#I do intend to continue reading Fruits Basket | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goforth-ladymidnight · 4 months

Text

A Second Chance

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Rating: M for mature themes and strong language

Ch. 1/5(?)

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: There is a reason that Tamlin disappeared from Lucien's life seven years ago. Lucien just doesn't know what it is. They were more than college roommates; they were best friends. Now, a chance encounter in a bookstore leaves both of them wondering if they can pick up where they left off. A new year is right around the corner, but there is no wiping Tamlin's slate clean. Featuring Jurian and Vassa in supporting roles, this is not a story of redemption, but of finding love—and forgiveness—in the most unlikely of places. A Modern ACOTAR Holiday AU.

✨✨✨For @praetorqueenreyna ✨✨✨

It's here! It's here! It's finally here! (Emphasis on finally.) Even though this took a lot longer than I intended, it's also a lot longer, too. This is the first chapter out of five (I think), and I hope to have the rest done by New Year's. Featuring your OTP Tamcien, as requested, as well as a little bit of Jassa because, as you'll soon see, they needed to be in this story. :) I hope you like it! I had an absolute blast writing it.

@acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 as part of the 2023 Gift Exchange Collection or read on below the cut:

“Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer,” crooned a male voice in the sound system above their heads, a slower, mellower version of the jolly holiday song that matched the easygoing vibe in The Reading Nook Bookstore.

Lucien absentmindedly hummed along as he browsed the themed display tables, passing over the fantasy and romance books in favor of something more to his mother’s taste. As he read the synopsis of the latest Poppy Seedcake Mystery, a cozy murder mystery series themed around baked goods, he couldn’t help but smirk.

“What do you think of this,” he asked Vassa, who was perusing the political thriller section nearby. When she glanced up, he held up the cover and continued jokingly, “Should I get this for my mom? It’s all about murdering your husband and how to get away with it.”

Vassa’s bright blue eyes flicked to the cover. “Rat poison,” she said simply, before returning her attention to the thick novel in her hands.

Lucien’s brows furrowed as he turned the cover over. He traced the title with his finger as he read to her, “No, it says: A Raisin to Kill… Wait. What do you mean: ‘Rat Poison’?”

“How to murder your husband and get away with it,” she repeated in her richly lyrical Scythian accent. “Rat poison. In coffee. Tea is too weak to disguise the taste.”

Lucien swore and ducked his shoulders as a couple of curious shoppers glanced up from their magazines nearby. Redfaced, he set the mystery book down and remarked, “I forgot how literal you are sometimes.”

Vassa looked at him quizzically. “Is that not what you wanted to give your mother for Christmas?”

“Not if it can used as evidence in a murder trial,” he quipped, then shook off the chill rippling down his arms. “Maybe I’ll just buy her a fruit basket.”

“Rat poison works well in the juices of fruit, too,” she said brightly.

Lucien chuckled nervously and ran a hand over his long red hair. “I’ll take your word for it.” He wanted his bastard father dead just as much as the rest of his brothers, but he wasn’t keen on being considered a suspect in Beron Vanserra’s death. “Where did you learn about that, um—” he cleared his throat, “—advice, anyway?”

“My mother. It is said my grandfather was a—how you say—good-for-nothing rat bastard.” Lucien’s eyebrows shot up as she continued, “So, my grandmother, she takes care of him. Rat poison.”

He realized his mouth had fallen open, so he closed it. Loosening the knot of the wool scarf around his neck, he remarked, “Scythian housewives don’t mess around, do they?”

Vassa smiled sweetly and added her book to a steadily growing pile with a heavy, meaningful thump. “Rat poison makes no mess. Not like stab wounds.”

Lucien let out a nervous chuckle. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“I will,” she trilled, then her smile vanished as she caught sight of something behind him. “Do you know a man with light hair in dark clothes?” she asked in a low voice. “He is—how you say—checking me out.”

Lucien chuckled. “Lucky you,” he quipped, returning his gaze to the Murder Mystery display, then he froze. “Wait.” Had one of the customers overheard them and called the police? Shit. Wait. Don’t panic. “What does he look like?”

She shrugged with her mouth. “Big. Strong.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. With a wincing smile, he looked over his shoulder, trying to think of a way to explain that he and his foreign friend were only joking, when he realized he recognized the man. He straightened and turned to face the man directly. “Tam?”

With a shy chuckle, Tamlin stepped closer, tucking a book under his arm as he said, “Hey, Lu. I thought that was you.”

Lucien shook his head and let out an amazed laugh, then spread his arms wide and drew Tamlin into a sudden hug. It was as brief as it was awkward, but he couldn’t help himself. After a congenial back thump, Lucien released him and stepped back. “How long has it been, man?”

“Long time,” Tamlin replied with a tight smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. “At least…”

“Seven years,” they said in unison.

“Seven years,” Tamlin repeated, nodding slowly. “What have you been, um—” He glanced at Vassa, then shoved his hands in his pockets and amended, “How have you been?”

“Good,” Lucien said quickly. “Really good. Um.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the redhead at his side. “Before I forget. Tam, this is my friend, Vassa. Vassa, this is Tamlin.”

She twiddled her fingers in a polite wave.

He looked to Tamlin and continued, “She and I met when I traveled to Scythia for that foreign exchange program back in college. Remember?”

“Oh… right,” Tamlin said, nodding slowly, then gestured at her with his pocketed hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Vassa smiled and repeated a similar greeting in Scythian.

“She’s just visiting,” Lucien explained, “but she’s thinking of moving here after the holidays.”

“Congratulations,” Tamlin said politely, and Vassa dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“What about you, man?” Lucien asked him, thumping him on the shoulder. “Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven’t seen you since junior year.”

Tamlin shrugged dismissively. “Oh, you know. Around.”

When it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, Lucien turned to Vassa and remarked, “Tam has the greenest thumb of anyone I know. Someone left a dying, um, plant in our dorm, and Tam nursed it back to health.”

At Vassa’s blank look, Tamlin explained, “He means weed.”

Lucien added jokingly, “The whole floor called us the High Lords.”

Tamlin turned red and chuckled. “Oh, god. The High Lords. I had forgotten about that.”

Lucien grinned. “Yeah. Weren’t there six of us? You, me, Kallias, Tarquin, Rhys—”

Tamlin’s easy smile stiffened. “Oh. Yeah.”

Lucien was about to ask what that look meant, when he noticed Vassa’s confused frown. “Oh, sorry,” he told her. “I meant to explain: Weed is something you smoke to get high. Um, feel good. We were in Room 420… You know. Dumb kid stuff.”

Vassa continued to frown. “He has green thumb?”

Both Tamlin and Lucien let out embarrassed chuckles.

Before Lucien could think of a better Scythian translation, Tamlin pulled his hand out of his pocket and gave her a thumbs-up. “He just means I’m good with my hands,” he said with a smile.

“You should have heard him play in the orchestra,” Lucien added eagerly. “He could make a grown man cry with his violin.” Vassa smiled at that. Music was something she appreciated, and understood; no translation necessary. He asked Tamlin, “Do you still play?”

Tamlin winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, no. Not really.”

“Oh.”

Before he could think of a better question, Tamlin cleared his throat and said, “Well, it was good seeing you again. I don’t often run into anyone from the old days, so—”

“Oh, yeah?” Lucien said, trying to keep him a little longer. “Maybe we can have lunch some time. I don’t want to keep you from your Christmas shopping.” He nodded at the book tucked under his old friend’s arm. It had a bright yellow spine that contrasted nicely with the dark hunter green of his jacket, so it was difficult to ignore. It was difficult to think of what else to say.

“Job hunting for…” Vassa said slowly, tilting her head as she read the spine, and Lucien suddenly realized why Tamlin had been hiding the book under his arm.

“For a friend,” Tamlin said hastily, his face turning as red as Lucien’s felt. He jerked his thumb at the checkout line and said, “I’m on my lunch break, so…”

Not wanting to end their chance meeting on a sour note, Lucien asked him, “So, when do you get off work? Five?”

Tamlin’s throat bobbed. “Something like that.”

Lucien nodded at Vassa and said, “We’re having dinner at eight o’clock tonight, and we’d love for you to join us.”

“After, we have tickets to Swan Lake,” Vassa added.

“Vassa’s never been, so…” Lucien tried to explain, but Tamlin winced and held up his hand.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Lucien insisted. “We’ll just get another ticket.”

Tamlin looked skeptical. “To Swan Lake? In December?”

“You know the Vanserras are big patrons of the arts. I’ll name-drop.”

“I don’t know,” Tamlin said slowly. “Two’s company, three’s a crowd…”

“You can be bringing someone else, too, yes?” Vassa offered.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Lucien asked.

Tamlin’s brows furrowed. “You mean… like a date?”

“Yeah,” Lucien squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, a date.” He gestured between them. “You can bring someone, I’ll bring Vassa, and then nobody will feel left out. What do you say?”

Tamlin quirked his mouth to one side, thinking it over. After a long pause, he sighed. “I do have a friend…”

“Perfect.” Lucien jumped at the chance. “Let’s meet up for drinks at The Sour Lemon Bar at seven, then we’ll have dinner and go to the theater afterwards.”

When Tamlin still hesitated, Lucien added, “My treat.”

Tamlin winced. “I can’t let you do that—”

“Sure you can!” Lucien insisted, thumping him on the arm. “It’s all going on the Vanserra expense account, anyway. A very merry Fuck You to my father, just in time for Christmas.”

Tamlin dropped his gaze to the ground, chuckling deeply. When he looked up again, the tight lines in his face had eased, and his smile finally reached his eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

Lucien grinned. “Does that mean you’ll come?”

Tamlin sighed again, but he nodded. “It’s a date.” He blushed. “I-I mean, with you a-and Vassa.” He cleared his throat. “Seven, you said?”

Lucien’s scarf felt strangely tight as he agreed, “At The Sour Lemon Bar. Do you need an address?”

“No, I’m sure I’ll find it,” Tamlin said, edging toward the checkout stand. “See you, Lu. Nice to meet you, um, Vassa.”

Vassa nodded, and Lucien raised his hand in farewell as he watched his long-lost friend make his way to the front of the store.

“He seems nice,” Vassa remarked.

“Yeah,” Lucien murmured, watching as Tamlin took out a worn-looking leather wallet from the back of his belted jeans. The hunter green bomber jacket looked warm enough, but it was December, and they were expecting snow later. He wasn’t even wearing a hat, but his sunlight blond hair reached his shoulders and covered his ears, so maybe he didn’t need one. Tamlin’s hair had been much shorter back in the day, just curling under his ears and tickling the back of his neck when the two of them were in school, an act of defiance against his military father, Tamlin had said.

The long hair suited him, but unlike Lucien’s own shoulder-length strands, it seemed less like a stylistic choice and more like he hadn’t seen a barber in a while. It was like he hadn’t seen anyone in a while.

As Tamlin left the store without looking back, the bell above the door jingled, and a new song began to play: “Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’…”

It was almost funny, but Lucien could only sigh. Something had happened to his old friend, but he couldn’t begin to guess what it was. With a start, he realized he hadn’t given Tamlin his contact information. He could only hope that his old friend would show up like he promised, and then he could find out what had happened to break his spirit.

* * *

Tamlin slid into the front seat of his friend’s black SUV with a heavy sigh. The soiled interior smelled like an ashtray and stale french fries, but at least it was warm.

Jurian, sitting in the driver’s seat with his mini-binoculars glued to the front of his face, asked, “Find anything good?”

Tamlin sighed again and rubbed his hands against the vent’s steady flow of welcome heat. “Yeah.”

Jurian lowered the binoculars at last and looked at him. “And?”

“And she was in there, all right? She was Christmas shopping, like normal people do at this time of year.”

Jurian smirked. “Oh, like you?” He glanced down at the paper bag resting on the middle seat. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing—Hey!”

Jurian had the bag torn open before he could snatch it back, and he scoffed. “Job Hunting for Dummies?” He snorted. “Looking for another job, dummy?”

Face burning, Tamlin snatched the book and the bag back. “Shut up. I had to buy something, all right? It was the first thing I grabbed. She saw me.”

“Shit. She saw you?” Jurian grimaced and ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper stubble. “Did she mark you?”

“No,” Tamlin muttered, wrapping the torn brown paper edges over the top of the book before shoving it under his seat.

“Good. The last thing we need is to lose our payday. Christmas is coming up, and the fat man is bringing a big fat check if we play this right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tamlin muttered, shoving his hands under his armpits.

Jurian snorted. “Don’t sound so excited. It’s not every day that a job like this drops in our laps. Cheating spouses is our bread and butter, but runaway princesses?” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Filet mignon.”

Tamlin let out a resigned sigh. “If you like filet mignon.”

Jurian smirked. “I don’t mind second helpings.” Tamlin shot him a look, but Jurian suddenly straightened up and snapped his fingers at something outside. “Hey-hey-hey. There she is. Grab the camera.”

As Tamlin reluctantly reached into the backseat, Jurian lifted the binoculars and squinted through them.

“Huh. Koschei didn’t mention she had a brother.”

Tamlin straightened up in the passenger seat as he slung the camera strap around his neck. “She doesn’t.”

Jurian lowered the binoculars with a confused squint. “Then who’s the twink?”

“He’s not a twink—” Tamlin bit back a growl as Jurian raised his dark, bushy brows at him. He took a deep breath and calmly explained, “His name is Lucien Vanserra. You’ve probably heard of his family.”

“Vanserra? As in Daddy is the head of the entire Autumn Corporation?” When Tamlin nodded, Jurian let out a low, appreciative whistle and resumed his binocular view. “That explains the nice threads. No wonder Princess is hanging around him.”

