#they both refer to it as a nice fruit basket

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#A Nice Fruit Basket 🍇🍈🍉🍊🍋🍋‍🟩🍌🍍🥭🍎🍏🍐🍑🍒🍓🫐🥝🍅🫒🥥

[cinderella-ish]

Fruits Basket Queer Headcanons

The more I watch and read Fruits Basket, the more I get the sense that no one is straight here. Well... almost no one. So, in honor of pride month, here are my queer headcanons for the cast of Fruits Basket!

(Disclaimer that these are my own personal headcanons, obviously nothing official, etc... I try to draw on evidence from the text, but I'll admit I'm occasionally going purely off vibe. Also, I'm bi and genderfluid, so that's the lens I'm bringing to this. I'd love to hear your headcanons, especially if they differ from mine! Enjoy!)

Genderfluid and/or genderqueer: Ayame and Ritsu

I (probably somewhat controversially) think a lot of the gender non-conformity among Fruits Basket characters is just that: gender non-conformity. Momiji is one example; he dresses in girls' clothing (though not "like a girl") until his growth spurt, but it seems important to him to be seen as a man from at least that point forward.

Ritsu is someone whose gender identity and/or nonconformity really should've been explored more in the manga - as written, it feels like Ritsu's exploration of gender was viewed as something he'd grow out of, rather than a search for understanding himself. He doesn't really seem to mind being identified as either male or female, though he obviously feels a lot of shame about his comfort with wearing women's clothes (though no one around him when we meet him really seems to mind, which is nice-- I also appreciate that Ritsu was shown to have friends who adore him outside of the Sohmas). Anyway, the fact that he seems okay with being referred to as both a man and a woman is the entire basis for this headcanon.

Ritsu also idolizes Ayame, and I think part of this stems from Ayame's own security in his non-traditional gender presentation. We don't really get a lot of Ayame's thoughts on gender, despite his line of work, but he strikes me as the sort of person who would enjoy playing with his own gender presentation and would be more than open to exploring his gender identity (and probably has!). I think Ayame would lean more toward having an expansive view of masculinity rather than dressing more feminine when he feels more feminine, but I also think he would embrace the different ways people might perceive his gender.

Transgender Woman: Akito Sohma

This I think is quite clear in canon. Akito was assigned male at birth, then transitioned to female.

What makes it hard for some people to see Akito as trans is that the reason she was assigned male at birth was not the typical reason people are assigned male at birth in our world (it was her mother's demand, rather than a guess based on the shape of her genitals), but I don't think that makes her any less trans.

Under the Ace and/or Aro Umbrellas

This umbrella is a little tricky for several of these characters, because they've been forbidden from dating, or had very controlling parents, or thought they'd only hurt anyone they loved, so they haven't necessarily had time to figure out whether they've just repressed that part of themselves or they just don't experience attraction at all/without a strong emotional connection first. (Not everyone needs time to figure that out, though!) But anyway, here's who I think would eventually find themselves under at least one of these umbrellas!

Asexual/Aromantic: Kazuma

I love the tidbit that Kazuma tried dating women, but talked so much about Kyo that he never got a second date. I like the interpretation of him as a gay man, but to me, he reads as asexual/aromantic. Dating just doesn't even seem to be on his radar!

Demisexual/Demiromantic: Kyo, Shigure, Machi

A lot of the fandom sees Kyo as demi, and I'm totally here for that interpretation of him. He generally seems annoyed by or frightened of girls who aren't Tohru (frightened either when there's a risk of transforming, or when Kagura is involved). Also, it's CUTE that Kyo takes after his dad (Kazuma) in this way.

At first blush, it seems very unlikely Shigure is under the ace umbrella, but I couldn't stop thinking about his brief relationship with Mayu. He's the one who suggested they date, yet he seemed completely disinterested in her. He did sleep with Ren, but that was only for revenge and because he imagined Akito would look like her if she'd been allowed to grow up as a woman. I genuinely believe all his "high school girls" ickiness was an act, much like most of his personality.

It doesn't seem like Machi can totally tell if/when she likes something (or someone!). This makes me wonder if she's just never had feelings for anyone before Yuki.

Demiromantic: Rin, Hiro

Rin seems open to sexual relations with people other than Haru, but I genuinely can't see her having romantic feelings for anyone other than him. I see Hiro similarly with respect to Kisa. I think, if they ever split, it would take an extremely long time for him to even be open to falling for someone else.

Under the Bi/Pan+ Umbrella

So, I'm not making a distinction between these two (and other orientations that fall under the same umbrella, like poly- or omnisexual) because that seems like a very personal, internal conversation. I know some people make a distinction between the way bi and pan people experience attraction, but some don't, and that feels too prescriptivist for my purposes here. So, these are characters who I think experience attraction to multiple genders!

Tohru obviously falls for Kyo, but she also thinks Akito is cute, she thinks Rin is "shapely" and "beautiful" (her words!), and she goes along with it when Saki talks about them getting married.

Yuki ends up with Machi (and I love them together!) but I think Kyo was his first crush. His arc is also very relatable for a lot of queer folks (myself included!). And he's a disaster. Long live bisexual disaster Yuki Sohma!

Shigure is tricky, because the flirtation between him and Ayame could just be a joke, but I personally think it's a joke that arose out of some fun nights spent together...

Akito obviously likes men, but she also flirts with Tohru when they first meet.

Saki talks about marrying both Tohru and Kazuma. She's probably joking about Kazuma, but she's generally a very literal person, so I don't think she's joking about Tohru. She also marries a foreigner canonically, and that foreigner is probably a man.

Momiji talks about finding an amazing sweetheart-- not an amazing wife or girlfriend!!-- one day. I think he was being very intentional in not specifying his future partner's gender.

Hatori is the one I feel least sure of, but my headcanon is that he gets so annoyed and embarrassed by Shigure and Ayame because he doesn't want anyone to know he was totally part of at least a few of those trysts...

Mutsuki and Hajime are definitely together, right? And it seems like the fandom mostly sees Mutsuki as bi, which... yeah, that tracks.

Hatsuharu's first love was Yuki, and his last love was Rin.

Kakeru has a girlfriend, but for some reason, I have it in my head that he always refers to Kyo as Yuki's "hot cousin"? Did I just imagine that? Anyway... even if I did make that up, I think his backstory is a great analogy for the experience of coming out. He was trying to fit in a box and decided he was done with it. Pure chaotic bi energy.

For Ayame, see Shigure and Hatori above. (Also, “I am a bottom ALL THE WAY!!!”)

Mine is admittedly here just based on vibes.

Mitsuru likes Ritsu even though she's not entirely sure of Ritsu's gender!

Kimi is also here purely based on vibes.

Gay and Lesbian

Hiroshi has always struck me as gay. I can't really explain it. I usually have absolutely awful gaydar, so it's odd that he gives me such clear gay vibes. I wrote him as gay in my longfic, Bloom Within Us, and I'll probably always write him as gay.

President Takei obviously has a crush on Yuki. We don't really see him show interest in anyone else (partially because he's such a minor character). He also seems to still be a bachelor in Another, which could be because he can't legally marry yet...

My headcanon that Kunimitsu is gay kind of popped up as I was writing Bloom Within Us. There's no particular reason, and he doesn't give me strong gay vibes or anything.

Hajime and Mutsuki are definitely a couple! (Right?!) And it seems like most of the fandom sees Hajime as gay which... yeah, I can get behind that.

Akimoto (Arisa's senpai from her gang) is another character who gives me such strong vibes that I thought it was canon that she was a lesbian. Whoops. Anyway, I headcanon that Akimoto is gay, and referenced that in one of my oneshots.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Controversial omission: Arisa Uotani. She says she likes Kureno because he reminds her of Tohru, but she doesn't like Tohru? Yes, she gives me major queer vibes but this to me points to her being straight. Also, based on the way she reacts to her friends developing crushes or falling in love (and the way they react to her falling in love), I don't think there's anything between her and Saki or her and Tohru (as much as I love fics that pair her with Saki!). I also think not every relationship with lots of physical affection and strong feelings of love has to be romantic.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading my queer headcanons! This has been in my drafts for months, so I'm really glad Pride Month gave me a reason to finish this post!

Happy Pride!

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

So Many Questions Part 1

Prompt: You’re pulled in for questioning by NCIS and are quickly surprised to see your ex-boyfriend as your interrogator.

Note: Characters are post season 11

Part 2 Part 3

————

As quick as your feet would let you without actually running, you made your way past the reception and into the elevators to your floor. Ignoring the hellos from your fellow coworkers, you went right up to your assistant and interrupted her phone call.

“If a man with a blue suit and atrocious beard comes in asking for me, tell him I’m busy in a meeting and can’t talk today.”

Before she could answer or ask any questions, you entered your office and shut the door quickly behind you, letting out a breath.

The man you were referring to was a very insistent investor that you had no interest in talking with especially after he tried to woo you with a giant fruit basket and money. You and your company were not for sale or in the business of taking bribes. Luckily, you saw him in the lobby and ran for safety before he could spot you.

You sat at your desk that was stacked with paperwork and dived head first into it, knowing the growing pile was only going to get bigger by procrastinating.

Not even 15 minutes into work, your door was knocked on. You swore if it was your assistant and that pesky investor, you were for sure firing her.

“Come in!” you called, hoping for the best.

A man and woman walked in, both immediately flashing badges before introducing themselves.

“Miss L/N. I’m Special Agent McGee and this is Special Agent Bishop, NCIS. We have some questions to ask you but need you to come in with us.”

NCIS. You thought you’d never hear those letters spoken together ever since you and a specific agent had broken up 5 years ago.

“Um, what is it regarding may I ask?”

“One of your employees, a Miss Darvel,” he answered, walking over and handing me a piece of paper. Skimming over it, you realized that it was a warrant to question you in relation to a murder.

“You don’t think I’m a suspect, do you?”

“No ma’am, but we do have to have to question you considering our findings.”

