quickly fading to a frown.

I think its a PR stunt bc they don’t even act like a couple

Drew deserves someone who actually loves him...LIKE ME!

gUys she called him bUb! THATS SO CUTE (emoji)

Nah thats def apr stunt, more obvious than shawn and camila

I don’t eleven think i’ve seen them hold hands

Madelyn and Y/n simultaneously rolled their eyes, the blonde looking up at her best friend gave her a look that spoke “you gonna tell em or me.”

Y/n slid down from the couch and joined her friend on the floor, getting right in front of the camera. She looked up at her loving boyfriend who was on his phone also looking at the comments on the live. He glanced down towards Y/n and gave her a small smile, telling her to go for it. It wasn’t the first time they had seen comments like this and he knew it wouldn’t be the last but he also knew that she had been dying to rant about it.

“Alright, I’m gonna go ahead and say this one thing, and then I’m probably going to take some time off this app.” The young actress slowly took a deep breath and then began her rant. “ Alright, first of all, my relationship with ANYONE, is between me and that person. Just because I have friends, boyfriends or family, does not mean that I have to post them on this account. I understand that it’s hard to believe that 2 people can be happy and healthy unless they showcase it to the rest of the world, but it is in fact very possible. So for everyone who is questioning, my relationship,” the girl then grabbed Drew’s hand, pulling him down to her side of the couch until he was laying on his side behind her head. “This is Drew. My boyfriend. It’s not a publicity stunt, it’s not to get the show more popular, it’s real. Outer Banks is already the number one show on Netflix, so I don’t really think there would be a point to put 2 people in a fake relationship. And another thing, I don’t even have a fucking publicist, so I don’t really know where that came from.”

The young girl turned her head to meet Drew’s blue eyes, he looked at her with such satisfaction and amazement. He was proud of his younger girlfriend. For years Drew thought that he would never find someone who was anti-social media like him. He thought that he was just going to have to bare his relationships getting exploited all over the world. Drew was happy that he never had to worry about that with Y/n.

“I completely understand why it’s confusing and how you can question our relationship. But that doesn’t mean you can drag our relationship, and me particularly, down. You have no right to say the things you do about me, just because you think that the small, tiny, look into our lives means that I don’t love and care about Drew. Like, no offense, but that’s fucking insane. I’m tired of getting private messages about my weight, my clothes, my hair, my AGE. Don’t even get me started on the age difference. Half of the fan accounts on this app are run by 13-year-olds saying very inappropriate things about a 27-year-old grown-ass man. Like yall understand that’s illegal right. Like, get it through your head that those are fantasies and no matter HOW MANY TIMES you drag ME down, they will NEVER come true. My age isn’t anyone’s business, I’m over 18 so get over it.” Y/n then let out a loud sigh. “I need a damn drink.”

To this Drew laughed and kissed her on the cheek, while the other cast members started to whoop and holler while applauding the young girl’s words. They too were proud other, they knew of the struggles that she went through and they knew that most of the time she kept those feelings balled up. Madelyn then grabbed the phone and said her goodbyes to the live, then ending it.

The blonde then wrapped her arms around her best friend. “I’m so proud of you, babe. That was so badass.” Madison saw the interaction from across the room and ran over to join them, adding herself to the hug.

“It was great, sissy. You really told them who’s boss.” That last comment made Y/n laugh out loud. She was so happy to have a supporting friend and cast group that made her feel loved. She couldn’t have asked for better friends.

“It was pretty hot too,” Drew smirked and pulled the young girl away from the group hug and grabbed her face, and gave her a long passionate kiss, something he rarely did in front of others. “I’m proud of you bubba.”

She couldn’t have asked for better friends.

Or a better boyfriend.

Don't need to see it to believe it, no need to wake me up, 'cause I'm not dreamin'

The couple was laying in their bed just enjoying each other’s presence. Limbs all spread around but managing to stay intertwined. Sunlight was seeping into the white-painted room, brightening everything up, including the pair’s mood. Drew was leaning against the headboard very lazily, running his hands through Y/n’s hair, who was sitting in his lap, thighs down beside his knees, with her head on his chest. Drew had woken up early and tried to get the younger girl out of bed, but she refused to do so. So he decided that he would just deal with it and let her drift back off to sleep, but with a twist.

It humored the young actor that people thought they weren’t a cuddly and touchy couple. They were absolutely a touchy couple, they just didn’t enjoy being touchy in front of others, some people not being into that and they didn’t want to make anyone feel awkward. It was more a Drew thing. He was the one who suggested they not have a lot of PDA, and while Y/n was all for PDA, she would do anything for Drew to make him happy. At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n was insecure about Drew’s real feelings because he didn’t show much love through touch, but she eventually mentioned it to him. Ever since then he always made it a point to show more affection the second they were alone. Hints their situation now.

Drew watched as Y/n started to stir in her sleep. She started to whine and Drew felt her chest start to move a little faster. She was having another nightmare.

“Shhh, shhh. You’re ok, it’s ok,” the young man started to rub her back and hold her a little tighter. He wanted the nightmare to stop but he didn’t want to ruin her sleep. “It’s just a dream. You’re ok, bubba.” Drew closed his eyes and gave a small smile when he felt her calm down, turn her head the other direction and hold onto him a little tighter. Despite what the young girl believed, Drew loved the affection that she gave him. Being the oldest of 3 kids, the boy felt like he had to grow up fast and while he knew his parents loved them all equally, he got less of the affection. He had to grow up and become a little man, help his mom prepare dinner, he and logan had to help take care of Brooke and Mackayla. He just thought that he wasn’t a fan to touch, but when it came to Y/n’s touch he couldn’t get enough of it.

Drew closed his eyes and relaxed his body, trying to drift off to sleep himself. He knew he wasn’t dreaming yet, but he never wanted to leave this dream state with her. Getting to love someone like her, was something Drew never even dreamed of but now he was thankful for that. Because no dream could have lived up to the life that he gets to live with the girl that he loves.

#drewstarkey #drew starkey imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fluff #outerbanks cast #obxstuff #obx requests #please send requests #i take requests #in my ask box #this song was writen for drew #change my mind #i'll wait

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gronjon44 · 3 years

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Ok so thoughts on MK-2021

I was gonna make a longer more spoilery review but I'm gonna cut it short cause there's one big thing I wanna talk about (so let's bullet point

Kano is and always will be one of my favorite characters in the MK Franchise (with Reptile, Barakka, Noob Saibot, and Scorpion) His character felt like it should and while I originally would've wanted to see Karl Urban as Kano I do really like Josh Lawsons performance.

Lui Kang and Kung Lao were really fun to watch, Lui especially (I'm not fully familiar with Kung Lao so I won't talk about him too much other then the fact I think he's neat)

I'll kinda consider this a ⚠️⚠️SPOILER⚠️⚠️ so if you wanna skip this whole bullet point snd the next one after; The villains were all awesome in this film (Reptile was awesome to see quick as it may have been, Mileena was fucking AWESOME, Reiko and Nitarra were... there? (I don't know either of them so they were just kinda canon fodder to me), Kabal was cooler then I thought he'd be (though I wanted more)

Gorro was awesome to see but he felt... underused? I'll go more into detail at the end.

Jax was alright but I never knew much about him then and I still don't

Sonya Blade was fine until the end and she just kinda felt... crammed in? Like yeah yeah know she has more in the games and she had a presence in the original 95 film, and she was an integral part of the story all the way through till the end but then she *spolier *spoiler *spoiler* with *insert name here* and she just felt like a thematic paper weight at the end.

