#and we all know stranger things is literally a fruit basket

[bethhiraeth]

Wait this is hilarious when you think about it like every single fucking character in stranger things is/could be interpreted as autistic. Like, Mike? Obviously. Robin? without a question. Nancy and Will and Jonathan? i get the vibes. El?? YES

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[callithecreature]

Stranger Things Incorrect Quotes

Will, Mike & Lucas: *screaming* Max: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Lucas?! Will: Wait, why are you asking Lucas that when Mike and I are also here? Max: Because Lucas wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dustin: Hey, what’s the name of the guy who lives down the hall? Will: His cats' names are Walter and Rose. Dustin: That's not what I asked. Will: That is all the information I have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dustin: A decision had to be made. El: And you fucked it up!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will: I’m the smartest person in my friend group. Robin: You hang out with Dustin, Lucas and Mike. Robin: It’s not as high a compliment as you think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. El: That's deep. Dustin: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. El: That's deeper. Will: ...You guys are idiots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Lucas and Max's convo? Dustin: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Steve: I'm in the washing machine. Will: I'm in the closet. Dustin: We accept you Will. <3 Will: No I'm literally in the closet. Dustin: Love is love. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*El and Will looking at a locked gate into a park* El: Aw. :( Will: You know what they say. El: Please don’t- Will: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate* El: Frick-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max: I want to be like a caterpillar. Dustin: Explain. Max: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful. Mike: You know they have a lifespan of a week, right? Max: Max: That's just another highlight!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dustin: El and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. Robin: What did you do? Dustin: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- El: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Mike will and will not eat. Max: Grass? Yes! Steve: Moss? Yes!! Max: Leaves? Ohh, yes! Steve: Shoelaces? Strange but true! Max: Worms? Sometimes! Steve: Rocks? Usually nah. Max: Twigs? Usually! Steve: Robin's cooking? Inconclusive! El: How did you… test this? Steve: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it. El: ... I don’t know how to feel about this. Robin: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucas: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. Mike: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max: Something tells me Will's going to be a bit more unhinged today... Will, holding a lit match and a bag of cheetos: Leave me be, Steve isn't home to stop me, I'm going feral.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike: You can take away my rights, but can you take away my lefts?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dustin: I once went on holiday and pretended to be twins. It was amazing fun. I invented this mad, glamorous sibling and went around really annoying everybody. And d'you know, I could get away with anything when I was my crazy twin Dustin. Will: But you're Dustin. Dustin: Kinda stuck. It’s a long story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucas: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Dustin: Put spaghetti in it. Lucas: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Max: Put spaghetti in it. Lucas: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Mike: Put spaghetti in it. Lucas: I am no longer taking suggestions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike, to Max: If Robin doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check. Robin, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike: Who's in charge here? Will, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm. Mike: That is not something you actually have installed. Max: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Lucas: Where did you get that? Max: My pocket. Lucas: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Max: Skills.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike: Pros and cons of dating me. Mike: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Mike: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to physically pull myself away from this generator.

Anyways here's the link

[findroleplay]

Hello !! I am a 18F looking for an 18+ rp partner. Dark themes are absolutely not a problem but I will not do scat/vomit type themes. The rp could be of any type, however when it comes to nsfw, I would prefer some build up before we get to the actual smut.

I prefer literate/semi-literate rp and usually do oc x canon, however I am open to canon x canon/oc x oc as well. I can do fxf, fxm or mxm, and usually double up. I would like it if my partner writes at least a paragraph (6-7 sentences minimum). My replies can fluctuate as my schedule is always changing here and there so I can go from replying frequently to replying weekly and rarely monthly. I don’t expect my partner to match my pace so replies aren’t an issue, all I ask is that you let me know if you’re going to go on a long pause, I will do the same.

As for aus or scenarios, we can sit together and brainstorm! I’m completely fine with every type of au. Yandere, A/B/O, tooth rotting romance, etc. like I said dark themes are not a problem so get as nasty as you’d like! We will of course discuss our limits and stuff, so anything we do will always be between whatever we are comfortable with!! Anything we can discuss.

As for fandoms, I’m mostly into anime but I have seen a few shows/movies here and there. Fandoms I roleplay range from but are not limited to:

- naruto shippuden

- JJBA (parts 1-5)

- BNHA (s6 not included)

- fruits basket

- bungou stray dogs

- Haikyuu

- Kuroko no basket

- Burning kabaddi

- Free! iwatobi swim club

- Black clover

- jujutsu kaisen

- demon slayer

- assassination classroom

- ohshc

- yona of the dawn

- hakouki

- vampire knight

- dance with devils

- vanitas no carte

- Tokyo revengers (anime only)

- Beyblade burst/evolution

- Fire force

- genshin impact

- Stranger things (watched up til s2)

+ others that I may have forgotten, so just ask me if I know a certain fandom and I’ll let you know if I do or not!

you can message me on discord at scenicknj#1897 if you’re interested <3 !!

_

[yesterdaylovedme]

RPers Sought via Discord

I am seeking canon x canon ships for fandoms via discord. This will be a 1x1 situation. I am happy to double! For my ships, please reach out for information as many are crack/unusual. I do tend to stick to MxF romances but if we're doubling up and one pair is MxF, I'm open to adding a same-sex pair. When I double, I use a word counter to make sure posts are equal. I don't require this of my partners as long as they look similar in effort. Should favoritism begin to appear, I'll express concerns but if it happens often, I'm going to end the RP.

My posts tend to be several paragraphs (I guess the term might be novella or advanced literate) in third person, past tense. When on Discord, it's not unusual to take a few messages to complete my post but I do indicate with a (c or cont) if it's continued and end with an (end) to indicate that it's all complete. Due to post sizes being lengthy, I tend to give about 2-3 posts a week. Often more but I would say that's a pace I'm happy with getting from a partner. We all have lives. I'm not going to hound anyone to post unless it's been like, a month. People get busy or bored. It happens. That said, I love a lively OOC where we get to know one another and converse freely even if posts come at a slower pace. I'd rather hear about disinterest and work to fix it, than have resentment or complacency build behind the scenes.

NSFW stuff is bound to happen within moderation and with proper development. My RPs are very gradual, slow burn. I'm in this for the long haul and I expect my partner to be as well. Communication ensures longevity and interest.

My discord: MK Meringue }#0169

When messaging me, please tell me where you found my username and what you're interested in discussing, otherwise odds are I won't reply. Nothing more strange than just getting a 'hi' from a stranger online. Again, my ships are a little off-beat so if we chat and find we're not looking for the same thing, no harm. It never hurts to ask.

Looking for RPers for the following fandoms:

Alice in Borderland

I can write as An, Kuina, Arisu, Usagi. I'm looking for a Chishiya or Arisu. As a note, I am happy to drop other canons (like from Yu Yu Hakusho for example) into this universe if that is of interest.

The Queen's Gambit

I can write as Beth, Jolene, Harry, Townes. I'm looking for a Benny or Harry. A crossover with Godless could be fun.

Fire Emblem Three Houses

I can write as Hilda, Flayn, Yuri, Hapi, Dimitri, Annette, Hubert. I'm looking for a Seteth, Claude, Hubert, Linhardt, Lorenz or Edelgard. Adding Fates characters might be fun here.

Gravity Falls

I can write as Mabel, Stan, Candy, Tambry, Gideon. I'm looking for a Ford, Dipper, Wendy. I DO NOT WRITE DIPCIFICA! Crossover with SVTFOE or Amphibia possible.

Naruto

I can write as Sakura, Ino, Hinata, Sasuke, Naruto. I'm looking for a Shikamaru, Ino or Temari.

Game of Thrones

I can write as Sansa, Arya, Cat, Theon, Tyrion. I'm looking for a Joffrey, Ned, Theon or Jon.

MHA

I can write as Momo, Todoroki, Ochako, Bakugo, Denki, Melissa. I'm looking for a Todoroki, Bakugo, All Might, Eraserhead, Tsuyu, Ochako.

Pokemon SV

I can write as Nemona, Arven, Iono, Larry. I'm looking for an Arven or Nemona.

Death Note

I can write as Light, Misa, Naomi, Sayu. I'm looking for an L.

ATLA

I can write as Suki, Aang, Toph, Azula, Zuko. I am looking for a Zuko, Aang or Katara.

Harry Potter

I can write as Hermione, Ron, Luna. I am looking for a Harry or Cho.

Yu Yu Hakusho

I can write as Yusuke, Botan, Koenma, Koto, Kuwabara, Genkai. I am looking for a Kurama, Koenma, Keiko or Hiei.

Fruits Basket

I can write as Kagura, Tohru, Kyo, Yuki, Hana, Momiji, Kisa, Shigure. I am looking for a Hatori, Momiji, Haru, Kisa, Ayame, or Tohru.

Phineas and Ferb

I can write as Isabella or Candace. I am looking for a Ferb.

Honorable mentions: Dot Hack, Kaleido Star, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Yokai Watch, The Hunger Games, Final Space, The Orville, Star Trek or Doctor Who.

[aeripq]

IVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS AN ANON HOW NICE CJDNFKDJ Btw this is my first time as well IDK HOW THIS WORKS AAAAA Anyways!! You seem like a genuinely nice and chill person so I hope you'll accept asks as well?? I just wanna get to know u a bit more!! So far how many fandoms you've been in and which ones were ur fave?? You could ignore this if you dont feel like answering btw!! Have a good day/night!! (-💛 anon) (ALSO IM DOING GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING 😭💞💞💞)

HAHA HIHI!! omfg thank you?? like literally you do too?? ur so sweet? and nice?? ugh ily /p

ahh for fandoms... oh boy. here we go (the ones in bold are my favs:

maid sama attack on titan demon slayer my hero acadamia honkai impact 3rd genshin impact (was fun but super toxic fandom;; got sent d3ath threats) all zelda games skyrim your turn to die/yttd all danganronpa games tokyo revengers stranger things obx/outer banks arcane assassination classroom black butler blue excorsist jujutsu kaisen the promised neverland tokyo ghoul death note soul eater snow white with the red hair fruits basket kakegurui violet evergarden hunter x hunter spy x family darling in the franxx a silent voice horimiya sk8 the infinity sonic miraculous clannad blue spring ride vampire knight ever after high splatoon

[mizunetzu]

omg i’m so excited i like,, spam read all of your writing and now i can request,,, anyway, could i request maybe something similar to your Tanaka x femboy reader, but with Oikawa? like he mistakes him for a girl and maybe flirts with the reader a little bit and the reader i just like ,,”you do,, you do realize i am a man correct” and hijinks ensue?? sorry if this is too vague i suck at describing things. lotsa love your writing is literally my favorite 💕

Omg wait Oikawa??? And femboy reader??? Hijinks???? Take me now—

——————

Oikawa x reader - Oikawa Tooru Goes Both Ways

⚠️warnings - reader is mistaken and referred to unintentionally as a girl. I assure you, this is a male reader. Femboy reader, if that triggers you.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Oikawa couldn’t help but stare as a...rather cute girl stepped into the gym.

“Oi! Shittykawa! Focus!” Iwaizumi was about to hurl a volleyball at Oikawa’s head when he caught sight of where he was staring. He looked from the newcomer, back to Oikawa’s eyes tracing their form up and down.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa held his breath as he pointed subtly. “Who is that?”

Iwaizumi looked over back to the intruder. Sure enough, some girl with (h/c) styled hair stood at the foot of the door awkwardly. They weren’t sporting the school uniform, instead wearing a skirt with a cafe apron tied around their waist. Oikawa recognized the cute logo on the somewhat dirty apron as the coffee shop he’d visit on days he wasn’t particularly busy.

All in all, this stranger was incredibly attractive.

Eventually, coach Irihata emerged from the storage closet, and motioned the stranger over. The stranger perked up, pulled out a slightly-wrinkled paper from their back, and timpered off into the office.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. “Iwa-chan...is this what I think it is? Are we fiiiiiinally getting a cute girl manager to manage our team?!”

He draped himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Aaaaah~! I’m so happy~! And it’s such a cutie too!”

“Get off me, dumbass. You have like...millions of girls throwing their panties at you, literally all that look like her. And you go for the one who decides to join our club?”

Oikawa huffed. “What’s so wrong about that! She’s cute! And she looked so shy standing there...aaaah, I’m swooning just thinking about wrapping her up in my arms-!”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi bonked Oikawa on the head. “If you manage to get with her, then break her heart, or at the very least make her uncomfortable, she’ll have to see your annoying face all day at practice, and then she won’t wanna be manager anymore! Because she has to see you!”

Iwaizumi pinched at Oikawa’s scalp. “I want a cute girl manager and to have them actually stay! And who knows? We get brownie points if it’s not another one of your fangirls trying to get in your pants by joining the club!”

“Ow! Mean Iwa-chan, bad!”

“I’m not a damn Pokémon-!” Iwaizumi was about to kick Oikawa in the back, before letting himself simmer down and take a deep breath. He lowered his legs, and turned towards the office door. “...I’m gonna go look at that girl’s application and see what class she’s in. Maybe we can, I dunno, make her a welcome basket of fruit or some corny shit like that.”

“Let me come with you-!”

“No! You’ll just scare her away, and you have cleaning duty! All you need to do is take down the net, and I’ll meet you outside when I’m done. If you be good, I’ll tell you her name.”

Oikawa thought about it for a second.

“Deal.”

He disappeared to take down the net from the poles. Iwaizumi sighed, and walked towards the door. They were the only two left in the gym, as they were in charge of cleanup for the day, so no one else but him should be in the office. Well, minus the new girl and coach Irihata.

Iwaizumi slid open the door. “Yo.” He greeted. He looked around the room, only finding coach Irihata.

“...Didn’t someone come in here with you with an application form?”

Coach Irihata chuckled. “Oh, yeah,”

“He just wanted to drop in his member application before his part-time job made him go back to work.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“...he...?”

“Yeah, he wanted to join the club as a (Position name). He’s not confident about his jumping or spiking abilities, but he claims to be really dang good at digging and receives.”

The two looked at eachother in silence. Wasn’t she-well, he—wearing a skirt? Now that he thought about it, everything about him looked like...well...a him, minus the skirt. Iwaizumi dashed to the table and picked up the application resting there peacefully.

‘(L/n) (Y/n) - 2nd year, class 4’

‘Position - (Position name)’

Iwaizumi scanned the page. He wanted to doubt this was the ‘cute manager’ they laid their eyes on, but they even had a school photo clipped onto the corner of the paper. Sure enough, that was him. His eyes eventually landed on something printed on the middle of the page.

‘Gender - male’

That proved it. The ‘cute girl manager’ Oikawa was just fawning over turned out to be a guy. And their future teammate, no less. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh in Oikawa’s face.

“Is there something wrong, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“Pfft-no! N-no, sirrrrr....” Iwaizumi set the paper down and walked out the the room, doing his best to keep in his snickers.

Oikawa jogged up to him excitedly once he stepped out of the gym. “So? Did ya find out her name? Her class? Is she our manager?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, before letting his mouth clamp shut.

“Nah, coach said I couldn’t see it.”

He watched as Oikawa deflated, trudging his way over to the club room to change and go home. Iwaizumi did his best not to bust out laughing on the spot.

This should be fun.

——

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, you stalker.”

“But Iwa-chaaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Why not?! Practice ended early, and we could use some coffee! Come buy coffee with me!”

“You just wanna use me as an excuse to see that bo-that girl who came into our club yesterday, idiot! That’s stalking! You’re acting like your little fangirls!”

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi prayed he didn’t catch him on his little slip-up. He turned around, walking off out of school gates. Oikawa dejectedly trailed behind him.

“I’m going home. Don’t bother me if it’s about that manager again—“

Just then, a text tone pinged from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He stopped mid-sentence, fishing out his phone and opening his messaging app.