You shook your head in disbelief, partly at the fact that you’re about to be questioned by federal agents but more at the fact that of all government agencies questioning you, it had to be NCIS.

“Um, ok. Just let me grab my things I guess.”

————

Most of the car ride was silent, just a little small talk about your life but you conveniently left out the part where you knew Jet, not knowing if you would even run into him. Hopefully, you didn’t and were able to keep your mental wounds from opening.

You followed them into the elevator and through the orange walls to an interrogation room. They really weren’t kidding.

“Would you like some water?” the woman you remembered as Agent Bishop asked you.

“Sure, that would be nice. Thank you.”

She smiled and the both of them left to leave you alone in the ominous room with only your reflection staring back at you. Taking a seat in the cold metal chair, you fidgeted your hands and waited.

Not long went by before the door opened again and two men walked in, one in which you knew very well, and the other was unfamiliar with his dark skin and muscular build. Your chest tightened at the sight of Jethro sitting down in front of you, pushing a bottle of water towards you, no expression on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again Jet,” you stated, slight displeasure in your tone.

“Jet?” his partner asked him with a smile. Jethro shot him his classic stare, wiping the smile off his partners face and looked back at me.

“I’m here on business Y/N. We have some questions for you regarding one of your employees, Petty Officer Olivia Dravel.”

“Yes, I remember you being all about business. So much so that you forgot you had people to care about.”

He sighed in frustration and you smirked at how easy it was to push his buttons. His partner looked thoroughly entertained.

“Where’d you find this one Jet? College football practice?” you jested. The agent laughed to himself as you shot him a wink.

“Enough F/N.” He began placing down pictures of a very dead Olivia and you turned your head away. “What can you tell us about the email Petty Officer Dravel sent you last night telling you that she finally had enough information?”

“I don’t know. I barely talked with her, she only reached out to me to ask about one of my investors.”

“Ian Chandler?”

“Yeah, she thought he was involved in something shady like shell corporations but wouldn’t tell me anymore than that. I asked Ian about it but he told me she was just a disgruntled employee.”

“Did she ever mention how she was planning on confronting him or meeting up with him?”

“No. Like I said, she barely talked with me.”

“Well she seemed to put a lot of trust in someone she barely talked to Y/N! She sent you a total of 10 emails, all regarding her findings on Ian Chandler, what are you not telling me?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you Jethro! I didn’t see any emails from her, the only conversation I had with her was in person and I already told you what it was about! You know me. I wouldn’t withhold any information from something like this!”

He just sat there silently, brows slightly furrowed and arms crossed, studying me. Very rarely had I seen the upset side of Jethro, let alone angry side and it was definitely a culture shock.

“You’ve gotten cold, Jet,” you spoke quietly, not able to look him in the eyes. A minute went by in silence, just the feel of his stare on you.

“Who else has access to your emails?” His voice was softer now.

“Just me and my assistant, Cheryll.”

He wrote a few things down in a little notepad and stood up, nodding to his partner.

“Torres. Escort Miss L/N back to the lobby, she’s free to leave.”

And just like that, he was gone. Just like 5 years ago. You held back the tears threatening to fall, not sure they were from being interrogated or from him leaving so coldly. So much for keeping those wounds closed.

[bravesung]

❛  hello,  welcome  to  hinamori!   ❜  namine,  the  hostess,  does  her  greeting  as  usual.  this  time,  however,  sachiko  was  approaching  to  brief  the  young  woman  on  the  restaurants  number  of  covers  for  the  night.  once  sachiko  saw  the  tall  redhead,  there’s  an  obvious  look  of  shock  that  crosses  her  features.  ❛ .  .  .  THE  mister  iori  yagami  is  here  in  .  .  .  ?!  ❜  trying  her  best  to  conceal  a  squeal  from  being  face  to  face  with  one  of  her  favourite  musicians,  she  quickly  regains  her  composure  and  bows  along  with  namine,   ❛  g-good  evening,  mister  yagami.  my  name  is  kanzaki  sachiko  and  I  am  the  owner  of  hinamori.  please  let  me  know  if  you  need  anything  and  thank  you  for  choosing  us  for  your  dining  experience.  namine  will  guide  you  to  your  seat.  ❜  upon  whispering  to  the  hostess  to  escort  him  to  the  garden  room  ––  also  known  as  hinamori’s  vip  suite  ––  she  heads  back  towards  the  bar  where  you  sat,  conversing  with  the  new  bartender,  evangeline.

❛  .  .  .  it’s  never  too  late  to  be  a  model,  miss  evangeline,  don’t  give  up  on  your  dreams!  ❜  you  enjoyed  talking  to  the  platinum  haired  woman  (  you  also  wondered  if  sachiko  also  hired  her  because  they  both  bore  striking  white  hair,  but  she  was  still  a  wonderful  asset,  regardless.  ).  as  evangeline  was  about  to  answer,  sachiko  excitedly  grabs  your  hand,  trying  her  best  to  speak.  ❛  hana  .  .  .  oh  my  goodness  .  .  .  y-you  will  never  guess  .  .  .  who  just  came  in!!  ❜  sachiko  sounded  as  though  she  was  on  the  verge  of  hyperventilation,  concerning  you.   ❛  sachi,  calm  down!  take  deep  breaths  .  .  .  who  just  walked  in  here?  ❜  you’re  looking  left  and  right,  attempting  to  identify  the  person  she  was  referring  to  visually.  leaning  closer,  sachiko  whispers,  ❛  iori.  yagami.  the  most  awesome  jazz  musician  to  ever  exist!  he’s  the  reason  I  got  those  limited-edition  vinyls!  ❜  when  you  heard  the  name,  your  eyes  widen  dramatically  ––  which  sachiko  seemed  to  has  mistook  for  your  being  just  as  excited.  oh,  how  wrong  she  was.  

❛  oh  .  .  .  u-uhm  .  .  .  I  see  .  .  .  ❜  you  were  not  sure  when  you’d  see  iori  next,  but  you  didn’t  think  it  would  be  in  shinjuku  and  in  your  best  friend’s  restaurant.  how,  exactly,  could  you  explain  to  sachiko  that  you  not  only  almost  beheaded  the  individual  while  training,  then  proceeded  to  get  into  an  argument  with  him?  you  were  about  to  speak  again,  but  this  time  evangeline  cuts  in.  ❛  hey,  boss  lady,  if  you  are  okay  with  it,  I  can  bring  something  special  to  the  table  as  a  gift  from  you.  back  at  my  old  job,  we  had  celebrities  come  in  all  the  time,  so  it  won’t  really  take  me  out  of  character  if  I  see  him.  ❜  she  suggests  nonchalantly,   ❛  is  he  a  whiskey  kind  of  guy?  most  guys  are,  but  I  don’t  want  to  assume.  probably  can  do  a  dessert  too,  yeah?  ❜   this  gave  you  an  idea,  ❛  miss  evangeline,  can  you  add  that  to  my  account  here?  i’ll  take  care  of  whatever  he  orders  tonight.  ❜  you  reasoned  that  as  an  apology,  you  can  cover  his  dinner  and  maybe  bring  over  a  fruit  basket  when  it’s  less  busy.  looking  back  towards  you,  sachiko  raises  an  eyebrow,  ❛  you’d  do  that,  hana?  that’s  really  sweet  of  you  .  .  .  but,  why?  I  didn’t  know  you  were  a  superfan  too!  ❜  in  turn,  you  smile  and  tap  sachiko’s  hand,  ❛  it’s  because  if  miss  evangeline  delivers  everything,  the  food  will  make  it  to  the  table  and  not  on  the  floor  because  you  fainted  in  attempt  to  tell  him.  ❜  (  nice  save,  right?  )

with  sachiko  in  agreement  (  and  a  slight,  jestful  push  to  you  ),  evangeline  clears  her  throat  then  leaves  the  bar  to  head  to  the  table,  but  not  before  you  whisper  something  in  her  ear.  evangeline  makes  a  face,  shrugs,  then  proceeds  to  walk  over  to  the  garden  room.  finding  his  table,  she  bows  then  smiles  to  iori.   ❛  mister  yagami,  I  wanted  to  let  you  know  that  your  dinner  has  been  comped  for  tonight.  a  hanamaru  kazama  has  asked  to  take  care  of  your  bill. ❜

@unshackled-instinct. / storyline continuation!

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Let's take a day for the new one, Chapter 41's first half is live and it has a vibe with which I can jive. We don't have a whole lot in the way of funny panels this time but the atmosphere is just great. Everyone's hanging out at Cora's with the Donquixopticon Chamber that does have an equally corny name for realsies. Playing Daifugo and scheming for investigating Doffy's involvement with a Dark Bingo Tournament. No, it's not as much of a reference in Japanese. I got hopeful. These kind of moments are great though, lot of nice gags. I love how everything is interspersed with card plays, Daifugo is a fun game. Fruits Basket has it pop up and the old Tokyopop volume had the rules. Convinced a group of friends to play on a school trip once. Very fun memory. Get a load of Luffy cheating!

Where this gets cool is we do break up into teams based on the game. Worth mentioning it by the way, you could call it like "Tycoon" or "Millionaire." As a game it has a theme of wealth disparity and caste. So legitimately interesting to juxtapose with the Donquixote Brothers' origin story as well as what we potentially set up. Reminds me a little of both how we use Hawkins's tarot cards and the Go board in Wano. That's all the symbolic meaning for now, if it shows up again and terms are flummoxing someone gracious enough to translate, shoot me a DM. Moving on. New World parody, gotta split the party. One half will tail Doffy...and the other will investigate Onigashima Middle. Here's our groups:

Well how about that? Miss Nami who mentioned having Kiku's contact info, Miss Robin who pondered how much she'd know, and Miss Vivi who was part of actually saving the day around Yamato's trip to the carnival are all on the Onigashima team. The team notably without someone in that guide role Cora's in for the party crashers. So surely we're about to have some girl time with your new tol buddy. Does Kiku get a nice cardigan like y'all have? I bet she'd like it. Recall our theory is that based on established norms and uniforms, it seems Kiku might already be a New World Middle student like Izo.