Scorpion and Sub Zero were FANTASTIC and i have no complaints with either (at least not directly)

Raiden was there and he was played by Tadanobu Asano (of Thor) and was a MUCH NEED improvement over Christopher Lambert

And then Cole Young...⚠️SPOLIER BTW⚠️

...

(I'm doing this in a smaller font to get everything I wanna say) I wanna like his character more I do, and i have nothing against Lewis Tan he's a phenomenal actor, but Cole Young is a weird character for this film.

Hes both underutalized and at the same time completely unnecessary to the plot.

Lewis Tan is the decendant of Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion) after all of Hanzos family was murdered by Sub Zero, say for one orphaned daughter; throughout the film he's hyped to have this big connection to Scorpion (through glimpses of a Kunai surrounded by far to even Cole seeing Hanzo in visions) and later on we see that each champion has a special power, and Coles "power" is supposedly passed down to him by his familial ties to Scorpion.

Now, from that description I'm sure you'd think Cole would gain the Hellish abilities Scorpions known for, or even his retractable Kunai, but NO, instead he gets these wrapping all across his body that act as a sort of shield to protect him and absorb incoming damage (its basically the Black Panther suit)

He also has a set of Tonfas (one of which is bladed) that appear when he needs them

Now I should point out that early on in the film it's shown to the audience that Cole is a struggling boxer trying to support his family, and if you look you can see these wrapping across his body are reminiscent of the boxing wrappings he put on his ha ds prior to a fight. But here's the thing... WHAT DOES HIM BEING A BOXER HAVE TO DO WITH HIS TIES TO HANZO?

You can argue it shows us he's always had a connection to tournament fighting, and yeah that's valid, but it doesn't change the fact that he and Scorpion don't really share a connection.

He unlocks his armor while fighting Gorro who was sent to hunt both him and his family (which frankly is such a waste of Gorro on it's own but I'll get to that in a minute)

When we see Cole get hit in his armor it glows a Hellish red, similar to the fires of Scorpions Hell based powers, but that's as far as it goes and it shows that the armor has absolutely nothing to do with their connection

If you wanted these two to share a bond in their powers, why not have Cole dress in clothes inspired by Scorpion, and then have his powers be hell based or have him control a mystical Kunai, and maybe have the soul of Hanzo watch over him

And this ties into both of the fights that Cole takes part in (Gorro and Sub Zero)

His fight with Gorro is cool, but Gorro isn't the same menace as he was in 95; he's a goon for Shang Tsung and that's it (they refer to him as a prince but even then he's mostly just a lackey, similar to Sub Zero and Scorpion were in the 95 film) And ⚠️SPOLIER⚠️ Gorro gets fucking wrecked.

And even then there is no stakes between them, other then his family might die; these two don't know each other, they have no beef, hell to Cole I bet Gorro is just a big monster.

And this is where the missed opportunity was with Sub Zero; Sub Zero HAS history with Cole there IS a beef between them (even if Cole isn't fully aware of it) but there final fight is just kinda... meh.

Sub Zero and Cole have a full fight (Sub-Z using his ice powers and Cole with his armor and Tonfas) and throughout the fight it looks like Cole might lose; that is until he cuts himself on a Kunai Raiden gave him (it was the original Kunai that belonged to Hanzo when he died) and his blood beint spilled on that blade actually SUMMONS Hanzo FROM the depths of Hell to help win the fight.

They win, Sub Zero dies, Hanzo is laid to rest blah blah blah.

Now, all of that sounds like a REALLY AWESOME IDEA in writing.

The problem is that it goes LITTERALLY NOWHERE WHEN THEY USED IT

Up until this point there is no physical evidence that shows Cole is Hanzos decendant, hell you could argue that Lui Kang is his decendant and it'd make more sense.

Cole's entire arc has been nullified by the simple fact that there is no physical evidence to show the two are related, and this whole blood feud with Sub Zero is kinda useless.

Now I'd like to propose an alternative plot point to fix this if you'll bare with me

Again, another ⚠️⚠️⚠️MASSIVE SPOLIER⚠️⚠️⚠️

...

Shang Tsung kills Kung Lao in front of Lui Kang, basically setting off that entire arc like the 95 film. Now, here's the alternative I'd like to suggest.

Shang Tsung isn't the one to kill Kung Lao, Gorro is.

Gorro is ordered by Shang Tsung to kill Kung Lao after he ⚠️SPOLIER⚠️ kills Natarra.

And instead of killing off Gorro have him leave with Shang Tsung and the two return to Outworld and Lui Kang is left with a dead Kung Lao.

And to Parralell this, instead of Gorro fighting Cole, have a prelude fight between Cole and Sub Zero, one where Sub Zero actually DOES KILL Coles family (they didn't even die in the film so there)

Sub Zero can battle Cole, Cole can discover his powers, and Sub Zero (in a panic) can just fuckint destroy his whole house with his family inside by summoning a giant ice glacier inside the house.

This in turn adds more weight to the final fight between Sub Zero, Cole and Scorpion; Cole lost his family to Sub Zero, just like Hanzo did before him. And when Cole summons Scorpion in the climax it holds more weight because TWO GENERATIONS OF THE SHIRAI RYU CLAN avenging the deaths of their families in that instant.

And as for Lui Kang make him the main fighter of the ACTUAL TOURNAMENT (they don't even do the tournament in this film they just kinda talk about it) and have Lui battle Gorro for the Title of MK Champion.

Well... that was a long post. I think I'll end it here by saying that while i do have beefs with the film I still want to make it clear I don't hate jt, in fact I genuinely enjoy it.

I just... have some criticisms.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #mk 2021 #MK-2021 spoilers #spoilers #movie analysis

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impaladolan · 3 years

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Le Goût - Grayson Dolan

summary: as previously discussed, allison arrives at Le Goût the following friday, but she’s not as shy as she seems to be..

a/n: i think this is gonna be one of my favorite parts, even though allison comes across a little bitchy, but I swear she’s not!

UNLIKE most people, Allison had always been overly punctual. She hated when people would show up awkwardly late to an important meeting or event, so she always made it a task to come at least 5-10 minutes early to everything. When she arrived to the famous Le Goût restaurant and saw that the lights were all on and one of the tables were neatly decorated, she couldn't help the sheepish smile that came over her face. The last time she had laid eyes on him, she was in immense pain and agony, but now that was gone, except for the few lingering stitches. She was hoping and praying that he was as equally nice and comforting as he was when she first met him. And ever since the hospital night, she had been pondering restlessly on what the hell his name could be.

With the freshly cleaned shirt, purposely scented with her perfume, squeezed in her hand, she finally exited her homely vehicle and made her way into the very familiar restaurant she could almost call home. As a child, her and her brothers seemed to always be there, playing their childish games and causing a few interruptions with the customers. She loved the restaurant and the family heritage it had, but she rarely ever attends any dinners there anymore. Mainly because she doesn't want to ruin the "special magic" of the place by overly eating there. But tonight was an exception, for mr. nameless, that is.

So when she glided through the front doors, wearing a simple short dress and her heels clicking against the nicely tiled floors, her eyes only landed on the small note placed atop a porcelain white plate right in the middle of the table. Her brows crinkled for a second, her thin fingers reaching out and pinching the thick, cardboard like paper and pulling it up to eyesight level. She then read the scribbled black writing right in the middle;

find me in the kitchen & bring that shirt of mine ;)

— GD

Her smile seemed to stretch all the way to her ears, reading over the sloppy writing again and again before setting it back in its original place. Her hands tightened around the shirt once more before she turns on her heels, walking in the familiar direction of the noiseless kitchen. She pushed the swinging door in slightly, peeking her head in just to see if he was actually there. And just as the note said, he was facing the wall opposite to her, his veiny hands wrapped around a wooden spoon and a skillet full of delicious looking vegetables. She almost scoffed when she recognized that he was shirtless, yet again. Though, she didn't mind it too much, the mere sight of his backside was enough to satisfy her. But that changed when he turned around, his godly face and torso now in her full view, his enticing smile corrupting the entirety of his face, it seemed like.