‘Mom - no ones going to be home because we have to go out real quick. The house is locked, and you left your spare keys with me again. Go out and have fun with Tooru-kun before I come back!’

Iwaizumi deadpanned. Oikawa had his chin resting on his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin Iwaizumi didn’t even have to look at to know was there.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. Listen to Mrs. Aina and hang out with Tooru-kun for a bit. We can go to the cafe and hang out like your she said, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi pushed past Oikawa bitterly. “Don’t... fuckin’... call my mom by her name... dumbass... stalker... Shittykawa...” he grumbled as he trudged his way in the direction to the cafe. Oikawa let out a small “Yay~!”

——

Hiding behind the big, laminated menus the cafe provided, Oikawa kept glancing over to the cashier-area to try and find (Y/n). Iwaizumi deadpanned, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly.

“You’re acting stupid.”

“I’m being sneaky.”

“You look more suspicious than if you were to act like yourself.”

“As if you would know!” Oikawa whisper-yelled to Iwaizumi, momentarily letting his menu fall flat. “I’m trying not to get caught, unlike one of us-!”

“Hello?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa rigidly turned to the voice, while Iwaizumi almost fell back in his seat.

There stood the boy—well, the ‘girl’, in his work apron, this time, up close. Oikawa could see the detail in his eyes, the way a few of his hairs fell onto his face and stuck because of the small layer of sweat on his forehead, even taking in the small kitty hair clip resting in his hair.

“Hu...huaai...” Oikawa breathed out. Iwaizumi bit his lip. If he started laughing now, Oikawa would tell his mom he was bullying him again.

“Hello! I was wondering if I could get you two anything to drink! No worries if you aren’t ready to order yet.”

His voice had a soft tamber to it, a warm, welcoming aura that fit the vibe of the cafe perfectly. Iwaizumi could see how Oikawa, and probably other people, could mistake him for a girl. Especially with the way he dressed and carried himself as evident to yesterday’s practice.

Iwaizumi tilted the menu infront of him up a bit. “I’ll get a small black coffee. Whabout you, Oikawa?”

When he got no response, other than the hum of acknowledgment from (Y/n), Iwaizumi looked up. Oikawa was staring dumbly at (Y/n) again, and seconds later (Y/n) was caught under his gaze. He stared back awkwardly, waiting for Oikawa to say something or at least order something, until he suddenly jolted up in pain.

Iwaizumi dug his heel deeper into Oikawa’s foot. “Say something, dumbass! Stop staring!” He hissed, covering his mouth from (Y/n) in petty attempts to mask their conversation.

“Ow! Ow! I’ll get a peppermint tea please-! Stop it!”

(Y/n) scribbled down Oikawa’s order, smiling patiently as he did. Iwaizumi removed his foot. There was a beat of silence, until Oikawa smoothly rested his chin on his hand.

“Soooo, (L/n) (Y/n)-chan, is it?” Oikawa said, as he peered at (Y/n’s) name tag. “Pretty masculine name for a cute girl like you~”

Iwaizumi choked on his spit. (Y/n) tilted his head to the side, looking up from his notepad to peer back at Oikawa.

“What...did you say?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I think (Y/n) is a cute name~”

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to die from laughter or embarrassment. He was going to pop a vein trying to keep in his cackles.

“Ah. It’s the clothes, isn’t it?” (Y/n) mused. He took a step back, looking at his rather-feminine clothing choices for the day. “I understand why. I get that a lot.”

“...What does your clothes have to do with your name?” It was Oikawa’s turn to sound confused. Iwaizumi let out a few haggard, stifled snickers at his dense expression. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“You...” He pointed at himself with his pen. “You do realize I’m a man, correct?”

Oikawa choked. His eyes widened as his smile cracked a bit. Iwaizumi had to hide his face in his jacket to prevent himself from bursting out into hackles. Oikawa gave a nervous smile.

“Aha...haha...funny joke..”

“I’m not joking, though...” (Y/n) smirked. He wouldn’t deny that seeing the faces of people flirting with him after he told them he had a dick was a guilty pleasure. “Want proof?”

(Y/n) grasped Oikawa’s wrist, tugging it forcefully, and moving his apron to the side. He brought it down closer to his groin until Oikawa sputtered and flailed on the table.

“No! I-I believe you! I-I can see it from here—I don’t need to touch it-!” Oikawa shrieked. Iwaizumi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, already given up on keeping it in. He snorted loudly, choked on that snort, and erupted into a series of cough-laughs.

By the time Iwaizumi’s laugh turned into the kind where no noise came out-but it hurt in your stomach anyways—Oikawa was laying his head on the table, embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled along.

“You knew, Iwa-chan! You knew!” Oikawa hissed, holding his poor, abused hand. “You set me up for failure!”

“You did that to yourself.” Iwaizumi said between breaths. “He’s actually gonna start attending practice as a (position name) starting next week. We don’t have a manager after all.”

“And you got my hopes up for what?!” Oikawa cried out, making Iwaizumi snort again. (Y/n) raised his eyebrows.

“Manager?”

“Oikawa thought that when you came to drop your registration form in yesterday, that you were signing up to be a manager since he thought you were a girl. I saw your form though, so I knew but this guy here didn’t.”

Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You better be nice to him, though. He’s your new captain starting next week.”

“Ah! How fun! Having my new playboy captain flirt with me before I even join the club. ” (Y/n) mumbled, as he scribbled down something else in his notepad. Iwaizumi heckled when Oikawa whined with his head down.

He didn’t raise his head back up until a slip of paper was placed gently on top of his head. He heard a “I’ll go get your drink ready.” From (Y/n), before he looked up and noticed he was gone. He caught the slip of paper falling off his head as he sat up.

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi said lazily. Oikawa was staring giddily at the paper. He turned the paper around smugly, holding it up for Iwaizumi to read.

‘Call me. If you’re feeling fruity, that is. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. -‘(Y/n)-chan’’

Iwaizumi stared at the neat handwriting, then back at Oikawa’s smug face.

“...Were you not just listening? He just tried to make you touch his dick? He’s a dude?”

“Eh. Cute girl, cute boy, he’s still cute~” Oikawa dreamily sighed as he watched (Y/n) make his tea behind the counter. “I’d still hit it till he breaks~”

“Pervert.”

“Says you.”

Oikawa earned a sharp thunk to the head.

——————

[misora-msby]

embarrassing moments with inarizaki

inarizaki always looks so cool but you know they’re actually dorks and i am here to provide you the content to show theyre clowns. enjoy the headcanons :)

Kita Shinsuke

firstly. kita shinsuke being embarrased? making a mistake? unheard of.

he’s a perfect man and we all know it.

anyways

you two were having a nice dinner out together. 

it was a pretty fancy place so you decided to dress in a different style today

but you were beginning to wonder if kita liked it or not because he seemed to keep looking past your shoulder instead of at you

he was an observant guy so you were wondering if something had happened behind you

but you couldn’t hear anything weird so you assumed not

you decided to just stay quiet about it at first but now it was beginning to become annoying! 

why wasn’t he looking you in the eye to speak?

midway through your dinner, kita finally spoke up tho

“y/n, your shirt is slipping... yer bra’s showing.”

oh.

right. you were wearing your off-shoulder top.

“o-oh. shin, it’s that kind of shirt, you know?” you had to explain your outfit to ur bf with a pink face.

“oh... that so... well it’s cold these days so if yer feelin’ cold lemme know. i’ll give ya my jacket.”

GOD HES SO PERFECT KITA SHINSUKE I HOPE U MARRY HIM???????

Ojiro Aran

another man with next to no flaws.

but nature says everyone has to make some mistake.

so it was a regular school day, our aran has just come to class from morning practice and there’s still some time left until class starts.

all the girls in class are gathered around a table

he’s not sure why, it’s probably watching an idol video

but ur man wants to be a little romantic!!

plus he just showered so he smells Great uwu

he goes over and hugs you from behind, placing his chin on ur head.

“hey, bb whatcha ya doin”

all the girls gasp.

he doesn’t get whats wrong, it’s not like it’s a secret y’all are dating

pda to this level aint bad either

especially compared to his teammate miya atsumu

“ojiro aran.”

why is your voice behind him

he looks down and nearly faints when he sees he hugged the wrong girl.

to be fair she looked a lot like you from behind, just maybe 1cm shorter.

“i’m so sorry!” he keeps apologising to literally everyone and all the class is giggling bc they never seen their school’s ace so red before.

“didn’t think i’d come back from the toilet and see my bf cheatin”

“IT WAS A MISTAKE! I’M SERIOUS! Y/N U KNOW I LOVE YA!” 

hes so funny i swear

the volleyball team hears of it and it gets even better 

Miya Atsumu

it’s not a secret that miya atsumu, setter of the inarizaki volleyball team and invited to national youth training camp, had a gf

he was very much in love with u 

the whole class knew it because he’d show it off whenever he could too

so here comes valentines day

last year he received like... 50 different gifts from girls and guys aiming to win his love.

you didnt even give him one lmAOOOOO 

but this year, he had been not so subtly trying to hint that “i better not receive any chocolates this year when i’ve got a gf!”

he reaches school and plops into his seat.

there’s an anonymous box of chocolates with “please accept my love, miya-kun! <3″ on it

“the hell’s this?!”

“oh? chocolates?” - osamu who just popped his head into the class to shove into his twin’s face how much chocolate he got.

especially since the blond was off limits, the grey-haired twin had a bigger following now.

“do they not know i have a girlfriend...”

“well, ya might as well eat it. ya dont know who to return it to.”

“that’s like receivin’ their love!”

“no it ain’t. it’s just food.”

atsumu couldn’t argue with that and popped a piece in.

it was very delicious. the chocolate practically melted on his tongue and was the perfect sweetness and was filled with a delicious ganache too.

it was perfect

but he couldn’t accept this!

“it ain’t even good. too sweet and the filling’s sticky.”

“ah. really? is that what you think, tsumu?” you ask from the door where you had been watching the exchange take place.

“y/n! look at this! some weirdo gave me some choco and like... samu said to test it but i’ll toss it out, promise.”

“tsumu, i made that... i wrote it anonymously because i thought you’d know it was me and i wanted to tease you a little.”

“huh.”

osamu: “yeah actually i went over to her place to teach her how to make it.”

atsumu: “you said you went to suna’s place?!”

osamu: “i went there later but i first went to help her.”

you: “anyways if it’s not good i don’t mind if you toss it out...”

tsumu: “NO NO BABE I PROMISE IT’S GOOD”

you: “you just said-”

“BABE I SWEAR IT’S GOOD I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO ACCEPT A STRANGER’S STUFF”

“you’re always so honest though... are you sure?” you were having your fun teasing him now.

“BB PLSSSSSS”

he still cringes at the memory 4 years into ur marriage

Miya Osamu

osamu would DEFINITELY make home made dinner dates a regular thing.

this alone shows he’s the better twin - miya atsumu stan

he loves cooking and eating with you so sometimes when he’s got a day off you guys’ll set aside the afternoon to make a real nice dinner

imagine candlelit dinner with miya dorito body osamu in a suit

of course some fun stuff happens after too ;)))

and today’s your third anniversary!!

so osamu adds lots of ‘natural aphrodisiacs’ to the meal

i’m talkin

garlic bread and soup for an appetiser, a nice juicy steak with garlic and red wine sauce for the main, and chocolate coated strawberries for dessert

mm yummy

you two cleaned your plates completely (it was very delicious) and as you were washing the dishes, osamu comes up behind and wraps his arms around your waist

“yes, ‘samu?” 

“i’ve already prepared us a nice bath with yer favourite scents.” he’s got his head resting on ur chin

“really? thank you~ i’ll be there in a bit”

but he doesn’t let go of you while you’re still scrubbing at the baking sheets.

“osamu, you can let go for now.”

“don’t feel like it.”

“i gotta wash the dishes since you did most of the cooking.”

“mmm, i’ll do it if ya gimme a kiss.”

you roll ur eyes bc what a cutie 

u turn ur head to give him a kiss but suddenly he 

he burps

that garlicy wine smell is just kinda there

“ew! ‘samu!!”

his face is real red but he’s also trying not to laugh because he’s still a dude and this is absolutely hilarious to him

“want another?” he starts teasing

“i’m not getting in the bath with you.”

“wait wait wait i’m sorry, i’ll go brush my teeth and give you a proper kiss”

Suna Rintarou

you two were taking the train home today

it was quite late due to practice going a little longer than usual, so he insisted he walked you back home today.

sunarin can be a good boyf sometimes ok

it was getting a little crowded on the train tho, since people were heading home or going out for dinner

luckily you had already grabbed seats so you were quite comfortable sitting side by side. 

you and suna have the type of relationship were you dont have to talk all the time

silence is v comfy.

he’s just scrolling through twitter on his phone while you’re looking around the car, lost in ur thoughts

suddenly you notice an old lady standing a little bit away from you and you stand up

“baa-san, please take my seat.” you whisper in the crowded carriage

“oh how kind of you. thank you, dearie.” she smiles and takes your seat while you stand in front of her and suna instead.

suna doesn’t realise this exchange has happened tho

(he’s on his phone as usual)

probably starting some fights on twitter

he decides to try to be a little romantic and pretends to stretch his arm around (who he thought was) you.

“rin.” 

why is your voice right in front of him?

“young man, i appreciate it but i’m married.”

suna jumps as he sees someone he did not recognise next to him.

he looks up and notices you had moved.

you’re giggling

the granny’s giggling

atsumu and osamu sitting opposite on the carriage look like they’re going to cry because they’re trying not to laugh

“i was just stretching. really.” he mumbles and crosses his arms, face red as a tomato

he’s so embarrassed.

Ginjima Hitoshi

sometimes the inarizaki vbc would go for an after practice snack at the nearby family mart

they were really hungry after an intense preparation for nationals which was in two weeks so kita insisted they all get something to fill them up on the way home

but lucky lucky ginjima hhehe

you (his classmate who he had a crush on) were working at the cash register today.

“welcome!” you greet everyone as they enter

he cant help but stiffen up a bit 

why are u so cute and cheery today

the 2nd years already know what to do.

“heyy, i think last week i bought ya that ramen right? ya owe me my konbini snacks today!” - atsumu

“yeah. you lost a bet to me last week so u gotta pay up. a pack of jelly fruit sticks please.” - suna

“forgot my money today, mind payin’ for my snacks too?” - osamu

“like hell i’m paying for all of you. especially you, osamu. you eat too much all the time.” 

aran’s noticed what’s going on,

“hey, if it’s just for today you can do it right? if ‘samu don’t pay ya back tomorrow i’ll nag him ‘til he does.” 

“fine...” his basket is full when he goes to the counter.

he’s trying his best not to have a red face while watching u scan the items, ur hair swaying slightly as u look back and forth between the objects and the screen.

“alright. 4,890 yen please!” GOD he hated how expensive it was, that’s almost all his weekly allowance but bc it’s u and ur voice saying it it’s kinda ok

“mm, ok.” he still has his eyes on you while he takes out his wallet and puts it on the counter.

yes

his wallet, not the money

“...” “...”

“excuse me, sir. this is...”

he almost slaps his face wtf he’s so embarrassed.

“s-sorry. just a little absent minded after practice.” he starts pulling out his cash.

“it’s fine! i know how hard you guys practice!” you smile while performing the rest of the transaction and pass him his big bag of goods. “good luck for nationals, ginjima-kun!”

he almost runs out of the store and is about to fight the rest of the 2nd years for watching and (suna) recording

[its-2-late]

A Letter I May Never Send

Full disclosure, I'm currently writing this at 4 am. I suppose if you're reading this it's some time in the future when I finally finished getting everything out and decided to actually send it. At the time of writing, it's mainly me just... needing to scream into the void so to say. So I apologize in advance for how rambly this is going to be. Literally just writing as things come to me.