Tamlin’s cheeks flushed with a muttered, “Yeah,” then lifted the camera and looked down the telescopic lens. The two redheads were chatting amiably outside the bookstore, blissfully unaware that they were being watched by some sleazy private eye and his equally sleazy but unwilling cameraman. At least it paid the rent. Some of the time.

It was just a few lousy pictures. Proof that Vassa was living in Prythian. That was all. But still, as Tamlin zoomed in on Lucien’s smiling face, as he laughed at something Vassa said, his perfect teeth bright against the tawny beige of his skin, his finger hovered—and hesitated—over the shutter button.

“Problem?” Jurian asked.

“Smudge on the lens,” Tamlin muttered, lowering the camera. As he dug around in the camera case for a cleaning cloth, Jurian swore.

“You didn’t think to check it before we left?”

“It’s this damn vehicle,” Tamlin snapped. “Maybe if you cleaned it once in a while—”

“Hey. Don’t blame me for your screw-up—”

“I didn’t want to take this job in the first place!”

“Oh, now you tell me. Anything else you want to confess, or should I find a priest for that?!”

They were still arguing when Tamlin saw red.

“Shit.” He ducked down in the passenger seat as Lucien stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street in front of the SUV, alone.

Jurian sat back in his seat and barked a laugh when Tamlin finally lifted his head to peek over the dashboard. “Hey, dumbass. Tinted windows, remember?”

“Shut up,” Tamlin muttered, straightening up, then winced as he examined the lens, which had been bumped loose from the lens mount. He hoped it wasn’t broken. Repairs like that weren’t cheap.

Jurian sat up in the driver’s seat and squinted, then smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Dammit. She’s gone.”

He shifted the SUV into gear, then floored the gas and pulled into the street. As they drove, scanning the slushy streets, Jurian ran a hand through his already unruly dark hair. “Fuck. Where are we supposed to look for her now?”

As Tamlin lowered the two pieces of the camera to his lap, he cleared his throat. “Funny you should mention that…”

Jurian cocked an eyebrow as Tamlin explained what had happened inside the bookstore. “A date?” He could barely keep his eyes on the road. “Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s not a date,” Tamlin retorted. “We’re just old friends catching up, that’s all.”

“You and pretty boy, maybe, but what am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to be undercover. We’re supposed to be undercover, dipshit.”

“I’m not going to blow our cover,” Tamlin growled through gritted teeth. “And you don’t have to come.”

Jurian huffed in frustration and slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing the car in front of him as it idled at a stoplight. “Great,” he huffed again, smacking the steering wheel. “This is just great.” He grumbled something about this being the worst time to give up smoking—even though it had been three years—then he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look. I’m sorry, kid. I know this isn’t your dream job. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I wasn’t desperate. My vision isn’t what it used to be, and Mr. Hybern is breathing down my neck, and…”

Tamlin’s fingers traced the edges of the busted lens mount, and he sighed. “I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll skip the filet mignon and get one of those—” He snapped his fingers. “—what do you call ‘em—hide-a-beds. God knows we need a new couch anyway.”

Tamlin thought of the way the sorry sofa sagged under his weight and the way it was six inches too short no matter which way he laid on it.

“You know what? I’ll even pretend to be whatever you want on this date—not-a-date,” he amended when Tamlin shot him a warning look, “if you’ll help me with this last job. Deal?”

It still meant lying to Lucien, but was leaving out the worst part of the last seven years even a lie in the first place? The traffic light ahead of them turned green, but the SUV continued to idle.

“Well?”

Tamlin sighed again. “Deal.”

“Atta boy,” Jurian said warmly, then flipped off the cars honking behind him. “I know it’s green, you morons.”

Tamlin sank back against the passenger seat as the SUV sped up to join the thick of downtown traffic, strangely calm while Jurian swore at all the holiday shoppers during the most fuckin’ wonderful time of the year.

Even though Tamlin would have preferred to leave Jurian—and Vassa—out of it, he was almost looking forward to that evening. It had been so long since he had looked forward to anything… It wasn’t even about the food and the entertainment. God only knew how long it had been since he had had enjoyed anything half that nice. The Sour Lemon Bar alone was on the ritzier side of town, after all… It was about the company.

A slight smile touched his mouth as he thought back to that chance meeting with his old friend and former roommate. Jurian was decent enough to give him a place to stay when the whole world went to hell, but… From the first day they met at college, he and Lucien just clicked. They could talk about everything and nothing. It was more than being best friends. They were true kindred spirits.

They were each the youngest in their respective families, with strict, overbearing fathers who couldn’t be bothered to show up for important things like recitals or graduation, but who were also obsessed with image and obedience.

Tamlin still didn’t know how Lucien’s mom put up with it, but his own mother had passed away when he was sixteen. She had been there for every school concert, every violin recital, smiling proudly despite undergoing brutal cancer treatments. All the while his own father couldn’t be bothered to show up.

“Only queers and sissies play the fiddle,” his father had sneered.

Real men play football. Real men win wrestling tournaments. Real men take one for the team, the way his brothers did. They called him selfish for making their mother go to his concerts when she should have been home resting. They ignored her insistence that she really wanted to go, but at least they didn’t stop her.

Even at her weakest, she continued to show up, holding a single rose to throw on the stage after each performance, ‘the way they did it in the movies’. He used to be embarrassed about it, but he secretly dried them out and kept every single one… At least until his father found the box after her death and threw them all out.

Tamlin then chose to honor her memory by working his ass off and getting a music scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in Prythian instead of going into the military like his father wanted. He had paid for it, too, in more ways than one. He hadn’t spoken to his father and two older brothers for ten years, and he didn’t plan on starting now. Jurian’s foul mouth and fouler apartment were preferable to the abuse and neglect he had endured at the hands of his so-called family. And then to run into Lucien again after all this time…

Maybe this was finally the end of some terrible bad luck streak. Some god-awful curse. Seven years bad luck, and all that. It seemed pointless to hope, and yet… Lucien had actually been happy to see him. He had hugged him. Tamlin finally understood what it meant to be touch-starved, and he realized he was ravenous. As much as he had protested, how could he say no to another taste?

Since the camera needed repairs anyway, there was no reason he couldn’t sit back and enjoy himself for a single evening. Jurian could keep an eye on Vassa while he and Lucien reminisced about the good ol’ days…

As the nicer buildings of downtown gave way to small, old-fashioned houses and even older apartment buildings on the edge of town where he and Jurian lived, Tamlin let out a disgruntled sigh. Who was he kidding?

There was no fooling Lucien. His friend had always had the uncanny ability to see right through him. If he somehow managed to bullshit his way through the evening and pretend that everything was sunshine and roses, there was no getting around the fact that he still had a job to do. Some shadowy figure called Mr. Koschei wanted those photos of Vassa by Christmas.

Tamlin wanted to believe that the pictures meant nothing more than a paycheck, but three months’ worth of rent was a lot to ask for a few lousy headshots, no matter how badly they needed it. He certainly didn’t want to see her get hurt, or Lucien, either, for that matter, but he didn’t see any way around it.

He hated himself even more now for getting involved, and for agreeing to Jurian’s proposal. But Jurian couldn’t do it without his help, or his camera.

The most wonderful time of the year, indeed.

#to be continued #you probably already guessed it was me #but #ta da #i've been so nervous about posting this #since it's not finished yet #and it doesn't really get happy until the end #but since you said you like angst #and new year's fics #and latkes #i really hope you like it #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2023 #tamcien #tamlin x lucien

25 notes · View notes

roseprincessarts · 2 years

Text

Anime Sketchdump

Here is the whole random sketchdump from many animes I watched <3 I drew them last night and colored it today! :3

1. Asuna and Kirito eating ramen together ❤️

2. Takemichi reading a comic, or a manga X3

3. Bakugo all pissed off after Deku gave him a plush of All Might, and all pissed off that he couldn't even win to become a hero, so he went on his fury and squeezing the plush doll.

4. Hagu sitting all comfortably on a king-sized stuffed panda 🥰

5. Tohru hugging all the stuff animals 😍

Some clothes for sketch number 3 and 4 and the colors probably not the best, but I may have seen them in the shows <3

I've been rewatching Tokyo Revengers, and after, I will rewatch it again before season 2 comes out ^^

It's also been awhile since watching more of 2019's Fruits Basket, but I decided to draw the 2001's version of Tohru <3

It's also been awhile watching Sword Art Online on Netflix, and I might wait till I get season 1, 2 and 3 of My Hero Academia on DVD for Christmas before watching the movies I got, Two Heroes and Heroes Rising ^^. I wouldn't get season 4 yet, unless I see it <3

I also continued watching Honey and Clover, and it's sad but cute at the same time ^^

I've been thinking about watching Demon Slayer, and there is a movie and a game I want to get, but it may take awhile ^^;

I'm also planning to rewatch JoJo's Bizarre Adventure after getting the complete pack of Phantom Blood before rewatching the season along of getting Battle Tendency for my birthday in February ;) Maybe I can do some fanart of them as well ^^

What y'all think?

Asuna, Kirito and Sword Art Online ©Reki Kawahara, abec, Tomohiko Itō, A-1 Pictures and Aniplex

Takemichi and Tokyo Revengers ©Ken Wakui, Koichi Hatsumi, Keiko Ōta, and LIDENFILMS

All Might, Bakugo and My Hero Academia ©Kohei Horikoshi, Bones Inc., Toho Animation Studios and Funimation

Hagu and Honey and Clover ©Chica Umino, Masahiro Takada, J.C. Staff, Fuji TV and Animax

Tohru and Fruits Basket ©Natsuki Takaya, Akitaro Daichi, Studio Dean and Funimation

Artwork ©SuperShadowSilver

No copyright infringement is intended

Used: mechanical pencil, Cra-Z-Art colored pencils and 48 pack colored pencils

8 notes · View notes

tardytothepardy · 3 years

Text

So after being steam rolled by Gakuen Alice (tbh I'm still reeling from it), I decided to pick up Fruits Basket from the library! So far I've just read the first three books, and it seems nice. I'll admit I'm tentative about this series, because I think I've heard that the series becomes a whole fucking whirlwind, but y'know what I've gone through that once already I'm sure my vocal chords can stand to scream a little more.

So far, it seems fine. Idk who this Akito guy is, but he seems like he'll be annoying, to say the least. Already he seems to have his eye on Tohru, which I heavily doubt is good for her. Shigure seems to be working with Akito, for reasons that I do not know of.

As for Yuki and Kyo, who I'm pretty sure are going to be the two main love interests for Tohru, they seem fine. By the end of the third book (chapter 18) they both seem to have gotten feelings for Tohru (bc of course) and also apparently Tohru (probably just by existing) has managed to calm both of them down from how violent and argumentative they were before. So basically they both just needed a person that would listen to and understand them. Who woulda thunk.

I just have a question though: so like, all these people are related, right? The Sohma family, that has this zodiac thing (and some kind of really nasty but so far unexplained Curse), so wtf is up with Kagura and Kyo?? I simply do not care if they are like,,,, cousins, or something, I do not like that connection. Stop that right this instant, it makes me ✨uncomfy✨. Same thing with whatever the fuck is going on with Yuki and Haru??? Idk what is up with that but I don't like that. From what I can tell so far, they're all under the same family (they all have the Sohma name). So what's up with this stuff. I do not like it.

Hatori's story is pretty sad though. It definitely helped solidify the idea that Akito is simply No Good(tm) and probably wants to do Not Great Things(tm) to Tohru. Can't wait for that,,, yay,,, 😬

Hopefully though when I get around to the end of this story, it won't bellyflop as hard and Gakuen Alice's ending did 🙃

#I do intend to continue reading Fruits Basket #It seems like an interesting story #I have a giant stack of other books that I should technically get into before this buy #(***but)#this story interests me and hey at least I'm reading something #last year and most of this year I've barely read anything #for some reason 2018 was My Year for reading but since then I've lost enthusiasm for it #Hopefully the library has all of the books #It's a fairly popular series so I imagine they could get it #idk what I'll do if I can't #I'll probably just read it online 🤷‍♀️#anyway now here are the actual tags for the seriesssss #fruits basket #furuba #(bc apparently it's also called that)#tohru honda #yuki sohma #kyo sohma #hatori sohma #shigure sohma #kagura sohma #akito sohma #in case you're wondering no i do not have a preference for any of the characters so far #maybe that will come later but for now I'm still trying to figure stuff out

7 notes · View notes

espeon-fireheart · 2 years

Text

~•Siempre Conmigo•~

Bruno Madrigal x GN!Reader

(I wrote this like twice before, they accidentally got deleted both times so third time is a charm I suppose. Also! I know this is kinda short but I wanted to try my best. I haven't seen Encanto yet but I promise, when I do, you guys will know about it.)

(I am making the reader gender neutral to be more inclusive to the reader. Going by they/them pronouns and not giving a distinct description. I want you all to read this and imagine yourself in the stories, not someone I want you to be. And also, I must inform you! I do not speak Spanish and am not from a Spanish-speaking background so if I get things wrong, please feel free to tell me so I can fix it! Thank you!)

(Anyway, back to Bruno!)

(LoOk At HiM!!!! sWeEt BaBy!!!)

~•Siempre Conmigo•~

Learning about an estranged family member isn’t easy. Ask Mirabel, she learnt about it the hard way. Trying to figure out who her Uncle Bruno really was, but only to be met with the same answer.

“We don’t talk about Bruno.”

Over and over, being given the same picture of this sinister and mischievous man that only ruined peoples lives by reading their future. Painting him in such a bad light that Mirabel became almost reluctant to learn more. Although there was still one more person she needed to ask.