"I take it you don't like wearing clothes too often?" Her strongly held voice ponders aloud as he fully turns his body to address her, his eyes looking up and down her body in pure amazement and adoration, seemingly the same as he did only days ago. “They shrivel up and turn to dust somehow when I'm around you." He shrugs, her arms being crossed as she finally lets herself grin at his smooth words. "I'd rather not be distracted all night, so here's your shirt you asked for.." Allison unfolds the neatly cleaned white t-shirt, waving it in the air for him to retrieve. The mystery man quickly pivots in his stance and turns the oven's burners off before striding over to her, reaching out for the shirt he had kindly asked for. But before his fingers could grasp the soft cloth, Allison pulled it away and behind her back, a sneakish grin presiding on her plumped lips.

"Name, and I'll give it to you." She pesters, looking up into his eyes that were almost hidden by the rising smirk in his face. He knew that he'd rather not have the shirt at all, or if he did really want it, he could forcefully grab it from her. But he had played his games long enough and was very much ready to hear his own name roll from her tongue. Her sweet sounding voice was lready vocal in his nightly dreams. "Grayson." He keeps his stare, not changing his emotions whatsoever while Allison almost happily sighs. What a dreamy name, right? She couldn't help but feel a bit smaller now, knowing his name for some odd reason. It sounded familiar, she was almost sure Marcus had maybe brought him up in a conversation before, but only briefly.

"Shirt?" He extends his arms out to her, raising his pointy brows in question. "I think I change my mind, I like the view." She winks, quickly refolding the shirt and tucking it under her arm. "That's not fair for me.." He mumbles, blowing a straggling piece of hair away from his beautifully shaped face. Her only reaction is to roll her eyes, his little seductive mumblings always seeming to get to her. He had a bad habit of doing that around her, speaking his sometimes filthy mind when it came to things. Hopefully it wouldn't get too out of hand the longer he hung around her, for his mouth would soon find him in a bit of trouble if he kept it up.

Allison felt so confused and flustered as her body heat continued to rise. She didn't understand how attracted she was for a man she barely even knows. Her mind was like a rollercoaster, doing loop-de-loops around her brain the more she thought about him. And for Grayson, it was ten times harder to keep his hands to himself. He kept imagining endless scenarios that ended with an orgasm for the two, but he shook his thoughts when she effortlessly draped the familiar cloth over his shoulder.

Suddenly, like a burst of confidence within her, she trailed her index finger softly over the protruding bumps of his muscled shoulder, continuing it across the ridges of his upper back and down his indented spine. Grayson's body began to shiver with thrills, her soft touch sending his foggy brain to an unfamiliar euphoric altitude. She studied his flawless backside, taking note of each tiny little freckle or mole that she'd find hidden around the curvatures of his shoulder blades. She continued her flirt-like admiration as she slid her finger up his thick neck and to the fringe of his hair.

Standing up on her tipi-toes, Allison lets her cool breaths fan against his ear before she spoke; "Thank you, Grayson, for the other day.." And with that said, she took a couple steps back and brushed off her ridiculously clean frontside. Grayson was extremely flustered by her sensual actions, his cheeks possibly a tomato red while the "mind of its own" between his thighs began perking upward to her tainting voice. He only turned to look at her when he heard the click of her heels walking in the opposite direction.

"I'm leaving for the restroom, I'll be back in five." She sighs, her excited expressions held back until she fully exited the kitchen and made her way into the pristine bathroom decorated with a luxuric touch.

ALLISON wasn't trying to "get in his pants," but having a bit of dirty fun wouldn't do any harm, right? Well, in Grayson's eyes, it was totally wrong. Her little stunt that she recently pulled on him basically had him on his knees begging for her. Grayson thought himself more of the dominant type in a relationship, and to be so belittled in a short amount of time of vulnerability certainly didn't set well with him. So the only way to make things right, was to tie the game that the two were subsequently playing.

So when Allison had finished up in the ladies restroom, she made her way back to an empty kitchen, the remnants of the dirty pans he had just used cluttered in the enlarged sink. She retraced her steps to the dining area, a few candles lit and placed around the area where a grinning Grayson was sat, his eyes trailing her body once more. Her mouth slightly gapes in awe, the table gorgeously decorated and the food almost too stunning to eat. "You made all of this?" She slowed her walk once she fully approached the table, Grayson's eager self jumping up from his seat. Like the gentleman he is, he gladly pulled the chair out for her, nodding to her question as he did so.

"Did you expect any less?" He curved one of his eyebrows upward, the distraught shake of her head solving his pondering. Once she was sat in the chair, he easily pushed her under the table and took his seat again. Folding his arms across his chest, he leans back in his chair, eyeing Allison with his lustful stare. "Dig in." His distracting voice almost demands, Allison hastily picking up the neatly placed fork beside her plate. Without another warning, she "dug in" and placed the food in her mouth. Flavor began to roll throughout her taste buds as her pearly white teeth chewed on the wondrous food. "Grayson, this is wonderful.. How'd you make it?" She quickly asked before taking another large bite. He only shrugs, his very familiar smirk rising on his lips.

"Don't know, I just happen to be the head chef here." She froze in her place, her eyes widening as she looked at him. "You're that Grayson?" Allison finally recognized the man sitting across from her. He was Grayson Dolan, head chef at Le Goût, one of her brother's best friends, and her saving grace from the gallery. She was shocked that she hadn't truly known who he was the entire time. Her father has spoken about him before, as well as Marcus and even Andrew, but she didn't take to that fact that that was him.

The new information in mind, she continued to eat the delicious food, moaning almost intensely as she chewed. Grayson's grip on his fork tightened, his ears almost perking to the sound of her oblivious breathing. He had trouble even focusing on his food, let alone eating it.

And the night continued on, Allison antagonizing Grayson unintentionally while he struggles to keep to himself...

(masterlist)

#dolan twins smut #dolan twins #dt #ily #grayson #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grant #grayson dolan #impaladolan #graysonbailey #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfic #graysondolan #Grayson #grayson and ethan #chef!grayson #grayson x OC #Le Goût

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the-satellite · 3 years

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Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!!

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!

#cosmic entity's art #minecraft #mob talker mod #mc creeper #mc zombie #mc skeleton #mc spider #mc blaze #mc enderman #character design

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

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Chapter 7 - Five of a Kind

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER SEVEN

FIVE OF A KIND: A hand possible only in games with wild cards, comprising five cards of equal rank.

Berwald tried to make his footsteps as light as possible as he walked softly into Tino's bedroom. It was almost noon, but Tino had not stirred from his bed since Berwald had basically carried him there the night before. Frankly, with the amount he had drunk, Berwald wouldn't be surprised if Tino did not stir for a week. He very gently placed a jug of water and a glass on the bedside table, then turned to leave. He was stopped by a low moan.

"Am I dead?"

Berwald felt a small smile tug at his lips. "No. Yer not dead." He turned back to see Tino peering blearily through a small gap in the covers.

"Last night..."

Berwald's heart beat faster. How much would Tino recall? "Hm?"

"Did I… " Tino's forehead furrowed as though he was trying to remember. "Did I... sing ABBA?"