Chopper can come too and honestly I'm down with Brook being a part of this. I uh, wouldn't mind checking off finding out how our girl reacts to being propositioned about seeing her underwear while we're at it. Seriously though, high chance our most precious flower of Wano's much more obviously foreshadowed return in this series feels quite imminent.

Since the other team is going to like, a gathering of something that sounds way too much like the Black-Black Club for this not actually ending up being a YYH reference I wonder if Big Mom will work her way in. Totally would make sense with what we have set up. Is a little weird to have Doffy rubbing elbows with her over Kaido but he was always the broker for everyone it seemed. Wouldn't mind seeing schoolboy Perospero, we know Pudding in a sailor suit will be cute, and if I get Katakuri & Corazon in the same panel I know I'mma break reaction records again. Not to mention Jinbei's absence has been a lil fishy. I love where this is all heading, seems like it'll be really fun.

[randoimago]

Multifandom request time! How about Tohru (Fruits Basket), Ash (Unholy Blood), Clover (Zero Escape) and Tsunade react on the fact tha ttheir S/O, despite never kissing before, is very good at this?

S/O Is Amazing at Kissing, But Has Never Kissed Before

Fandom: Fruits Basket, Unholy Blood, Zero Escape, Naruto

Character(s): Tohru Honda, Ash, Clover Field, Tsunade

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): Oh what a classic ask. I remember so many requests for this, glad to bring it back!

Ash

Probably teases you a bit about never kissing anyone before. You must be lucky to have her take your first kiss, S/O. And you know that you're not going to be able to kiss anyone else now~

She's blown away at the fact that you're a good kisser. Like excuse me? Where were you hiding this? She's a bit upset because she wanted to blow your mind and you turned the tables on her.

Definitely needs to kiss you again to make sure it wasn't beginner's luck. Actually, she might need a whole makeout session just to double check. You can never be too sure, S/O~

Clover

She's also one that has never really had much romantic experience so she doesn't really realize that you're an amazing kisser.

Of course she's watched movies or read stories of being swept off your feet because a kiss is so good, so she uses that for reference. So yeah, you're really not bad S/O!

Clover probably gets a tad self-conscious at your kissing skills because she's never really kissed before either and you're amazing. She just worries that she's doing a bad job. So I guess you'll have to help her practice to get better, S/O!

Tohru

Hey you and her both. She definitely has never kissed anyone before so it'll be like you're learning together! She kisses you and it is really nice. Can't help thinking that kissing isn't so bad.

I just love the idea of, she's never kissed so how would she know if you're an amazing kisser if she doesn't have experience to compare you to? So yeah, she loves getting kisses from you a lot!

Tohru does ask you if she's a good kisser too. While she enjoyed your kiss, she wants to make sure you enjoyed hers too. I would honestly love the idea of Tohru being a fantastic first kisser too (she is a reverse harem protagonist).

Tsunade

Tsunade doesn't show any surprise or act flustered after she's kissed you, but on the inside she's definitely wondering "How the hell?".

Would want to ask about your prior experience. Yes you've never kissed before, but you must have learned from something. Do you watch people kiss and take notes? Or perhaps just read very detailed books? Tsunade would also open up about her own past experiences too just so you have an idea of what she's used to.

Probably ends up teasing you a bit about your hidden talent too, playfully wondering if maybe you're using some jutsu to enhance your abilities.

[ask-missparker]

Are we out of the woods yet? / OUAT AU

Pairing: Red!Rick x Huntress!Luna

Summary: What if the beast was just a kind man wearing a red coat but he just didn’t know it yet?

Extra characters: Rochelle as Cinderella, Bruce Banner as The Father and etc

Note: Song reference to Taylor Swift in the title section

——

The mist of winter snow and the deep rains of night created a storm of cold weather within the woods. But it created a lovely new glimpses into the world, making it a winter wonderland with icicles forest above the cabin door. Despite the season not being the best, it made Red feel like he could do anything.

Which was the problem. He couldn’t.

His father wasn’t a huge fan of the winter season due to the weather and the craving time for wolves alerting the woods. And with his son being rather young, he wanted him to be protective as he feared who would have the courage to take him on if they learned the truth…

Red however was reckless and never listened to his father’s wishes of going out in the late afternoon. His father did make an exception to let him roam around free as long as he kept his deep red cloak with swirling marks on his hood. Red obviously listened to that request from his father, despite not caring for the low deep cut of a color.

In came a knock on his door as a young voice said, “Come on man, open up or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow this house down.”

Red opened the door rolling his eyes and scoffed, “You’re not funny, you know that?”

“Ah well, it made you open the door didn’t it?”

“Got me there. My father doesn’t like me hanging out with you yet, he takes to your charm quiet nicely.”

“I am handsome. Come on we gotta grab some fabric from the market and then we can plan our road trip we always wanted to take. You can finally meet a nice lady.”

Red rolled his eyes and ignored his last comments about exploring the land and finding a bride one day. He thought it wasn’t in his cards to do so. All Pete wanted to do was get him out of the house every once in a while instead of staying trapped. He had good intentions.

At the farmers market, the friends wondered around the place in search of fabrics and food to their respective families. Pete was off buying brown fabic for his new brown coat as Red was buying apples when he noticed a young fair maiden who seemed to drop an stack of pears from her basket.

“Uh miss, i think you dropped this?” He said holding up the pear as the young redhead turned around and smiled, causing him to return the smile.

She sighed at her clumsy tone taking the pear from his grasp and replied, “Ah, thank you..I did not even noticed it fell out of there.”

“No problem, be careful next time…”

“Ella. Just Ella…and uh, y-you are?”

“Red..or Rick depends on who asked.”

“I like them both..”

“Thanks. Well be careful, Miss Ella. Those pears are very expensive this time of year.”

“Ah yes i know, thank you again.”

The redhead waved at him, thanking the man so she went off to continue her path home. Pete walked over seeing Red smile asking who is the girl as the blonde waved him off saying he was just some nice young lady.

The two friends left the market, discussing the possibility of wolves being out that night thinking it was a bunch of silly tales and the wolves were just causing harm because they were scared. But a small part of Red wanted to be the hero and hunt that wolf himself, get a closer look at the creature up close. They went their separate ways afterwards, with Red going home to his father with beard and fruits.

His father was always kind hearted yet secretive about certain subjects such as hunting, wolves and royalty. He didn’t trust them, only himself and his family. He respected it.

Everytime he asked if he could go hunt the wolves with the other guys his age, his father said ‘no, you stay inside. you know red repeal wolves, kiddo, and keep that hood on.’ He was bark back and argue with his on the topic but relentlessly listened knowing he only meant well.

So in result he would stay put and enjoy his day at home, collect eggs from their shed and build items using wood in the afternoon if he wasn’t heading out. It was nice actually living a simple life but he always wondered if there was more to this.

Which led him to the moment he met her…

Red was doing his daily routine of collecting eggs from the chickens. Flipping on his hood, putting on his light brown gloves and boots for the snowy weather. He hasn’t seen Pete in days, it worried him and led him to wonder why he hasn’t seen him, especially since the high court sighting were running deep—

He paused opening up the door to the decently side chicken coop, sensing something was wrong. His ears perked up at the ruffling sounds and light whimpers, his senses were turned on looking inside. He stepped around grabbing a broomstick from behind the door ready to pounce at the intruder with a glare. The ruffling and sudden sniffing became louder with every step. Behind the stack of hey, he saw it.

More like her. He pointed the end of the broomstick in the front of them about to ask a couple of questions until he stopped short. His eyeline met her, following her gaze as she stood upright coming behind the the stack blabbing and stuttering softly, but Red tuned into rousing on her looks.

He never seen such beauty until this early night. Her deep chocolate brown eyes that held a whimper of fear behind them, her long hair glowing a raven black color and her honeycomb skin tone. He was completely mesmerize by her bewildering good looks that held a soften to them, like she can do no wrong. In his eyes at least. He glanced down to noticed a crossbow on the ground beside her and two pure white eggs in her hands.

She blinked noticing that he wasn’t exactly listening to her per say, that’s when she got a good look at the young man. His wild yet tamed blonde curls, his striking blue eyes that casted a shadow over whoever crossed paths with him, and his light creamy skin was like a breath of fresh air. Along with his deep voice, god she would’ve melted like a candle right now just hearing it.

He repeated his breathy question, “A-are you stealing our eggs?”

“I uh, i um..I’m sorry I-I could go. I didn’t m-mean to d-do that..t-take th-them back..” She response looking away for a moment holding the items towards him.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. You didn’t nothing wrong, I guess.”

“I didn’t..? But you look like your kinda mad..I’m sorry..”

“It’s alright, no harm them. Just wasn’t expecting someone in here. Why are you in my shed? And who are you?”

“…I’m uh, I’m uh..Frosty!”

She held a small smile, saying that bit but he could see right across her lie. He smirked, “That’s not your name. What’s your name?”

“..w-wh-why are you g-gonna do something if I tell you?” She asked glancing around the room for weapons but found none to her relief.

“What? No!..sorry, didn’t mean to shout. I won’t harm you, just wanna know why are you here?”

“..oh..oh okay. I’m Luna..like the moon? I am very sorry I am came here..it’s that, I have no where else to go. My home is a little far from here..”

“So you came into my shed for shelter?”

“Y-yeah..I’m sorry about that. I just need a place to stay the night.”

Red was about to say ‘You can stay here forever!’ but instead he just nodded with a bright smile guiding her out the door to his small home. Luna explained how she was on a small mission to hunt down and possibly kill a prince’s heart but she couldn’t do it and let him go. Her boss called her stupid and poof her away into the woods side of the kingdom near the area of her home.