Approaching hastily, Mirabel exclaimed for the familiar figure.

"[Y/n]! Wait up!"

Turning on their heel to acknowledge the young Madrigal, [Y/n] relaxed their shoulders and chuckled, waiting for her to catch her breath.

"Calm down Mirabel, no need to be in such a rush this late into the evening." They adjust the baskets of fruit on their hip, having to stop their delivery to Julieta's kitchen to listen to Mirabel. But to be honest, [Y/n] didn't mind. It was always nice to talk to Mirabel even in moments like these.

"Now, what's gotten you so puffed Cariño Mío?"

Mirabel took a deep breath and fixed her glasses, still a little winded from the rush, she looked them in the eyes before speaking.

"I need you to tell me about mi Tio Bruno."

A silence filled the air, so eerily quiet that Mirabel could hear her heart beating in her chest. [Y/n]'s expression fell to that of shock, their free hand raising to cover their mouth. Although no words were said, Mirabel could see confliction in their eyes. She had known [Y/n] for years, and her family even more so. They had lived with the Madrigal's for years as a loyal family friend. So Mirabel could gather that They had to know something about Bruno.

"[Y/n], please, you must know something. I need to know." Mirabel pleaded, begging for anything that they could tell her.

"Mirabel... I can't talk about Bruno. I'm sorry." They respond, turning away to continue their intended path, but Mirabel wasn't done nor satisfied with hearing that answer again.

"Well, you've know my Mom and Aunt Pepa since you were kids, right? Surely you must've known Bruno too! [Y/n], I need your help." She begged, following hot on their feet. [Y/n] sighed and made their way into the kitchen briskly, placing the basket on the counter with a hint of frustration.

"I can't talk about him Mirabel! Do you know what happens when you bring up Bruno? The very name is enough to turn the family cold." They snapped, giving a frustrated sigh of defeat, they turned to look at Mirabel again and give a slight smile.

"Of course I knew Bruno. Just like Julieta and Pepa, I knew Bruno." They say softly, leading the curious 15 year old out of the kitchen.

"He wasn't as mischievous and creepy as they say. In fact, he was one of the sweetest and most shy boys I knew. Sure he was a little awkward at times and a little strange but when you look past it, you see someone for who they are. And that's what I saw in Bruno." Their voice melted away from secrecy, she could hear it in their words. Like they were finally speaking from their heart.

"You two were close?" Mirabel asked, getting a joyous laugh from their lips as a response.

"We were more than just 'close' Niñita. As we grew up, we learned to lean on each other. I became his safe place and he became mine..."

[Y/n]'s smile fell slightly as their thoughts trailed off, causing them to look to their hands. Sorrow gripping their memories.

"That's why I was so shocked when he disappeared. I felt hurt that he didn't come to me, he just left... So now I want to be reliable for the rest of you so you don't feel your alone either."

Listening to the story broke Mirabel's own heart, learning the truth behind why [Y/n] was always there for the family in times of need. Caring for each one of them when they felt down, consoling all who came to them with open arms. Part of it was to help but the rest was guilt.

"[Y/n], I-I'm sorry." Placing a reassuring hand on their shoulder, Mirabel moved her glasses to wipe away her forming tears of empathy. Although to her surprise, they patted her hand and wiped away their own tears with a smile.

"It's okay Mariposa. I've had plenty of time to cry about it, and I don't need you crying for me either." They chuckle and cup her cheek to help wipe the tears away.

"There is plenty to say about Bruno, Mirabel. You're family just isn't ready to confront it yet."

"Do you miss him?" Mirabel asked out of the blue, looking up at them as they gave a warm smile.

"All the time, but I know he's still with me, in my heart and my memory." They chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "El nunca se fue."

They hum and walk Mirabel to her door, opening it for her to head inside. Wishing her a good nights rest.

"Sleep well Mirabel. I'll see you tomorrow."

#encanto #madrigal family #encanto bruno #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto fic #Let's talk about Bruno #just some Bruno content #This man needs way more love than he's being given!#Sweet Rat Man

886 notes · View notes

cloudteawrites · 3 years

Text

chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

885 notes · View notes

themochiverse · 2 years

Text

M a s t e r l i s t

Lovely banners created by @missgeniality

Disclaimer: I do not intend to harm any Idol or person in any way. Nor sexualising them. Please do not steal any ideas from here, this is all of my work and original work. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR NOR BELIEVE THIS BEHAVIOUR IN REAL LIFE.

(As we all know, these 7 men are literal angels from heaven, don't forget that!)

Permanent Tag list - Join permanently or join for certain fics! (please lmk if you would want to be removed so that way I won't disturb you by tagging) IF you do not want to be added permanently and only for some stories [ I mean series ], scroll down and choose whichever story you would like to be tagged in.

Reading Key:

⛓️- horror 🗡- yandere ✯- angst ✏️- ongoing 🌸- fluff

BTS↧

OT7-

Oneshots/Drabbles

Series

Wanna Play?-✎✯🗡 (On Hold)

╰►You love games. Any game. You're the most competitive. But what happens when you find a business card with a weird name and you decide to call them? You're invited to play at the Bangtan Mansion, but it's just not you, tons of other people are here as well. A prize money is set for all of you to chase, though, what are the odds of survival and selfishness? Will you risk your life to play this game? Or would you uncover the secrets and horrors of the mansion and find out that you were the grand prize all along? So... Wanna Play?

Join the Tag list!

Kim Namjoon

One-shots/Drabbles

The Monster Under the Bed ✔ 🗡 ✯

╰► When a human falls asleep they face two realms: the dream and nightmare world— where one is controlled by the angels to kiss you goodnight, and the other controlled by unknown creatures that push behind your darkest fears. So when your constant fear of monsters hiding under your bed continues to grow in your life, one peculiar nightmarish friend becomes infatuated to keep it that way.

Series

Kim Seokjin

One-shots/Drabbles

Autumn Apple- ✔🗡

╰►Every year you harvest many fruits out in the woods alone, but you bump into a fellow young man whom you have never seen before. Enthralled by his beauty and kindness, he offers you a whole basket of Autumn apples, the rarest fruit to find where you live. Now, do you accept the offer or not?

Series

Min Yoongi- Coming Soon

One-shots/Drabbles

Series

Jung Hoseok-

One-shots/Drabbles

We All Float ✔ 🗡⛓ ✯

╰► ‘Come one, come all, for today is the night!’ It’s Halloween, and people in town have start to gone missing. You ought to be cautious but what’s better than mucking around at a haunted house carnival with your friends? Only you should be careful around the one gorgeous looking actor who’s ready to have his horrific fun with you tonight.

Series

Park Jimin

One-Shots/Drabbles

Masked- 🗡✯ (Rewriting)

╰►You were invited to a Halloween party hosted by your best friend. Jimin can't know and will not know- You attend, only to find yourself with a stranger with a strange mask and a bloody knife.

Series

The Book of You & I- ✎🗡✯⛓

╰►You thought moving into your new apartment meant a great new start, but your pesky thoughts insist you go investigate what noises are occurring the floor above you, especially since no one lived in apartment 101.

Join the Tag list!

Kim Taehyung- Coming Soon

One-shots/Drabbles

Series

Jeon Jungkook

One-shots/Drabbles

The Monster in the Dark - ✔ 🗡 ✯⛓

╰► Sleep paralysis is a common concern for everyone, but once your episodes start to become more frequent, you meet a horrid monster. A horrid monster who has only come for you to join him in his world. You can't run, you can't hide, but you can only watch whatever the hell is going to happen to you right now.

Lost - ✔🗡✯

╰►When you try to escape from your captor's home one more time, there's always this feeling of lostness, and you don't know why but always feel lost. Lost in thoughts, lost in false hope, and lost in the woods with him.

Series

A/n: This Masterlist will be updated soon again.

#mochi’s masterlist #yandere bts

83 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Happiness [Maxwell Lorenzano x f!Reader]

Author’s note: Please heed warnings before you read. This is angst. There’s a little fluff and a few spicy moments, but at its core, this is a pretty angsty read. It’s a different interpretation of Maxwell, post WW84. Reblogs are so appreciated. I worked really hard on this and it’s not showing up in tags so if you could reblog it... it would literally mean the world to me :( <3

Summary: After the dreamstone debacle, Maxwell Lord loses custody of his son, his home, his job and all his wealth. He has nothing, and what was once the simple task of ‘living’, is suddenly proving to be extremely difficult. Until a beacon of light enters his life. He can only hope that you don’t find out who he really is.

Word count: 4000+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: depression/suicidal thoughts, PSTD/trauma implications, poverty, starvation, binge eating, allusions to sex, male masturbation, food and drink mention.

Masterlist

Max is usually pretty good at keeping himself to himself, but when he hears the commotion from outside his small shanty apartment, he cautiously stalks towards the front door and leans into the wood, gazing out the peephole. He spots you, struggling to unlock the door located on the far side of the hall. Your arms are filled with brown paper bags and an abundance of cardboard boxes circle around your feet. He hears you curse as you drop one of the paper bags. It rips, and groceries spill onto the floor with a clatter. He swallows thickly, feeling his tummy grumble at the sight of fresh fruit and colourful veg. Max hadn’t eaten a single meal this week.

He spends a few more seconds watching you struggle, before the guilt swarms over him and he feels like a creep. He does wonder if he should leave his apartment and help you out though, but eventually he decides on turning his heel and walks back to the torn leather sofa. He just knows he’ll be some kind of intrusion on you. If Max has learned one thing, it’s that he needs to stay away from other people. Otherwise, he’d just hurt them. Even if hurting them was the last thing he intended to do.

Still, he finds himself marvelling over you. He wants to go over and introduce himself. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen a woman (other than his ex-wife) in just short of a year, or maybe it’s something more genuine -- like the way you wear your hair or that glimmer in your eye. Once upon a time, Maxwell would’ve strolled on over to your apartment with the utmost confidence and charm, with the sole intention of winning you over and taking you back to his place. He wouldn’t dare do that now.

He stares at the wall clock, and watches as the minute leg ticks. It’s painfully slow. It’s 5:52pm, and Maxwell is just waiting until 6pm, because he knows at 6pm he can call his son, Alistair. If he tries calling a second earlier though, he is certain his ex-wife will throw a rage, claiming that he’s breaking court order. Maxwell had never been one to follow rules, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice. As he waits for the leg to strike 6, all he can really do is think about you. Truth be told, he hates that he’s thinking about you this much. He doesn't even know you.

But you’re so pretty. Your features are soft and delicate. Your clothes fit you perfectly and hug your body in all the right places. He can’t help but think what you sound like. He wonders if you’re from around here. He wonders why you moved into this particular neighbourhood, out of all the other neighbourhoods in rural D.C. He should go over and say hello at least. It would be the polite thing to do. He considers bringing over a bottle of wine to make a peace offering, but then he remembers all he has in his refrigerator is a stick of butter and a bottle of milk that has grown old and fermented. He assumes that you probably wouldn’t care for such housewarming gifts.

Maxwell calls Alistair as soon as the clock turns six. As always, Alistair is more than excited to speak to his dad, beaming brightly down the line. Alistair tells Maxwell about his step-father, and how he’d built a pool in their back garden for Ali and his mom. Max’s lips curl into a frown when he realises that his ex’s new husband is giving Alistair everything Max couldn’t. And once again, Maxwell feels like he has failed as a father.

For a short while, Alistair babbles about his day at school and how he got full marks on a pop quiz. Maxwell is as proud as punch. He has no doubt that success will one day find Alistair, he just hopes Alistair has an easier time handling it. Max can hear a faint yelling in the background of the phone call and eventually Alistair is interrupted.

“Oh-- mommy is calling me to eat dinner.” Alistair says softly, his voice suddenly growing oddly timid. Max’s stomach grumbles again at the mention of dinner.

“But we still have ten minutes left of our phone call.” Max replies matter-of-factly. He hopes Alistair can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. This isn’t his fault. He hears his ex yell again and Max can’t help but feel his face harden with disdain.

“I know, I’m sorry daddy, but I have to go.” The croak in Alistair’s voice is enough to break Maxwell’s heart. He wishes this could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Max knows he can’t argue though. It’s only futile. So he accepts the fact that Alistair has to leave the phone call early -- at least he was getting something to eat. Maxwell remembers when he was Alistair’s age. His mom always struggled to put food on the table because his dad would spend all the money on drinks at the local bar. Maxwell is just grateful his son isn’t starving.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Maxwell reassures before taking a shaky exhale. “I love y--”

But then, the line went dead. Max assumes that Alistair’s mom has ripped the phone from his hand and hung up. Sighing, Maxwell forces himself to stand up and walk on over to his bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are several piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. He jams open the sticky window and climbs onto the balcony, inhaling the cool evening air and lighting a cigarette. Smoking was a habit he’d gotten himself into when he was much younger, but he’d grown out of it when he’d hit limelight. Now though, it was growing back in to be a shameful addiction that he just couldn’t shake. It helped him stop feeling hunger, though.

As he flicks the orange lit ash over the edge of the balcony, his eyes catch on you again. You are standing on the street, talking to some guy. You’re laughing, and it looks like this mystery man’s hand is caressing your arm. It’s probably your boyfriend; Maxwell assumes, and the pang of jealousy in his chest turns into unadulterated sadness as he realises he was probably never going to find love again. He peers over the edge of the balcony once more as he takes a final drag of the cigarette, and he wonders if the jump would kill him.

Maxwell’s eyes begin to sting, and he climbs back into his bedroom, knocking his head on the window pane in the process.