Not much, apparently. Berwald wondered how to answer that question gently. "Um… yeah."

"Oh, no." Tino's face disappeared beneath the blanket. Berwald tried to control his smile. "I was hoping I'd dreamed it."

Berwald shrugged. "'t'was pretty good."

"I made an idiot of myself." Tino's voice was muffled beneath the blankets.

"No," said Berwald firmly.

Tino pulled the covers down enough to reveal a flash of blond hair and one violet eye. Berwald's heart stuttered unevenly. "And did I… did I say anything weird? When we got home?"

Berwald took a sharp breath as Tino's words came flooding back. And you're cute too!... I really, really like you… Do you think I'm sexy? Berwald only paused for a second. "No. Nothin' weird."

Tino closed his eyes and breathed out in relief. "Oh. Good. Berwald?"

"Yes?"

"I'm never drinking again. How does Denmark do this every day? I'm going to die."

Berwald had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Ye're not goin' t'die. Go back t'sleep. There's water next to ye."

Tino disappeared under the covers once again. "Thank you, Berwald."

Berwald stumbled back down to the living room. The rest of the household were sprawled across the couches and the floor, all in various states of hungover dishevellment. Greenland and Faeroe lay under their usual layer of accumulated trash. Denmark sat with his feet in a bowl of water and a beer bottle in his hand, with a fluffy pink bathrobe around his shoulders and an icepack perched on his head. Iceland lay flat on his back, still dressed in his tiny outfit from the night before, a wet cloth over his face and three different packets of painkillers by his side.

Norway, however, just sat tapping at his laptop on the coffee table, a Simone de Beauvoir novel beside him. He looked completely unaffected, even though he'd probably drunk twice as much as everyone else. "How's the Finn?" he asked monotonously, eyes not moving from the computer screen.

"Sick," Berwald replied, resting his hands on the back of a chair.

Norway nodded. "Unsurprising."

"I'm pretty sure it was that last Jägerbomb," Iceland muttered, his voice muffled by his face-cloth.

Denmark groaned as he adjusted his icepack. "Or, you know, the fact that he drank his own body weight in coloured vodka."

"No alcohol tolerance, any of you," said Norway. "Pathetic."

"How much did we drink last night, anyway?" moaned Iceland. "Actually, never mind that. How much did we spend?"

"We emptied Den's bank account," replied Norway. "Counterproductive, in a way, but it felt fantastic."

Iceland whistled. "Good work."

Denmark took a long swig of beer then leant forward slightly. Berwald stared incredulously. How could Denmark even think of drinking again already? The night before he'd been so drunk he lost a fight with a fire hydrant. "All right, so I think we can safely agree that this 'party' idea didn't exactly solve our problems."

Norway looked up from his laptop screen to stare at Denmark derisively. "What an astonishing observation."

"And, I think we all understand, there's really only one thing we can do." Denmark took another sip of beer and shrugged. "We've gotta sell Greenland."

Greenland raised his head through a layer of empty chip packets. "Hey!"

Denmark raised a hand. "Look, I know your arid areas for production and generally shitty weather are gonna make you a tough sell, and let's face it - Faeroe's always been the pretty one."

Faeroe yawned and nodded. "He's got a point."

Berwald rolled his eyes. Okay, so last night had been an interesting distraction. But now they were back to the same problem: they a week to make ten thousand dollars, and no way to do it. Ten grand used to be nothing to Berwald. Now, it may as well be ten million. "Not sellin' anyone. But we've got t'do somethin'.

"What can we possibly do?" asked Iceland bitterly. "We went through this last night. We've got less than a week. Let's face it." Iceland raised a glass of painkiller-laced water. "That was our last hurrah."

"Jägerbombs and Abba," said Norway flatly. "What a way to go out."

Denmark tossed his icepack to the ground. "How hard can this be? We're Vikings, damn it!"

"Vikings, now?" Norway snorted. "So what, we should stock up our longship and head downtown to plunder the real estate office?"

Denmark's face brightened. "Ooh! I could use my axe!"

Berwald groaned under his breath and turned to leave. It was still too early for this. "I'll be in th'garden."

"You spend too much time in that garden, young man!" Denmark shouted after him. "It's not natural! And you're just raising the value for the next bastards who move in!"

Berwald ignored him and headed outside. Despite it being a work and school day for the entire house, everyone had come to the unspoken decision to stay home after their wild all nighter. But Berwald hadn't drunk nearly as much as the others, and alcohol never affected him much, so he was not feeling too bad as he started work on the garden. He tried not to think about the fact that this would all be a waste of time if they were evicted, which in all likelihood they would be. He tried not to think about where Tino would go; what he would do; how Berwald could bear to live without seeing him every day.

The hours passed peacefully out in the gentle sunshine. But as he worked, Berwald slowly noticed that the house was quieter than he had ever heard it. The phone wasn't ringing; the television wasn't blaring; Denmark wasn't yelling through the window or attempting to whistle or engaging in deafening bedroom activities with Norway. It was rather strange.

Berwald started on another row of yellow daisies. Perhaps his housemates finally understood the gravity of the situation. But that was ridiculous, Berwald told himself. They didn't care for anything. If they lost this house, what would it mean to them? All Iceland cared about was money. All Norway cared about was himself. And Denmark was too insane to give a damn about anything. Berwald wondered briefly if he was being fair, then angrily decided it didn't matter. This mess they were in was not his fault. It was not Tino's fault. Berwald tossed his shovel to the ground then ran a dirt-streaked hand through his hair. What was the point of planting this garden? They'd be out on the street soon enough. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Berwald stormed back towards the house. Maybe his only option was to start looking for another place to live.

As he neared the back kitchen door, Berwald slowed when he heard Iceland speaking. Something about the words made him stop and listen.

"She didn't… no! I can't even imagine… she did? With her hip? Giiirl, that is mad crazy. Me? Nothing as wild as your bingo nights at the hall, Gladys. Just the same old, I'm afraid…"

Intensely curious, Berwald drew closer to the door. This didn't sound like one of Iceland's usual phone calls.

"I know… Yeah, I know. You can surround yourself with a hundred people and yet, you still feel alone." Berwald paused at the door. Iceland sat at the kitchen bench, the phone against his ear, staring at the wall as he listened intently. Berwald felt guilty for eavesdropping, but Iceland's tone and manner were entirely different – something he had never seen from him before. He couldn't help being intrigued.

Iceland nodded, his expression almost pained. "Well, that's it, love. People look at you and they decide for themselves what they're looking at. Whether it's a fabulous diva they see as a crazy old lady, or a kid in white boots they see as a slut. Sometimes it's easier to just be what they think you are. But in the end, fuck 'em. They can think what they want. Doesn't make 'em right."

Berwald felt a complicated mixture of guilt and empathy. Was this the way Iceland felt? Was this was he was hiding behind his façade? It was too simple. It was too unfair.

Iceland's tone brightened when he spoke again. "Better things to do than chat with my best caller? Nonsense, love. And don't even talk about payment. No, stop it, don't be silly. I tell you what, you send me one of those fabulous crochet scarves of yours and we'll call it even. Until next week! Tell Doris that lady is insane!" Iceland laughed brightly. "Bye, love." Iceland hung up the phone, headed for the front room, then faltered when he noticed Berwald in the back doorway. His expression turned instantly blank. "What?"

"Nothin.'" Berwald looked at the floor and waited for Iceland to leave. He didn't. They both stood in silence for a few moments.

"What do you want from him?"