He thought she was brave and rather noble for that. She was blushing at his comment calling him sweet for that, causing him to start blushing softly at her.

It was love at first sight one might have said, especially since the moment his father, Bruce, was introduced to the young girl he found her to be rather lovely. He never took too kindly to strangers but for some reason he couldn’t help it and smiles at her. Especially the way her and his son looked at one another.

He heard she was a huntress but her attitude was too gentle to act than the ones he remembered meeting back in the day. Bruce cooked them some bread and eggs to eat that early night as he went to his den.

Red and Luna spent the rest of the night talking in the living room after dinner, laughing and smiling at one another’s jokes. Yes, the raven haired girl was shy and sweet but she was easy to talk to which made Red fall into such a ease with the girl. It was completely comfortable even.

Red leaned forward then said, “Uh, this is silly..but um, your the first girl I’m able to have a full blown conversation with..”

“I don’t think that’s true..” She replied placing a hand over his own, not pulling away.

“Oh no, believe me, it is! All the other times I can be very shy and awkward, wanting to get in then out of there..”

“I see what you mean. Most people hear my title and think I might hurt them, then they take one good look at me and laugh thinking they can use me..”

“Yeah you don’t seem like the strongest face I’ve seen..not rough or murderous, but kind and sweet..”

“You must say that to all the others girls..”

“What other girls?”

She blushed and grinned waving him softly at his comment. Her heart started to beat at his eyes staring at her own, it was like he can hear it. Her soft pumping of her heart, as she leaned in closer with her short time in her job she could tell where this was headed or so she thinks. Maybe he just wants to become friends?

“This is crazy and probably the most reckless thing I’m about to say to you but…do you think we what have here could happen? I just met you but I want to be around you and stuff..but my father won’t let me leave.” He added with a sigh.

“Why not? You are perfectly capable of doing that yourself I think.” She responded.

“With wolf sightings, he doesn’t want me to head out…and my friend, he has been gone for a few days..”

“Well maybe he is the wolf? He is hiding or something.”

Red was silent for a long period of time as a grin appeared on his face, she was onto something. He only ever seen Pete during the day and never at night, if he could prove he is a wolf and a good person, he could be a hero. Catch the wolf, prove someone’s innocence and show his father he can take care of himself just fine.

“You’re a genius!” He shouted, out of impulse pressed a kiss onto her lips and suddenly pulled back, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what came over me..”

She blushed again, touching her lips with a slight pout, “N-n-no! Th-that was okay. You uh, kiss kinda nice? I liked it…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…why am I genius?”

“You gave me an idea! How do you catch a wolf?”

“Well, if your friend is a wolf..to prove th-that he is one and not have run off or hurt anyone, you can uh, tie him to a tree..o-only if it wants to, of course!”

——-

The next couple of nights, it was planned and staged. Rick would go out with Pete, tie him up to the tree and leave Luna in place pretending to be in underneath the covers. Especially since she would wear her red cloak to disguise herself as a asleep figure.

Red had successfully convinced Pete to go along with the plan, reminding him how he always wanted him out of the house. And showing this act of bravery could be it! Pete, ever the optometrist friend, went along with the plan having his friends tie him up with a rope. The two started a fire to keep warm and brought food just in case for the night.

All that happened was to wait it out. Wait for Pete to turn all teen wolf.

Meanwhile at the house, Luna was asleep in Red’s bed or at least pretending to be. There was a small note on the table beside her to fake the idea that Luna left the night to grab extra firewood while Rick was asleep. Bruce walked in sensing something was off but couldn’t place his finger on it, picking up the short note not knowing to believe it or not as he let out a sigh. Bruce decided to shake his son awake, turning him off to find Luna in this place as she sat up.

“What the hell happened?” He asked, trying to keep calm as his grip crumbled the note.

“H-he is in not danger! I promise, it’s alright.” She tries to explain, in a light voice.

“Where is he?”

“Well um, he is with Peter. And I know you don’t like him but..i trust Rick on this one..we figured out that he is one of the wolves this winter.”

“You did what?! You two kids are insane for that. It’s dangerous out there.”

“But Mister Banner, he is a grown young man. They b-both are are..they can take care of themselves.”

“You think Peter is the wolf?”

“Y-yes. A we-werewolf..he’s also human. B-but he won’t hurt him, he got him tied up..that’s a good thing!”

“No it’s not. Oh, that poor kid..”

“A-what? What happened?”

“Follow me.”

As they spoke rushing out of the house, Pete was tied up screaming and shouting trying to break the chains starting at the wolf in front of him. If wasn’t his reflection as a wolf but his friend. In front of him stood Red, Rick Banner, as a deep dark blackened wolf with beating blue eyes snarling at him as he stumbled in front of him the pounced tackling Peter to the very snowy ground they stood on.

Luna and Bruce walked up the hills carrying weapons, along with torches to keep themselves into the seeing well of the woods. Luna was holding her crossbow looking around for clues of anything possible as Bruce lead the way to the center of the woods to find his son explains what he know.

Luna was flabbergasted and asked, “W-wait? You knew?”

“Of course I did. We thought the trait would not pass onto him, since my grandfather was one and so I wasn’t as strong for the gene.” He explained.

“What do you mean?”

“I do have the gene, I can turn into one myself when I was younger but my cells with age weren’t as strong as they once were. I still have my senses but the rest faded away.”

“And Red?”

“We thought he wouldn’t get it. But when he was 14, it started coming and going. I paid a Wizard, for that cloak keeps him for turning, but he doesn’t like to always wear it.”

“Why didn’t tell him..?”

“I didn’t want him to have that burden of thinking he was a beast. That he couldn’t be loved..”

“Or find any love? I felt his heartbeat..he can love..I think I might love him…”

“Then he got very lucky to find you...god, I’m fool to keep this from him, I messed up.. but I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean to. You were trying to protect him..”

Once they arrived, Luna noticed a small path of bloody footsteps on the ground as she held up her crossbow in slight waves of fear. Bruce gasped at the body on the ground, pressing a hand to the pulse trying to see if the body, being Peter’s, was still alive by any chance. But he wasn’t. The bloody footsteps came in circles as the black wolf came back snarling with striking blue eyes that looked at Bruce in anger and sadness then back at Luna whimper then run.

Bruce was running after him, as the idea of bring his son down crossed his mind but he didn’t want to hurt him. He told Luna to find him as he followed behind her. Luna nodded holding her crossbow and chased after Rick, up and down the snowy deep dark nights of the wood.

Using her skills, she tracked him into a small cave, lowing her crossbow at the wolf curled up into himself, snarling and whimpering. She could hear Bruce telling her to stand back as he tossed the cloak over his son, but all she did was kneel in front of him holding out a hand for him to reach.

Rick’s snarls calmed down looking away as he sadly whimpered, nodding reaching for a paw towards Luna sensing her to be gentle. The cloak was thrown onto his body, as he shuffled from wolf to human dressed in his normal clothes panting. He seemed like he blacked out, looking up at the two with watery eyes, as Luna took his hand and he tightened his grasped.

“W-what? What happened?” He asked out, looking around to noticed them in a dark carve.

“We have to go..” Bruce repiled, helping his son up as he patted his head, “..I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Where’s Pete?”

“He’s gone..he dead.”

It took Rick a moment to realized what he meant, gasping at the realization that hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes water in shock and disbelief that he did such as thing, mutter that he was the wolf. Thinking he was a beast that can’t be loved. He looked at Luna with watery eyes, sniffling as it started to come back to him that the howling belonged to him. Luna held him up by the bicep, shaking her head leaning her face forward giving him an unspoken promise that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t know and it was an accident.

“It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?” She repeated, in such as kind yet sweet tone it was very much believable to him.

He nodded, biting his lip and sighed, “I’m so sorry…it was my plan to set this whole thing up..”

“You didn’t know, Rick..it’s okay, I’m here…I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

“Your too kind to me..”

“Because you showed me kindness first..”

The trio run off escaping the woods and back into the warmth of the cabin, turning on the fireplace shutting off the newly installed fabricated curtains. Rick held his cloak close to his chest talking with his father who explained to him the truth. There were shouting, yelling and a few short notice barks at one another.

Luna looked out the window every once in a while, trying to keep the peace between father and son waiting for it all to die down. After a while, it did. Bruce apologized greatly for what he has done and Rick thanked him for the apology, for his honesty, but not fully forgetting him just yet.

Which was understandable.

————

Late that very night, Rick was asleep in the bed next to Luna trying to relax after that nightmare of a moment. A part of him still felt like a beast, wondering if he will be seen the same way after this. He felt Luna left the side of the bed, keeping his eyes closed waiting for her to return.

Luna was wrapped up in a warm brown blanket when she heard a tapping from the windows, peaking her curious opening the shudders to find a man in dark clothes leaning against the windows grinning lightly. A wishful attitude in his position, holding an item in his hand that lightly glowed.

She closed her eyes searching for a moment of courage and gulped, “W-who ar-are you? Wh-what do you w-want?”

“Hello to you too, dearie.” He said turning around to face her properly and nod, “You’re more beautiful than the stories. I’m Cole, I’m here to give you a gift for your troubles.”

“Wh-what is it? Do I have to give you something in return?”

“No of—oh no, wait there is something darling. This gift is a test, I want to see if your admiration for one another is true.”

“A-admiration? Wh-what is that supposed to mean?”

He pulled out the item that was that blood red shining rose that glowed a gentle pink. It was stunning, being enchanted by the strength of love, devotion and kindness. With a lovely dose fitting chance of admiration is what held the heart of that rose. It was a challenge, a test to see if your love was true. If it wasn’t just a game of the mind.

“Woah..” She muttered reaching out to touch it.

Cole pulled it away for her reach and chuckle, “Hold on darling, you will get your gift. I just want to know if you think your worth it.”

“…I um, I like to think I am..am I?”

“That’s for you to see for yourself. The flower will keep glowing it’s beautiful streaks but only if you want it to.”