He can’t sleep that night, and he tosses and turns in his three quarter sized bed. He could feel every spring in his mattress. What he would give to just sleep one more night in the soft, plush king sized bed he used to take for granted. He switched on his amber tinged bedside lamp and swatted away a moth that flew towards it. Maxwell stared at the ceiling and wondered if the damp had gotten worse. Even if it had, it wasn’t like Max had the courage to bring it up with the landlord.

He finds himself thinking about you again. He lived to see the way you smiled when you spoke to that guy, or the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the evening breeze. Max wraps his hand around his semi-hard cock and begins to jerk himself off. To nobody’s surprise though, he doesn’t finish -- the overwhelming feeling of revolt consuming him. He thinks he’s disgusting, and that nobody would ever want to touch him. He can’t even stand touching himself.

He falls asleep not long after that.

Max once had a pretty decent sleep schedule, going to bed at 10 and waking up at 6. But now he was up until the early hours of the morning, overthinking and hating himself. He wakes up three or four times a night from the same recurring nightmare. It’s a replay from the clear night of July ‘84, when he took over everyone’s TV screens. His doctor prescribed him therapy for it, which would probably help, but Maxwell just can’t afford it.

He wakes up to the sound of a bang on his front door. Max scrambles to his feet in a panic, checking the time on his alarm clock. It’s 2pm. And the person at the door could easily be his landlord, finally having enough and kicking him out. Max’s rent is two months overdue.

But it’s not his unforgiving landlord. It’s you. And you’re holding a fruit basket.

“Hey neighbour!” you smile pleasantly before introducing yourself to him. “I just moved in across the hall. I wasn’t sure what you’d like… but I figured everyone likes fruit!”

Maxwell stays quiet, standing there in complete disbelief. No one has shown him this amount of kindness in so long…

The prolonged silence makes you feel a little strange. He still hasn’t accepted the fruit basket, nor had he said anything. He was just… staring at you. It wasn’t a slimy gawk. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what his dark eyes were trying to tell you.

“—I’m sorry,” you continue eventually when he doesn’t speak, dropping the fruit basket by your side and turning away. “I uh— would you like me to get you something else?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he exclaims, opening his front door wider and taking the fruit basket from you. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I uh— I love fruit.”

You smile at his fluster, and you swear you notice a rosy pink blush cross his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Oh okay, that’s good then.”

Maxwell prays you can’t hear his stomach grumble at the sight of the fresh fruit. He’s so excited to eat it all. “How can I repay you?”

You raise your eyebrows at his proposition and chuckle awkwardly. “Repay me? No no,” you laugh. “It’s just a fruit basket,”

It wasn’t just a fruit basket though. It was the only food Max had.

“I mean, you could tell me your name.”

Maxwell curses, realising he hasn’t even introduced himself. Gods— he wonders when exactly he’d lost his charm.

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m Max.” He extends his arm and offers you a handshake. You giggle, but accept.

He feels a bolt of electricity run up his arm when your fingers interlink with his, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Very formal Max,” you acknowledge with a smile.

Maxwell genuinely hasn’t communicated with anyone since July 1984. It’s probably about time he ditches the businessman persona, although he doesn’t realise he still uses it from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“I must say, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No. You don’t.” Maxwell quickly snaps back and you’re afraid you struck a nerve.

There’s a longer silence and you find yourself wondering about your neighbour. He’s right in front of you and yet you can’t help but feel as though he’s some kind of enigma. Maybe it’s the crinkles in the corner of his eyes or his wry smile.

“Um…” you mumble, your gaze trailing behind him as you try and peer into his apartment. You can’t see much though. From where you stand it looks very empty… and brown. “If you weren’t busy tonight maybe you could come over and we could get to know each other. I uh-- don’t have many friends yet.” you explain shyly, nervously biting your lip.

You didn’t usually get nervous talking to new people, but there was just something about Maxwell that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His presence made butterflies flutter in your tummy and your hands feel clammy with excitement… or maybe anticipation. He stares at you blankly before clearing his throat.

“I uh-- yeah I mean-- maybe,” Maxwell shrugs cooly. “If I’m not busy.”

Pft, busy. Max hasn’t been busy since the dreamstone debacle.

“Of course,” you nod your head and smile. “Well, you’re welcome to come on over anytime.”

And then, without thinking, Maxwell replies. “And you’re welcome to come over here anytime too.”

You feel your smile grow into a grin and you reach out, placing your hand on Max’s arm. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you.” you bite your lip.

Max’s heart stops when you touch him, and for the first time, he doesn’t flinch away. You’re holding his bicep and… he likes it. It’s not sending him into a spur of anxiety, in fact, he feels better just for finally plucking the courage to talk to you. And now you’re touching him. You’re not repulsed or disgusted… in fact, you’re smiling. You look happy, and maybe Max is happy too. Maybe. Max doesn’t even realise the small smile that’s crept upon his lips.

“Nice meeting you too.” He swallows and you wave goodbye.

He watches you walk back into your apartment, drinking in your appearance. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt today. It was casual… but he liked it.

Even when he finally gets back into his apartment and slumps against his front door, he’s still smiling. This feeling is so unfamiliar.

Maxwell finds himself pondering whether or not he should visit you tonight. He so desperately wanted to see you again-- see your pretty face and sparkling eyes and that perfect smile. Maybe Max could have a friend. That would be nice.

But he quickly gets scared again. He knows immediately that you’re too good for him, and that he’ll only end up hurting you. And then he’ll be left alone again. Max doesn’t know if he can survive another heartbreak.

Once again, he lights a cigarette and sits on the balcony, and wonders if the jump will kill him.

Then he realises he suddenly doesn’t want to die. At least, not yet. He wants to see you again first.

Max doesn’t even bother finishing the cigarette. He taps away the ash and climbs back inside, stripping himself of his clothes and turning on the shower. If he was going to see you tonight, he’d at least make the effort.

The soap he uses is from Dollar Tree, and it doesn’t really have a scent. It made a change from his favourite Jo Malone pomegranate fragranced soap, that’s for sure. He gets annoyed trying to squirt out the very little remenints of his shampoo bottle. Although he doesn’t have much, he’s satisfied when he comes out of the shower. He feels clean and fresh.

Maxwell rakes through his tiny collapsing wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that will make him appear somewhat presentable. He’s probably overthinking this whole thing -- after all, it isn’t exactly a date. But he still feels the strong inclination to impress you. He so desperately wants to be liked by you.

Most of his everyday wear is stained or ripped or very aged. But then he spots the small duffel bag at the bottom of his closet and he remembers he packed some of his old business wear when he moved out of his manor and into this apartment. He hadn’t looked in the duffel bag once since moving though, afraid that seeing the clothes would unleash some kind of trauma on him.

Max crosses his legs and hesitantly unzips the black bag. Inside, he finds a few fitted shirts, a few tailored pants, and one suit jacket. He even spots a belt and two patterned ties. He’s a little upset though when he can’t find the suspenders he used to wear. They were always his favourite part of his outfit.

Maxwell can’t bring himself to dress in the whole get up, but he does pick out a white button down shirt and grey pants. He tucks the shirt in, and wraps the belt through the loops in his pants, clicking it into place. Opting to look slightly more casual, Max leaves the first two buttons of his shirt undone and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

And for the first time in a long time, Max likes the way he looks. He wishes he had some cologne to spray, and he could definitely do with a haircut, but this is good enough.

He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he does wait (albeit impatiently) until 8:30pm to see you. In the meantime, he eats over half of the fruit basket. He tells himself he’ll stop after an apple and an orange, but strangely enough. He can’t. He can’t stop. It just tastes so good and he’s so hungry -- so he eats until he feels sick. He wants to lie down because he really doesn’t feel too good at all, but he’s not going to pass up this opportunity to see you for anything. He feels a little cold, so he throws on his suit jacket which is grey in colour and matches the tailored pants. Max chokes down a glass of water, straightens up his posture, and knocks on your door.

He’s not waiting for long, and he’s delighted when he sees you answer the door. Your lips are painted a ruby red colour and you’re wearing your hair differently. Not only that, but you’d changed out of your sweater and jeans, and now you’re doting a knee length flowy dress. Your feet are slipped into some fuzzy looking slippers though, and Max admires the small diamond stud earrings that you don. They really bring out the colour of your eyes.

“I was hoping you’d come.” you reveal nervously, opening the door wider and looking your neighbour up and down. He looks so incredibly handsome in his change of outfit. Max feels himself blush under your gaze and he smiles.

“I just couldn’t pass this up.” he laughs nervously.

You move out the way and gesture for him to enter your apartment. Max notes that it’s roughly the same size as his, but it’s already filled with more furniture. Judging from the plentiful cardboard boxes in every corner, you hadn’t finished unpacking either. You find yourself watching Max as he takes in your front room. You take his jacket and hang it on your coat peg which stands by your front door. You definitely do recognise him from somewhere, especially seeing him in that shirt and those pants…

You shrug off your curiosity temporarily though, and take his hand, pulling him into your kitchen. Max loves the way your hand fits so perfectly into his. He doesn’t want you to pull away. And you don’t, until you reach the refrigerator.

“I have cranberry juice, tea, coffee-- no milk though, uh…” you trail off and check the cupboards. You beam when you see the bottle of champagne that your friend had gifted you. It was to celebrate moving out. You present him with it and grin. “Would you care to have a glass with me?”

Max remembers the distinct taste of the bubbles on his lips and he nods in agreement. You don’t have any fancy glasses, let alone flutes, so you pour the pale yellow liquid into two plastic tumblers. You hand one to Max and cradle your own in both of your hands.

“You should propose a toast.” you laugh jokingly.

Luckily, Maxwell has always been able to handle being put on the spot. He only takes a few seconds to come up with something.

“To new friends.” he announces with a charming smile, and clinks his cup against yours.

Max hasn’t had a drink in a long time, so it doesn’t take long for it to reside in his system and he begins to feel a bit tipsy. It’s not bad though. Maxwell is relaxed, and he’s comfortable. You bounce off each other and make each other laugh right up until the early hours of the morning. You bring out Monopoly and you’re surprised at how good he is at it. He gives you advice on buying properties and investments and it truly sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. You wonder what he does for a living.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Max says as you pour out the last of the champagne. The alcohol has him buzzing with confidence. “But you look breathtaking, really. That dress and those earrings and your lips…”

And you don’t know what it is, but Max just makes you feel so good. “My lips?” you repeat breathlessly, gazing into his honeyed brown eyes.

Max nods wordlessly when you climb into his lap and straddle his hips. You place the palms of your hands flat against his chest and nudge your nose against his, giggling playfully. Max feels scared -- he’d never been this close to anyone in so long, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself.

Gods, he’s so handsome too. A small piece of his hair has fallen out of place and it crosses his forehead. You’re quick to brush it out of his face with your finger, and one of your hands cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of your touch, humming in contentment. When he opens his eyes again, they’re noticeably shades darker.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice low like it had dropped a few octaves.

You nod desperately and your lips crash against his.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline but he’s an amazing kisser -- perhaps the best you’ve ever had. You roll your hips over his lap and he moans, but doesn’t break the kiss once. His large hands roam around your back and squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs. The Monopoly game has been long discarded now, leaving only you and Max revelling in each other’s touch.

You want more. You want him. You dip your hand in between your bodies and find his belt, trying your best to undo the buckle so you can get him out of his pants. You’re certain you can feel his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you’d be right in thinking he wants this too.

But what he wants the most, is to not ruin things between you both, and Max feels like that maybe this is all happening a bit too fast. He doesn’t want to reject you, and he’s afraid of hurting you, but he’s also afraid of you getting so close to him -- that you find out who he truly is, and the things he does. He doesn’t want to lose you because you make him feel so happy. For the first time in potentially years, Maxwell feels genuine happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up, not when he’s been doing so well.

So he pulls away from you breathlessly and moves your hands away from him. He holds them though, brushing his thumbs in comforting circles against your soft skin.

“I really like you,” he smiles. “And tonight has been… great. You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed myself. But I-- I really want to see you again. And do this again. And have a good time with you. I just don’t think we should-- you know--” Maxwell tries to explain. He feels bad for rejecting you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Because trust me,” he sighs, closing his brown eyes. “I really really do. But--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you smile, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I understand, and honestly, I think you’re probably right. I’ve had a good time too though.”

Maxwell can’t help but beam knowing that there’s no hard feelings between you both.

“So we can do this again?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes.” you reply, pressing a chaste yet sweet kiss to his lips.

You wiggle off his lap and Maxwell stands up. “I should head back home then,” he says. “It’s late. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I’d like that a lot.” you agree.

Max gives you one final kiss and part of you wants to ask him if he’d be willing to stay the night. You shake away the temptation and tell yourself there’d be plenty more opportunities for him to stay over. Before he leaves, you see him abruptly spin around on his heel and point his index finger towards you.

And your heart drops.

You freeze.

You think you can feel your blood run cold and the colour drain out of your face.

Because in that moment, when he points his finger at you, you recognise him.

You remember him.

You know who he is.

“I almost forgot my jacket.” Max laughs, sliding past you.

You feel like you can’t move though.

This was the man who single handedly almost destroyed the entire planet.

But how -- how could it be Maxwell Lord? He was so sweet and kind and funny. How could the man you just made out with, the man you shared a bottle of champagne with -- your own neighbour…

How could it be Maxwell Lord?

How hadn’t you noticed sooner. Hell, his name was literally Max Lorenzano.

“Goodnight.” Max tells you.

You try and force yourself to say it back but no words come out. Your throat feels dry and you’re panicking.

Max doesn’t even notice though. He’s too busy beaming with happiness when he leaves.

You aren’t sure if you’re going to see him again.