That being said, I really hardly know what to say, or whether I should say anything at all. So much happened between us. A lot of which we never properly talked about, especially at the end.

I can't say I necessarily regret that things ended. That would mean saying I regret what I have now. My child means absolutely everything to me and I would never wish her to not exist, regardless what I gave up along the way. I do regret HOW they ended. It's been over a year since we last spoke as I'm beginning to write this and it still hurts.

There's a lot of questions I often find myself wishing I could ask.

Does it still hurt you?

Are you like me and have tried to move on, but still feel an ache in your heart some nights when your mind wanders back to us?

Do you prefer to just not think about it at all?

Do you still talk about me? Reminiscing about some fun time we had, or maybe a quiet deep moment we shared?

One of my most vivid memories of you is the first time you held me. Laying on the futon, just goofing off. You saw cuts on my leg and you just rolled over and hugged me from behind. You told me, "you scare the shit out of me." I don't know if I've ever told you the feelings that came over me that night.

For damn near as long as I could remember I'd felt hollow and empty. Like the shadow of a person. Broken pieces that had been taped together to somewhat resemble a functional human being.

That one hug felt like it both broke me entirely and pulled my pieces back together all at the same time. It was one of only two times in my entire life that I felt really and truly wanted, cared about, seen.

It hurt.

I wanted so badly to just melt into the kind of love you seemed to be offering.

I wanted so badly to also run away and hide from the hurt and pain I was terrified would come along with that type of love.

Guess I did a bit of both?

I remember telling you about how friends I'd had for years turned their backs on me. You said you'd never do that. And you truly never did, even when I turned my back on you multiple times. I'm going to try and avoid sounding guilt trippy in this... we both know what I did and saying I'm sorry over and over again won't change or fix anything. Lord knows it doesn't make any pain I caused go away.

There are times I wonder how things might have been different if I'd talked to you more openly. If we would have worked things out, or if we were just meant to eventually drift away from each other. I tell myself often that we just were at different points in life. A big part of me thinks that's true, but maybe instead of basically being strangers we could have still been a part of each other's lives in smaller ways if I'd just talked to you.

I did always mean it when I said you were one of my best friends.

At times I think I miss that the most. Not and of the romantic aspects, but everything else.

The way you made me smile and laugh.

How big, warm, and comfortable your hugs always were.

Hell, even the way you used to purposefully get me riled up over something stupid just to hear me rant.

When you'd smile and wiggle your eyebrows. You have probably the sweetest smile on anyone I've ever known. I miss seeing it.

Sometimes it's seemingly stupid shit that'll make me think of you.

I was listening to Fruits Basket opening/ending songs in the car today and remembered watching with you. Anytime a Sasuke thing comes into Gamestop I still will think, "Oh I should send him a picture of this." Going up to Shreveport reminds me of the time you went with me to see my psychologist and the waiter at Olive Garden gave us butter.

Sometimes a new game or show will come out and I still get the urge to message you to ramble about it.

I still have your number in my phone. I'll randomly check Facebook sometimes to see if you unfriended or blocked me.

I've never been good at letting go of things. Especially anything that ever gives any kind of pleasure or happiness. Fuck, even when that happiness comes along with pain. Probably why I've always clung so tightly to people and things that were bad for me in the end.

Something I'm still working on. And apparently failing.

At one point a few months ago I deleted all the pictures I had of you off of my phone. A part of me regrets it. Probably the part that I literally just said doesn't like letting go of the past. I guess part of me writing this whole letter is is somewhere in me hoping that somehow it'll bring some sort of closure.

I don't ever talk about you. That's part of what hurts. All these memories of someone who meant the world to me, and I can't even talk about you. Not about how I still miss you, or about some funny or stupid thing that just happens to remind me of you. At times I feel like I just need to get drunk and just vent/gush about you to someone for a few hours. Get it all out and maybe finally I could actually begin to properly move on emotionally.

Until then, I guess I'll just keep coming back to this letter anytime I need to say anything. Wonder how long this will end up being. Wonder if you're going to read it at all.

I'm not sure I would.

I'd probably see it and want to just delete it. Bury down whatever feelings I knew it would cause to creep up that I'd rather not have to face and deal with.

I'd want to delete it, but it would more likely just sit in my inbox, unread. I'd go back and stare at it sometimes, not opening it, but just seeing that it was there.

For me, at least, it would answer the question of "do you still think of me." For a while that'd probably be enough for me. I'd just cling to that thought, not really wanting to face whatever else was inside.

I've never been good at accepting the idea of people I love no longer loving me. It's something I've always preferred to just assume, because confirmation and me fully acknowledging it gave it a sense of permanence that felt like the end of the world.

Probably why I did a lot of what I did with you. Especially at the end. Instead of just telling you how I was feeling I just... stopped.

In some ways it was a way to defend myself. Others a way to protect you from me.

Knowing my own feelings for you and how I am when it comes to those sorts of strong feelings, I knew if I allowed you to remain in my life at all during that time I would never be able to let go.

Granted, I guess me writing this is me still not letting go... but I think I would have destroyed myself trying to hold onto something that was no longer there. I don't know how long you'd have stayed for it, but the idea of dragging you even further down with me sealed the idea in my head that it was better for both of us if I just walked away.

Whether that's true or not, I don't know. That was my reasoning at the time. I still feel like it holds water, to some degree. I mean look at me. It's now 5 am and I'm sat here still writing this letter to you. Not sure where I'm even going with it. I just need to get it all out before I lose my mind, whether you ever end up seeing any of this or not.

I still have some of your stuff. Stuff I got you that you never took home. Stuff you brought over and forgot. I've debated asking Ariel to give it to you multiple times. Me clinging to the last remnants of you I guess. Without even pictures anymore it almost feels like if I give that stuff back it'll be as if you never existed.

Even just sitting here thinking about it now has me on the verge of tears and wanting to message you "hi" just to see if you'd respond. Sound stupid? Maybe. Can still hear the sound of your voice in my head, maybe reassuring me that its not stupid.

Wonder what you would do if we saw each other in passing. Would you pretend to not see me? Would you meet my eyes and just keep walking? Would you smile back if I smiled at you?

I've been at work at Gamestop so many times wondering what it would be like if you walked into the store while I was there. Wondering how it'd make me feel. How you would feel to see me there.

I do a lot of wondering. Especially right now. Being alone at night and up at weird hours with a baby leaves me entirely too much time for my mind to wander. Usually to darker parts of my mind I prefer to forget exist.

I was doing good for a long time, you know. I got a tattoo that covers the scars on my one shoulder. I still think about it, though. The urges are still there, especially recently.

I've thought about going back on medication. Doctor offered it to me at my two week post-partum appointment because I was showing moderate symptoms of post-partum depression. Couple weeks later during my therapy appointment I was worse and was ranking as severe in both depression and anxiety.

I've had more breakdowns in the last month than I have in over a year. The loss of progress itself is depressing.

Maybe that's part of why I'm writing this letter. Maybe it's part of why I ran away from you. You reminded me too much of a darker time in my life, despite the fact you were one of the reasons I even got through that time at all.

I just had to stop writing for a minute because my baby spit her pacifier out in her sleep and was fussing. She'll probably wake up hungry soon.

It's been over an hour since I started writing. I'm really tired, but it feels like I've barely scratched the surface of what I want to tell you. So much more I feel like I want to say knowing this may actually be the last time I have the chance.

[ghostietea]

Furuba autistic headcanons

With it being April, or autism acceptance month, I wanted to finally drop my list of characters from Fruits Basket that I read as autistic! This is based a lot on my own experience, as well as that of other autistics I know or have seen talk online. I hope some people can get something out of it, feel free to tell me what you think 😊, though please refrain from getting upset that I would dare suggest your fave is autistic.

Hanajima

Before becoming able to better control her powers, she would be constantly overwhelmed by the things she heard to the point that she couldn't even really go out in public. This reads a lot like sensory overload.

Constantly picked on in school because other kids thought she was weird. Eventually reclaimed this weirdness and turned it into a whole persona.

Seems to talk usually in a relatively flat tone.

Had trouble socializing with no friends outside her family until middleschool.

Has a very funny, dry sense of humor that I find very similar to a bunch of autistics I know, including myself.

Hatsuharu

Listen. You have seen the funky little man, you have seen the way he talks, the way he acts around others. He is, and I mean this in the best way, a weirdo. I do not know how you could look at him and see a neurotypical.

Once again, like Hana, Haru is funny in a way that feels very autistic.

Very flat, dry, tone delivery. Sometimes just Says Things that make everyone else go huh??? Suuuuper blunt. Doesn't emote facially a lot of the time.

When this man sees a social norm he doesn't get he WILL NOT follow it. Pierces his ears just because his hair got flak, defends Momiji wearing whatever he wants because sometimes y'know the social rules are just dumb and don't make sense. Especially dress codes.

Sometimes says things not befitting the current tone of the situation.

Represses (masks) a lot of his emotions, leading to outbursts that seem uncharacteristic.

His main childhood trauma revolves around adults branding him as "dumb" and ridiculing him. Haru, however, is super smart and wise!! Just in an offbeat way that not everyone may get.

Machi

Reads as very "flat" emotionally to the point that others would call her boring. Also has a flat vocal delivery.

Relies on specific habits or ways of doing things or else she gets super upset (her hatred of imperfection.

Has trauma surrounding adults completely misconstruing her intentions and thinking she's doing something malicious when she's not.

Generally behaves in a way that's hard for others to understand, one of her formative moments with Yuki was him saying he wanted to "see how the world looks" through her eyes.

Once again, trouble socializing.

Tries super hard to please her parents but in the end they still see her as somehow inherently "defective."

Listen. A lot of this one and the last two are mostly vibes, hard to verbally define. You just have to look at them and trust me.

Tohru

Displays behavior very reminiscent of masking throughout the story, a huge part of her arc is about how she hides a lot of herself and has a very controlled persona. I think it would fit very well if she had other autistic behaviors that she suppresed also it helps explain why she is relatively socially adept, it's learned behavior to make people like her more.

Yes she is very good at saying what others need to hear, but especially early on she is pretty blatantly imitating her mother's words. She only gets better at getting through on a more personal level later on (see her with Rin and Akito v. early series Tohru). She does this by relating her own experiences, a very autistic way of showing empathy that often gets us written off as self centered. The way she relays things her mom said could also be seen as this, and she even worries at a few points that she's being insensitive for going on about things like that.

While emotionally repressed she is hyper empathetic and feels other's emotions so strongly she cries.

Her speech patterns are all imitated from her father and she often copies verbal things from others (see Ritchan-san). Noted in canon that people think her way of speaking is slightly off/not befitting of someone her age. Additionally, her father was polite more sarcastically, while she plays it straight and sometimes takes things very literally or fails to get the message, indicating trouble with reading tone. Has numerous strange verbal tics, including saying parts of her internal monologue out loud without context.

Very expressive with her hands including waving them around and flapping them up and down.

Does have a bit of trouble with accidental insensitivity in social interactions, like how she constantly fixates on her mom and realizes that might bug the Sohma.

Has trouble paying attention in school since it doesn't have much to do with her interests

Her only friend until she was a middle schooler was her mom

Has a pretty unique outlook on things compared to others, people seem to think she's pretty eccentric. There's always a "this girl is nice but in an odd way, she's our weirdo and we love her" vibe.

Sometimes has an "inappropriate" emotional response to situations

Has a lot of trouble with change, similar to Akito. Which oh, look at the time, next hc coming up.

But first, a disclaimer. It is cathartic for me to read Akito this way, but with that reading comes the baggage that she would, mayhaps, be showing a more negative side of things... It doesn't bother me since it's a joint hc with other characters and she does develop at the end but yeah, general villain hc baggage. This is in no way me trying to excuse her being The Worst being autistic doesn't absolve you of being able to do wrong . Also, a lot of these points can and do have other explanations related to her upbringing, but things can be for more than 1 reason. With that said, she really strongly comes off as autistic to me, in a way that's sorta hard to explain. I wrote a lot more for her than the other, both because I felt I needed more to convince people and that this headcanon was more sensitive and I needed to be careful in my explanation. Also hey! She's my special interest within a special interest.

Akito

Shown to have a dislike of summer weather due to heat and brightness, could be due to sensory issues in tandem with sickness things. Also covers her ears when people raise their voice sometimes which is partially her trying to shut down opposition but also 🤔 can read a different way. She'd also avoids louder Juuni like Ritsu and Ayame because she can't handle them.

Wears pretty much the same outfit every single day. Said outfit is also pretty loose fitting.

Always seen sitting in a pretty unconventional way. Evidence:

Of course this is also the isolated in a cult thing and there is a level of her purposefully doing things to intimidate but: doesn't follow a lot of social rules (overly touchy with strangers, legit doesn't get that what she's doing is wrong, ect.). Repeatedly confused when people indicate she should act otherwise without explanation. Has a breakdown when this comes to a head and approximately says that "they" shouldn't expect her to know "common sense" if "they" never explained it to her, that the way that she was was her "common sense."

Often talks in a way uncharacteristic of her age when shown as a child in a more faux mature/pretentious way. Might just be the translation and idk how to explain it but her speech as an adult also seems off from what one would normally use in conversation. Additionally, when she tries to fake being friendly in her intro chapter, it comes of as extremely stiff and unconvincing.

Generally displays behavior that could be thought of as childish as an adult, but a lot of this behavior could also read as autistic (covering ears, emotional deregulation and meltdowns, ignorance of basic social norms, ect.). It's also important to note that she knows that this behavior makes her seem younger and more helpless to the older zodiac and uses it as a manipulation tactic. Has issues regarding people treating her like a child or only hanging out with her because of pity. While she does weaponize it, we can tell that this grates on her, as seen with her finally blowing up on Kureno, which is partially triggered by the maids saying some sorta infantalizing stuff about her. Irl, a lot of autistic adults and teens struggle with being infantalized for our behavior generally or treated as little babies that can do no wrong. Even in fandom, you see people doing stuff like jumping to call autistic adult characters, such as Entrapta from Shera, "minor coded." It is also common for us to have at least one bad experience with someone hanging around us out of pity. This is something that really gave me a similar feeling in Akito's arc. She's not a baby and she can understand and do better if she is given the chance to learn and break from all the freaky cult indoctrination she's been subjected to instead of just being constantly enabled. In the end, a lot of her growth is represented by her showing that she is capable of changing and being independent.

Shows particular difficulty with socialization, often sits by herself spacing out at social events. A lot of her fear is rooted in the fact that she doesn't know how normal relationships work, becoming overly reliant on the curse because she doesn't know how to make friends.

Clings desperately onto the notion of being "special" and in some way superior to others to be worthy and to make up for perceived inherent "flaws." It's the nd gifted kid burnout vibes for me.

Easily bothered by things that don't bother others. Feels emotions very strongly to the point of getting physically ill and has bad emotional regulation.

Relatively good at reading others in an analytical sense (though has more trouble when it comes to seeing how they feel about her since she's wildly delusional) but brings up her observations in a very cold, detached way and hurts people even on the rare occasion she didn't mean to. Has extreme trouble connecting to others and understanding their point of view. This makes her come off as pretty unempathetic even though that might not fully be the case. Also thinks that people like Momiji are trying to look down on her when they try to empathize with her. A lot of why Tohru can get through to her is that she manages to convince Akito that she's not condescending by relating shared traits and experiences. As I said earlier, autistics often empathize by sharing their own experiences with someone, and I know I often have an easier time confiding in other autistics because of a fear of being seen as lesser by those that don't understand me. I think the connection between these charachters and the way that Tohru manages to reach Akito like that while others couldn't makes a lot of sense through an autistic lense!