She took the rose about to say another word but she somehow understood what he meant. It was magic with a price. As she blinked at the shudders, he was gone. She closed the window and curled back into bed holding the rose to show to Rick. He asked what it is as she explained, hearing what the item respectfully stated made him give the first true smile of the late night.

The pair curled into one another arms chatting quietly the whole night though in pure silence as the moonlight shining above them.

Who could ever love the beast? She did.

——

Added more to the series! What do we think?

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife @cherrysft and etc

[trippygalaxy]

(i was not thinking at all when i wrote this — 🐈‍⬛)

when the new tenant first moved next door, you had no intention to meet him.

when you had peaked through the curtains and shades of your window after hearing the unmistakable slam of a moving truck's sliding door and ramp, you had seen the back of a rather muscular man.

from what little you saw of his face when he turned told you it was tattooed like one of his friends that was helping him bring boxes in, solidifying your apprehension.

the following night was rowdy.

the nine of their voices had easily carried into your apartment through the thin walls. they had referred to each other by (what you hoped were) nicknames and shared their continued support of time's new apartment until the latest hours of the night.

it was only when the loudest of them fell asleep that you were able to call it a night.

it's afternoon when you wake up. you have to force yourself to work through what should be your morning routine before any more of the day slipped from you-- you couldn't let your new neighbor and his loud friends ruin it when you'd been so good at staying on top of it.

you're about to make yourself a lazy lunch when there's a heavy-handed knock on your door and you couldn't be more glad to have freshened up as early as you did. no one that you knew in the complex had a knock like that and meeting your new neighbor with morning breath would've been hell.

he's holding a basket filled with flowers, milk from a brand you recognize as lon lon, sweets, an expensive bottle of wine, and a few other cheap housewarming items you buy when you don't know anything about your neighbor.

not only that, but you realize you had grossly underestimated how tall he was. that brief view from the window didn't serve him justice.

he had given you his own up-and-down with his one eye if the way it lingered every time it roamed up was anything to go by.

you're shaken from your thoughts when he says "hey," in a low, raspy voice filled with timbre. you'd say it was gone from the night before if you hadn't heard him speak in that same voice the night before.

"i-- erm.. didn't realize you were in last night, so sorry for the noise."

it's not as though each apartment had a specific parking space and you were the only one he shared a wall with, so you'd give him that.

he brings your attention back down to the basket he held when he holds it out to you. "i just moved in yesterday, so i'm sorry if i make a lot of noise because of unpacking and whatnot."

"you're fine," and you can't figure out whether or not you meant that you forgive him or because he was an attractive man. "a heads up would be nice, though."

the man hums in acknowledgment, watching as you retreat a few steps into your apartment to place the basket on a nearby counter. "i'll keep that in mind."

when you turn back to face him, he looks like a lost puppy standing at the door.

he shifted his weight ever so slightly on his legs to the point it would almost be unnoticeable if you weren't actively paying attention. he had his arms behind his back, but you could tell he was fiddling with something behind him by the way the muscles of his arms flexed and relaxed.

the lack of sleeves on his fitted t-shirt did him no favors in revealing the movements.

"did you want to come in?" you don't know what prompted you to ask. either his pretty face, or nervous body language? it was both, more than likely. "i was just making myself something to eat."

(you don't know where you got the energy to make something bigger than a sandwich and a few fruits, but it was there now. it'd be a waste not to use it.)

you're almost self-conscious of your apartment when he steps in and closes the door behind him. the way his eye looked over every piece of furniture and the various trinkets that littered the shelves would've made you run away if it weren't your home.

he's quicker to notice you watching him when he's a few steps away from you. "i like it," he voices with a vague gesture, "it's nice. it's very-- uhm.. unique, in a good way."

you don't bother prying a better answer out of him. it'd be painful for you both.

"are you allergic to anything?"

"no," he's quick to respond, glad to have the topic change. "i don't have any preferences either. i'll eat anything."

"even poison?"

his tongue shoots around in his mouth. he looks like he wants to say something, but he instead settles on "maybe," with a playful expression.

(you think a root of hope takes place within you.)

conversation comes easily after that. he tells you about his work on the same farm he got the (shockingly high quality) milk from and a few things about his group of friends (who called themselves the chain, funnily enough) from the night before, additionally mentioning how they were all significantly younger than him and how one of them-- the other one with face tattoos-- was his son.

"what's your name again?"

he looks up from the plate of food you had long since placed in front of him, brows raised when he realizes that neither of you had, in fact, exchanged names.

"the others call me time." he huffs out a laugh when he sees your brow raise. "like father time because i'm so old. my name is link."

"the others..?"

"they're link as well."

"and so you, in good conscience, made your son a junior?"

"in my defense, i didn't realize he would make so many friends with the same name."

"which should i call you then?"

"whichever you like more," he hums. "just know it might be confusing around the others depending on which."

when he gives a belly laugh at your response of "how fun, sir," you couldn't help but be thankful that he and his wife separated.

MMMMMMM GOOD SOUP—

I love the idea of reader slowly being introduced to the other boys, either they run into eachother in the hall/street OR Time brings them to visit when thr pair becomes closer!!

Also love the thought of Time just taking but the majority of a door frame?? Its so funny to think of him shrinking in on himself as he tries to waddle his into his/others houses.

THE ‘YOURE FINE’ BIT??? ME TOO HONESTLY—

Also very very very sweet of Time to give them a basket as an apology!!! Kinda made a shit first impression but INSTANTLY made up for it <33

[svturn-exe]

luis lives au - polar

contains references to canon-typical violence & some very mild reference to a headcanon (leon being referred to with both he/him and she/her)

From so far away, the explosives she’d spent so long lacing the island with sound almost like fireworks. Her body is sore, and she’s definitely got a few bruises underneath her clothing, but watching the island crumble under the force of the heavy duty explosives, Ada finds that the effort was worth it. All things considered… it could’ve been a lot worse. She’ll have to remember to send Leon a fruit basket. Something for her trouble.

A quiet groan pulls Ada from her musing, turning her head to look towards the back of the helicopter. Luis Sera is right where she left him, slumped in the seat Ada manhandled him into. His shirt is open, revealing the bandages wound around his chest, his ornate leather jacket draped over his shoulders. The sight sparks something in Ada’s chest, almost approaching nostalgia. She remembers it fondly - bright-eyed, baby-faced, painfully earnest rookie Leon. So naive and trusting, hanging on her every word, taking a bullet for a woman she didn’t even know. Ada could have left him there to die. She could have let pain and exhaustion catch up to Leon - let him pass out and bleed her life out onto the ground. Ada is a spy, though, not an ingrate. So she had dressed the wound and called them even.

The reason Luis is alive, however, has nothing to do with gratitude. Has little to do with Ada at all, if she’s being honest. Rather, Luis is alive because Ada had been ordered to get him out of there. For reasons Ada can’t even begin to guess at. Albert Wesker, Ada has learned over the years, is made up of contradictions. For all intents and purposes, Luis had failed to uphold his end of the bargain - had been unable to retrieve the Amber, instead taking a ten inch knife to the lung while running around with Leon. Therefore, the deal was off. Yet, when Ada had reported Luis’ mortal injury back to Wesker… Ada remembers falling to what would have certainly been her death, only to have her life mercifully spared, despite not being able to complete her mission - the G-virus sample lost to the yawning depths below. Maybe, she supposes, Wesker is just softer than he looks. Or, maybe, he has some other hidden motive. Whatever it is, she’ll find out eventually.

She looks away from Luis, moving away from the helicopter’s door and settling into an empty seat. The amber nestles into the cushioned case she’d been provided nicely, and she clicks it shut with an air of finality. Ada puts on the headset, leisurely leaning back in her seat. “Patch me through,” she says, and waits until the pilot gives her the thumbs-up. “I’ve obtained the Amber,” she speaks into the mic, gaze drifting to the outside, setting sun glinting off the water. “Serra, as well.” “Excellent,” comes Wesker’s reply, ostensibly pleased with her performance, but there is something in the man’s tone Ada can’t quite place. Albert Wesker is made up of contradictions. “Just one question.” A question Ada had been wanting to ask since she took the job, to be frank. “What do you plan to do with this?” “I do not pay you to ask questions.” Really, Ada should have expected that, but Wesker continues on anyway, as if he hadn’t just rebuked her for prying. “All you need to know, is a new dawn is breaking.”

The words, however ominous, sound oddly rehearsed. Almost imperceptibly stilted in a way few would be able to catch. Ada purses her lips, glancing down at the case, the Amber nestled safely inside. “A hundred will give their lives so that just one may live.” A brief pause. “I am expediting that change.” Wesker rarely gets things like sarcasm - if you want to get anywhere with him, you need to be blunt. “So,” Ada takes a moment to pick her next words. “We’re talking millions of casualties.” She can’t say the idea sits well with her, regardless of her chosen profession. “Billions,” Wesker asserts, an odd thing to emphasize. Wesker rarely gets sarcasm. He also just as rarely ever says what he really means.

There is little to no reason, logically, for Wesker to be telling her this - not if he believes in what he’s saying. He could have simply rejected her attempt to pry, and let Ada believe he simply wants to research the Amber for his own personal gain. Ada has a choice to make. “How ambitious,” she replies, standing before removing the headset and placing it down on her seat. There is only one choice to make, really.

She points a gun at the pilot’s head, finger off the trigger but the threat is clear. “We’re changing course. Now.” The pilot turns their head just enough to see the weapon in Ada’s hand, and obeys without question, the helicopter tilting as they turn to face back the way they’d come. Ada peers down, out the window. Far below, in the water, Ada sees the speedboat, and by extension, Leon. The girl he’d been sent to rescue - Ashley, that’s her name - clings to Leon’s back. A weight Ada didn’t know she’d been carrying lifts off her shoulders. They made it out okay. Leon had saved Ada’s ass again. Her ankles still feel rubbed raw from being strung up, and her shoulder aches from where it hit the ground, but she could be a lot worse off. Watching Leon and Ashley speed off in the boat Ada had given them the keys for… she’ll just call them even again.