When Maxwell gets back home, he can’t rid himself of the grin that’s plastered across his lips. He sits out on the balcony and lights a cigarette, but this time, when he looks at the ground beneath you, he doesn’t wonder if the jump will kill him.

His eyebrows furrow together when he notices the florist across the road, and he wonders how much a bouquet of flowers will cost him. He wants to get you something; as a thank you for giving him a good time.

He simply can’t wait to see you again.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor r @pedro-pastel l @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat t @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84

183 notes · View notes

papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review, ch (92-93)

That was painful & so well-written! This analysis will focus on kyokyo mainly & faintly on her effect on kyo. Although, her story affects tohru’s life immensely, I won’t analyze tohru’s part & will wait until it’s a tohru’s chapter to use the knowledge of kyoko’s past to better read tohru’s mind & understand her decisions! Can’t wait! after all, that’s why I’ve read the manga to begin with!

-Kyoko’s Atonement: (the weight of words):

Kyoko breaks down after she learns she’s expecting. Why? cuz she hurt her mom. The notion that “yeah my parents caused me emotional trauma & so I’mma hurt them as well” is toxic & burdening as it starts a cycle of pain. Kyoko was right. She had no idea how her mom felt seeing her rebel, or follow violence or hear her harsh words. I’m not cleansing the mom from guilt nor responsibility. I’m just saying since the mom’s pov is blocked from us, assuming shes similar to the dad is wrong. kyoko’s fear of being punished with a child similar to herself is genuine, realistic & refreshing to see expressed in anime! usually character like kyoko are cool & brave, but here she’s humanly weak & doubtful. LOVE IT!

Moreover, in furuba words weigh on ppl & have consequences. We see this with kyo. His dad destroyed him verbally with words “ not my fault, it’s yours” that kyo echoes back to yuki! meaning the consequences of the dad’s words cause harm to his wife, kyo & even yuki!. Kyo was tormented with his own words for long time & clung to them even more in order not to resort to suicide! “ not my fault, it’s the rat’s” . Words can crush you down so bad if you hear them from loved ones, & worse if you utter them back to other loved ones! here kyoko learned that just the mere thought of her future child echoing her words back to her would torment her to death! Excellent writing!

-Katsuya invented Furuba’s vision (Accepting weakness & moving on):

The teachings of kyoko & tohru were really katsuya’s after all. I’m fne with that. These teachings are the core of Furuba’s vision. He tells kyoko to accept that she’s weak, afraid & doubtful. it’s okay. But gives her tools to move on. Your kid isn’t you. They’re an individual person. As parents all we can do is give love/hugs (sth kyoko’s parents didnt do), listen to them (sth yuki’s parents didnt do) & if they do sth wrong will explain it & teach them well (sth kyo’s parents didn’t do, his wrong deed was being born a cat spirit & he was hated for it with no explanation, mom gave lots of “fake” love & escaped by death, dad became a raging monster). Accepting weakness & moving on is what the cursed sohmnas needed to do to heal & what tohru taught them. Off course, tohru herself struggled to follow her own teachings & that’s amazingly realistic!

-Kyoko’s guilt (punishment brings ease):

Kyoko wanted to be punished so harsh for her husband’s death. The gossip got to her. She failed him as a life’s companion. Taking care of our loved ones is a duty we carry with much love & care. Them slipping away is perceived as us failing by none than ourselves. The thing is, death comes with no warning at times. It was his time to leave. Accepting it or not, wont bring him back, but accepting it will help kyoko deal with pain while not accepting will cause more pain for her & tohru.

One of the most painful things abt grief is that it’s personal. Life continues around you. Only you feel it. “didn’t the world end when katsuya died”. No kyoko. Only you died emotionally. Only him died physically. Kyo once said “ mom why didn’t you kill me instead”. A different reaction to grief, guilt & pain, but same conclusion: neither katsuya nor kyo’s mom are coming back no matter how much pain kyo or kyoko felt.

Kyoko found ease in emotional death, neglecting & refusing life, punishing herself for staying after him.

kyo found ease in rage & blaming others as he his father did, later he’ll escape to emotional & physical slow death “ cat cage/confinement”.

tohru... found ease in pretending "I’m okay” & her mom is alive.. but not physically.. emotionally, so she’ll ignore the truth & live only for her.

Didn’t I say grief is harsh, weird & very very personal. It’s hard to explain, deal with & heal. The mere words of consolation hurt cuz the grieving ones dont want to accept loved one are really gone. Her dad’s harsh words cemented the “emotional death” that kyoko felt. I’m not needed. neither katsuya. nor parents in general. depression. misery. sadness. emptiness.

-The tv show helped to trigger kyoko’s desire to “meet” katsuya. She has already reached the conclusion that she isnt needed. So, the tv show with their words of the deceased wanting you to be happy. triggered her into misinterpreting the words as to mean her death NOT fuel her to live in his memory as intended.

- “Loosing your way first before finding your answer” is okay & so human!:

Ironically..Tohru... was the person Kyoko was punishing NOT herself: By being emotionally dead, kyoko neglected her daughter. Her world shouldnt be just one person. There are others. Katsuya himself gave her a person to love. Tohru. Kyoko chose death & unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher thsn what kyoko faced. She was about to do, but was saved by a nameless child who reminded her of tohru. She chose wrong first but later saw her answer. Kyo chose death by accepting the confinement & he, too, unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher if he wasnt with her. He chose wrong first but later saw his answer. Off course kyo’s story is more developed & complicated as he dealt with bigger issues than just tohru & his answer wasn't just loving tohru alone but also loving himself & choosing to live for them both: himself & tohru.

-Kyo’s guilt is a concussion thought eating him alive:

Part of why kyo’s story was one of the most human & complex is due him loosing his way first, failing, repeating mistakes “ I always though that hurting ppl was the only thing I was good at, after all, isnt that why mom died?” Kyo’s nightmare being a conscious effect of hearing tohru’s talk abt “ videos & memories of loved ones” is 1000 times stronger & more human than a cliche effect of seeing a “ hat” & to revive a a blocked memory... What the hell!! truly disgusting how the emotional weigh is reduced for stupid cliche drama !!!!!! ..

Anyway, kyo actively & consciously wanted punishment .He was sure that kyoko blamed him” I wont forgive you” can only mean what it literally means. The purpose of the nightmare is to cause kyo to seek “ emotional death” like kyoko & to loose his path more. It is meant to prepare kyo to refuse tohru even more. Therefore, the pay off at the climax will be better & stronger.

Reading kyo’s inner thoughts will never not be refreshing!!! Also, the slow burn is cooked on low , hot fire , so the pay off will be the most delicious there is!

Side Notes:

I’ve stated my feelings regarding the age gap between kyoko & katsuya in last chapter’s preview post. I’m done with it & won’t let it interfere with my analysis of kyoko nor tohru.

The idea of just being together as a fun hanging out activity without being bothered much of where reminds ms so much of kyo & tohru!! we see them being happy together in the anime in kazuma’s house, shigure’s rooftop, cooking pancake in the kitchen! I really like this domestic feel of romance! it contradicts the notion of expensive restaurant with the girl wearing a breathtaking dress to woo the guy for it to be utterly romantic as we see in movies, & other stories.

NGL, katsuya looked sexy waiting home.. damn it! >_<

I cried watching tohru between her parents, how they acted & how loved she was! T_T. it reminded me of my niece How her dad’s death affected her! She was the apple of his eyes.. T_T.

Tohru is indeed a rice ball! her dad gave her a masculine name while tohru is so feminine! his reasoning is “finding salty taste in sweet things make the taste better & stronger, kinda giving it a hidden flavour”, the rice ball has a pickle inside it & it’s what makes the taste so savory & delicious!

Grandpa’s “ chance meetings could lead to variety of outcomes, good or bad” YES! kyo/tohru/yuki meeting each other by chance. Fiction make it look weird, but trust me, real life has those by dozens!

“ i wonder how lost you’ll be, how much time you’ll need to get your answer”. He will screw up so bad, kyoko! it will be so good! one of the best screw up’s I’ve seen! so painful for him & tohru & amazingly written!

Kyo’s nightmare being connected to him remembering/dreaming of kyoko’s story is bigger effect than opening the ep with it & having the cause be sth that happened last ep, a week ago... the effect is NOT the same.

Momiji is so cute!!! did his curse break here or not yet? he seemed as tall as tohru.

Writing tohru worried abt kyo after seeing him pale is the tohru I know!! Not that stupid girl who watches the guy she loves have a panic attach in se3, ep6, then goes in ep 7...” dahhhh.. Jeez.. I duno why kyo is sleeping until now.. better laugh & make cute rice cakes” giggle giggle...That scene got me so furious even when I first saw it!! THIS IS NOT TOHRU! tohru cried for a stupid story that haru told abt puppets!! she’ll forget the person she challenges herself for is sick?! ugh!

I love seeing yuki & kyo chill & cool around each other.

Kyoko being fully dependent on katsuya can be a factor in her grief, but I’ve seen cases where both partners are independent but still be completely broken after the others’ death. Grief isn’t logical at all & is extremely personal.

#Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #ch 92 #ch 93 #sad paper #Anime Only #manga spoilers

94 notes · View notes

givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt. 4

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x Reader Warnings: Injury, swearing, mentions of ptsd and drug use Length: 2k Notes: Hello my Freaky Darlings! I was watching The Martian while writing this and didn’t edit so bear with me and forgive errors!

Part One, Two, Three

Damn your stubborn pride. Damn it, and your swollen wrist, all to hell. Now that you were back at home, nursing your previously ignored injury, it was easy to forget why you had felt the need to work through the pain. Prime harvesting season was ending and all the old farmers in town were predicting an early frost. Knowing how this would destroy any unpicked apples, you had worked hard all day.

Frankie had grumbled at you once, an hour into the workday when he saw you emptying your half-full basket into one of the tractor-pulled bins. You didn't feel like explaining your stupid injury, or risk drawing his memory to when you eye-fucked him, so you just grumbled back an assurance that your total count would be the same.

He was slightly more attentive than usual, and you were worried he had read more into your glances than you had meant. Because, you still hated the guy, right? His... what was it again? Arrogance? Yes! That was it.

Not wanting to encourage any more misconceptions, and still trying to hide your damn swollen wrist, you worked through your breaks and barely stopped for lunch.

Frankie had finally put his foot down when Jacquie had arrived with stew and biscuits for dinner, forcing you off the ladder and stashing it away to make sure you didn’t get the idea to head up again that day.

You had successfully hidden your swollen wrist from him but knew that Jacquie had a much keener eye. So while you were remiss to leave the company of your friend you begged off dinner, citing exhaustion, and went home.

Now though, with a meal that paled in comparison to Jacquie’s cooking, and your bound wrist on ice, you wished you had stayed.

That is until you remember the moment when you had stared at your boss's lips for an inappropriately long time. With a groan, you decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow, just wanting to bury your head under your blankets and try to bury your embarrassment as well.

The sound of rain pelting against the window woke you a few short hours later. You would have just gone back to sleep but the memory of leaving a few windows open forced you out of bed. By the time you made it downstairs, the gentle rain had turned to a downpour of sleet and you could feel the cold air blowing through the house.

Your mind immediately went to the orchard. If this storm got any worse, a sizeable section of un-picked trees would be rendered worthless. Grabbing your boots and discarded coat off the floor, you rushed to your truck with freezing rain stinging your face. It wasn't until you were near the end of the driveway that you realized you hadn't closed any of the windows.

That wasn't what caused you to slam on the brakes, though. Frankie's truck had just turned down your driveway, fishtailing around the bend as he barely slowed down in his hurry. Seeing you at the last minute, he braked hard but the slush already accumulating on the ground caused him to skid. The impact wasn't hard but your smaller truck wouldn't be road-worthy any longer.

Wrenching your doors open and coming around the assess the damage Frankie was swearing while you were trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frankie called to you from across your crumpled hood.

"Me? ME?!" You countered, voice becoming shrill from panic and stress. "What the hell are YOU doing?!"

"Coming you help you and save your damn house from this storm!" He yelled back, giving a little jump and waving his arms out of frustration. It would have been comical under different circumstances. "This is gonna flood your fuckin' house!"

"Your orchard!" You were hollering now "This is going to ruin the rest of the apples!"

Jerking his head back Frankie looked at you with confusion, "What the hell are you worried about them for?"

His query forced you to stop and wonder that for yourself.

"I-" you stuttered, feeling a little silly "I don't know? Are you really going to argue with me though?! We've wasted enough time..."

Heaving a sigh, Frankie jerked his head towards his truck and growled, "Get in."

In a desperate bid to save as much of the fruit as possible, you and Frankie laid tarps down under as many trees as you could. Shaking the branches caused the ripened fruit to fall and you just prayed the rest would survive the sudden storm which had now turned to snow.

Working together you dragged each tarp towards the tractor and took turns driving the filled bins into the barn. It wasn’t a heated cab but still a nice respite from the blizzard.

By five a.m. you had done as much as possible and the adrenaline that had once been surging through the both of you had long faded. The snow had now slowed to a light drizzle but the ground was a slippery, muddy mess, as so were the both of you. Once Frankie noticed the shivers that wracked your body he ushered you into the barn and up the side stairs into his loft.

“It’s not much but it’s enough.” was his way of welcoming you into the space. It was cozy but lacking in luxuries or personal touches.

While Frankie got busy making tea and warming soup in the kitchen you explored the loft. It was one large room broken into three basic areas: his bed in one corner with a small bathroom just off the side, a kitchenette along the opposite wall, and a couch flanked by rocking chairs faced a fireplace at the end. Making your way over to the fireplace you intended on getting a fire going but were distracted by the photos decorating the mantel.