Berwald glanced up uncomprehendingly. Iceland stood with his hand on his hip and his head tilted to the side. He looked both curious and confrontational. "Well? I know you can speak, Berwald. I'm talking about Tino. What do you want from him?"

Berwald was more surprised that Iceland had used his real name than anything. "I don't know what ye mean. I don't want anythin.'"

Iceland scoffed. "Bullshit. No one is that nice. People always want something. They'll pretend they don't; they'll lie. They'll say they love you, and then they'll take what they want and leave you broken and empty while they just laugh at how very stupid you were to believe them."

"'t'was Ivan, wasn't it?" Iceland jerked his head away angrily. Berwald quickly continued. "I'm sorry. Really. But I'm not like that."

Iceland did not look convinced. "Everyone is like that. Are you saying you're different? What sort of person are you, Berwald?"

"What sort of person d'ye think I am? What do ye decide fer yerself when ye look at me?"

Iceland paused at that, then leant heavily back against the bench. He laughed softly. "Do you know, Berwald… I think you actually sort of fit in this mess of a household."

Berwald shrugged. He was quite aware of what an odd moment this was, and yet it felt completely natural at the same time. "Depends how long we're here, I s'pose."

Iceland nodded. "Well, that's true. I've been trying to take more calls, but… well, some people just call because they don't have anyone else to talk to. And I can't charge people for being lonely."

Berwald actually felt his chest ache at that. And he wondered, for the first time, if he had seriously misjudged this unfathomable boy known as Iceland.

The afternoon passed in the same slow, strange quiet, until Berwald started to wonder if he was alone in the house. Tino was still in bed, and probably would be until tomorrow; and Greenland and Faeroe still lay on their couch, but they didn't really count, somehow. It was as he was passing the study that Berwald was again stopped by someone's voice. This time it was the startling, unfamiliar sound of Denmark speaking seriously that halted Berwald in his tracks. He peered through the doorway to see Denmark sitting at the large central desk, his back to the door and the phone against his ear. His words were in Danish, which Berwald could understand well enough.

"Hey, Mum! Yeah, it's me… hi." Denmark tapped his foot restlessly against the floor and ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "Uh, yeah, I know Dad said that, I… I know, I just…" Denmark took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "Well, I happened to glance at the calendar and I noticed it was his birthday the other day, so I thought maybe I'd call real quick and say…" Denmark's tapping foot went still. "Oh. He wouldn't, huh? Okay, that's… yeah, I understand. So, uh, how are y…" His hand froze in his hair and he lowered his head. "Oh, right, sure. I'll let you go then. All right. Good..." Denmark broke off, paused again, then slowly looked down at the phone. "...bye, Mum."

Berwald stood completely still, hardly daring to breathe. The surprises today just kept coming. He never would have guessed that Denmark could sound so serious, so... devastated. Berwald barely knew what to feel – sorry, sad, bewildered. It took him too long to notice that Norway was standing behind him. His skin crawled with guilty shame as he tried to think of a way to explain. But Norway didn't even acknowledge him. He simply walked into the room, took the phone from Denmark's hand, and placed it firmly on the desk.

"When are you going to learn, Den?" Norway's words sounded stern. But when he touched Denmark's cheek, his usually blank face looked curiously hurt, and he was only gentle. He sat slowly, gently on Denmark's lap; took his hand and smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. Denmark pulled him close and leant into his neck as Norway's arms surrounded him.

Berwald immediately turned and left, his mind turning in circles and his chest still aching strangely. It seemed nothing in this place was the way he first thought.

It was three p.m, and Berwald was onto his third cup of awful instant mix coffee. He almost decided to buy a grinder, then wondered if they would be here long enough for that. The house was still uncannily silent. It had been an interesting day, to say the least. Berwald found himself pondering Tino's words from a few days earlier - It's easier to be odd or crazy or insane than to hurt all the time.

Berwald turned back towards the fridge and stopped short when Tino appeared in the kitchen doorway. His messy hair, ruffled pyjamas, and eyeliner-stained eyes were a stark contrast to his appearance the night before. Berwald thought, his head spinning and his heart stuttering, that he looked just as breathtaking. And very hungover. "Help," Tino croaked.

Berwald tried not to laugh. "More water?"

Tino's faintly wild gaze fell on the coffee pot. His eyes lit up and he dove at the bench. "Ohhh, coffee…"

"Here." Berwald pushed his coffee across the bench, then set about making more as Tino practically devoured the mug. "How 'bout breakfast? Can make bacon n'eggs if ye like."

Tino raised an eyebrow over the coffee mug. "It's three p.m."

"Greasy food'll settle yer stomach."

Tino looked slightly suspicious of that, but he nodded an agreement and took a tall seat at the bench. "Okay. Thank you."

Berwald really shouldn't feel such a flutter in his stomach at a simple thanks. He took bacon, eggs and tomatoes from the fridge, placed them on the bench, then opened a drawer to grab the pan.

"I'm still…" Tino trailed off, staring at the counter uncertainly. "I'm still a bit worried. Last night was fun, but... I really don't know what I'll do if we lose this place."

Berwald really shouldn't want desperately to pull Tino into his arms every time he looked uncertain like that. "It's okay. I'll take care of ye."

Tino looked for a moment like he was about to roll his eyes and laugh, but he bit his lip as though to stop it. "That's a very odd thing to say, you know."

Berwald felt the back of his neck burning. Of course it was odd. He concentrated on placing the bread in the toaster. "Sorry."

Tino shook his head. "Don't be. You sort of – fit here, Berwald. Like, you balance the rest of us out, you know?"

Fit here – it was the second time he'd heard that today. Berwald could have laughed. He'd never fit anywhere. To hear it about a place like this... He wasn't sure if Tino was completely wrong, or absolutely correct. He also didn't know how to respond, so he focused intensely on oiling the pan and adding the bacon and chopping the tomatoes and cracking the eggs and...

Tino let out a sudden burst of laughter. Berwald looked up in confusion. "What?"

"You're the Swedish Chef." Tino smiled as he said it, leaning on the bench with his chin on his hand, his violet eyes sparkling.

Berwald felt a smile on his own lips. He was getting used to these random statements Tino came out with. The Swedish Chef… Berwald remembered watching the 'The Muppets' with his father when they first moved from Sweden. It became a sort of ritual, to turn the television on every Friday evening and laugh at how silly the stereotype was. Berwald never did understand how the Chef was supposed to be Swedish – he actually always thought he sounded more Norwegian. Regardless, the mention brought back fond memories. "Well, I don't have the mustache, but... " Berwald reached for the tall, white chef's hat - most likely Denmark's - which always hung inexplicably above the stove. He flattened it slightly and placed it on his head. "I've got th'hat."

Tino's eyes widened, incredulous, then his smile grew to a grin. He picked a pink dishcloth off the bench, tied it into bow, and reached over to tuck it into Berwald's collar. "And the bow tie."

Tino's hands lingered on Berwald's collar; their eyes locked for the slightest second too long. Berwald wondered madly if Tino remembered anything of their conversation in the bedroom the night before. Tino eventually dropped his gaze, his cheeks red. Strangely desperate to keep this odd conversation alive, and feeling some long-dormant playfulness begin to emerge, Berwald determinedly picked up a spoon and a spatula from the drawer. Swedish Chef. He could do Swedish Chef. He was Swedish, damn it.

"Yorn desh born, der hur de disk der du, ye borsh dee born desh de umn…" Berwald gestured wildly with the implements as he sang the nonsense words, then tossed the spoon into the air to crash into the bench behind him. "…bork bork bork!"