Additionally, when Akito herself gets around to trying to help others instead of just projecting trauma, she tries to reach out to the old maid by relating back to her own experiences. This however, doesn't work.

Has "cold" emotional reactions sometimes even to things that do make her upset. For example, how sort of calm and detached she acted after her father's death can make her seem uncaring. However, we know that this event did mess her up a lot and she is still (poorly) dealing with a lot of grief from the death of her father years later.

Copies mannerisms from others, the most blatant example is with Ren, who she directly parrots lines from as a child to Yuki.

Partly just her posturing, but gestures a lot with her hands when she talks. Also seen several times clutching her hands in her hair.

Deals extremely poorly with the idea of things changing to the point that it is a driving force of the story.

Does not understand when people tease her.

Ect. Ect. Ect. Listen, I could go on for ages but just trust me, the mean gremlin lady is autistic.

[lilbabycee]

groceries // chris evans

↳ request: If requests are open, can I have a bratty reader who openly flirts with another man in front of Chris (with some condescension and degrading calling her a whore etc)

↳ relationship: chris evans x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: requests are open but other than that, i am still a whore thank you and goodnight x

oh here we go i’m excited:

you and chris both enjoy the domesticity of grocery shopping a little more than you’d like to admit

your pouty lips are like sugar and voice like honey when you beg him to get that candy or those cookies you love so much

he likes to pretend that he won’t cave into your pretty eyes and longing gaze by telling you “no, sweetheart” and walking right past it

but he knows he can’t resist you for long, your glassy eyes threatening tears and he can’t bear the thought of seeing you cry

(although he knows that you’re just being a brat)

and so there’s nothing sweeter than his acquiescence: “okay, baby, go back and grab it”

and you won’t ever act like it, but any public outing provides you with the prime opportunity to mess with your boyfriend

your arms are overflowing with an assortment of fruits that chris sent you ahead to get while he was looking at the wide assortment of vegetables two aisles behind you

and although you cockily insisted that you didn’t need the cart or a basket, you’re definitely regretting your unnecessary stubbornness right about now

the strawberries and the grapes fall from the bottom and your eyes fall shut as you groan loudly, ready to have to go back and get new ones when the heat of a body crowds yours and you don’t hear the telltale sound of plastic against the linoleum

you assume that it’s chris coming to save you from yourself but instead, a mop of curly black hair almost tickles your nose and a pair of pretty lips curve into a smile

he’s got these light brown eyes that come close to knocking the breath out of you and you think that he’s gorgeous

(but still not as attractive as your man)

“i think you dropped these,” he teases, lifting a thick eyebrow as his eyes flit over your face appreciatively

“yeah”, the word comes out breathless because you can’t stop looking at his face but you still manage to smile shyly

and so he tells you his name and you tell him yours and he can’t stop talking about how pretty you are

before you know it, it’s been a full fifteen minutes and chris - who told you to come back when you were done - thinks that you’ve been gone for a suspiciously long time and comes looking for you

he’s expecting to find you with your arms crossed over your chest pensively or your face between your hands because you can’t decide what you want

(either way he thinks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen)

but then he rounds the corner and almost trips over the cart because you’re standing at the end of the aisle next to some guy that he’s never seen before holding an armful of what he assumes is your fruit, and he can’t help the way that his brow furrows and his mouth sets in a hard line

he can’t describe the incensed feeling that grows in his chest but he knows that it’s more that jealousy because you’re letting this man stand so close to you and touch your arm like that

a part of him knows that it’s the lingering insecurity that lives deep within the pit of his stomach but instead of letting it cripple him, he allows it to fuel his anger, virtually stomping down the row of shelves towards you

you reluctantly turn your head at the noise of feet walking in your direction, a lingering smile still on your face that immediately drops when you meet the eyes of your furious boyfriend

trepidation seeps into your bones, a poison that corrodes at the marrow and causes your limbs to go completely slack

it’s when all of your produce drops to the floor that the handsome stranger finally stops staring at you, spinning around only for that same stare to land on the very angry brunette coming your way

“chris,” you can’t help but cower slightly when his thundercloud of rage looms over you.  

he says nothing but he shoots you a murderous glare before pulling you into his side roughly, hand immediately coming to rest on your butt

you expected this but not the searing kiss that he bruises onto your lips, leaving you breathless as he squeezes the flesh of your ass in his palms

“hi, i’m chris,” he sticks his hand out with a raised brow, the warning look in his eyes a complete contrast to the warm smile on his face

he’s glowing with pride and he’s so hot but you can’t stop staring at the discarded fruit on the floor so as to not have to meet the eyes of the curly-haired man in front of you

“oh, i didn’t realize-”

“that’s okay, buddy,” chris smiles tightly. “thanks for helpin’ my girl out.”

and that’s all he says before snatching up the fruit from james? jonathan? jonah?’s arms and strolling cockily back to your abandoned cart

you walk quickly behind him, gnawing on your lower lip and refusing to acknowledge josiah? jamie? jared?’s parting remark

“i guess i’ll see you around-”

“no you won’t,” chris calls over his shoulder, grabbing you round the waist again after putting the fruit down and pushing the cart around the corner

the rest of the shopping trip goes off pretty much without a hitch

(save from a small disagreement over milk)

but you don’t prepare for what happens when you’re finished loading groceries into the car and sitting quietly in the passenger’s seat, staring out of the window contently because you’re so sure that you’ve gotten away with it

it’s when chris slides into the car and doesn’t say anything that you look over at your boyfriend, audibly gasping at how blown his pupils are

“is my little whore ready to go home?” he says nonchalantly, looking away from you to turn the key in the ignition

“what?!” you exclaim indignantly (except you’re not mad because a thrill runs through you at what you know is coming next). “i-i was a good girl-”

“don’t lie to me, baby,” he coos, engine on but he evidently has no intention of going anywhere just yet. “i saw how much you liked talking to that boy. being a little slut right in front of daddy- what, you tryna make me jealous, babygirl?”

“no- he was my friend-”

“okay, honey,” he says, still not moving and looking deep into your darting eyes

“really?” you ask, confused and a little disappointed because is he just going to drop it?

but you should know by now that your man isn’t like that

“of course not,” he sneers and the butterflies in your stomach come alive all over again. “stupid little slut - think i’m gonna let you get off with bein’ a whore in public? hmm, baby?”

“no, sir,” you reply, licking your lips and shifting in your seat, heat pooling in your core as you try to hide a smile by squeezing your lips together  

“my bad little girl,” a large hand falls on your thigh and you shiver, placing your hand over his as he rubs tenderly at the skin there. “such a dumb baby, huh?”

you nod eagerly, attempting to school your features into an expression that projects innocence and repentance because you know you’re going to get the punishment of a lifetime when you get home

“maybe i should fuck you right here,” he muses, hand absent-mindedly trailing to the inside of your thighs to press the heel of his palm to your clit

your legs automatically fall further open and you arch your back into the pressure while he runs a sole finger over the seam of your cunt

(no, you’re not wearing panties under your dress because he told you not to and you always listen to your boyfriend)

“so eager, sweetheart,” he hums, eyes focused exclusively on the task at hand. “did you wanna show that boy what an eager little slut you are?”

you plan to answer - you really do - but his finger dips into your pussy and your brain forgets how to function

almost directly after, another finger joins the first and your boyfriend is casually finger-fucking you in a semi-crowded grocery store parking lot

(the jury’s still out on whether or not this makes you even more horny)

“oh, baby,” chris laughs, eyes now locked on yours that are staring right back at him. “you’re so close already - i didn’t realize how much of a whore you were for that boy... or is this all for me? are you making a mess all over my car seats because you like getting fucked in the parking lot of a grocery store?”

(you decide that yes, this is absolutely why chris is going to need to thoroughly clean his car when you get home)

but you can’t articulate any of that so you just nod again, making chris laugh and causing a combination of pleasure and shame to wash over you

he leans over the console, attaching his lips to your neck and continuing his assault on your pussy - he’s sucking a trail of dark bruises into your skin and you love it, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his lips move to your jaw and then your ear

“go on, baby,” chris smiles against your cheek. “cum for me, it’s okay. i won’t make you beg this time - i know that once anything gets in this tight little pussy, you don’t know how to act... that’s okay, honey. you can cum, it’s okay.”

and so you do, his voice coaxing you over the edge and the moment you do, chris gasps right into your ear and then chuckles deeply

“look, sweetheart, there’s your little friend - say hi!”

you meet those brown eyes and your entire body heats up in shame - the look on his face would be hilarious in literally any other situation but it makes you feel a little sick and slightly aroused (?)

once you’ve finally come down from your high and jules? jake? jasper? manages to tear his eyes away from the two of you (chris waves at him and you smack him on the arm because what the fuck)

your boyfriend promptly sticks his fingers into his mouth as you peel your sticky body from the leather seat beneath you - you’re panting and unsure if you’ll even be able to walk when you get out of the car

meanwhile, chris adjusts the mirror and his hands land on the wheel before he shoots you a disapproving glance

“seatbelt, baby.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​

[samwritesforyou]

Booked

Diego x reader (the whole family is present at the beginning but as time goes on becomes more Diego-centric)

Summary: You have a summer house that is far away from any big cities, you’ve inherited it from your great-great-parents and you want to prove to your friends that you cannot possibly make an income out of it. So you submit the house at booking dot com for the lowest price possible. Your plan was working for years and you’ve been happy and content just by growing your own food and participating in the village’s community, completely forgetting about the offer you presented on booking. Until one day, seven siblings arrive at your place, saying they reserved themselves the whole house for the eternity of summer.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, swear words (? but just a couple, mainly from Five)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: settling is post s2, so everyone looks accordingly. umbrella academy gets back into the timeline where no umbrella nor the sparrow academy exists, yet the world is still ending. mostly written out of nostalgia for my own summer house that my family sold years ago and i will never come back there, so i want it to live on at least somewhere

Summers were always hot in this little village that you lived in, especially with the climate change looming over humanity’s ignorant heads.

So you were actually relieved that you finally persuaded a local technician to help you fix the fridge that stopped freezing its insides for good two weeks already.

You just handed her the cash and waved her goodbye, also giving the lady a basket with apples and peaches that grew in your garden. You don’t have enough people eating your fruits and most of it goes into jams anyways.

You waited a little until her car disappeared into the horizon of the bumpy road near your house, seeing as it even got blurry in the end, as the air was literally melting the reality in front of your eyes.

With a swift movement you adjusted a cap on your head, went out of the creaky gate - which green color was peeling off into the original black metal that it was made with - and closed it behind yourself with a happy hum.

It was a twenty minutes walk to the nearest convenience store and it gave you just enough time to ponder about the recent weird thing that happened to you.

About three days ago you just got a random payment come to your bank account.

15 Euros. That was it.

No note, no name.

You decided to let it be, even though it did stir your mind in various ways.

Normally, when something like this happens, the bank realises the mistake in the recipient and takes the money back within 24 hours.

Either the person who sent it didn’t care that it went to the wrong place or bank decided to be generous with you.

Whatever the reason was, those 15 Euros could be used now to buy yourself a little more sweets than you usually do.

You never had to complain about how little money you actually have from living here and being more or less self-sufficient, but some random extra cash will make anyone smile in this capitalistic hell that you tried so hard to escape from.

.

.

After you came home you started sorting out groceries that you’ve bought, putting them into the right places.

Upon finishing you just plopped yourself on the bench near the big abandoned table in the room, looking around.

This house used to be alive. With a lot of your family members running around, making noise, sometimes fighting, but always generally just enjoying the good time at this place.

At the end of the extended room was a window, showing you the rest of the garden that you lovingly cared for every single day.

Under the window was a spacious kitchen counter, with a fridge and shelves for ingredients next to it. Then there was the entrance to one of the unused bedrooms with one bed pushed against the wall, which in turn was covered by a red hanging carpet. On a wall, yes.

You stopped tracing the room around with your eyes as you heard some rummaging coming from the outside.

After easily springing to your feet you saw black dots in front of you and your head was spinning. Damn you, iron deficiency!

A few seconds passed and you were collected again, rushing out towards the gates to the property.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw five people literally barging through your piece of land with suitcases and bags, bickering with each other.

Oh, nope. They were six, actually. A very tiny figure closed the gate after all of them made it in and started clumsily going forward on a tiny tartan road that lead all the way to the summer house.

“Klaus, stop fucking pushing around and help me with the bags, maybe?” said a man with longer curly hair and a goatee, clearly agitated at another person, who wasn’t holding anything except some bottle in their hand.

“Oh cut it, you two! We’re almost in the house, come on,” said a woman with straight black hair in the flowery dress and then she noticed that someone blocks their way.

Her eyes landed on you.

“Um... hello?” she said with an awkward smile, attempting a wave in your direction and continued, “are you the owner? We booked your house until the rest of the summer like.. a few days ago.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open in the “o” shape, trying to grasp the reality.

So.... someone really booked your summer house after several years of no traction from booking and you had no clue.

That’s what the payment was for!

But..

“Oh,” you said, not knowing how to proceed about the situation, “well, you see.. um... I have nowhere to stay? This is my only home,” you started timidly, rubbing your hands together.

“Oh,” the woman seemed surprised and confused but quickly collected herself, “well, if you have enough beds to keep us all in then it’s no problem, I guess?”

“Yeah? Alright, great!” You smiled at the whole “squad” and looked at them all.

“Uhm.. my name is y/n! Welcome to my summer house, I guess,” you put your hands into the back pockets and shook your head a little into the direction of the house.

“Allison, nice to meet you,” the woman you talked to said, smiling invitingly.

“Diego,” almost spat the guy with the goatee.

“Klaus, darling,” said the person with the bottle in their hand, widening his arms in an invisible hug.

“Luther,” mumbled a big man in the back of them all.. he looked like he’s been through something.

Actually, they all do.

“Vanya,” chirped a girl behind the big- Luther, the corners of her lips lifting ever so lightly.

“Five,” said a child in the front, looking unusually angry, suddenly shortening the distance between the two of you, “as long as you’re out of our business you’re good to stay,” he literally sneered at you, pushing past you and going inside.

That left you kinda shook, but then Allison just apologised for “their brother”, so you decided to ask another question:

“So you’re all a family?”

“Yes, we’re all siblings. Adopted,” she said, actually following you inside, not as the little guy before who let himself in without even knowing the place.

“I think my place is not the best for so many people to sleep at though..” you said quietly, biting your lip.

“That’s why it was so cheap..” Luther wondered, looking around.

You had to calm yourself so you didn’t snap at your guest. You didn’t even know anyone would ever book your house, damn! What were you supposed to do?

In the end you spent some time showing them the rooms, starting with the first one that contained an old-fashioned sink and the water tank near it, which you needed to manually fill up with water, and the drain led to the bucket under it.

Very simple.

In the back of the room there was a dining table, on one side surrounded by the bench and the other with some mismatching chairs.

From this space you proceeded into the extended “hallway” that you stared at before your peace and quiet was ruined.

There was also an ancient literal furnace, on top of which you could actually lay on, you know, as in all the fairytales.

After that, there was another room entrance that contained two beds on each side (one of them pushed under the window), similar to the other room and a coffee table in the middle of the area.

When you all went back to the first place, there was a wooden staircase that led to the second floor.

There were two rooms. One had a king sized bed in the middle of the space, with a closet and various tables around the whole area.

The other one had a working table and a bed in the corner.

“And that is the end of the tour!” you proclaimed, as everyone got seated by the big table in the extended room, while you were making everyone tea and preparing some snacks.

“Great, I sleep on the furnace!” Klaus exclaimed, putting his hands in the air animatedly.

“I guess we can fit all of us in here, actually,” Allison was clearly thinking aloud, counting the members of the family and available sleeping places.

“You’re gonna take one of the beds, right?” she said, pointing at you.