“You served?” Your voice came out sounding loud and strained, not at all the casual way you had intended. Frankie had been gruff with you but never unkind, however, seeing photos of him in uniform instantly raised your hackles. It was an automatic response from being reminded of your husband and you hated it.

Shaking the thought of Brad from your mind, you realized Frankie hadn’t answered and was just standing next to you, staring at the photos with a blank look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried” you spoke softly, not wanting to spook him from his reverie.

You had seen that far-off look on your husband’s face when he had been home between tours. It had always been best to stay quiet and out of sight when he had gotten like that.

Frankie took a sudden step in your direction. That movement, mixed with the current memories swirling in the forefront of your brain, caused you to reflexively throw your arms up to cover your face. Hot tea spilled out of the mug Frankie had been passing to you and immediately burned the skin on your hands and arm.

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, immediately, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Tears were spilling down your cheeks and you had instantly curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Shhhhhh, no, nononono, shhhhhh” Frankie was frantically trying to reassure you while simultaneously trying to get close enough to assess how bad the damage to your skin was. He seemed to know that you were feeling unsafe so he made himself small and lowered himself to the floor. “That was completely my fault, right? Can I see?”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath you calmed yourself enough to see the warmth and worry in his eyes. Your heart immediately constricted for an entirely new reason when you noticed his posturing, how he had made himself smaller than you and had his hands out wide where you could see them, waiting for you to show him the severity of the burns.

This man had dealt with PTSD before.

Nodding, you reached out both hands for Frankie to take and tried to swallow the embarrassment you felt from your little breakdown. That emotion was quickly forgotten, however, when Frankie finally got a look at you and noticed, for the first time, just how swollen your wrist was.

“What happened here?” he asked, sternly “Were you working all day like this?”

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, trying to pull your hands out of his firm but gentle grip, “just a little mishap from this morning. Don’t worry, though, I was able to work just fine.”

He let out of huff of frustration. “You think I’m worried about how many apples you picked? Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest asshole around.”

“No,” you said quietly, still trying to calm down but also wanting to relieve the tension, “that title belonged to my husband. You,” you continued, ignoring the way his head snapped up to your face then back down to check your bare ring finger, “are just the biggest grump around and it’s intimidating.”

Frankie was silent again and watched his jaw tic as he digested this new information. He was still staring at your hands, cradled in his. The bright red hue of your skin must have jarred him from his thoughts because he quickly but carefully stood up, pulling you up with him, and ushered you towards the kitchen. As you sat on the counter with cold tap water flowing over your burning skin, Frankie flitted about searching for salves and gauze to protect the skin once it had been sufficiently cooled. You tried to reassure him that you would be fine but he wasn't hearing it.

He was talking now, hadn't stopped rambling, but of nothing consequential. You had a feeling there were a lot of secrets stored in his heart but knew you weren't in a position to be trusted with them. You found yourself wishing that you were. You hadn't realized you were nodding off, the strain of the past 24 hours finally catching up on you, until Frankie had called your name for the fourth time. He was, respectfully, keeping his distance not wanting to startle you again, but hovering close enough by to catch you if you slumped over in your doze.

"Come on," he murmured sleepily, "let me take you home. We're not getting any more work done here for a while so take a few days to rest."

"Oh Christ," you guffawed in a very unladylike manner, "how did I forget?"

"It looks worse in the light of day." Frankie chimed in, ruefully.

The two of you sat in the idling truck staring at the crumpled hood of your poor truck, which was inconveniently blocking your driveway.

"I'll call for a tow."

While he was on the phone he climbed out of the cab, assessing the damage and trying to figure out how much this was going to cost him. A few minutes later he made his way back into the warmth of his truck, "He won't be here till tomor-". Frankie let the sentence trail off once he noticed you'd fallen asleep, bundled up in the fleece jacket he had lent you. Sitting back in his seat, watching the sunrise dance across your face, Frank took a moment to think about everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, he figured he'd let you sleep for a few more minutes before making you wake and have to walk the rest of the way to your house.

"As I live and breath..."

Jacquie's jubilant voice woke the both of you with a start. It was evening and Frankie's truck had been idling in your driveway for nearly 8 hours with the two of you passed out cold in the cab. At some point, you had shifted and were resting against Frankie's chest, his body turned toward yours and his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Mark!" She continued to yell, "You owe me fifty bucks!"

PART FIVE

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie morales x you #catfish x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #catfish x you

227 notes · View notes

so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (10)

I posted a different part 10 a few days ago and hated it so I got rid of it and started over. This feels better, minimal editing though because I suck but you knew that, Enjoy!

all parts in the master list

The surge of confidence that had you messaging Brady Tkachuk on Instagram failed to remember what the bio section of your instagram read.

Your name.

Flames over everything,

Calgary or bust.

Of course he didn’t respond to your message, of course he told Matthew about it and, of course you had to deal with the wrath of the oldest Tkachuk.

You allowed yourself to sleep in late on the first day off you’d had in a while. Fully waking up at close to noon felt great, until you unlocked your phone.

You hit up my little brother? My brother? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me

Wake up and take responsibility asshole

You’re a fucking piece of shit

It probably pretty stupid of you to message Brady, knowing that Matthew would eventually find out at some point but this was just a little bit too aggressive for doing something as innocent as sliding into a stranger’s dms.

Having dealt with Matthew’s bullshit for far too many days in a row, you decided to ignore his messages. You searched for Brady’s name and sent another message, purely to fuck with Matthew.

Big brother is mad, gonna have to start DMing you even harder now!

That message got a response only a few minutes later, he really dislikes you that much, huh? Whatever you’re doing, keep that shit up.

You chuckled at his response before dropping your phone on the bedside table and heading for the shower to get your day started.

Grocery shopping was the absolute bane of your existence. Children running wild, people standing in the middle of the aisle as they debated their choice of cereal entirely too long and people not knowing how to use the self checkout were only a few of the reasons why you started getting your groceries delivered years ago but it wasn’t an option today.

Today you were going to have to venture into one of your versions of hell because there was no immediate availability for delivery you and needed to replenish your refrigerator. It was still pretty early and the parking lot was looking sparse so you felt slightly confident that the trip wouldn’t be too bad as you made your way inside with your list and grabbed a basket.

It was going to be a quick trip, you were only there to get the essentials that would you get you through the day and you would place your bigger order for delivery for tomorrow.

As you made your way toward the fruit and vegetable outer aisle, you caught sight of red curls and when you confirmed your suspicion, your stomach jumped into your throat.

He was the last person you wanted to see on your day off, but here he was, fucking Matthew Tkachuk was at the same grocery store at the same damn time you were and clearly he was also there to get the same fucking fruit—strawberries—you wanted too.

You watched him as his eyes surveyed the plastic cartons, occasionally he’d pick one up and examine it before putting it back with the rest, and fuck, he was taking forever.

“Jesus Christ, they’re all basically the fucking same, just grab a box and go.”

Surprise lit up his features until he looked in your direction and realized who was talking to him and that surprised look grew into annoyance.

“Shut up.”

“Fine, I’m not in the mood to deal with you anyway.”

You hurried over and stood right beside him, making sure to elbow him in the arm as you grabbed a carton of strawberries and threw it in your basket.

“There’s a bunch of mold on those but enjoy that I guess.”

He didn’t look at you, continuing his seemingly endless quest to find the perfect bunch of berries.

Thoroughly annoyed, you checked the box yourself and realized that he was right, there was a decent amount of mold on the fruit in the bottom left corner of the box.

You had no idea what came over you or why you did what you did.

But you did it.

“Whatever, I don’t need them anyway,” you spat as you chucked the carton at Matthew as hard as you could.

He wasn’t facing you and it hit him in the shoulder and neck area but the flimsy plastic broke and the box opened, sending strawberries flying everywhere. Some hit the side of his face, but most of them landed on the floor and also broke open, making quite a mess.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in shock at your own actions, “holy shit.”

“What the fuck?! Where the fuck are you going?!”

You dropped your basket on the ground and speed walked away from him, toward the exit, as quickly as you could. It felt like you didn’t take a breath until you were out of the grocery store and in your car, slowly turning on the ignition and backing out of your parking spot with nothing in hand.

He looked fucking ridiculous and he knew it.

She had fucking bolted after pelting a carton of strawberries at his face and now he was alone with a mess. People were avoiding eye contact and he was standing there like a stupid fucking idiot with strawberry juice dripping down his cheek.

“Sir,” an employee approached him, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just,” he wiped his cheek, “i’m fine.”

“Some other customers reported it, and she was gone by the time we realized what happened. Your groceries are on us today, for the inconvenience.”

“Not your fault or your problem, I’m happy to pay for my stuff. I just kind of want to walk away from this,” he motioned to the mess around him.

“Of course, finish your shopping trip, we’ll clean this up.”

“Thank you.”

What the fuck just happened? It was supposed to be an easy day off. All he needed was a single carton of fucking strawberries.

Not cool, hated one. Wish I would’ve seen it, it was probably funny as hell

The text was from a number you didn’t realize but you had a feeling who the sender might be.

It was, you responded, you probably shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy though, he’d hate that.

Who cares? This is highly entertaining and I’m not even there

I really just tried to enjoy my day off and there he fucking was.

He’s good at popping up when no one wants it, it’s kind of his thing

You were settled into your couch, casually texting Brady, when someone began pounding at your door and, once again, you had a feeling who the sender—knocker in this case—might be.

Looking through the peephole, you noticed that Matthew’s hair appeared to be wet, probably because you exploded a carton of strawberries on him but whatever, you hesitantly cracked the door.

“It’s bullshit that Brady is finding my misery with your annoying ass so amusing,” he didn’t bother looking at you through the small crack, “he’s really fucking loving this.”

“I wasn’t really intending for him to get humor out of our messages,” you opened the door all the way, “but it still works I guess.”

“The strawberry thing was not cool,” he turned his irritatingly lovely blue eyes on yours, “at all.”

“I know.”

“Messaging my brother on Instagram with shitty intentions wasn’t cool either.”

“I know,” you repeated and he rolled his eyes as he pushed off the wall next to your door and headed toward the elevator.

“You’re so fucking hot and cold with me, I don’t know how to deal with it,” you shouted at his back.

“Yeah,” he turned his head slightly and ran a hand through his curls, “I don’t know how to deal with it either.”

Matthew didn’t look back at you as the elevator doors closed and took him back up to his apartment while you stood outside your front door feeling irritated and, once again, completely fucking confused by Matthew fucking Tkachuk and his fence sitting behavior.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matt tkachuk #Matthew��Tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #matty tkachuk

155 notes · View notes

roanniom · 3 years

Note

Requests just in time for Valentine’s Day! 💘

I’d like to request a Valentine’s Day to remember with Clyde, please. Thank you for doing requests again!

Sure thing, anon <3

Deserving

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Note: This serves as Part 2 for what I’m now calling Hello Darlin’, a Clyde and Darlin’!Reader series that began with First Conversation Jitters.

Read Part 1 Here

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (f/m), unprotected PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving)

You run your finger over the rim of your lemon water as you watch your bear of a man serve drinks with his sweet and steady charm. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and he’d asked you to hang out at the Duck Tape during his bar tending shift, something you were more than happy to do. You’d camped out on the last stool on the right with a book, waiting for the moments between orders when Clyde would sail down to your corner of the bar and romance you.

It had been about a month or so since you had begun dating but everything still felt so new. When you’d walked away that first night after leaving your number on the napkin – a move you’d only ever seen in movies before – you had half worried that Clyde would be too nervous to call. And he was nervous, a fact he’d confided to you on the fourth date, the first night you two had spent together. As he held you in the dark, a finger tracing the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck, he’d muttered quiet words into your skin. They were vulnerable but hopeful. That was the thing that struck you most. The hope in his deep, drawling voice as he recounted the way that his heart had stopped when you’d answered the door earlier in your pretty dress. The way your laugh had soothed him instead of increasing his anxiety.

The timing of your courtship had not been ideal as the holidays had rolled in pretty rapidly after that, meaning you had a lot of prescheduled traveling to do. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from inviting Clyde to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he had a close family of his own and also knowing that the pressure of meeting yours might be too much to take so soon. Similarly, Christmas and New Years were a wash. You’d spent these days texting Clyde rapidly under the table, sending him sweet messages and well-wishes which he reciprocated to the best of his abilities – Clyde was not a great texter.

What he was good at, however, was talking on the phone. You waited all day every day of your holiday trips for the moment when you could steal away to your guest room in the evenings and wait for his call. It always came, and the deep, rumbling “Hello darlin’” was something that you realized quite quickly had emblazoned itself on the surface of your heart.

“Hiya, handsome,” you’d reply and he could always hear the smile in your voice. Sometimes you’d facetime, but often you would just stay up late with your phone pressed to your ear, whispering into the night. Because like that first night together when Clyde had been emboldened by the dark, Clyde was equally emboldened by the barrier of distance and technology. You weren’t sure if missing you had brought something out in him or just that with time he’d become more confident in your budding relationship. All you knew is that he was no longer holding back and you couldn’t be happier.

“I dreamt a’yer mouth last night, darlin’,” he’d told you on Christmas Eve after you already had caught up on what you both had done all day. His voice was quiet but sure as he said it. Not timid as you’d expect. Heat had immediately rushed to your core and you’d gotten comfortable on the bed, tucking the phone under your cheek on the pillow.

“And what exactly was my mouth doing in this dream of yours?”

“Lookin’ nice an’ pretty…” You were about to thank him but he surprised you by continuing. “…around my cock.”