Another groan, louder this time, pulls Ada’s attention away from the speedboat, and she glances back towards Luis. He’s moving, struggling to push himself upright, bleary eyes taking in his surroundings. “You’re awake,” Ada greets, and Luis startles, wide eyes flicking up to meet her own. He tries to say something, but a cough stops him, wracking his weakened body. Ada takes a moment to look back outside. They’re approaching the island again, still being ravaged by explosions. Maybe it was a bit overkill, but it’s coming in handy now. Ada slinks back over to the case, popping it open and removing the Amber. Walking over to the door, resting her free hand on the wall, she holds it in her hand, head tilted, studying the small object. To think that something so innocuous has true world-ending potential. She waits until they’re about over the center of the island before tossing it down, leaving the Amber to be buried along with the rest of the accursed cult.

Turning back, Ada sees that Luis has caught his breath, and is looking at her with confusion and incredulity. “So, eh-,” Luis wets his lips, glancing down at where Ada had thrown the Amber. “I am… not ungrateful, señorita, but… why am I here?” Ada understands his confusion. She’d been pretty confused too, when Wesker had decided to save her, despite the mission failure. “Points for effort,” she drawls sarcastically, letting the sardonic statement conceal the fact that she doesn’t know, either. “Consider your life from this point on your consolation prize.” Luis blinks at her, stunned, but relaxes back into the leather seat with a pained grunt. “We were just taking a quick detour,” Ada changes the conversation, raising her voice so the pilot can hear her over the whirring helicopter blades. “We’ll be heading back now.” The helicopter tilts as they about-face once more, setting them on course to their destination. To Wesker.

The rest of the ride passes in relative quiet, save for the occasional noise of pain or discomfort from Luis. For a man who was stabbed in the lung, though, he’s taking it remarkably well. Credit where credit is due. The sun has long since set, the stars a thick blanket over the night sky and the wind a bitter chill, by the time they touch down. Ada is a capable woman, but her strengths definitely lie in speed and discretion. Half-hauling a grown man around with his arm over her shoulders is not something Ada typically does, and she feels a brief flash of annoyance at Krauser for going and dying on her. If nothing else, she could’ve used his muscles right about now. Wesker cuts an imposing silhouette, as always, backlit by a large screen displaying more information than Ada cares to try to glean at the moment. “Lay him down,” Wesker gestures to a gurney, strangely out of place in this room. It takes a bit of effort to get Luis up onto the thing, but he settles down with a groan. Then, Wesker turns his gaze to Ada. As usual, his face gives nothing away, mouth set in a thin line and eyes hidden behind dark lenses. He’s waiting for something. She meets his gaze, unflinching. “I suppose you have made your decision.” Wesker is the first to break the silence of their stare-off. There isn’t any need to elaborate. The fact that Ada came back with Luis and not the Amber says enough. Another beat of silence, and for a moment, Ada worries if she somehow misread. If Wesker is now going to kill her as retribution for failing him once more. He simply turns away, back to his monitor. “Was it the right one?” he muses, gazing up at some graph displaying data Ada has no context for. “There was only one real choice,” Ada asserts, letting the confidence in her voice wash away the moment of unease. Wesker pauses, humming. “I will hold you to that.”

[vixvaporub]

You know, I love fruit basket because of how it portrays so many different forms of abuse. I'm not romanticizing it, it's just nice relating to a character because something similar happened to you. When I first read it, I went through something similar to Rin/Izusu went through that involved how her parents treated her. I don't know why, but it just sucks how unwelcoming some people are online. Apparently what happened to Rin isn't possible (what?) and how dare the idea parents who didn't want their kid and got tired of putting up a happy family act exist. It just makes me sad cause she's one of the characters I relate to the most, but people just flat out hate her. I remember reading someone's analysis and they said rin purposely kept her hair like that to look like ren because rin's mom had curly hair and that her name wasn't even rin, that somehow she purposely did everything to torture Akito. I'm still so confused by it. I mean, i guess some people are lucky they haven't been treated like shit because they reminded someone of someone they hated. In hs, this girl didn't even call me my own name and referred to me as someone else's name I never fucking met all cause she claimed I looked like her. But you know, apparently someone's own personal experience is just made up according to random people online.

One of the many reasons why I the series so much is that it portrays the many ways people can experience abuse from their own "family/social group". How the scape goat vs golden child both suffer trauma from these toxic environments in their own ways.

Also, I'm sorry you relate to Rin so much and that someone didn't believe your experiences. To me, that person seems like they think Akito did no wrong... which I fully believe she's also a victim of abuse but also did unforgivable things.

[julek]

3.2K of modern au trans geralt missing his boyfriend. ! explicit sexual content. happy birthday, @welcomemysentence <3 | read on ao3

! geralt refers to his genitals as cunt & clit.

After Geralt drives Jaskier to the airport, walks with him as far as security will allow, kisses him soundly and wraps him in a bone-crushing hug, and walks back inside a Jaskier-less apartment, he tells himself he’ll do just fine without him.

They’ve spent time apart before. They’ve both gone on week-long trips to visit family, have had unexpected calls on jobs outside of the city. They’re familiar with airport parking lots and kisses that hold promise and tear tracks down rosy cheeks.

Besides, he’s got Roach to keep him company. He’s got snow to shovel every day so he can actually use his car, he’s got a Netflix queue full of wildlife documentaries that he can’t wait to get his hands onto. Work is slow in the winter season, but he’s got plenty of things to distract himself.

(Not that he needs to! He’s a perfectly functioning adult who’s been on his own for longer than he can remember, who’s always paid his own bills and who’s generally been fending for himself since, well, forever — adopted family aside. Old habits die hard.

He was alone before he met Jaskier. He enjoyed— enjoys the fine company that is himself.

Even if his bed is half-empty, and every morning he takes out two mugs for coffee instead of one, and Roach perks her ears up when the doorbell rings, disappointed to find out it’s only mail, or takeout. Even if he finds himself straying to one of Jaskier’s oversized sweaters to lounge in during the day, even if he casually slips in one of his t-shirts to sleep at night.

All very casual, normal, independent-boyfriend stuff).

So he goes about his days as he normally would, when Jaskier is gone: he wakes up at a sensible hour, feeds Roach and plays fetch with her in the living room, makes himself a cup of coffee (with more cream than he lets Jaskier see — he’s got a reputation) and a bowl of oatmeal and fruit and watches the morning news. After, he and Roach go for a run. When they return, Geralt takes a shower, sees what he’ll have for lunch, and after the meditative process of cooking, eating, and washing up, he takes a half-hour nap.

His routine could be in a health magazine, Jaskier’s told him.

Afternoons are spent either shopping for groceries when he needs to, or lounging on the couch, cuddling up to Roach. She seems to believe he’s too clingy when Jaskier is gone, but Geralt thinks she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

(Not that she answers when he asks her. He’s tried. Several times. All he gets are tilted heads and adorable puppy eyes that he snaps too many pictures of to send to Jaskier).

So it’s Netflix without the chill until dinnertime, and after that, it’s a book in bed until Jaskier calls.

(Not that his day revolves around that single occurrence).

It works. It’s fine. He’s fine.

Three days after he dropped Jaskier off at the airport, he thinks he’s never missed him this much.

He’s already laying in bed, dinner eaten and plates washed, but he can’t focus on his book.

He misses the chatter, the noise; the sounds of a house well-lived, well-loved, the trail of objects that follow Jaskier’s footsteps across the wooden floors, the sometimes open cabinets and the single sock fallen from the laundry basket. He misses the sound of his voice, the happy honey, I’m home that started out as a joke, a jab at romantic comedies and their perfect happily-ever-after that got real after time. The low cadence of his voice when he’s sleepy after a nice meal; the baby voice he puts on for Roach and Ciri only; the honey-sweet pet names that Geralt knows only come out when they’re alone. The early-morning I love you and the lunchtime you’re perfect and the late-evening I’m so lucky to have you and the nighttime please stay forever.

And then doing it all over again.

(It’s not lost on him, how despite his initial disdain, his life seems to have been manufactured by Hallmark.

He’s not sure he minds).

He misses his touch. His hello kisses, his goodbye kisses. Forehead kisses, neck kisses, nose kisses. Kisses on the cheek, on his mouth, on his knuckles. On his scars. Strong arms wrapped around Geralt’s middle when they sleep, an arm lazily draped over his shoulder when they watch movies on the couch. Jaskier’s warm hand in his when they get groceries, his frozen nose touching his nape. The way he gives it all away so freely, so easily: a hand in his elbow, on his knee, on his cheek; fingers tangled in his own, in his hair, in his mouth.

Hands on his skin. Traveling the expanse of his back, feeling every knob of his spine, the swell of his ribs. Lingering on every scar that once sliced through his skin, connecting them like constellations from a lost galaxy. Down his neck, down his chest, down the softness of his stomach. Up his legs, up his thighs.

On his ass. Massaging gently, spanking hard. Feeling the sensitive skin of his cheeks. The kisses he presses there, the bites, sometimes. Fingers dusting along his hole, dipping lower, at the front, where his need throbs and aches and drips for him.

Only for him.

Fingers tickling his grey-white hair, there, before he parts Geralt’s lips and allows cool air to hit his cunt, pink and wet. One finger first, gathering the slick, spreading it everywhere. Two fingers, one on each side of his clit, going up and down in slow motions.

Fuck, Geralt misses him so much.

His own fingers have traveled down his chest of their own volition, rucking up Jaskier’s old and faded Reputation Tour t-shirt and toying with the waistband of his boxers. He can feel how wet he is, can feel the way he’s throbbing with need at the mere thought of getting Jaskier’s hands on him — but Jaskier isn’t home, and he won’t be for days.