“Uh.. yes! Upstairs, I think. The one with the small bed and a table,” you smiled at her and she nodded.

“Then I’ll be sleeping with Vanya in the king-sized bed and you guys can fight for who’s going to end up sharing the room,” Allison concluded, clearly enjoying herself.

“Funny of you to think I’ll have enough time to sleep, in our situation,” said Five, suddenly coming out from the doorframe into the room.

You didn’t even mention that he wasn’t there when you were explaining the plan of the house.

“What situation? There should always be time to sleep,” you chipped in, carefully smiling at the boy.

“Stay the fuck out of our business, I said,” he gritted through his teeth at you, which left you blinking in surprise as he went away again, out of sight.

“How... old is he again?” you asked with the confusion that a kid would be so rude to a stranger like this.

All of them kind of nervously laughed or mumbled something that you couldn’t understand.

“It’s complicated,” said Vanya, smiling at you reassuringly.

How the fuck an age of your own brother is complicated?..

You heard the fancy-looking woman - Allison - sigh heavily and turn to you, shrugging.

“It’s just.. when our parents adopted him, he freshly got into the orphanage so he didn’t even have any documents about his birthday, blood type or anything. Apparently, he was really abused by his biological parents. Or whoever else, we don’t even know.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry,” you apologised quickly, biting your lip. Didn’t expect to poke into any painful subjects.

“It’s okay, really, we’ve learned how to take proper care of him,” Allison said, putting her hand on your back with a smile.

When you excused yourself to continue with gardening and went outside, Allison just shook her head.

“Who says ‘it’s complicated’ when someone asks you about their sibling’s age, Vanya?” said Allison in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would settle the matter..” she muttered, playing with her fingers anxiously.

“It’s okay..” she smiled at her sister and then looked around the whole table, “look we’re here for the whole summer, so I think it would be better if we somehow told the owner at least partially about our powers so we’re not hiding all the time. We came here to have a safe space where we could train after all, am I right?” she looked expectantly at Luther who immediately started nodding along, agreeing.

“Or maybe,” started saying Klaus, already getting up from his seat and trying to crawl onto the furnace, skinny legs already dangling in the air, “we can just tell them we’re the umbrella academy, don’t you think?” he concluded, facing a wall with his face.

“But we checked that the umbrella academy doesn’t exist in this universe.. nor any other replacement of us,” reminded her siblings Vanya, fingers still intertwined on the table, firmly put together.

“I’m sure we’ll tell them one way or another,” said Diego, getting up just like his brother, making his way a bit further though, his objective clearly being the fridge.

He opened it and smirked at the beer present there, taking one can with him. His eyes then wondered to the window at the end of the room and he stepped closer, inspecting what is outside.

Apparently it was still their new home’s property, as he saw y/n working in the garden, repotting some plants under the tree.

His gaze stayed on them as he thought about various topics in his head, but then he decided to go out of the house, jumping down the wooden stairs leading to the tartan road, framing the whole garden.

You heard steps behind you, turning your head away from the the plants, only to meet a tall man in front of you, with a can in his hand.

“Hey, uhm..” he nervously put his hand on his neck, scratching it, “I just wanted to ask if it’s cool if I take some beer from the fridge?” he lifted the other hand with the mentioned item, giving it a little shake.

“It’s cool,” you replied, smiling softly at him, and then getting back to work, grabbing the plant by the root, moving it to another hole in the ground.

“Okay..” he retorted, biting his lower lip and scanned the area with his dark eyes.

There was an abandoned greenhouse with broken walls, greenery growing all around it, just next to the fence of the property. To its left was a wooden toilet booth with a typical round-shaped hole in the higher part of the door.

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” you started talking again, now finally done with your objective of the day, now plopping yourself next to Diego on the bench that he was chilling at, the surface creaking from the added weight, “I really thought nobody would *ever* rent this place,” you shrugged with a smile, now looking in front of yourself, closing your eyes and letting sunshine illuminate your face.

“Well.. uh.. then why did you put up on that website anyways?” he asked, clear confusion in his voice.

You sighed, shifting your body a little, getting into more comfortable sitting position, “It was a bet I made with my friends back in the day. A few years ago they told me I could actually rent this place and get income from it, not having to work a day in my life! Yet i told them that it’s not possible, and I wanted to prove that I was right by putting the advertisement,” you finished, finally opening your eyes, tilting your head at your new acquaintance.

You caught him staring at you, so he quickly turned away, now getting quite a violent sip out of the beer can.

“You should’ve put some timing on that bet then.. Let’s say, if it doesn’t get traction after two years you’ll finally delete the posting,” he said, after gulping some liquid.

That made you laugh and you couldn’t look away from him. His features were so.. delicate.

“Yeah, you’re actually right!” you admitted, slapping your thighs in excitement.

“Diego, my precious brother!” you two suddenly heard from the entrance to the house.

You lifted your eyes and saw a slender confide getting closer to you both, the man walking barefoot.

“Five said we’re all needed for a ‘family meeting’,” the guy literally put an air quotes with his free hand that wasn’t holding a glass, saying it in the mockingly serious tone, “so you better come with me and stop bothering this lovely person, alright?” he then proceeded sweetly, extending a hand towards Diego with a wide smile.

“God.. alright,” he answered and to your surprise took his hand, now brothers going away into the house, Diego briefly looking back at you, “Let’s talk later.”

You just nodded, finding yourself still smiling long before they were gone.

What is this funny feeling in the pit of your stomach?..

And why is one of their family members called by a number instead of a name?!

.

.

It was only the second day of your coexistence with the Hargreeves but it was already a wild ride.

Normally your morning looked like this;

You would wake up at a reasonable hour, maybe like.. 9am. You would go down the stairs from your room and make yourself some breakfast. While eating you’d either read a book or just listen to some music from your phone.

Then you’d do daily tasks, so taking care of the garden or some house maintenance, or both.

Then you’d do everything special that needs to be done only once in a while: a meeting with a friend, grocery shopping, attending a meeting with your neighbours where you decide on further upgrades of the village.

Then you’d draw some commissions, if there were any and after all of this you’d have late lunch that normally turned into dinner, concluding your day with doing your hobbies or rarely taking out your laptop and browsing the internet.

“Rise and shiiine!” you heard somewhere from downstairs, for some reason that person was also ringing a bell, making you immediately sit up in your bed.

You turned your head towards the mirror that hung across your sleeping space on the wall and you could see your hair standing up in different directions, cowlick upon cowlick.

You also felt tired, kind of not used to that feeling and shifted your half-closed eyes to the alarm clock near you.

It was... a bit past 7am. Who are those people to wake up that early?!

You lazily got up from the bed, yawning and stretching your arms up, feeling a few cracks here and there.

“Good morning!” first half of the sentence was muffled by the closed door to your room, but that quickly changed as it burst open, Klaus marching right in, his voice now uncomfortably loud for your sleepy ears, “I thought it would be nice to have breakfast all together and make you feel a part of the family, wouldn’t it?” he said with a genuine smile, looking at you.

You were sitting on your bed in pyjamas, hair all over the place, most unamused expression on the face, eyes half opened.

“Not a morning person?” he mused, tilting his head at you, “well, feel free to join or sleep more, I wouldn’t judge,” he continued and you saw in literal slow motion as he lifted his hand with a bell in hand, shaking it hard as he marched out of your room just in the same manner as he came in just seconds ago.

“BREAKFAST!!” he yelled with at least two octaves lower at his siblings, still ringing the bell that now was resonating in your brain in a highest pitch possible, making your head hurt.

Great morning.

But despite the general morning grumpiness you did find it endearing that Klaus decided to include you in their activities, making you feel less alone and - quite funnily - welcomed in your own house.

You slowly went down the stairs, hearing the lower floor full of different voices and it made your heart clench. You immediately thought of your family that made it feel alive like this in the past and a warm smile appeared on your face, as the Hargreeves huddled up around the smaller table in the room you descended from the stairs into, all making your appearance feel natural.

“Good morning,” you passed Luther that nodded in your direction alongside the phrase, as you went into the bigger room, seeing Allison cooking by the stove, window open.

“Oh hey, you’re up,” she said with a smile, “can you pass me some milk?” she asked, extending her hand into the air, already expecting said item.

“Sure!!” you hurriedly opened the fridge, giving her the thing she requested and she continued cooking.

You slowly looked around, seeing a blanket and some different things like cigarette boxes and teddy bears on top of the furnace, which made you realise that someone from the family has clearly claimed it to be their place for sleeping and you found it adorable.

“You can go sit with the others, I’ll bring it all in when it’s ready, Allison said, adjusting her black hair so it didn’t get in the way of preparing food.

“Oh.. okay!” you chirped, with a smile going back to the first room, and finding an empty seat between Diego and Klaus.

You almost sat already when Klaus sprang to his feet and took you by the shoulders, making you freeze on the spot, eyes wide.

“Klaus?” you asked, confused, “is that seat taken?”

“By Allison,” Diego quickly responded before his brother had any chance to and then the skinny man sat back on his chair, nodding with an awkward smile on his face.

“Yes, exactly. Sorry y/n,” he sighed and shrugged, clearly playing along Diego’s words, but you just let it go.

Instead you sat next to Luther, whom already opened his mouth but Vanya looked at him with a forced smile, raising a brow. At that, the big guy closed his mouth again, without making a sound.

Something.. is weird here. You shifted a bit in your seat, biting your lower lip.

The kid wasn’t here at all, you just noticed.

Then finally Allison came with the food and your anxiety lessened, as everyone started cheering for wonderful pancakes that she made.

She already wanted to sit on the seat that the guys told you was reserved for her, when suddenly Klaus did the same to her as he did to you.

“Klaus,” Diego hissed in a low voice.

Allison just looked at her brother, expression just as confused as yours was.

“What?” Allison deadpanned, putting a hand to her hip.

There was a brief second of silence until Klaus just burst into an emotional speech.

“Look, I know we’re all pretending that we’re normal in front of y/n but you all know that Ben always sits next to me and he’s sitting here right now, yet you all wanna make it seem like he doesn’t exist? I’m sorry that he’s a ghost, I’m sure he didn’t want to die either!” then after a moment he added, “Right, brother dear?” looking at an empty space near him.

Your brain clearly wasn’t catching up to what was just being said.

Pretending to be normal?..

“Great. Just fucking great, Klaus. I bet Ben would move, understanding the situation!” Allison waved her hands at him and the chair next to him with an annoyed voice.

“We just blew our cover, guys,” said Diego with pursed lips, looking absentmindedly at the table filled with food.

Soon enough they all started arguing and only when there was a sudden blue light in the room, and the kid appeared literally out of the thin air in front of your eyes, everyone fell silent, looking at him.

“Guys, I just did a search around the neighbourhood and—“ his blue eyes met with yours, full of shock and denial of what you just saw, “shit.”

He clicked his tongue and frowned and that was positively the last thing you remember before losing consciousness, everything around you turning black.

Too much of supernatural for one morning, that’s for sure.

Precious taglist:  @radcloudenthusiast​,  @spacenerdpascal​

NEXT PART→

[hearteyesbowen]

hey can you do a joshua imagine where the reader is having a really bad day and he just comforts and spoils her? thank u sm

hold me closer ☆ joshua bassett

josh decides there is only one logical thing to do when y/n is having one of the most stressful days of her life

warnings: fluff

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Soft tunes coming from your car radio ran through your ears, your head leaning back against the headrest. You had already ran out of tears, now you just sat restlessly, focusing on your breathing and calming your heart rate. Your forehead and cheeks were damp, you couldn’t tell if it was sweat from the heat radiating through the vehicle or from the cries wiped across your face. Strands of your hair lay in different directions, mostly because of how much you shuffled it in your hands out of frustration.

It had been almost an hour since you came home from school, the day filled with anger-inducing teachers giving lectures and annoying classmates who couldn’t let you focus on your own work. Homework assignments and class work with no decent explanation on how to answer being piled on top of each other, and a pop quiz that you barely understand and bombed completely. At least it’s friday?

Pulling out your phone, you stared at your lock screen for a few seconds before it turned back off; it was Josh sitting on a tree branch, waving at you with his signature smile. A small smile swept across your face, then with a loud huff, you decide to text him.

Y/N

can i come over? i’m not feeling too great

Within a few seconds, you saw his name pop up onto your screen with a loud ding.

Joshy 💕

you don’t have to ask, hurry up!

You grabbed your backpack that was thrown into the passenger’s seat and opened your door. Fumbling with the keys in your hands, you unlocked your front door and trudged to your room. You left your school backpack by your bed and looked for your other bag. You didn’t have to worry about bringing extra clothes, some of yours were left at his house in case you wanted to sleep over. Before leaving, you told your mother you would stay at Josh’s house for the night, and quickly made your way to your car.

➢➣ ➢➣

Walking up the path to Josh’s house only made you grow more hungry for some sort of interaction that wasn’t an adult or stranger. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed seeing your boyfriend these past few days. School has been slowly taking over your life and you barely realized how much you have ignored him.

Once you reached the front door, you lifted your hand to knock, but instead you were taken back when the door swung open before you could touch it. Josh was standing inside, a worried smile and flushed cheeks.

“I was waiting for you by the window, I got excited to see you.”

Suddenly you couldn’t form any words. Your throat was dry and you felt your breathing halt. Your vision slowly got cloudy, and your legs began to feel unsteady.

Josh noticed immediately and grabbed onto your waist, bringing you into his chest. Your arms flew to wrap around his shoulders as you buried your head into his neck. He made sure to hold you tightly, worried that you would fall. His hands rubbed up and down your back, trying to soothe you as you sobbed into him. He didn’t dare to let go, he had been wanting to hold you again but didn’t think it would be like this. You slowly lifted your head, looking up at his somber expression. One of his hands moved up to your face, wiping away the wet trails left behind and moving hair from your face to behind your ear. His lips came to touch your forehead, letting his kiss linger for a few seconds.

“You want to sit down and tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded your head, making Josh dip down to scoop you up from under your legs and carrying you as if you were his bride. He carefully walked to his room, trying not to move too quickly to prevent a possible headache or dizziness.

Once he sat down on his bed, you now sitting on his lap, he leaned down to kiss your cheek. A small blush formed on your cheeks, already making you feel better.

“Tell me everything, sweetheart.”

You let out a slow breath, reaching out for his free hand and playing with his fingers.

“I’ve just been having the worst few days recently. All my teachers make me so mad and I’m just not understanding any of the work we’ve been doing and I’m scared to ask them for help because they might get mad at me for being too dumb and I’m scared that I’ll fail all my classes and we have so much work that I can’t keep up with and my classmates are just the most annoying people ever and I don’t know what to do.”

You began to hyperventilate, quickly feeling the stres rush through you again. Josh held onto you tighter, pulling you as close as he could while he rubbed your arms. You tried your best to calm yourself down, preventing yourself from crying again.

“And I feel so bad for not texting you back as quickly or not being able to answer your calls because I was trying to do my work and I’ve just been a terrible girlfriend-”

“No, don’t say that, you’re literally the perfect girl. I’m not going to be mad at you for doing homework and trying to learn, I know it’s tough.” He smiled down at you, trying to make you feel better. “I love you, ok? You’re here now, and it’s the weekend, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I love you, Joshy.”

Your hands crept up to hold his cheeks as you leaned in, planting your lips on his. It was nothing too rough or passionate, but slow and gentle. His smile peaked through, making you follow. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

He pulled away, leaving his forehead on yours. “I’ll be back, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat.” He carefully set you down on his bed, quickly running to the other side to grab his teddy bear. “Franklin will keep you company while I’m gone.”

You giggled as he gave you the bear, clutching it tightly to your chest. It smelled somewhat like him, probably because you knew he slept with it every night, as much as he denies it. He sprinted out of the room, his footsteps loud enough for you to hear from downstairs.