“Clyde Logan, you dog!” you whisper back at him, trying to contain the excitement that bubbles up from the newness of being dirty on the phone with your sweet man.

“Lips all stretched ‘round me. Almost prettier than yer beautiful smile.”

“I wish I could have left you with memories of the real deal so you didn’t have to just dream about it,” you’d said wistfully, suddenly saddened by the distance between you and all you had yet to experience together.

“There’s plenty’a time fer that when ya get back,” he’d comforted you. “Don’t ya worry yer lil head about that.”

“Clyde?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I give you a new memory right now?”

He’d been surprised to see you’d switched over to facetime but had been quick to accept the call. You still think sometimes about the expression on his face when you’d popped on the screen topless and touching yourself already. It was the face of a man who’d been granted a glimpse at heaven but still wasn’t sure of his worthiness.

You intended to prove to him just how worthy he was.

“Get nice and comfy – I want to cum while watching you stroke that beautiful cock, handsome.”

Clyde’s smile had been a mile wide as he’d dropped down on his bed to oblige you.

“Yes ma’am.”

By the time New Years eve rolled around, the two of you had become experts of how to drive the other crazy, often with words alone.

~*~

In the present it’s close to midnight when you glance up from your book again to find Clyde grabbing your empty water glass and bringing it to the sink. He’d gotten caught up with a particularly needy group of out of towners who’d required more service than the average customer. You didn’t mind. It had given you a chance to watch him in action from afar, taking in his large frame as he moved behind the bar. The small smile as he listened – really listened – to his customers. Every once in a while he’d looked up to catch you staring, shooting you a wink from across the way. It always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry when he did that, especially in the bar which had been the setting of his first fumbling advances toward you. His growing confidence was sexy and though you were feisty and more than capable of taking care of him, it burned you up inside even more to know he was able to take care of you, too.

“Grab yer stuff, darlin’, we’re headin’ out,” Clyde says coming out from around the bar. Your eyes shoot to your watch.

“But last call isn’t for a few more hours!” Even as you say it you notice Earl take his place behind the bar, sending a wave your way. Clyde helps you into your coat and pulls you to the door as he explains.

“Earl’s got me covered. No need for m’girl to hang ‘round a seedy bar all night.” You laugh because it’s a regular occurrence for you to spend your nights there with him, but you play along while he helps you into his truck.

“My Prince Charming,” you coo. Clyde gives you a little bow before jogging over to get into the driver’s seat. He starts up the truck and immediately turns on the heat, watching you with a smile as you appreciatively warm your hands against the vent. You catch him watching you and suddenly get suspicious, narrowing your eyes with humor. “What are you looking at, Charming?”

“The most beautiful girl in West Virginia,” he says without missing a beat before shaking his head. “No – in the world.”

You laugh. It’s the full-bodied sound that he loves with his whole being.

“Now that might just be a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Logan, but I think I’ll take it anyway.” You lean over the truck’s center console expectantly. Clyde leans forward immediately to oblige you with a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of lemon, or maybe those are your own lips, but either way, it’s warm and tangy and everything you’ve been waiting for all these hours at the bar. You try to deepen the kiss and are surprised to feel him pull away, your head moving forward to chase his lips when he breaks the contact.

“We’ve got somewhere to be, darlin’. You’re gonna make us late,” he chides you playfully, throwing the truck into gear and pulling out onto the dark road.

“Where could we possibly need to be? It’s almost midnight,” you reply, surprised.

“Exactly,” he says with a wide smile.

~*~

Clyde won’t let you look out the window as he approaches your destination. You tease him because it is night time in rural West Virginia and it’s not like you would be able to see anything through the darkened windows anyway, but you humor him by keeping your eyes squeezed shut. When the truck cranks to a stop he jumps out and makes his way to help you out, pulling you down with his metal hand and covering your face with his massive, warm flesh one. His prosthetic presses into your waist to guide you forward and you grin, happy about the contact.

“Am I allowing you to lure me deep into the woods, Mr. Logan?” you sing out, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“I’d say yer right on the money, sweetheart.”

“Trying to have your way with me, are you? Is that what Prince Charming would do?”

“If he had a girl as pretty as m’girl he sure would, you bet yer ass.” His hand abandons your face for a second to drop light little slap to your backside and you let out a laughing squeal, sure to keep your eyes closed of your own accord.

“No peakin’,” he says, quickly putting his hand back over your eyes.

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t – I’m a good girl,” you say, know the implications of the statement. You hear Clyde swallow thickly behind you. Bingo.

“Ya sure are, darlin’.”

Just as you’re about to ask if you’ve almost arrived wherever he’s taking you, Clyde pulls you to a stop. You feel him lean down low to meet your height, his chin dipping to rest on your shoulder, both his facial hair and his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.

“Open yer eyes.”

You do as he says and immediately let out a gasp. In front of you lies a picnic blanket set up with a comfy assortment of pillows. The space is illuminated by a mix and match assortment of camping lanterns which cast a soft glow about the scene. A basket of fruit and cheese sits open beside a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate glasses.

“Clyde!” You turn and throw yourself at the satisfied looking man behind you, curling around his body and kissing every part of him you can reach. His watch beeps and he looks at it with a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you down to recline with him against the gathered pillows. You blink hard to hold back the tears that form unbidden.

“You planned all of this? For me?”

“Well I’ll be honest. Mellie and Jimmy helped,” he admits, running a hand up and down your back and pulling you into him to press a kiss to your forehead. “I had ‘em set all this up during my shift.”

It’s the most overtly romantic thing that anyone has ever done for you. You glance around and take in all of the details again, now with his warm skin under your fingers, his chest to your chest. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and you would know, you’ve sure read your fair share. Looking back down you see him watching you, registering each of your tiny reactions. He’s nervous, trying to make sure he’s pleased you. But he’s also hopeful. And that’s what breaks you.

Suddenly you launch yourself at him, pushing him down so that his back is pressed into the cushions and you are now straddling him. You pepper his face with kisses before arresting his mouth in a desperate lip lock. Though you are often the one who is chatty in the face of his pensive, thoughtful silence, you now find yourself at a loss for words. How do you tell him that you’re not used to being cared for in this way? How do you tell him that his sweetness sets your long-neglected soul on fire? That the string of meaningless relationships littering your past suddenly had meaning if only to lead you directly into his arms?

You don’t have the words to tell him these thoughts. So instead you tell him with your lips, your hands, your body. You run your hands down his t-shirt-clad chest, reveling in the thickness, the fullness of him, before drawing your hands down the length of his arms. You grab his wrists, sure to be gentle with his prosthetic, and urge them to settle above his head. It is only at this point that he resists, pulling out of a kiss.

“But darlin’…I need to touch you…” He’s breathless and you want to keep him like that forever. Keep his voice ragged and chest heaving so you can be his oxygen. Breathe life into him over and over.

“Let me do this, Clyde. My Valentine’s gift for my handsome man.” You grind down onto his hardening length at the end of your statement and his eyes roll back. When you feel him stop resisting the press of your hand on his wrists you know you’ve gotten him right where you want him.

You take your time. You kiss every inch of him over his clothes before crawling back on top to gyrate on his now straining member. His heavy breathing has made way for small, unabashed whimpers that are your new favorite sound. Clyde has been getting more dominant with you and you are excited to explore that new facet of your relationship. But for tonight you want to translate your emotions by riding him for all he’s worth.

After teasing him for long enough with your swiveling hips, you finally relent and pull his cock out of his dark jeans.

“Look at this beautiful cock. All hard and swollen just for me.” You double over to press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip.

“Only for m’girl,” Clyde nods feverishly below you. “Can ya…”

“What would you like, Clyde?” you ask, moving your hand steadily up and down his cock with languid strokes.

“Wanna be inside’a ya darlin’. Wanna feel if yer wet fer me.”

“Oh, baby…” you trail off and guide his cock to your pussy lips, your skirt long hiked up over your hips. You slide him up and down the seam of your opening, gathering your slick to coat him. He lets out a deep moan at the feeling. As you line him up you rake your nails over his soft belly with reverence. “You turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Fuck,” comes Clyde’s muttered reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. You take this opportunity to lift up and then ease yourself down on him, letting his cock breach you with a slow ease. He’s large but you weren’t lying. You’re dripping for him, aching and desperate for the fullness that only he can provide you.

“Yer perfect. Feel so good,” Clyde forces out through clenched teeth.

You begin to ride him in earnest after you adjust more to his size, letting the muscles of your thighs propel you up and down to take him at an angle that causes you both to let out steady strings of moans. Clyde’s hips begin to work in tandem, thrusting up to meet you and making the slide of his cock through your pulsing walls that much more delicious. When a particularly good thrust topples you down to grip his shoulders, your breasts push down into his face, spilling from your bra cups and up through the wide neck of your shirt.

“Oh darlin’. Oh darlin’darlin’darlin’,” Clyde breathes out, straining his neck to push up into your cleavage. His flesh hand, which had up till now dutifully remained above his head, comes now to cup the side of your breast but you don’t have the presence of mind to reprimand him. You wouldn’t even if you did, his touch feels too good.

You gasp when he plants one foot flat on the ground for more leverage and spears up into you more aggressively than before. You shudder around him, cunt spasming on his cock with euphoric tension.

“Right there, baby?” he growls. He’s gazing up at you with a sweet intensity that you want to drink in forever, but the sensations in your cunt are overwhelming and it takes everything in you to simply nod. Your eyes screw up and your jaw drops, mouth forming a little “o” in response to another punishing thrust. Clyde chuckles below you. “Oh yeah. Right there.”

You cum shortly after but, as you had promised yourself silently the moment you had mounted him, you drag yourself down his body immediately, ignoring his groaning protests and gripping hand. When you take him in your mouth he’s already partially gone. He props himself up on his good elbow and alternates between gazing at you worshipfully and wincing in pleasure.

You suck on him, knowing how close he is and knowing he likes it when you get sloppy. He’d told you so over facetime on Christmas eve as you’d sucked on the fingers of one of your hands while riding and cumming on the other for him, your phone propped on the pillow. You gurgle as you take him deep into your throat, moaning around the fullness, the thickness of this perfect man below you. When you reach down to gently fondle his balls, Clyde lets out a deep-throated groan. His balls draw up from your hand and his hips pivot up, driving him deeper into you as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum. You welcome his orgasm, drinking him down until there’s no more, holding firmly at his hips as shudders wrack his body.

When you finally pull off to rock back on your heels you take in the sheer debauchery of this whole experience. Clyde lies sprawled out on the pillows below you, hand running through his sweaty hair, chest heaving, softening cock still poking out of his jeans. A giggle bubbles up from inside you and you let him pull you down where he silences you with a hard kiss as deep as the rumbling of his satisfied groan.

After a few seconds he rolls you so that you both are on your sides and he’s quick to bury his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His customary place immediately following an act of intimacy. You’ve learned to recognize this and you don’t push him. Instead you welcome the tight clutch of this, the largest yet kindest man you’ve ever met, dragging your fingers up an down his cheek in a light caress. Moments pass in silence, save for your slowing breaths, until he speaks up, words muffled by the way he whispers them into your neck.

“Yer too good fer me, y’know.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t stem from how hard he’s just cum. Only now do you grip his jaw lightly, coaxing him from his hiding place against your flesh. You look him in the eyes, though he tries to avoid you. Instead you hold his gaze, finger swiping along his jaw. He sighs and adds. “I don’t deserve someone like you, darlin’.”

It’s your time to silence him with a kiss, but this time you don’t let actions do the talking. Clyde needed to hear you say the words that your clenching heart beats out, like some anatomical morse code. You grip his jaw tight and speak loud and clear.

“You deserve the world, Clyde.” His eyes melt, soft and full of adoration. You press a kiss to his forehead, one to each cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips before finishing. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

You may have spent the first three holidays of your relationship apart, but this Valentine’s Day you spent together in every way that mattered – mind, body, and soul.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

#anon #request #Clyde Logan x reader #Clyde Logan x you #Clyde Logan/reader #Clyde Logan/you #Clyde Logan smut #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky smut #cw: unprotected sex #tw: unprotected sex #smut #writing #Roanniom #Hello Darlin' fanfiction

201 notes · View notes

ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Text

Late Night Devil

A/N: This is my fic for the Citrus Dome Server collab! I’ve spent many hours crying over it, I hope you enjoy it! Make sure you check out the other pieces of the collab too because they’re written by amazing writers!! @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

Read the other fics for the collab here!

Word count: 5.7k

Thank you @suckersuki for saving my ass and making this beautiful banner 💕

Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods. But you never expected one to answer…

Warm summer breeze tickled at your face, your hair flowing freely in front of your face making your nose itch. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you tune out the conversation your parents are having in favour of focusing your attention on the pavement ahead of you. Your eyes stinging and heavy from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting since the breakup. A bitter aftertaste stings the back of your throat as the events replay in your mind. The breakup had been sudden, although you couldn’t say you were completely caught off guard. Regardless of how underwhelming it had been, the way you’d been humiliated so carelessly had hurt your pride.

As you approached closer to the temple, a strange feeling of anxiety crawled into your stomach and pushed down heavily on your chest. It was unlike you to feel such unease coming to the temple of the gods, normally the divine power helped bring a sense of peace into your life.

Today was another story it seemed, maybe it was the fact that your emotions were all over the place and the pain and hate you felt slowly bubbling up over being cheated on were muddling with the rest of your feelings. Warm orange rays of sunlight slowly begin to peek over the tops of the mountains, shrouding the forest in a comforting glow. The sky is light with pinks and oranges, the dark blue night sky slowly fading away as a light cerulean takes over. It was barely six in the morning, but your family had always been adamant about being early to bring your offerings for the gods.