A whine escapes Geralt’s lips, unbidden, as he draws small circles on the inside of his thighs. He’s rarely one to take it slowly — it’s usually Jaskier who has to reign his need in — but fuck, he wants it to last. He focuses on the present, on the weight of his body against the covers, of the early February rain pit-pattering against the window. On the feel of his hand, ghosting over himself, the heat simmering low in his belly.

He closes his eyes and thinks back to the last time they’d been together before Jaskier left — the way Jaskier had fucked him into the mattress, hard and heavy and so full of love, exactly how he’d asked him to. He thinks of his splayed legs, framing Jaskier’s body rutting into him, Jaskier’s hair matted with sweat and the blissed-out grin on his face as his thrusts became erratic, as he came on Geralt’s chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, pushing his underwear to the side, bending his legs at his knees so that his cunt is exposed to the cool air of the room.

He doesn’t touch himself, not yet — instead he traces one finger lightly on the outer side of his lips, toying with the hair, reveling in the feeling of his still dry skin pushing against the slick pooled at his entrance.

If Jaskier were home, Geralt would ride him; he’d push him back against the mattress and straddle his hips, and he’d watch Jaskier’s face as he impaled himself on his cock, not waiting, not easing himself into it, but letting himself feel the stretch, the burn. He’d ride him in tight circles and then in long, aching upward motions, until they were both a panting mess, breathing kisses into each other’s skin.

But he opens his eyes and Jaskier isn’t there, and Geralt knows they’ve got a box full of toys in the top drawer of the dresser, but he is feeling a bit old-fashioned tonight.

Kneeling on the middle of the bed, he takes off his underwear, kicking it off to the floor. He takes Jaskier’s pillow with him, positioning it between his thighs.

He leaves the shirt on.

There’s always that feeling whenever something touches his cunt for the first time — a hand, a cock, a tongue — and this time is no different: fisting his hands on each side of the pillow, he lets out a shuddering gasp as he brings it up against his cunt, moving back and forth.

“Ah, fuck,” he breathes, setting the pillow down on the mattress and putting his weight on his knees, slowly grinding against it. He can feel the pillow cover already getting wet where it’s pressed against him, and it spurs him on.

He knows which buttons to push to get off more efficiently — had to figure them out, him and Jaskier having a thing for the thrill of almost being caught in public — and he tries to avoid them, tries to make himself last. He can’t edge himself as good as Jaskier does it to him, too much of a hedonist to deny himself the pleasure that blooms from a well-placed stroke on his swollen clit, but he tries.

Changing the angle, he leans forward on his elbows, leaving the pillow underneath his body, still tucked between his legs, and tries rutting forward against it. It’s much more intense laying down — the pillow has nowhere to go, trapped beneath him, the harder edges of the pillowcase lining perfectly with his cunt.

“Fuck,” he moans, holding onto the blankets with a hard grip. “Ah, ah, fuck.”

It feels so mind-numbingly good he almost misses his phone buzzing on the nightstand.

He takes his phone in trembling hands, Jaskier’s contact picture smiling up at him, and he lets it go to voicemail. He can’t possibly answer like this, sweaty and fucked-out.

He sits back against the headboard, trying to calm his breathing, and opens Jaskier’s chat.

Jaskier [11.03]: hey babe i’ll be free in 5! <3

[MISSED CALL from Jaskier]

[MISSED CALL from Jaskier]

Jaskier [11.19]: u up?

Jaskier [11.19]: or have u gone to bed already, u old, responsible man

Jaskier [11.19]: :(

[MISSED CALL from Jaskier]

Geralt [11.23]: sorry. calling you now

[OUTGOING CALL...]

“Hey!” comes Jaskier’s voice from the phone’s speakers, and Geralt’s heart lurches. “What are you up to?”

“Hey,” he replies, aiming for cool and casual. “Not much, really. You?”

“Mm, not much either.” There’s a rustle of fabric. “Sorry, I was changing for bed when you called. Were you in the middle of something when I called? Or did you just put your phone in the freezer again.”

“That was one time.”

“Mm,” comes Jaskier’s chuckle, clear as day. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Were you in the middle of something?

“I… was.”

“Oh?” The fabric rustles again. “Tell me?”

Geralt feels his face burn. He doesn’t know how to put it, exactly — that he was laying in bed wearing Jaskier’s shit and nothing else, rutting against the pillow he sleeps with every night.

He closes his eyes.

“I miss you,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Geralt echoes, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Wanna see how much?”

[INCOMING VIDEO CALL]

With a grin, Geralt accepts the call. Jaskier’s face comes into view, and he already looks a wreck.

Geralt is not going to last.

“What did you wanna show me?” Jaskier says casually, as if all Geralt wanted to show him was the new yarn he got at the store, but his breathy voice betrays him.

Geralt takes a minute to look at him before answering. He’s wearing Geralt’s ratty Looney Tunes t-shirt, the one that’s too loose and hangs off his shoulder, and his hair looks soft where he ruffled it with his fingers. There’s warmth in his eyes and his smile, slowly becoming more heated.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, angling the phone so Jaskier can only see his face, pale skin golden against the amber light. Slowly, he trails his fingers down until they reach his cunt, and he shudders as he drags two fingers down. “This.”

He puts his fingers up, shiny and glistening, a string of slick connecting them.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, his face close to the camera as he tries to get a better look. “Fuck, Geralt— are you trying to kill me?”

Geralt smiles.

“How long?”

“Just a while,” Geralt says. “Got all riled up thinking about you.”

Jaskier splutters. “You can’t— Gods, you can’t just say these stuff to me, Geralt.”

“‘S the truth.”

“Yes, well— doesn’t make it any less hot. Tell me, Geralt,” he says darkly, “what were you doing when I called you?”

Geralt feels his cheeks heat up and looks away. He clears his throat.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“N-no,” Geralt replies. “Was just… thinking.”

“Mm,” Jaskier considers. “What were you thinking about?”

Geralt closes his eyes, letting his hand drift lower. “About— ah— you.” His touch is feather-light on his cunt. “About the last time you fucked me.”

Jaskier groans, a low noise stuck in his throat. “Yeah, fuck. And after? You sounded too fucked-out when you picked up for just thinking.”

Geralt bites back a moan — Jaskier knows him too well. “Yeah,” he admits. He can’t bring himself to say it, though.

“Can you show me, please?” Jaskier’s voice is earnest, a hint of eagerness to it that makes Geralt melt.

“Yeah.”

He turns the camera off for a minute, and props his phone against the headboard, up on some pillows, and aims the camera at himself, kneeling in the center of the bed with the pillow under himself.

He turns the camera back on.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jaskier says brokenly.

“Yeah,” Geralt says with a grin, slowly rocking his hips forward.

“Is that my pillow?”

Geralt nods, laughing softly at Jaskier’s low groan.

“Fuck, yeah, you’re definitely trying to kill me.” He can see Jaskier’s face is flushed in the image. “How’s it feel, baby?”

Geralt moans. “So good— so dry.”

“But you’re wet already.”

“Mm-hm.” Geralt throws his head back, his hips working against the pillow. “Was so wet for you.”

“Hnng.” There’s a rustle of fabric, and when Geralt looks up, Jaskier is touching himself. “Look too good like that, love, I can’t help myself.”

“I miss you,” Geralt says, and feels it in his heart. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, fuck— look at you,” he pants. “So beautiful for me. Can you lift your shirt up a bit, love?”

Geralt nods. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Leave it on, please,” Jaskier says. “Just— I wanna see you.”

Geralt lifts his shirt up to his neck, grabbing the hem between his teeth, and thrusts up so the camera catches everything. He looks down at himself — chest flushed dark pink, glistening with sweat, his cunt dripping and swollen, his lips spread open against the edge of the pillow.

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier groans. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

Jaskier nods and arranges his phone on the nightstand, and his body comes into view — his discarded underwear and his hand stroking his cock, long and thick and mouth-watering as ever, a bead of pre-come at the head.

“Wanna suck you off,” Geralt tells him, one finger reaching down to rub at his clit. “Want you to come on my face.”

“Fuck, yes.” Jaskier’s hand moves faster.

“I’ll make it so good for you,” Geralt says. “Swallow you down and have you pull on my hair until you can’t take it anymore, and then open my mouth and swallow your come, and let you paint my face with it.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier says in warning. “‘M not gonna last.”

“Good,” Geralt says, pressing his finger down on his clit. “I wanna make you come— come for me.”

Jaskier’s choked-off groan fills Geralt’s speakers as he comes on his chest, fine white lines coating the thick hair.

“Fuck,” he says when he catches his breath. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Geralt, grinning and sitting back on his heels.

Jaskier takes his phone in his hand, sets it back against his knee so Geralt can only see his face. It warms his chest for a second, the lazy angle, the fact that he’s the only one who gets to see Jaskier like this. “And what about you? What do you want?”

Geralt lets out a small whine. “Want you.”

“Mmm,” Jaskier says, one finger lazily playing with the come cooling on his chest. “How do you wanna come tonight? Fingers, toys?” He smiles. “Pillow?”

“Pillow,” Geralt says. “Your pillow.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Jaskier groans. “Go on, then, show me how you make yourself come.”

Geralt grabs the pillow in his hands and flips it over, so the side that’s drenched in his slick doesn’t get ruined further. He moans as the cool, crisp fabric of the pillowcase touches his cunt, and he drags the pillow under him lazily.

“Like that,” Jaskier murmurs. “So messy, such a good boy.”

Geralt nods, planting his knees on the mattress and starting to ride the pillow with long thrusts. “Fuck, Jask.”

“When I come home, I wanna see you rut against my pillow again,” Jaskier tells him, voice low. Geralt whines. “I want you on my lap, the pillow under you, and you riding it slowly, very slowly, until you’re so wet the pillow gives you no friction.”

Geralt moans at his words, picking up his pace. He can feel Jaskier’s skin beneath him, can feel heat coiling tight in his belly.