Ten minutes went by, and you started to wonder what this boy could be doing. That is, until you heard something drop and a small curse from behind the slightly open door. You watched as his door was slowly pushed open, showing his back. He turned around and you couldn’t help but smile at what he was holding.

“I didn’t know what you were craving at the moment, so I just brought a picnic basket with all your favorite things.” He said proudly.

You patted the area next to you, motioning for him to sit with him. He skipped to the other side, climbing onto the bed with you. The basket was set in between you two, and he rubbed his hands excitedly before he opened it.

“I brought water and lemonade, some chocolate from that one candy store you really like, some chips just in case you wanted something salty, and some fruit so it feels like we’re eating healthy.” He exclaimed, showing you each of the items.

His eyes brightened, as if he gained another idea. He jumped off from the bed and ran to the other side of the room, searching through one of his drawers. He pulled out a pink candle and some matches.

“Why do you keep matches in your room?” You wondered, watching as he turned off the lights and placed the candle next to you on his bedside table.

He picked up a match and striked it against the box, erupting a bright fire and putting it along the candle wick. “I bought some after I bought this candle.”

You blew out the match as he held it closer to you, laughing as he fanned the smoke coming to his face. He grabbed his laptop from his desk and went back to sit down next to you on his bed.

“We’ll watch some movies together, too. I’m going to make sure that you feel real better really soon.”

As Josh opened Netflix and quickly picked a random movie, you picked up a grape from the basket and looked at him giddily. He sat up and opened his mouth, letting you throw it at him. The fruit his forehead, causing the both of you to laugh.

He scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to cuddle him. You snuggled up to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and his around your shoulder. Nothing else mattered as he held you closer, just you and him laying down, laughing and spending much needed quality time.

You looked up from the movie after a few minutes, taking in the sight in front of you. His smile made you turn warm. His eyes glanced between yours and your lips, until he leaned down to kiss you once again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his moved to your waist, his kiss deepening as the white noise from the movie slowly blurred out.

Yeah, you could get used to relaxing like this.

A/N - hi im back . im still so sorry for leaving and stuff but hey im back now and slowly releasing these really late requests . if u want to know what happened i made a post on saturday so go check that if u want idk . but anyways i hope u like this one, love y’all so so much xx

taglist - @love-joshy @mzzjads

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 16

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,100

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter   Next Chapter  

Read on AO3   Masterlist

Lilah woke unwillingly. Rolling over, she scrubbed at her eyes, still swollen from crying herself to sleep. Brasa had held her closely as they drove away from a home Lilah wasn’t sure she would ever return to. She’d managed to hold her tears for about ten minutes, and then her will had given out.

In her state, Lilah could be forgiven for how long it had taken her to notice that they weren’t on course for Brasa’s bar. When she’d asked where they were going, Brasa had simply said, ‘home’.

‘Home’ was quite literally carved into solid stone. Accessible through an elevator hidden cleverly in a low rock formation. It opened into a completely dark corridor. Lilah let Brasa lead her by the hand into the darkness, looking back only once to catch Javier reaching down to close the doors to the elevator carriage, shutting out the only light.

Blind, Lilah’s step had faltered. Brasa took it in stride, wrapping an arm around her and acting as her guide. They reached a door, which opened to… ‘home’. It was, she supposed, average in size, though she hadn’t paid much attention to the architecture. Brasa had cosetted her in yet another deliciously comfortable bed and she had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening putting off Brasa’s questions regarding her well being.

To be fair, Lilah hadn’t known how she felt the night previous. She still wasn’t sure how she felt. Her emotions wavered between indignation and deep depression, both of which made her head ache. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Padding quietly to the bathroom by the illumination of a small nightlight shining near the door of the bedroom, Lilah went through the motions of cleaning herself up. No stranger to a rough night, she was unsurprised to find shadows beneath her eyes and her hair in disarray. A quick look in the vanity drawers found a comb that the used to gingerly comb out the tangles.

After washing her face, Lilah made her way to the bedroom door, peering out into the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she tip toed towards the living room. In the few moments that she’d spent standing at the threshold, waiting for Brasa to shrug off his coat and hang it up, she’d noticed how sumptuous the furniture was—an overstuffed couch, soft carpets, dark and heavy woods. Everything was all rich fabric and soft textures. And yet, it was strangely bare. No pictures, no art, no...personality.

As she made her way deeper into the house, Lilah came upon Brasa sitting in the plush chair, a book in his hand. Head bent over the pages, he looked...so completely normal that she had to blink a few times to make sure that it was, indeed, him.

Sensing her approach, he looked up, eyes assessing, “How did you sleep?”

Lilah watched as he closed the book, setting it aside, She watched as he stood and approached. She watched as he became more concerned as she failed to respond. He grasped her above the elbows, head dipping to catch her eyes. Lilah couldn’t hold the gaze, and felt ridiculous for it.

“You should eat,” he pronounced, turning her and leading her gently through a set of double doors to a small, intimate dining room.

He bade her to sit, moving past the room and through to the kitchen. Lilah leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head in her palms as she waited. Drowsy from too much sleep, she blinked lazily into the middle distance, until movement in her periphery caught her attention.

Brasa approached, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He placed both before her, nudging the plate when she hesitated. Lilah looked down at what he made, a small chuckle sounding from low in her throat. Eggs in a basket. Toads in a hole. He’d remembered.

Charmed, and more than a little grateful, Lilah picked up the fork and cut into the edge of the toast, nicking the egg yolk. As she chewed,  she glanced over at Brasa, who was watching her. Though his posture was relaxed, there was a sharp light in his eyes that signaled he was studying her carefully.

“He will change his mind,” he said casually, gesturing smoothly with one hand.

Lilah paused, swallowing, “What?”

Brasa smiled, “Seth. He will change his mind.”

Eyes falling to her plate, Lilah busied herself with cutting into the second piece of toast, “You know that?”

“I do,” he answered.

“How?”

He shrugged, “I’m old.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

With a smile, he countered, “Old enough to know how men like Seth think. He’ll be mad for a while, but if he cares for you—and I think he does—he will come around.”

Lilah sighed and leaned back into her chair, “I’m so mad at him.”

Brasa nodded, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue. She looked to the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts, to sort her emotions in a way that made any kind of sense.

“I know he’s struggling to accept…” she gestured broadly, “All of this. I mean, I’m still trying to accept it. But...the way he treated me, like a…”

Lilah stopped, ‘kid sister’ sitting like lead on her tongue. Her eyes closed as the implications of her own thoughts sunk in. He’d treated her just like a kid sister, an annoying kid sister that didn’t know what they were doing. And, somehow, that made her feel worse.

Sensing her unease, Brasa leaned forward and touched her hand, brushing his fingers over the back, “As I said. He will get over it.”

Casting him a sorrowful look, she murmured, “I hope so. We’re friends, you know?”

“I know.”

“And,” she continued, turning her hand over to thread her fingers through his, “I still want to be friends.”

He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen. Lilah fiddled with her glass in a kind of soft resignation. This would have to play out however it was going to. Pushing the issue wasn’t going to make things better. Neither was dwelling on it. Still, she gave herself permission to feel sad for a while. That seemed fair.

Brasa returned and held out a hand to her, which she took. They walked amiably back to the living room where he sat her down on the couch and handed her the remote.

“I have some work to do,” he explained, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, “It’ll take a few hours. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the evening.”

Lilah spent maybe half an hour scrolling through the many streaming services that were on the top menu of the TV, amazed that Brasa had gotten so fully up to speed on modern entertainment. Furtively, she glanced through some of his watch history, smiling when she noted that he’d made it all the way through every season of House and, oddly enough, had recently watched The Princess Bride.

Eventually, she settled on restarting Drunk History from the beginning. Prior to signing on with the Gecko brothers, she’d watched a few episodes a month in her down time. There were always TVs on in the bar, so she’d never thought to purchase one for her room. Now seemed a good time for some comfort.

Brasa had been right when he’d said that his work would take a few hours. Lunchtime came and went, Lilah making her way to the kitchen and finding that he’d stocked it with some basic staples. They were going to have to take a shopping trip, though. The man had eggs, bread, a bag of various fruits, and a jug of milk. Her guess was that he’d googled basic foodstuffs and had run with it.

After eating her meal perched over the sink, Lilah washed her dishes and returned to the couch to start the next season. That was where Brasa found her, half asleep, stretched out over the cushions. He smiled as he approached, reaching down to lift her legs and sit, draping her feet over his lap.

“Done for the day?”

He shrugged, “In one manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

Another shrug, “Benny’s following has grown again. We think he’s turning a few humans a week.”

Her brows came together, “What does that mean for you?”

Brasa took a few seconds to think about it, his fingers drawing little circles over the sensitive skin of her ankle, “It means that he is likely going to resort to violence, and soon.”

Lilah felt her muscles tense, a kind of latent anxiety rolling along her body, “How do we prevent it?”

Looking at her, his expression was soft, but sure, “I don’t think we can.”

She sat up, disbelieving, “Why not?”

Turning a little bit so that he could prop his arm up on the back of the couch, Brasa explained, “Men like this…there is only one thing that checks them, and I promised you that I would look at other options. He wants blood, will be satisfied by nothing else.”

Lilah pulled her legs up and under her body, folding her hands in her lap, “We can talk to him, right?”

“We tried that.”

“For like two seconds,” she countered, her anxiety melting into frustration, “There has to be a way. Nobody has to die for this.”

Head tilting to the side, he said, “When has, essentially, a coup, ever not resulted in bloodshed?”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “This isn’t a coup. Its...an administrative change.”

Brasa shot her a look that very clearly said that she was bullshitting, “In their eyes, I have taken away their way of life. You know this.”

She shook her head, “You’re giving them a better life. A life where they’re not hiding in the dark, picking off humans, and running from local hunters.”

“Some don’t see it that way.”

There was a kind of finality in his tone, a tension borne of having had this argument over and over with different people. Lilah sighed and wriggled deeper into the couch, feeling not a little bit petulant.

Brasa reached over and took her hand in a loose grasp, “This is not the first time I’ve brokered peace—did so just recently with the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, if you’ll recall.”

She laughed, “Yeah. There were a couple times I almost threw something at one or all of you during those meetings.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “I could tell. You do not hide your feelings well.”

“Um, excuse me, I think I do,” Lilah shot back.

The little quirk in his mouth widened to a smile, “You do not. At least, not from me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, “That’s because of the bond.”

He hummed in the negative, “You have a very expressive face.”

Lilah scoffed, “I have an excellent poker face.”

This earn her a low chuckle, “You do not.”

“I was able to keep the bond a secret for months.”

Brasa leaned into her space, his hand running up the length of her arm to settle behind her neck, “Richie knew within seconds of seeing you the night we met. And Seth’s powers of perception are mediocre, at best.”

Lilah was not too proud to admit that she was a little dazed at how close they were, coffee and caramel filling her senses. He’d given her a lot of space over the last twenty four hours—she wasn’t even sure where he’d slept. She found herself yearning to crawl right into his lap and stay there for the rest of the night, and some part of her figured that he’d probably let her.

But, while he’d been working, she’d been thinking. And, the first order of business was to get some food that would make more than one kind of meal in the house.

“We need to go shopping,” she said, smiling when he tilted his head to the side in confusion, “Groceries. We need them—well, I need them.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, rising and pulling her to standing, “Do you want to go now?”

Knowing that she looked pretty fucking bad, Lilah shook her head, “Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be out in about forty minutes.”

She took her time with getting ready, making sure that she washed every inch of skin, shampooed and conditioned her hair, covered her dark circles, and put on some fresh, clean clothes. As she dug into her bag for socks, her phone and the case for her comm fell out. She touched them gingerly, noting that there was no service and that the comm was redundant, given that she didn’t have anyone to connect with. She tucked both away.

In the end, it took a little longer than forty minutes, but Brasa didn’t seem to mind. When she emerged from the bedroom, he was lounging on the couch, CSPAN playing on the TV.

Lilah’s eyes narrowed, “Why are you watching this?”

His eyes scanned her lazily, taking her in, “You didn’t think my entire business was in medical supplies, did you?”

She shrugged, “We never discussed it in detail.”

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the TV and stood, “I like a diverse portfolio. Keeps things stable  across the board.”

Lilah knew nothing about stocks, and even less about portfolios, “I’m sure that’s a good strategy.”

“It can be, though some people prefer a more adventurous technique.”

She moved towards the door, looking over her shoulder at him, “But, not you.”

He followed, “No.”

That tracked. Every decision Lilah had ever seen him make was calculated with brutal efficiency. Brasa did nothing by halves, nor did he make impulsive decisions. It was one of the things that Lilah liked most about him.

The hall was dark as it had been the day before, a chilling lack of light—except for a small triangle in the distance, the illumination so dull that it almost didn’t look real. As before, Brasa took her hand, leading her. As before, she went willingly. Unlike before, Lilah was alert enough to ask questions.

“What is this place?”

Brasa’s voice sounded next to her, “I’ve already told you.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

They neared the light, and it was cast in shadow for a moment as Brasa pressed the button, “I needed a more secure place, a place to allow myself true rest. A place where I could keep you safe, when the time came.”

Leaning into his side, she asked, “Because of Benny?”

Though she couldn’t see him, Lilah felt him shake his head, “I have lived a life of nearly total violence. That comes with a cost.”

And, here they were, back to the same conversation they’d had at least twice before. Her safety. Her weakness. Her humanity—though, not her mortality.

“You think I’m safer underground?”

The doors opened and Brasa ushered her inside, “Only Javier and I—and now, you—know about it. It is secret.”

She smirked at him, “I’ve always wanted a secret hideout.”

He returned her mirth, “I live to serve.”

They held hands all the way to the surface and up until Brasa helped her up and into an SUV that was hidden in what basically amounted to a hollowed out rock. Lilah had to hand it to them. If she hadn’t known that this was here, she would have never guessed. There was literally no indication that the formations were anything but rocks, once all the entrances were closed.

She looked up a local store and they headed out, guided by the navigation in the dash. As they drove, Lilah drew up a list on her phone, having memorized her standard grocery order long ago. To it, she added a few items that she might not otherwise pick up, telling herself that she deserved a treat or two after the emotional fallout of her confrontation with Seth. She also decided that she was going to pick up a few bottles of wine.

Lilah had to admit that she never once thought about what it would be like to see Brasa in such a mundane setting. She doubted that he did his own shopping, what with Javier taking care of most menial tasks. Now, she was watching him step through the automatic doors of a local supermarket, his head turning to glance at her for direction.

It was surreal. Truly surreal. Lilah had the insane urge to laugh as she looked from him to the milling crowd that parted around him. She caught a few curious glances from them, even further amused that Brasa seemed to take no notice.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah took his arm and led him to the shopping carts, pulling one from the long line and taking a moment to study the layout of the store. Tall shelves were lined one after another, stocked full with wares.  Veering to the left, she headed for the bins of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lilah was intimately aware of the way Brasa observed her going from bin to bin, picking out one or two and setting in the cart. He gave her space, but paid attention to how she chose her wares. Lilah mostly ignored him, focusing on trying to get enough to last her at least a few days.

As they passed the dairy aisle, Brasa finally said, “Things have moved...so quickly in the last few hundred years.”

She was leaning down to pick up an extra carton of eggs when he spoke, her head turning awkwardly to look at him, “What does that mean?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, giving a shrug, “Advancements that would have taken a millennia several thousand years ago now happen in a hundred.”

Putting the eggs in the cart, Lilah thought about it for a moment, moving slowly towards the canned food, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” he pronounced, smug.

She scoffed, pulling cans off the shelf to stock the small pantry behind the kitchen. Her voice, when it came, was tinged with a tease, “I’m an ancient vampire, I’m so smart, and I’ve seen everything.”