Tino stared in utter shock before bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. "Oh my God! How do you even…" He shook his head in astonishment and practically bounced on his seat. "Do it again!"

Berwald felt his chest swell with some silly sort of pride at Tino's reaction. "Noo, today vee goona hurdy burdy eggsky orn de born bork." Berwald reached for the pan. "Yoo plece-a zee eggs in zee pun, den smakar skit hur de squeer de eggsky…" Berwald proceeded to splatter an unfortunate egg enthusiastically with the spatula. "Smakar de eggsky…"

Tino's eyes shone as he clapped a hand to his chest and bent over the bench laughing. "That's perfect, Berwald! You can do Swedish Chef!" Tino was laughing. Tino had the most beautiful laugh in the world and he was laughing because of him. Berwald hadn't felt his chest so light in years.

"Den yuoo meke-a squeer-a yuu…" Berwald let an egg fall and smash on the bench. He shrugged and picked up another. "A ver de gurdy eggsky, inne go de poot." He dropped the second egg, then the spatula, then knocked the bottle of oil into the sink. Finally he successfully cracked an egg into the pot. "Eggsky, inne go de poot."

Tino put both hands to his face. He managed to look completely stunned and utterly wracked with laughter at the same time. Berwald felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He forgot about his worries, about eviction, about everything, because Tino was adorable, and perfect, and he was laughing with him. Berwald felt like he'd done nothing but unintentionally scare Tino since he arrived; now, he wanted nothing more than to keep him laughing.

"Noo, vee goona…"

"OI!"

Berwald froze, hands in mid-air, and Tino broke off laughing. Denmark stood in the doorway, arms folded and an annoyed expression on his face. "No one does Swedish Chef in this house but me."

There was a brief pause, then Tino and Berwald both burst into laughter. Denmark's mouth fell open. "Holy shit. Norge, baby, get the camera! Sweden's laughing!"

Norway pushed Denmark out of the way. "I told you he wasn't a robot," he said, grabbing a piece of toast from the toaster.

"Terminator," Denmark explained. "I said terminator."

"Oh, great, food!" Iceland also pushed Denmark out of the way while heading for the bench. "I'm starving."

Berwald shrugged and took five plates from the cupboard. He was a little disappointed at being interrupted. But then Tino smiled at him, laughter still in his eyes. "Come on, Den, don't be mad - Berwald is the Swedish chef. If anything, you're the Danish Chef."

Denmark looked contemplative as he leant against the egg-splattered bench. "The Danish chef, hey? I like that. I bet the Danish Chef can kick the Swedish Chef's ass. I bet his moustache is even bigger." Denmark's eyes lit up as he nodded, a look of dawning illumination on his face. "Yeah. He probably has, like, twelve Michelin stars. Shit, there's a wait list of six months to get into the Danish Chef's restaurant." Denmark slammed a hand on the bench. "The Swedish Chef wishes he were as culinarily awesome as the Danish Chef!"

Norway raised an eyebrow. "What's his specialty dish? Mixing an olive with a bottle of akvavit, drinking the lot, then passing out on the front lawn?"

Tino laughed loudly. "How about the Norwegian Chef? Tells the Danish Chef to get his ass in the kitchen and cook his damn dinner."

"Or the Finnish Chef," said Iceland, winking at Tino. "Forgets the stove is on and burns down the kitchen."

Tino looked slightly offended. "Hey, that only happened twice."

"Ye make good coffee," said Berwald. Yes, all he did was pour hot water over instant mix then add a metric ton of sugar, but still.

Tino broke into a wide grin. "You see! Berwald believes in my culinary abilities!"

Denmark snorted loudly. "That's because he's in love with you." Norway threw a piece of toast at Denmark's head. "What?" Denmark whined. "It's not like it isn't completely obvious to everyone in a ten mile radius. Uh oh, was rule number nine followed here, Swedish Chef? Did these eggs have smiley faces before you deprived them of their shells and smashed them on the bench?"

Berwald was certain his face was burning red. Norway started serving from the pan; Iceland reached across the bench for the toast. No one seemed to notice Denmark's throwaway, inescapably true observation.

Tino rolled his eyes. "Den, considering the way you've blown our money, I think we're entitled to your eggs."

Denmark winked and wagged his eyebrows. "Only Norway's entitled to my eggs."

"Urgh." Tino looked at the eggs on his plate and shuddered. This time Iceland threw toast at Denmark's head.

Norway dropped a plate of eggs and toast in front of the giggling Dane. "Shut up and eat."

Berwald placed the bacon from the pan onto a plate. "There's bacon too."

Denmark shook his head and raised a hand, palm outwards. "I don't eat bacon, for religious reasons."

Berwald's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Religious?"

Denmark nodded proudly. "I am an observant frisbeetarian."

At Berwald's puzzled look, Tino explained. "When you die, your soul gets stuck on the roof, like a frisbee."

Berwald was beyond questioning. "'f course."

Denmark nodded fervently. "When you've examined all the options it just makes sense. I have some literature you may be interested in seeing…"

The conversation continued as they ate, and it wasn't long until a strange semblance of normality settled over the kitchen. Everyone even stayed to help clean up, something Berwald had never seen happen since he moved in. Just as they were putting away the last of the clean plates, a knock sounded at the door. Iceland jumped up quickly. "I'll get it."

Denmark shouted after him. "I'm not in the country."

Moments later Iceland shouted from the front door, harsh panic in his voice. "LUKAS!"

The warm, comfortable atmosphere shattered. Denmark knocked over his chair, Tino turned white, and Norway simply ran before Berwald even had time to wonder at the unfamiliar name.

Following the other's frantic rush, Berwald's stomach turned and his nerves stood on edge when he reached the front room. The front door was open, Iceland already halfway back across the room. And standing in the doorway, his hand holding back the door and that eternal smile on his lips, stood Ivan Braginski. Norway marched furiously towards him. "Get out."

Ivan ignored him and took a step inside. "We need to have a conversation."

Norway practically growled as he drew to a stop between Ivan and Iceland, fists clenched and shoulders tense. "I said, get the fuck out."

"I do not wish to speak with you," said Ivan flippantly. He stood easily in the room as though he belonged there. "I wish to speak with Mr Køhl…"

"Don't you dare utter that name in this house, Russki!" Denmark shouted as he stormed across the room. Norway stopped him with a hand to his chest.

Instinct kicked in and Berwald drew himself to his full height, blood rushing to his head. He had no idea what the Russian was doing here, but Berwald had seen what this man could do when angry, and he doubted anyone in this house had the slightest idea how dangerous this could get. Berwald's eyes darted towards Tino, who stood uncertainly beside him, silent and observing.

Ivan simply looked amused. "If you insist… Denmark. I hear you are still harassing my friends."

Denmark snarled. "Your little minions approached us, Russia. And any friend of yours is an enemy of mine." Norway's hand was the only thing restraining Denmark from charging. Iceland stood behind Den and Norway, arms drawn to his chest.

Ivan simply waved a hand, visibly unconcerned by the heavy tension in the room. "That is the least of my concerns. I am much more worried for your financial situation."

Berwald could sense everyone in the room stare in confused silence. How could Ivan possibly know about that? Denmark's furious expression faltered. "I don't know what you're on about, Russki."

Ivan clasped his hands before him; he was acting like they were having a pleasant conversation about the weather. "It has come to my attention that you are on the point of eviction, yes?"

Denmark looked stunned. "Wha... huh..." He turned furious again. "What are you still doing here? Get the fuck out of my house!"