“And then, I want you against my thigh,” Jaskier continues. “I know you love how hairy they are— how it feels so good, prickling at your cunt. I know you like it rough sometimes. I want you to rut against me until your legs give out.”

Geralt’s thrusts become erratic, his knuckles white against the pillow.

“And then I wanna fuck you,” Jaskier says. “Slow and deep and good, because you deserve everything, and I wanna give it to you.”

Geralt comes with a cry, thrusting his hips hard down against the pillow, right where it rubs up against his clit, and he’s drenching the pillowcase, coming so hard and good before melting against the mattress.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Jaskier laughs from the phone. “Good, love?”

“Uh-huh,” Geralt says, and has half a piece of mind to grab his phone and take it with him as he collapses on top of the pillows. “Fuck.”

His legs are still twitching, his cunt sensitive and slick when he touches a finger to it. He shudders.

“I miss you so much,” he tells him again, this time sated and sleepy, eyes closed. “I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“Me too, dear,” Jaskier says softly. “I don’t think I was made to be kept away from you.”

Geralt hums. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier replies, and Geralt can hear the smile on his face. “D’you wanna take a nap? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt nods, setting the phone down next to him.

“Goodnight, love.”

Goodnight.

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

[bubblyhoney]

picnic bitch

warnings: crude language duh, suggestive (not explicit) content, an eminem reference

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 1156

A/N: a continuation of a detail from my boyfriend!sapnap head canon :D

-

The breeze wafts across your face, moving a lock of hair to tickle on your cheek. You swat a hand up at your cheek and furrow your brows.

The weather today has been fairly pleasant and not too sweltering, thank God. The park is busy this time of afternoon, but you both snagged a spot underneath a huge tree in the southwest corner of the field.

“Pass me a strawberry, please, baby,” he mumbles from above you. You glance up at him, one eye squinted, and reach for the container of strawberries. “Feed me.” He smirks and drops his mouth open, tongue out. You just roll your eyes and place a berry into his mouth, careful to not get his spit on you. You settle back into his lap, content.

Today was the designated picnic day. You try to have a couple during the summer just because it’s so lovely to sit outside, relax, and eat, but you’d already had about six since the start of summer. They mostly consist of you feeding Sapnap fruit and laying with your head on his lap, stretched out and comfortable. Today you were sporting clothes all loose and blue as the sky, wanting to be stylish but not too sweaty. He’d gone for sweat-shorts and a green flannel over a white shirt: cute. Very cute. So cute you can’t help but stare and feel your cheeks flush.

Shuffling his legs, he readjusts his arms and hums as he settles back into the bark of the tree. Sweet music plays lightly in the background, courtesy of your portable speaker sitting perfectly on top of the picnic basket.

“You look ethereal,” is what you can’t help but to whisper. You peek one eye open and stare up at his relaxed face. He rolls his eyes but smiles down at you, tips of his ears pink.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, shy. You just huff and roll up onto an elbow, reaching for your lemonade. It’s tart on your tongue and you make a pleased noise at the taste, swallowing. He just watches you.

“What time are you making dinner?” You fold up onto your knees, raising your eyebrows as you screw the cap back onto your bottle.

“Oh, am I making dinner now?” Teasing, he reaches for your arms and you accede, letting him tug you onto his lap. “It’s salad night.” Making a face, he strokes up and down your bicep, both soothing and causing goosebumps.

“I thought you liked salad night, babe.” His hair is soft and nice on your palm when you reach a hand up to pet his hair. He stills and lets you, but shrugs after a moment.

“I like salad, but never as a full meal. Can we make spaghetti?”

“Okay, yeah,” you agree, shuffling forward on his lap. “That sounds good. I’ll be expecting homemade pasta, Chef.”

“Oh, yeah?” He brushes a wind-disturbed tuft of hair out of your eyes. Full lips split into a smile as he leans back into the tree, eyes closed. “Sounds like a lot of effort, sweetheart.”

Your skin tingles brightly at the pet name. A beam of sunlight breaks through the green leaves of the tree and stripes diagonal across his calm expression. When you said ethereal, you meant it.

The serene mood, all breezy and gentle music, breaks when you open your mouth. As usual.

“Hey, are you Mom’s spaghetti?” You pause for a second and let your hand drop onto his collarbone. “Because you make my knees weak and my palms sweaty.” The pick-up line takes a second to hit before his eyes snap open. Bowing forward, he makes a retching sound into your lap.

“Oh my God,” he breathes, cheeks puffy and strained as he holds in a laugh. “That was actually awful. You should be ashamed.” Shrugging, you relax back into his thighs with a sigh.

“I thought it was pretty good, actually. You’re in love now; I just beguiled you. Get beguiled.” Your voice is teasing, poking, as you play with the bottle of lemonade in your hands.

“I don’t think an Eminem reference has as much power as you think it does,” he says simply, and tugs you closer into his lap. One hand slides up to your neck, just resting, before he’s pulling you forward, inches away from his mouth. “But I do love you.” His lips slide easily against yours, tasting your chapstick and breathing you in. You taste like lemon and sugar. His other hand rests comfortably in the curve of your waist, squeezing intermittently.

You take a few minutes to just kiss. Not making out, not grinding or teasing. It’s peaceful out here, away from families, so you take your time.

It’s the second a drop of water plops right onto your shoulder that you tense. Pulling away, you raise an empty palm up in the air. Drop. Drop.

“It’s raining,” you practically wail, and clamber out of his lap. The sky has turned an ugly grayish blue, dark clouds that came out of seemingly nowhere looming in the distance. He huffs, irritated, and starts to gather your stuff up. The strawberries go into the basket, as do the sandwiches, and you toss your lemonade in as well. You stand to fold the picnic blanket and shove it down into a tan tote bag.

The park is rapidly clearing of people. Teenagers at the skating park hop on their bikes, adults walking their dogs scatter in the parking lot to their respective vehicles, and you two scramble to collect your things and make a dash for your car. It’s full on pouring when you yank open the passenger seat and climb clumsily in.

“This sucks!” He yells over the downpour, and slams closed the driver’s door. It’s much more quiet in here, you realize, and tilt your face up to the sunroof. You’d peeled back the covering on the way here “to let the sunlight in” and now it’s getting pelted with large, warm raindrops. Sapnap moves in his seat, getting situated, and starts the car with a rumble. It’s also fucking hot in here.

“This is not how I was thinking our picnic was going to end,” he pouts. “I thought we would actually make it to the cake.” A cartoonish frown appears on his lips and you melt, aw-ing. You reach a thumb to rub at his bottom lip.

“It’s okay, we can finish the cake when we get home. Spoil our dinner.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he huffs out a laugh, pulling his seatbelt to its lock.

“I doubt we’ll make it home without pulling over and shoving our faces with it,” he scoffs. A smirk grows on your face and he glances warily at it, shifting to reverse out of the parking spot. “What’s that face for?”

“Are you familiar with the idea of whipped cream play?”

Yeah, the cake doesn’t make it home.

-

A/N: ask or send me stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments are extremely welcome and even encouraged

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Whats your theory for why no one noticed that akito was a girl? - thetravelerkureno

Why they didnt realize that Akito is a girl?

Thanks for the ask, @thetravelerkureno.

Yep, i do ^^. Its really interesting, sad and fun to think about it because there are times that Akito becomes so obvious and noone will realize it anyway. I think there are three main reasons why they didnt figure out.

1- Sexism in Fruits Basket;

In fruits basket, you will see many sexist comments about how a girl or boy should act and those comments are refers to Akito and Yuki the most.

Its really interesting because here’s the thing.

Akito and Yuki have very similar apperances. They are both beatifull kids, with similar faces, similar hair style, even the clothes they choose is similar. But Yuki is constantly seen as girlish while noone ever doubt about Akito's gender.

Its because all characters have certain expectations of how a girl or a boy should act. Boys should be tough, masculine. Girls should be fragile, nice, cheerfull.

We see those sexist comments with Kyo’s calling Yuki as girlish, students enjoy by seeing Yuki as girl, Kakeru questions Yuki’s gender. ‘Are you a girl?’.

Then when it comes to Akito, noone think about it twice and when they learn, they all so shocked and confused, even Tohru’s first reaction is ‘No way! But she acted like a boy!’

This is why they didnt think twice about Akito’s gender cause she acts masculine as possible. She is raised to act that way. Acting like ‘boy’, wearing like ‘boy’, talking like ‘boy’. Basically because she acts as tough and masculine. While Yuki who is actually a boy, always speak kindly and not masculine/tough is seen as girlish.

2- Special existence;

This is the sad part. People in Sohma place and zodiac members, they all viewed Akito as someone ‘different’. Special existence. Something different. They dont see her as normal human being. She is never seen as invidual by anyone. No matter what she does, they would still view her actions as weird. Basically, Akito is always seen as something not human by everyone. If they dont view her as invidual or noırmal human being, of course, they wouldnt pay attentions things like gender.

They probably even thought that someone so important wouldnt hide something like that. They wouldnt ‘dare’ to questioning god/family head. After all, he is someone so strong, there is no way that he would hide it something like that, right? Accepting someone's humanity is also accepting that person's flaw, that person might have issues too, instead of thinking 'this person is like that for no reason'.

Like, think about it. God, monster or things like that, does their gender matter to people? No. Because they are not human anyway. Basically, not realizing Akito’s gender is one of the biggest proof of how less zodiac members or sohma people pay attention to Akito.

They didnt realize something so obvious cause they never see her as person.

3- Masculine Girl & Feminine Boy;

This is kinda funny. I think if Yuki wasnt there with Akito, people could question this more. Think about it. Two beatifull kids side by side. And the one who acts as ‘girlish’ is boy, you know that. Would you question the boyish kid, after seeing a boy like Yuki? Basically, the fact that Yuki is there with Akito takes all attention to him as ‘weird one’ so people wouldnt suspect Akito that much.

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”