His laugh was soft, but genuinely amused, his chin dipping down towards his chest in a movement that was nothing short of demure. If Lilah were just some anonymous person in this store, if she were looking at him for the first time in that moment, her breath would have caught—as it was now—and she would have scurried away feeling so completely embarrassed at finding a total stranger so endearing.

As it was, she wasn’t anonymous. He very much knew her, a thought that would have been no less than frightening a year ago. Lilah felt no such fear now, only warmth that unfurled comfortably in her chest.

Brasa steered her down an aisle, gesturing at a shelf full of Gatorade, “Javier has sent me four texts reminding me that you will need this.”

Mouth open, Lilah stared at him in confusion for several seconds, “I will?”

He nodded, “Javier is adamant that I keep this in stock. He says you prefer the red color.”

Agog, Lilah asked, “How the fuck does he know that?”

Brasa cast her a look that said she should know the answer to that question. Javier might be quiet and unassuming, but he was better than the FBI at finding out the minutiae of people’s lives.

“Okay,” Lilah relented, “He’s right, but I don’t know why you would need to keep it on hand. Its not like I’ll need to constantly replenish my—oh.”

Without another word, Lilah leaned down and picked up two packs, setting them in the cart. She lost her battle to keep the nervous laugh at bay when she glanced at Brasa’s smirking face. He wasn’t even trying to hide the satisfaction in his expression. To give herself something to do other than smile stupidly, she turned her attention to navigating to the check out.

Brasa was quietly helpful in loading the groceries onto the conveyor, and Lilah didn’t miss how he maneuvered around her to pay before she could get her card out of her pocket. Casting him a knowing smile, Lilah moved past him, hands briefly touching his hips so that she could slide out from between the partitions to load the cart.

A few minutes later, she was pushing it out into the warm, humid night, and towards where he’d parked the SUV. A few more minutes, and they were making their way back to what she was going to continually call the ‘secret hideout’. The title brought a small, ‘secret smile’ to her lips.

As they pulled to a stop, that small smile turned into a grin. She looked to Brasa, “You’re about to be witness to an ancient human custom, going back at least a century.”

Head cocked to the side, Brasa looked at her in confusion, “I believe I am aware of most human customs, ancient or otherwise.”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah hopped out of the car and made her away around to the trunk, pushing the button to initiate the automatic open. She’d only picked out enough food to last for the week she promised him when he’d been negotiating her stay. Lilah was not going to think about how she likely would have to extend her stay indefinitely.

Lilah reached down and looped a few bags over her arm, “So it goes like this: No matter how much you buy, you never, ever, take more than one trip to get it in the house.”

Brasa looked at her arm, laden with bags, and back to the rest, his brow rising, “I...was not aware of this custom.”

She fixed him with a serious look, “Its a very important tradition.”

A little crease formed between his brows as he studied the bags they had left. Lilah swallowed the laugh that threatened to break the whole act apart, and hefted a few more onto her free arm. Brasa looked at what she carried, then leaned in and snagged the rest, hoisting them effortlessly in one arm.

She stared at him, chastising herself for forgetting how powerful he really was. She chastised herself further when she stayed right where she was as he reached up, closed the trunk, and tugged one of her arms free of the bags. It wasn’t until she was looking at his back as he opened the door to the elevator that she was able to make her feet move.

As they made the descent, Brasa shifted the bags to one arm and took her hand, turning it over to see how the bags had made little creases in her skin in the short time before he’d taken the load.

“I don’t understand this tradition,” he muttered, thumb rubbing at her palm.

Lilah smirked, “You don’t have to understand it to be a part of it.”

His eyes lifted from where they were studying her skin, “You are right. Some things just are.”

She had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about defeating the grocery bag challenge. The weight behind his gaze made that place in the back of her mind flare up, the bond almost stinging her. Reflexively, her fingers curled, wrapping around his thumb.

There was a clinical ‘ding’ and the doors opened. Adjusting his grip, Brasa led her into the hall and to the door. A few taps, and the door opened. They carried the bags into the kitchen and Lilah took her time figuring out where to put everything.

As she was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a small bag of potatoes, Brasa’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, held up a finger, and stepped from the room. She looked at the place where he’d been for a few seconds before shaking herself to attention. The potatoes could stay on the counter.

It was then that her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in several hours. With new food to choose from, she found herself a little bit at a loss as to what to make. In his kitchen, bare save for the food and the tools she needed to cook it with, she again longed for comfort. Broccoli cheese soup, it was.

With renewed purpose, Lilah began assembling the ingredients and putting a pot on the burner. She hadn’t made this particular recipe since high school, when she was still living with a family that she hadn’t talked to in years. Her hand on the knife paused as she took that in.

When she was running dangerous jobs for shady people, she had deliberately cut them off in fear for their safety. Now, she knew she could definitely never rekindle that relationship. What would happen in ten years, twenty, fifty, when she didn’t age, when she didn’t die?

Sniffing, she set her mind to cutting the broccoli florets into one inch pieces. There was no need to deepen the emotional anguish she’d experienced this week. She could do that at another time. Just to be safe, she opened a bottle of wine and left it and the glass on the counter to breathe.

As she was preparing to stir in the cheese to thicken the broth, Brasa returned. He leaned against the counter to watch her cook, arms crossed.

“Work?” she questioned lightly.

He gave a nod, “Javier worries.”

She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him, “And?”

Pushing from the counter, he touched the small of her back. His hand traveled around her waist to rest just below her belly button. Lilah leaned into him, her head tilting to the side so that he could lay his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into his hold, stirring slowly, in no hurry to move. Eventually, the soup thickened up as it was supposed to, and she reached up to turn the burner off.

Brasa already had a bowl ready for her, a spoon in his other hand. Lilah took it with a grateful nod and ladled a serving for herself. Rather than sit at the dining room table, Lilah hopped up onto the counter and spooned some into her mouth.

“You going to answer my question?”

His eyes dropped, though his mouth quirked in amusement, “He thinks we should be more aggressive with Benny.”

Lilah waved her spoon at him, indicating that he should continue.

“I find myself wondering if I should follow that advice.”

“Why?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, “His numbers grow along with the recklessness of his actions. He attacked a hotel last night, slaughtered the guests and staff. The police are investigating.”

Swinging one leg, Lilah asked, “You can’t buy them, bribe them to close the investigation?”

“We are working on that. The police chief is...remarkably stubborn about policy. Javier wants to eat him.”

She should not have laughed, but the thought of the prim and dapper Javier ripping the throat out of a police officer did not mesh together. He’d be too worried that he’d get blood on his suit.

When she finished, Lilah slipped down from the counter and rinsed out the bowl, setting it in the sink to clean later, “You want to watch a movie?”

“I could do that.”

“Cool,” she replied, already heading for the living room, grabbing the bottle of wine she’d opened along with the glass, “Where do you keep your extra blankets?”

She picked the softest, fluffiest one of the bunch and threw it over them both as they sat next to each other on the couch. Wine glass in hand, Lilah flicked through the streaming channels, already knowing which selection she was going to make.

His hand on her thigh, Brasa settled deeper into the cushion, letting out a light chuckle as she hit play, “I like this one.”

“Me, too,” she said, shifting so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.

Warm, full, and comfortable, Lilah found herself drifting even as Princess Buttercup argued with the Dread Pirate Roberts. The familiarity of Brasa’s scent wrapped around her and the story on the screen made everything inside her loosen for the first time since she’d left behind an angry Seth—well, that and two glasses of excellent wine.

By the time the credits rolled, Brasa had leaned back into the arm of the couch, pulling Lilah down to lay atop him. Her body pressed against his, Lilah soaked up his unnatural warmth. His arms held her loosely, but his hands were firm on her back and hip.

Lilah pushed up on her hands, looking down at him, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” he said, a little too quickly, “Of course.”

She smiled, dropping to an elbow and kissing him. Intending it to be a sort of ‘thank you’, Lilah started to pull away only to feel Brasa cup the back of her neck and hold her in place as he twined his tongue with hers. He warmed beneath her, burning hot, body arching. Lilah pulled her knees up underneath her, balancing on one hand so that she could run the other down the front of his shirt to pull it from where he had it tucked into his slacks.

He lifted his hips when she moved around to the back, his own hands roaming over her jean clad legs, pulling on each so that she sat astride him. And then, in a move she could have never accomplished on her own, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood. Her ankles crossed to anchor her body on his hips, her hands grasping frantically to clasp the back of his neck. Lilah laughed as he kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all the while moving towards the bedroom.

He laid her carefully on the bed and systematically undressed her. Shoes, socks, jeans, underwear, shirt, bra—everything was peeled off without ceremony, without patience. Lilah was stripped bare before her brain caught up to the fact that this was actually going to happen. And then he was crawling over her, his mouth sealing over hers.

He kissed her like he was starved, as if he might never kiss her again. Deep, unrelenting kisses that left her gasping beneath him. She reached up to to get at the buttons of his shirt, managing to get one or two free before he was moving down her body, nuzzling the skin between her breasts. Thumbs circling her nipples, he drew one into his mouth, releasing it with a wet sound. He licked at her biting down gently, and laving the spot with his tongue.

Shifting a little to the side, Brasa pulled her knee up and around his waist, fingers drifting so that he could run them up the length of her slit. She keened, spine arching up so far that her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Her skin was seared where they touched, sizzling with sensation that only seemed to grow. He massaged her in wide circles, the pad of his forefinger brushing over her opening.

Rubbing his cheek against her, Brasa moved steadily downwards, kissing and sucking and nipping until he rested between her spread thighs. If Lilah had any thought that he would ease into it, those thoughts were shattered by one long, enthusiastic lick. Sighing into the motion, he sucked at her folds, emitting a contented growl when her legs tightened around his shoulders.

He held her open, wedging his massive body into her hips until her inner thighs ached with the strain. Lilah was beyond caring, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her as she rose higher and higher towards orgasm. There was no teasing, no drawing this out. Brasa worked with a singular purpose, tongue swirling around her clit, hands holding her up to his mouth.

She grit her teeth, the need so vast and deep that it became a vibrant pain, soothed only by his touch. It tunneled down deep into her bones, sticking in her throat when she cried out, the spasms raking over her voice so that it came out hoarse and rasping.

Lilah breathed forcefully, eyes squeezed shut as he worked her through it, easing up when she shook, too sensitive. When she was able to look down at him, he was rolling his tongue over his lips, eyes focused on where she was still fluttering sporadically. Her mouth went dry at the sight, the hunger that he wasn’t even attempting to veil.

The hand on her hip rotated, and she felt him push two fingers inside her, the motion sending little frissons of electricity over the nerve endings. She shivered. He smiled, fangs peeking out. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, black gaze watching her reaction. Lilah bit her lip, giving up totally on controlling her breathing.

He kissed his way up her body, settling atop her. Lilah pulled him even closer, yanking at the buttons of his shirt. It was nearly impossible to focus when he was kissing her, hands turning her head so that he could nuzzle against her neck, inhaling. She gave herself some credit. She got his shirt unbuttoned and halfway down his arms before she got distracted by a particularly hard nip just above her collarbone.

Hissing, she pulled him up, trying to gain a little leverage to push him over onto his back. Lilah was not successful. He held her down, smirking when she made a small sound of frustration.

“I want,” she started, a whine cutting off the rest of the words.

Brasa caught her hands, holding them down onto the mattress with almost his full weight, “What is it?”  

Oh, now he wants to tease, she thought.

“Is this what you want?” His hips swiveled in a slow, firm grind, “I’ll give it to you, if its what you want, querida.”

Lilah moaned, writhing beneath him, desperate to get the friction she needed. She was close, close enough that she was willing to forgo any sense of pride to get there.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, head thrown back as he rolled his hips against her.

He let go of one of her wrists, and she felt him reach down and open the fly of his slacks. Lifting off just enough to kick off the offending material, Brasa laid back down, gathering her to him. The next kiss was venom soaked, sweet and hot. Lilah groaned, pushing her hips into him, needing to feel him inside her.

Brasa slid in to the hilt in one strong, fluid motion that filled the emptiness inside Lilah completely. Her breath stuttered in her lungs, her legs lifting to accommodate him. He was so fucking hot—his mouth, his body, his cock. Sweat pooled in the hollows and bend of her limbs, darkening the hair at her temple. She gripped his shoulders, pulled on the shirt he still wore, caught by the buttons on his cuffs.

And then he was moving. The sound of his cock pushing into her wet body, the feeling of him both easing and stirring the blooming ache of her arousal, the way he ground out a helpless sound against her neck. It all meshed together, overwhelming her until she could do nothing but hold on as he fucked her.

The pleasure grew inside her, reaching into every inch of her body. She wailed, head thrown back, fingers fisted in his hair. Spurred on, his pace picked up, breath punching out of him when she raked her nails up his back. It took very little to push her the rest of the way over the edge, the feeling spiraling through her.

Brasa’s grip on her tightened as he thrust into her one last time, his spine arched, lips pulled back from his fangs. She could feel him pulsing, could feel every reflexive spasm as he came.

When his strength returned, Brasa rolled gingerly off her, his large hand tracing down the center of her body to rest heavily on her belly. She grasped it, holding him by the wrist as she caught her breath. Lilah looked over at him, smiling at the fact that he was still wearing that shirt, though she’d torn the collar and it was wrinkled beyond nearly all recognition.

Her fingers touched the tear, “That’s going to be a difficult one to explain to the dry cleaner.”

Brasa smirked as he unbuttoned the cuffs around each wrist, “I may keep it like this.”

Lilah’s brows lifted, “Like a memento?”

He hummed in confirmation.

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”

Throwing the shirt off the side of the bed, Brasa laid on his side, observing her from where he’d perched his head on his palm, “I am not, generally. But, with you…” He trailed off as he leaned down and kissed her softly.

[hellstenglow]

Top 5 Fiveya Scenes!

Tough question! If you think about it their scenes are few compared to enterity of each season and yet they’re so meaningful. I’ll write the scenes in crescendo order, from bottom to top. I put everything under the “keep reading” line because I really talk too much. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to talk about Fiveya! 

1. The coffe shop moment in Dallas. It’s just a tender scene. The first real interaction Vanya had with someone who was her family, Luther was not that good with his explanation and didn’t stick around after telling his bit. It was almost cute how Five tried to keep the truth about the Apocalypse from her, to not burden her with the knowledge she killed 7 billions people, but a stupid decision that bit him back later. He did it out of care for Vanya (and a bit of convenience for himself), but he needs to stop avoiding the discourse “Vanya is the cause of the Apocalypse”. As I said wrote in a meta before, until they will sort out together the Apocalypse thing, it’s never gonna to be closed as theme (in which they are the two pivotal points). I am also amused by how Five interrupt her phone call. 

2. Their first private time together, in front of Five’s portrait. It set the tone of their future interactions. It made you understand that when they talk with each other, they tend to have private conversations loaded with some tenderness or intimacy or different level of importance. It also happened after Vanya talked about him with Pogo, which linked immediately the two with an invisible thread. The fact the conversation with Pogo was about the time she waited/hoped for his return is considerably more important, because right after that Five did return. Five and Vanya are linked. The show tells you that.

Then you discovered he had read her book in the future (later you will also discover that he kept that book with him after leaving the Apocalypse and it was the place where he wrote down his equation to come back to his family. It was that important for him) and with her he talks softer, he is less an of an asshole and you know that, because you have just seen how he talked with the other siblings (Diego, Luther). He kind comforted Vanya too (“Ah, there are worse things” than exposing our family’s dirty laundry, not like she didn’t tell the truth). It was also interesting how Vanya was the one approaching him, tentatively and how they were establishing again a way to interact with each other.