Berwald squared his shoulders and felt his hands twitch. If Denmark started a fight, the stupid Dane could not finish it on his own. Ivan obviously knew this. "But it is not your house, Denmark. And so you see my problem. If you can not even pay your rent, how are you ever going to pay the debt you owe me?"

Berwald's blood froze. He felt sick. "Den. Ye don't have a debt with Ivan?"

"What? It's just a little something I owe from poker..."

Berwald put a hand to his head and let out a long breath. Denmark owed Ivan. This was not good. This was beyond not good. This was disastrous...

Ivan sounded like he was having the time of his life. But of course – the Russian loved to terrorise people. "My friend Berwald here can tell you quite well what a little quandary you are in."

Berwald glared furiously. To play his games in the worst parts of town with the worst men in the city was one thing. But this was just a house of kids - crazy and stupid kids, yes, but innocent nonetheless. What the hell was Ivan doing playing these games with them? "Ye've got him on rising interest, don't ye, Ivan? Th'type he can never pay back."

Denmark interrupted. "What's the big deal, I've got a debt with the bank too..."

"The bank just takes yer money," Berwald snapped. "Th'Russian takes..." Berwald trailed off as Ivan's smile twisted cruelly. Everything… But this time, Berwald was not going to let him get away with it. He drew himself up, took two threatening steps forward, and narrowed his eyes. He never needed to do much to convey an aura of intimidation. The others watched in silent anticipation. "Ye're a gamblin' man, Ivan. Let's play fer this."

Ivan waved a hand at Denmark dismissively. "I've played this child. He is an extraordinarily untalented card player. I am done with him."

"What the hell does that… arghl…" Norway silenced Denmark with a swift kick.

Berwald raised his chin. "Then play me. Or try."

Ivan's cold eyes flashed, his expression a dark warning behind his fake, ever-present smile. "Oh Berwald. I thought you'd put all that behind you. Besides, I've had my fun with you." He lowered his eyes and smirked. "I see you still wear your father's watch. I wonder what the old fool would think if he could see you now."

Berwald dug his nails into his palm, forcing himself to contain the anger that boiled in his chest. "Cards, Ivan." He almost shouted the words. "You and me. If I win, ye drop Den's debt, and ye pay us the int'rest. If I lose, I'll take on Den's debt m'self."

"Wait a minute…" Denmark started.

"Hold mund," spat Norway.

Ivan tapped his chin as he considered. "I pay you the interest? That is quite a considerable sum. You would be able to pay your rent and stay in this house. But even if you do take on this silly boy's debt, what incentive is in it for me?"

Berwald spread his hands. The old negotiation came back easily. "Come on, Ivan. I know th'games ye like to play. Ye were determined t'destroy me once, but look... I'm still standin'." Berwald smirked, bared his teeth, and raised a shoulder. "Care t'try again?"

For a brief moment, as they glared at each other across the room, Berwald thought he had won. But the moment Ivan's gaze fell on Tino, Berwald realised the enormous mistake he had just made.

"Do you know…" said Ivan slowly, his evil smile lighting up his entire face. "This could be fun."

Berwald tried frantically to backtrack. "Actually, I…"

Ivan just grinned gleefully. Berwald started to wonder if the Russian had planned this the entire time. "Poker, I assume? Given the unskilled players, perhaps the simple old five card draw might be best. We'll start with a low buy-in."

"Look, maybe there's another…"

"Of course, I insist you all play." Ivan glanced towards Iceland, who drew his arms closer to his chest and looked away. "I even leave it to you to choose the dealer."

Denmark tried to rush forward angrily, but was again stopped by Norway. "Oh, we'll be there, Russia. We'll be there, and we're gonna kick your ass, du er et røvhul…"

Berwald closed his eyes briefly. He would have a hard enough time defeating Ivan on his own. But if the others played… if Denmark played… Oh, God, what had he done?!

"Wonderful!" cried Ivan, clapping his hands together delightedly. "Saturday night, shall we say? I look forward to it!" Then he snickered softly, winking at Berwald. "I knew you'd come back."

Ivan swept towards the door, leaving five angry, stunned, silent Scandinavians behind him. But just before he reached the door, Ivan paused and tilted his head. "Who are they?" he asked, nodding towards Faeroe and Greenland asleep on the couch.

"Our pets," replied Denmark simply.

Ivan's eyebrows shot up. He looked rather impressed. "Kinky."

The moment Ivan closed the door behind him, Norway fixed Berwald with a furious glare. "All right, Swedish Chef. What have you gotten us into?"

Tino interrupted before Berwald could respond furiously. "Berwald didn't get us into this mess, Norway. He's just given us a way to get out of it."

"With poker?" Norway laughed. It was strangely terrifying. "Poker's the reason we're in this mess!"

"No," said Iceland firmly. He still looked a little shaken, but also grimly determined. "We only played that stupid game to try and beat Ivan. And we failed, spectacularly. But maybe…" Iceland looked at Berwald appraisingly. "Maybe with Sweden we can win."

Norway raised his chin. He didn't look convinced. "Well, Sweden? Yesterday you said that no one wins against Ivan. And now you think you can beat him?"

Berwald shifted uncomfortably as four sets of eyes regarded him curiously. Oh, God… what had he gotten into? "I…" He looked from Norway's challenging stare, to Iceland's confident gaze, to Denmark's still vaguely angry look of bewilderment. "I think…" Then Berwald looked at Tino: his resolute expression, his trusting, eyeliner-stained eyes. If Berwald could beat Ivan, they could stay in this house. This was his only chance; the only chance he had to stay with the only person he loved. Berwald took a deep breath and returned Norway's stare. "I think I'm th'only one who can."

Denmark suddenly broke into manic laughter. "Fuck, yes! I am IN!"

Iceland grinned. "Hell yes. Let's teach that son of a bitch a lesson."

"You can do it." Tino nodded, smiling. "I know you can, Berwald."

Norway just raised an eyebrow perceptively. "I hope you're ready for this, Sweden. For your sake."

Berwald ignored what that might mean. He ignored what he already knew: Ivan played dirty, and he liked to destroy people, and he knew just how to do it. But Berwald knew how to fight back. This time, he had a reason to fight back. "Ye can all play poker, right?"

Denmark, Norway and Iceland all agreed. Only Tino shook his head. He smiled up at Berwald, earnest and dishevelled and beautiful. "Will you teach me?"

"And this is four'f a kind. Tough t'beat."

Berwald placed the cards down and Tino studied them carefully. They sat opposite each other on Tino's bedroom floor, the bright lamps casting soft shadows on the bedspread behind them. Quiet music Berwald did not recognise played from tiny speakers beside Tino's desk. This was still the cleanest, brightest room in the house, though Berwald was grateful he no longer had to sleep in the tiny alcove in the corner. Tino tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the cards. He had picked things up amazingly fast so far. "Four of a kind. Tough to beat. You can beat it, though?"

Berwald nodded. "Yes. There's only one hand ye can't beat."

Tino looked up, interested. Berwald noticed that his violet eyes seemed darker in the lamplight. "What's that?"

"This one." Berwald took five cards from the deck and lay them out on the carpet, one by one. All hearts: Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Berwald gestured a hand over them. "Royal flush. Hearts. Can't beat't."

Tino looked amused at that. "So, hearts is highest?

"Yes."

Tino gave a tiny laugh, lowering his head so that his hair fell in his eyes. "That makes sense."

Berwald felt his heart skip in his chest, and wondered when the room had become so warm. He tugged at his shirt collar and quickly focused on reshuffling the cards. These little moments with Tino were the best of Berwald's life. Berwald wasn't sure if that said more about the kind of life he had lived, or about how desperately infatuated he was with this beautiful Finn. Either way, it was both scary and wonderful at the same time.

"Where did you learn to play?"

"M'father taught me."

Tino tilted his head, his eyes connected with Berwald's. No one had ever listened to Berwald as earnestly and as honestly as Tino always did. "For fun, or…"

Berwald understood Tino's unasked question. Tino knew some of Berwald's unpleasant past by now. Perhaps it was time to explain it a little more – after all, Berwald trusted Tino to hear it. Even if he was scared of how he would react. He took a very deep breath, tapped his cards against the ground, and began.

"My mother died when I was fourteen. We moved from Sweden the next year – I think Dad was trying t'escape the memories." At first Berwald faltered over the words. They quickly became easier, however, until he barely remembered that he found speaking uncomfortable. "But once we got here, everthin' just got – worse. He struggled t'adjust to th'different life. He couldn't speak English, so he couldn't get a job. There was only one thing he ever thought he was good at – poker. He found places to play, people in th'business. It's not hard when ye know where t'look. I'd go with him t'play, and he taught me. And he was good – not th'best, but he won more than he lost. He made enough t'buy us a small house, t'buy me books fer school. Sometimes if he had a good night he'd come home with beer and marshmallows and those disgustin' pickled herrings he liked so much."

Berwald almost smiled, then broke off at the painful memories. He was not used to speaking so much, especially about something so personal, and in some strange way he was not sure if he was doing it correctly. Tino, however, watched him as though engrossed, silent, still clutching his hand of cards. He was the first person Berwald had ever spoken to of these things. He was the first person Berwald had ever cared enough to speak to of such things. Berwald took another deep breath before continuing. "Like I said, he was good. Th'other players were scared of him, I think - scared of us. There was only one man who wasn't. Who spoke to us, and helped us."

Tino's eyes widened. "Ivan."

Berwald nodded. "Braginski was only young – not much older than me. But he was already unbeatable. He said he would help us. Ev'ry time we lost, the Russian would lend us money. But ev'ry time we won, he would raise th'interest. Eventually, we couldn't keep up. When we lost everythin', again, my father lost hope. He drank too much. He got sick, but he wouldn't stop drinkin'. Eventually, it killed him." Berwald stopped again. Why was he saying this? Surely he was only bothering Tino, surely he was only making him uncomfortable, surely…

Berwald's thoughts fell to pieces when Tino's hand reached out and brushed his. It was only quick, a brief touch of sympathy, and it was over before Berwald could be sure he felt it. When Berwald's thoughts flew back together, Tino was already fidgeting with the cards in his fingers. "Do you know that your accent has grown lighter? I'm sorry. I just noticed. Please continue."

Berwald nodded and, with a racing heart and a burning hand, continued. "After he died, I found out just how much debt he had with the Russian. Found out when I went to a gamblin' house t'visit a 'lawyer' – a man'f the Russians. He showed me a document signed by my father." All of Berwald's emotions swung abruptly to anger, just remembering that moment. The moment he found out just how deeply his father had been used and betrayed by Ivan Braginski. The moment Berwald had snapped completely.

"Th'paper showed that my father had signed everythin' we owned over to Braginski. Our house, our savings... everythin'. But it wasn't th'house and th'money that mattered – it was how the Russian treated him. My father could barely speak English. He certainly couldn't read it. He would've had no idea what he was signing. I tried t'explain, but it didn't matter. It was legal, and it was done."

Tino's expression was frozen in dismayed disbelief, though his hands still fidgeted restlessly with the cards. "My God. That's awful. What did you do?"

Berwald paused, rubbed his neck, and answered slowly. "I got… angry."

Tino's fingers stopped moving and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You? Angry?"

Berwald looked at the floor. Tino did not need to know. He did not need to know how Berwald had grabbed the crooked, underground lawyer by the collar, had punched him over and over and over again, had viciously slammed the man's head onto the desk. Tino did not need to know how Berwald had overturned the furniture, thrown chairs against the wall and smashed the windows, had almost destroyed the dirty backroom office before the police charged through the door.

Tino did not need to know how Berwald faced charges of grievous bodily assault, property damage, theft, and a dozen other offences Braginski managed to level at him. Tino did not need to know how Berwald had spent a year in prison only to come out hated by society, with nowhere to go and no prospects, and had fallen back into the one thing he knew how to do – cards. Yes, he had found the groundskeeper job at the university, in no small thanks to former gambler Professor Beilschmidt's generous help, but the fact remained – Berwald had never been able to stay away from that sleazy world of underworld gambling for long. But Tino did not need to know that; so Berwald just shrugged offhandedly. "Yes. Did things I'm not proud of. Things I'll never do again."

Tino nodded. That seemed to be enough explanation for him, and thankfully he did not press further. He just said, again, "I'm sorry. It sounds like your father really tried – like he cared about you."

"Yeah." Berwald wondered why he didn't feel anxious about the words he had spoken to Tino. Instead, he just felt relieved.

Tino let out a long breath. "So Ivan really took everything from you?"

His savings, his house, his father… Berwald relaxed his clenched fists. "Yes."

"You kept this, though." Tino reached out and gently took Berwald's antique pocket watch from his front pocket. He smiled as he looked at it, and Berwald followed his gaze, swallowing heavily at the growing tingling sensation from Tino's fingers against his chest. The long black hands of the watch read seven o'clock against the worn gold setting.

"Yes," said Berwald quietly. The watch meant more to him than anything he had ever owned. "This is mine. He'll never have it."

Tino's eyes grew slightly distant. "You're very lucky, you know. Having something to remember your father like this. All my dad gave me when he kicked me out was bus fare."

Berwald looked up sharply. Again, he felt a wave of fierce anger for someone he'd never even met. How could anyone do that to Tino? Then Berwald remembered Denmark's broken conversation in the study earlier. How could anyone do that to their child – to someone they loved? Berwald's father might not have been perfect, but he loved Berwald. At least he had that.

Before Berwald could think of a way to respond to Tino's harrowing words, Tino drew back his hand. "Thank you for telling me that, Berwald," he said softly. "I suppose everyone has their pain and their regret - no matter how strong they appear." Tino looked down at the cards in his left hand, his eyes a little sad and unsure, then laid them down carefully on the carpet. "So, I have these five..." Tino gestured over the four, five, six, seven, and ten; all of different suits.

Berwald looked down at the cards and raised his eyebrows. He was grateful that Tino knew exactly when to change the subject. "An interestin' hand. Ye need to throw in th'ten."

Tino bit his lip thoughtfully. "And hope for an eight, yes?

"Yes. Unlikely, but ye'll win if ye do."

Tino picked up the ten, tossed it in the centre, and watched as Berwald dealt him out another. He picked it up and smiled. "Guess what?" Tino flicked the card around between his fingers - a black eight of spades.

Berwald smiled back. What a lucky catch… "Catch perfect."

Tino tilted his head. "Huh?"

Berwald nodded at the eight of spades. "To get the one card ye need t'win. T'complete the set of five. Catch perfect."

Tino laughed softly. "Catch perfect. I like that." He brushed the hair from his face; his hand strong but soft, his hair like falling silk. Berwald shook his head and told himself to stop with the similes. After all, he could not compare Tino to anything – there was nothing perfect enough to compare him to. All Berwald could do was accept that he had never loved anyone like Tino, would never love anyone like him, and that if Berwald lost him now, he would lose the only thing he'd ever had worth losing. Berwald had always bet with nothing much to lose. Now, with an upcoming game against the only man he had ever hated, Berwald realised.

This time, he had everything to lose.

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#catch perfect chapter 7

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