3. Vanya and Five arguing like a married couple, after Luther told her she caused the Apocalypse. Excuse me but that scene is too funny and lovely. Five was all smug and cocky, as usual, so certain she would follow him after talking with Luther and then he went instantly in panic mode, because she was leaving him. He let Luther go the first time, not making a very big effort with him. However, with Vanya is all “UnCCEptAble VANYA!” the second she said she going back to the farm (subtext: back to her farm friend frau, who is not just a friend and Five knew that. Oh, he knew that. He is clever, remember?). 

Vanya is rightful pissed off by the omitted information, even if she doesn’t have her memory back she felt betrayed by Five (who she trusted, even though he was technically a complete stranger). The whole argument is just funny and I enjoyed it too much. I love every micro-expressions their faces did, bless Ellen and Aidan. Five could have blinked inside the car, but nope, he knocked at the window trying very hard to be a sensitive person. She chould have driven away the second she was inside the car, but she took down the window and listened Five when she didn’t have too. Their faces the second before the car window was taken down were fantastic! It was literally wifey-husbando situation in my head and I couldn’t stop giggling. 

And again, Five’s tone of voice with her is always soft or deep. Whoever let Aidan plays Five like that with Vanya deserve a fruit basket. 

4.The stand-off scene in the middle of the road: ICONIC. The sweet, sweet tension between them could be cut with a knife, delicious, oustanding, visceral. Two tiny people ready (not really, not even close, they really did not want to) to blow each other up and destroy some corn fields from existence? Starring at each other in a crescendo of tension, yet each of them looked uncertain (especially almighty Five)? Vanya knows that she can take Five down and Five knows it too? Vanya not pursuing her threat because, despite not really knowing Five and having her memory back, she doesn’t want to hurt her family, therefore him? Five giving up first, knowing he shouldn’t be so partial to Vanya and yet he let her go anyway? I love it all. 

I mean, do I need to say more? All these are rethorical questions. Thank you for this scene, it was one of the best of season 2 for me. It made me excited and thrilled to the core. THE TENSION. BLESS THEM. 👏👏👏 I explain here why I also think it’s an important scene for the future development of the pair and their relationship, right now I could just make some stupid noise. 

5. Vanya and Five’s moment in her apartment (both parts in EP1 and EP2). The first time, before I started shipping them, I didn’t expect such scene of intimacy and confidence right after a spree murder scene. It’s incredibly telling that the first thing Five did, after escaping the Commission’s attack and basically death, was to seek Vanya. So far in the first episode the show wanted us to know that Five is an abrasive old man inside a 13-years-old body, who doesn’t take sh*t from anyone and bites back people with sarcasm. He also tend to treats people patronizingly and he does whatever he wants, because he has business to do. 

However, the show also marked his ability to be less of an asshole when he is around Vanya. The first time in the living room in front of his portrait and the second time in Vanya’s apartment. The first time I didn’t expect such scene, also because they already showed Five and Vanya’s closeness in the previous scene I mentioned. Why do it again? Twice in a one episode? You start to think there is something very important between Five and Vanya, then. Especially because among her sibling, so far, Vanya had a good interaction only with Allison. The show made a point fo show us that Vanya and Five had a particular connection (Because she waited him and prepared his favourite sandwish every night until she couldn’t hope no more. Because he read her book and when they are alone, he changes his tone to a softer one...still abrasive if provoked, but contained). 

So, after escaping death what did the old man do? He went to Vanya. Not even to treat his wounds (he could have gone to Hargreeves House for that), because he clearly doesn’t care, but to talk with her. Just to talk with her. It is incredibly telling of the importance that Vanya has for him. What he wanted was someone to share the one thing that obssessed him and shaped him into the person he is now, his burden, his secret, his greatest fear: the apocalypse. And Five chose Vanya. It was probably the first very time he exposed himself after decades of solitude and also the few years he couldn’t trust anyone else but himself (in the Commission). He trusted Vanya tho. He trusted her with the most vulnerable side of him. 

And Vanya listened him, even tho she didn’t understand everything and she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want him to feel stupid or excluded. She did her best to understand and she tried to be there for him too. She knew Five was visibly affected by the situation, she cared for him and didn’t want him to leave her apartment in turmoil. She didn’t want to lose him again, not after 17 years (for her) wondering where in the world (when) he was and if he was alright. What she needed was time to wrap her head around the news of the end of the world (that honestly nobody would truly believe), since she was just ordinary Vanya who never had to face looming dangers or villains like her siblings. 

The intimacy of the moment (both parts in ep 1 and pe 2) was palpable. There was tenderness too: Five let her take care of his cut, something he didn’t let her other siblings do in the later episodes (he had to pass out or be drunk af to let his sibling see him vulnerable or let them take care for him). It was literally a bubble where time stopped for them (Five doesn’t have time, remember? He insisted on this point, yet here he was, taking time to talk with Vanya).

The moment they shared that first night set not only the importance of their connection and how they interact with each other, but also made clear there might be something unspoken, something between them that they need to address. It’s the “we were almost something” right, kind of moment? And for me it was stronger than any other “they may or not may” between Allison and Luther tbh. But I might be too fiveya biased xD. 

[furubabes]

Okay. Somebody Asked. @shoujobell and @cryptidaicat, y’all encouraged this. I’m gonna tag this #long post if you wanna filter.

So here. I got the urge to write and so I ranked the Fruits Basket couples from my favorite to least favorite. These aren’t my complete thoughts because I could honestly do multiple full meta posts on each pairing, but I tried to justify and explain all my choices. Standard disclaimer, this is subjective and we can agree to disagree.

Part 1: Just the reasonably popular ones

1. Kyoru: Someone’s gonna call me unoriginal for this but it’s fine. Kyoru is the main romance of Fruits Basket! They bring out the best in each other and build each other up as characters. Kyoru is basically my gold standard take on Sunshine Girl x Grouchy Dude, and I’m not even usually into that trope otherwise. Their romance is one of the few that feels so genuinely necessary to the story. They love each other and like each other. Kyo understands Tohru in a way no one else in the narrative does, and vice versa. They’re in love like soulmates and also like awkward teenagers. Kyoru invented romance. If it’s boring to like healthy romances with realistic development, I’ll be boring.

2. Tohrin: If Tohru didn’t end up with Kyo I would only want her to be with Rin. I guess they have some of the same appeal as Kyoru for me - Rin reads Tohru in a way a lot of people don’t. I also like how honest and raw they are with each other. They yell! They fight! Rin is down to just straight up knock Tohru over to keep her from rushing off. Also, they’re both absolute fashion icons. Goth x Prep rights. I firmly believe Tohru Honda is bisexual.

3. Yukeru: This is my favorite Yuki pairing. I followed @yunsoh way back when the reboot first started and her blog has got me absolutely hooked on Yukeru. I think Yuki’s arc would have just made a ridiculous amount of sense if he was gay. It screams comphet. Kakeru is an excellent complement to Yuki, and their bond feels incredibly natural. Honestly I feel like it’s the most organic romantic development outside of Kyoru. I think realistically they wouldn’t have gotten together until post-canon and frankly Yuki shines in his friendships much more than romances, so I’m not absolutely dying for them to be together, but if Yuki’s going to date anyone Kakeru is my pick.

4. Arisaki: Man... I just like them. They strike me as less of an epic love and more of a comfortable partnership. I also read them both as lesbians anyway lol. Honestly I think they both had feelings for Tohru at one point and bonded over it. The way I picture them happening is honestly just Arisa at 25 frantically googling “is it gay to hold hands with my girl roommate who I spend all my time with and also we never date men“ because Saki bought them rings that look like wedding bands but they could just be super close friendship rings and oh god she’s in too deep. They’re dating for four years before they notice.

5. AyaMine: But Jessie! You literally never post about this pairing! Yeah, you’re right. I never think about them actively. But when ranking the canon ships I realized that I like the two of them together because they’re chill and understated. They’re huge loud personalities on their own but as a couple, they just feel like two people who are happy together and like spending time with one another. No drama, no mess, very understated. No plot contrivances driving their relationship. Good for them.

6. YukiKyo: Okay, so I can be convinced to put on my YukiKyo goggles more often than not. It feels iffy because there’s debate about how closely related all the Sohmas are and these two are called “cousins” a lot in school, but since half of the Sohmas are dating each other anyway, I err on the side of them being more of a clan than a proper blood family. Anyway, YukiKyo is my designated angst fuel. I think it would realistically be pretty one-sided from Yuki’s side, since we see him wanting Kyo’s approval from a very young age, but I like exploring the what-ifs of their lives if they’d been friends instead of rivals. In canon, I like to think that after high school they’re not best friends in the traditional sense, but either one could show up with a dead body and the other would help them bury it, no questions asked.

7. Yuchi: Really? Yuki’s wife is my third favorite pairing for him? Look, I adore Machi, and I still like Yuchi. But as I’ve been watching the reboot and reading others’ metas, I think I agree that their relationship could have been very powerful as a platonic one, sort of running parallel to Yuki and Tohru. I like them together but I think there wasn’t quite time for a complete character arc for Machi and her growth sort of begins and ends with Yuki. I don’t object to them being a couple in canon and I think they’re genuinely very sweet, but once again, I think Yuki stands out in his friendships more than anything. I would have liked to see Machi strike out on her own a little more.

8. Haru x Yuki: I don’t have any particular feelings towards them but I love their dynamic already and I think as a couple they’d both be really easygoing and comfortable with each other. I think a childhood crush turned close friendship is honestly the narrative that works best for them so I have no need for the two to date canonically, but every time they interact in the anime it gets a laugh out of me. They’re cool. They’d make a very pretty pair.

9. Mayutori: I’m Mayutori-neutral. I think they suffer from Fruits Basket’s pair the spare syndrome, but out of the side pairings that don’t have too much impact, they’re one I enjoy. Mayu’s fun as a character, and painfully relatable, and I like that Hatori’s eventual romance isn’t with someone who reminds him of Kana or something like that. I also want good things for Hatori. Mayutori has serious heterosexual energy though. I’m not saying this as a pro or con, they’re just very straight.

10. Hatsuzu: Okay, Haru and Rin aren’t this far down because I hate them. I’m perfectly fine with them being together in canon. But I think their romance almost... functions better as individual motivation for their character arcs than it does as an actual relationship, if that makes sense? Rin’s backstory episode is heartbreaking and her motivation to protect Haru is compelling and sympathetic, but their actual scenes together just don’t move me that much. Their romance is the least interesting part of either character for me.

11. Hiro x Kisa: Yeah I never got into it that much. It’s cute, it’s a sweet depiction of childhood crushes, but I’m not a fan of the idea of them ending up together. Kisa’s a cutie and Hiro is entertaining but the two of them together don’t actually do much for me. The dynamic between them is almost like if someone did Kyoru with none of the nuance. Ultimately though, they’re kids. I don’t expect them to have a deep and complex romance.

12. Yukiru: I think it would be a disservice to their characters if they were a couple. People far more eloquent than me have already written plenty of meta on why Yuki and Tohru aren’t what the other needs romantically, so I won’t get into it, but basically I just think their canon friendship is so beautiful and meaningful that I wouldn’t want to change it. Yuki and Tohru support my thesis that not all soulmates are romantic.

13. Tohru x Momiji: Welcome to the subjective dislike corner! This pairing is reasonably popular among people theorizing who Tohru would be with if not Kyo, but for some reason it just sits poorly with me. I can’t rank it any lower because there’s nothing evil or morally wrong about it! I just really don’t like it. I’ve quit a few fics because this pairing came up and I just can’t enjoy it.

14. Kakeru x Komaki: Idk, I just think Kakeru latching onto the one girl who was nice to him and put up with his bullshit and then being with her forever isn’t compelling. Komaki’s also probably his beard. She’s likable as an individual though.

15. Akigure: There’s plenty to say about the age gap, Shigure being in love with Akito since she was a fetus because of The Dream, the implications of a 15-18 year old knowing he’d one day want to be with a then-10-year-old... yeah, you get it. But even if I was able to put all that aside because Soulmate Destiny Logic, I still don’t think I’d like Akigure. I think they’re interesting as bitter, codependent exes, but I don’t like the idea of Akito ending up with anyone who she abused or who abused her. I think she has so much growing to do as a character and staying in a relationship within the Sohma family to do it can’t be healthy for her. I can’t see them living happily ever after, nor do I really want to.

16. Kurisa: I think what frustrates me the most here is that I want to like Kureno and everything about this romance is written to dull his most interesting traits. First of all, the age gap. Yeah, it’s gross, I don’t like it. But even past that, the love at first sight, instant fixation with each other, and lack of actual chemistry just kills me. Arisa’s stated reason to like Kureno is that he reminds her of Tohru, basically piggybacking off the chemistry she and Tohru already have, and his total lack of agency means the plot just sort of carries him along. It frustrates me that Takaya could have done something pretty cool by making them simply friends who have a chance encounter and then build a friendship from there that parallels Kureno’s abusive dynamic with Akito. It would be neat if a stranger’s kindness was the push Kureno needed to get himself out of the Sohmas’ grasp, without all the nonsensical drama about them being in love. It would also be less of a disservice to Arisa, who basically just spends the whole series pining for Kureno after they meet and I hate it. I could write a whole post about this. Maybe I will sometime.

17. Kyoko x Katsuya: I don’t think their story is romantic. I think it’s tragic for Kyoko, and if it were framed that way within the narrative, I wouldn’t object so much to its existence. But... Takaya just really likes age gaps with a younger woman and an older man, so the narrative romanticizes this man marrying his student. Katsuya can be depicted as well-meaning as you want, but he’s still got a ridiculous amount of power over Kyoko. She was also still pretty young when she had Tohru, which doesn’t make things any better because it’s clear that the relationship turned physical when Kyoko was a teen, thus dashing the idea of Katsuya legally marrying her to save her but not actually doing anything creepy. I wish Fruits Basket framed this as a story of Kyoko escaping one dangerous situation by entering a relationship with a huge power imbalance, because that happens to girls all the time and it’s tragic and compelling. The events of the story could stay the exact same and if the framing changed I would be fine with it. But this is not that. This is just a really romanticized teacher/student age gap. I’m not into it.

Part 2: Rarepairs, weird shit, and others (oh my!)

1. Yuki x Kakeru x Kimi: OT3. I’m enamored with the idea of this hot mess polycule.

2. Momiji x Kimi: Chaos meets chaos. This couple would say uwu without any irony and also steal your car keys. They’re both perceptive and smart hidden under a layer of cute and I’d wanna watch them play 4D chess with each other.

3. Kazuma x Kunimitsu: Idk how old Kunimitsu is so if he’s like 20, strike this one from the record. But I saw one post once that was like Kyo slowly realizing Kazuma and Kunimitsu were gay and had been dating for years and it was funny as hell.

4. AyaTori: It’s cute. Opposites attract, black and white hair, and Aya only listens to Hatori anyway. It’s just fun to think about.

5. Megumi x Hiro: They don’t interact in canon I just think Goth x Punk-Ass Bitch is a great concept.

6. Motoko x Nao: They’re both loud as hell and Nao having a gf that towers over him is funny. Maybe Yuki would finally get some peace.

7. Machi x Kimi: I don’t see them actually being compatible in canon but I think they could have a really homoerotic college friendship.

8. Hajime x Mutsuki: This is just YukiKyo, the non angst version.

9. Akito x Hanajima: I’m so wary of shipping Akito with anyone but this is kind of fun. The two are friends in canon and Hana isn’t remotely afraid of Akito. Plus Akito never abused Hana. I can sort of see it.

10. Hiroshi x Yusuke: Makes no sense, wouldn’t be relevant, but if those two just never spent any time apart and continued being a pair for life it would be a really good bit.

11. Akitohru: I don’t think it’s healthy to date anyone who’s previously stabbed you.

12. Kazuma x Hanajima: Stop. Go to jail. Hana’s one-sided crush is funny though.