Nature seemed to come alive around you, birds chirping, flowers blooming with lush petals and vibrant colours. It was the summer solstice, a period of time where the gods’ presence was closer to the human world than any other time of the year.

However, despite it being such a juvinating day you were feeling anything but jovial. The basket resting on your arm was nearly filled to the brim with seasonal fruits that you had picked earlier that morning. The better quality the offerings and the more abundant they were signified a better season and prosperity blessed upon your family from the gods.

“Y/n what’s the matter?” your mother asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing, just tired” you mumble hoping that she’ll stop questioning you before it starts.

“Well make sure you don’t walk into the temple like that, we can’t afford to attract any negativity this season” she scolds, something you’ve heard since becoming your family’s link between your world and the God’s.

When it had happened you were instantly filled with dread, the wellbeing of your entire family rested on your shoulders. Four times a year you needed to make sure that your emotions were in check, a single negative thought even for a fleeting second would have an impact on your family’s future until the next solstice. The gods were very picky when it came to their offerings, being the so-called spokesperson for your family meant that for the entire time you were in the temple you couldn’t think of anything else.

One minor distraction was enough to send a year’s worth of bad luck onto your family. You had never once messed up in the ten years that you’d been doing this, but it never stopped your parents from reminding you incessantly that you needed to be in the right state of mind. It was annoying, but you’d gotten used to it over the years.

Today however, you had little patience with your mother. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes you give her a tight smile and nod, returning your gaze ahead of you.

The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, light pinks and oranges gradually fading into a light blue. The ruby red pillars of the temple gradually came into view, peeking through thick tangled branches.

The closer you got to the temple, the heavier the lump of dread feels in your stomach. It’s so close to swallowing you whole that you can feel the bile creeping up your throat. Sticky black fingers made of tar wrap themselves around your throat. The second you step foot onto temple grounds you can feel the atmosphere change.

A harsh warm breeze whips against your hair, running along your exposed arms and face. Almost like a warning, you need to get yourself together. Shoving down every negative feeling that’s made itself home in your body you take a few deep breaths and focus on calming your emotions.

From the corner of your eye you can see your parents give you a wary side eye but you flash them a reassuring smile. You can do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, one stupid break up will not be the reason you bring bad fortune upon your family. You’d never hear the end of it.

As you walk up the narrow winding steps to the shrine you can feel the spiritual energy radiating from the soles of your feet up to the top of your head. The concerned gazes of your parents burn holes into the back of your head. Not only were you more in tune with the realm of the gods during the solstice, but the energy of the earth as a whole intensified as well.

Deep breaths in and out. Focus on the wicker handle of the basket digging uncomfortably into your arm. Anything to distract your mind from thinking about finding Bakugou kissing Cami-Nope.

Your grip around the basket handle tightens, small pieces of it begin to poke at your skin giving you something to focus your attention on.

When you finally reach the top of the stairs, your rage has finally simmered down enough to allow you to ease your death grip on the basket.

A heavy hand on your shoulder draws your attention up to your father’s solemn eyes. You were usually good at hiding your emotions, the fact that everything you were feeling now was on full display was irritating you to no end.

“I’m fine!” You reassure them once more but you can tell they don’t believe you. You can’t blame them, you haven’t told them anything about your relationship ending and you don’t intend to either. You knew you were acting differently these last few weeks but you didn’t need anyone else knowing about the humiliating way things had ended between you and Bakugou.

Your parents accompany you into the temple but being the spiritual link for your family, only you are allowed to enter the inner rooms which host the shrines for each god. In the beginning it had been exciting to you, but now years later it was beginning to feel like a chore. It didn’t matter where you were, four times a year you needed to come home and pray for good health and wealth and prosperity. You pass by Izuku on your way into the room, his presence was usually calming but the sight of him now only served to remind you of Bakugou. Forcing a polite smile on your lips you give him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing on your way towards the altars.

The prayers had gone well, at least you had assumed they had. You had no problems with the gods, other than Enji who usually gave you a hard time regardless of how good of a mood you were in so you didn’t take it personally. Grabbing the empty basket you exit the room and make your way outside. Finally able to let your emotions pour out once more, you find yourself becoming fixated on the onslaught of hatred, revenge, and hurt that were lying dormant under your skin. You wanted revenge, you wanted to humiliate him the way he’d hurt you.

You didn’t understand why he’d done it, you had been under the false presumption that your relationship was fine. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou cheating on you in your own apartment, with the girl he’d told you so many times NOT to worry about you might have felt less bitter. But there was nothing that could quench your desire for revenge other than making him regret what he’d done to you in a way that would stick with him forever.

Blinking out of your daydream you realize that you’ve wandered into a part of the temple that you’ve never been to before. It’s darker and the energy feels heavier compared to the other sections. Your feet seem to move of their own will as you approach a door that looks as though it hasn’t been opened in ages. You expect to find it locked, but much to your surprise the handle twists open with no resistance.

The room is even darker than the hallway, a small window being the only source of light casting a gloomy look throughout it. Along the back wall of the room is what you think is another altar, except as you approach it it’s covered in dust. It’s apparent to you that no one has been in this room for a long time. Cautiously you wipe away the dust covering the plaque on the front of the altar.

“God of vengeance, Dabi” The second the name leaves you lips the door slams shut making you jump in shock. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve is screaming at you to run.

“Lost, dollface?” A voice you’ve never heard before but feels so strangely familiar at the same time makes you nearly jump out of your skin and whip around to face them. You had been facing the door ready to walk out, no one had been in here before you so where did the man standing in front of you come from.

You’re suddenly so dumbstruck that you can’t even formulate a response, your eyes are too busy taking in his unusual appearance. Spiky black hair, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen with patches of his skin on most of his face and neck that are stapled together. Your eyes travel down farther and notice that not only is his face badly burnt but a significant portion of his body is.

The energy you’re getting from his presence is overwhelmingly not human, but it’s not demonic either. At least, you’re fairly sure it isn’t. Meaning that the person standing before you was a god.

“Don’t look so shocked, you did wander in here didn’t you? What were you expecting to find?”

“Who are you?” The question feels stupid of you to ask.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Your mind is racing with a hundred different things to say, but none of them make it past your lips. Something about him is different from the rest of the gods you’ve met before. There’s what feels like an underlying evil in him despite being a god.

“What’s on your mind doll? It’s obviously important enough to be thinking about while you’re in the presence of a God” His coy smile and low voice laced with honey and temptation make you want to answer him even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Why do you care?” Raising an eyebrow questioningly, a tiny voice at the back of your mind begins to scold you for speaking to a god so casually. Not only could he clearly incinerate you in a flash but he could also influence the fate of your family’s fortune. But you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. For the last decade of your life you’ve spent it dedicated to bringing your parents good fortune only to end up with your own misfortune. You knew you were pushing it, you knew that one slip up and you’d never hear the end of it. But the rage bubbling it’s way slowly up your body almost feels like it’s growing stronger in his presence.

“I always care about pretty little things who wander up to MY altar with such negative energy.”

“Your altar? Funny how I’ve never heard of you before. Can’t be that important if your altar is blocked off from the rest of the temple. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving” Turning on your heel you start walking back to the door hoping that you’ll be able to leave before digging yourself a deeper grave.

“Now now, is that any way to speak to a god?” Within seconds the atmosphere changes, andBlue flames sprout up around you blocking you from leaving the room. They’re hotter than any fire you’ve ever been near before, you don’t even need to be standing directly in front of them to feel how much heat they radiate. Dabi’s eyes are glowing with such an intense gaze of lust in your eyes that it works its way under your skin.

It doesn’t take you long to understand why his shrine had been locked off from the rest of the altars. Dabi might have been a god but there was nothing heavenly about him. Gradually the smell of smoke began to fill your lungs in an unpleasant way despite nothing in the room burning.

“Wanna try that again? Maybe a little nicer this time huh?” Dabi’s body was right behind yours, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. Hot breath hitting against you making you shiver involuntarily.

“Don’t you have better things to worry about?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in front of the god of vengeance. The one god who can help you work out this little problem you’ve got going on”

“Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“I like to think of myself as a generous god” He jokes but you can already tell that Dabi is anything but generous. His expression changes when you don’t lighten up at his attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“What can I say, I love a good revenge story. It doesn’t hurt if they’re not bad to look at either”

Sighing, you begin to mull over his proposal in your mind. You can’t deny that it would be just a little satisfying to have a god on your side. It was petty, the dumbest kind of revenge that anyone could plot for but the images of Bakugou making out with someone who wasn’t you in your own bed no less were branded permanently in your mind. Maybe summoning Dabi was a blessing in disguise, besides, he was a god after all. It wasn’t like he was going to ask you for your soul.

“Fine, what do you want in exchange?”You figured the most he probably wanted was a bigger offering next season.

“We’ll discuss that when it comes up”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You weren’t even sure why Dabi had decided to waste his time in the human world. In his own words he was bored of being in his own realm and figured that sticking around your “depressed ass” would give him some form of entertainment.

Thankfully you didn’t live with your parents anymore, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain having a random man they’d never seen before stuck to your side twenty-four hours a day. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he’d been so interested in helping you get revenge on Bakugou but there wasn’t any need for you to question it. He was the god of vengeance after all.

Even if this did seem like a small and petty reason to help you out.

The first week you had been so caught in helping Dabi adjust to human life that you’d almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. You would have thought that for a god he’d have been at least somewhat competent at learning how to work something as simple as the shower.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to be standing in the bathtub naked, with the cockiest smirk on his face while you yelped and covered your eyes, willing with every fiber in your body for your heart to stop racing.

“Could you at least cover yourself before calling me in here?” You complain, still shielding your eyes as you walk over to turn on the shower for him.

“Can’t you just use your godly powers or whatever to just do it for you?” Mumbling mostly to yourself, you adjust the temperature before hurrying out of the bathroom, trying not to think about his dick and how badly you would’ve gotten on your knees for him if he had asked.

“That would be a waste of my godly powers then, don’t you think?”

You don’t even need to look at him to see the cocky smirk on his face. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you, you rush back into your room hoping that he at least possesses enough common sense to know how to turn the shower off.

The following days go by with Dabi finding a new way to tease you, whether it was walking around the house shirtless or him walking in on you taking a shower. To say that you were up to your neck with the desire to have him fuck you senseless one minute and wanting to strangle the life out of him the next was an understatement. But according to Dabi, once you had both verbally agreed on the deal you’d made he couldn’t leave until the job was finished.

Meaning, that until you got revenge on Bakugou, Dabi was going to be sticking around. Throughout the time that you spent together, Dabi had told you more than you thought you would get out of him. How he’d gotten his scars, why his altar had been separated from the others. As much as people needed vengeance, praying to a god as powerful as Dabi meant that in the wrong hands his powers could very well cause irreversible damage. Not that he had a problem with it, but the priests had decided long ago that his altar needed to be kept away from vengeful hearts.

Until you came along of course, he’d immediately noticed your energy the second you had stepped foot in the temple. No matter how hard you tried to conceal your feelings, Dabi had noticed them and led you straight to his altar. You had been a little mad at first, having been so easily caught trapped but the more you thought about it the less you cared. Besides, you were beginning to enjoy his company around your empty apartment.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Finally, after almost three weeks of putting up with him, the opportunity to get back at Bakugou presented itself.

“Have you ever been clubbing?” you ask over breakfast that morning.

Leaning back in his chair, Dabi’s curious eyes meet yours.

“What are you planning?”

“Bakugou’s best friend is having his birthday party at this club and he’s probably going to be there too. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I can find someone else if you’re uncom-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. That’s what I’m here for right?”

“Well I was just asking since you’re like, what, a couple centuries old? It might be weird to go dancing with all these young people” you flash him an innocent smile at his unamused glare.

“Last time I checked your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you” He retorts making you choke on your coffee. Smirking in victory he leans in closely to whisper in your ear.

“Try harder next time doll”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The rest of the day flew by and the closer the time got for you to leave, the more anxious you felt. You couldn’t help but start to doubt everything about your plan for revenge. For all you knew, Bakugou could care less about who you were hooking up with as long as he was getting his dick wet.

“Are you doubting me?” Dabi teased as you make your way to the club.

“No, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

You didn’t need to wait long to get in the club, your tight black dress and Dabi’s “charm” were more than enough to allow you to skip the line and get in. His hand never leaves your lower back as you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. The two of you down a few shots, the alcohol makes its way through your veins and before long you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Grabbing Dabi’s hand you drag him to the dance floor, it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of grinding up on you and for once you’re not mad about him being a tease. His hand is firmly resting on your hip, you’re a bit more tipsy than you had wanted to get but the song the dj is playing is setting the mood making you hot and bothered. When Dabi’s lips start kissing their way along the side of your neck you’re more than willing to give him more space to leave a few marks.

Your eyes are closed as your bodies grind together and you don’t notice the way Bakugou is glaring with murderous intent at Dabi. Just as you’re starting to loosen up a distance voice snaps you out of your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Opening your eyes you find Bakugou standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m dancing” the song that were dancing to ends and another more upbeat one follows.

“With him? I knew your standards were low but I didn’t think you were that desperate” He snorts, your blood instantly boils making the back of your neck prickle with rage.

“Hmm, let’s take this outside. What do you say?” Dabi asks with a playful tone in his voice.

“Whatever” Bakugou grumbles before shoving his way through the crowd of drunk dancing bodies.

Dabi and Bakugou confronting each other was something you hadn’t thought was going to happen when you’d agreed to let Dabi help you get your revenge on him. But as luck would have it, here you were standing in an alley outside of the club with Dabi in front of you and Bakugou glaring daggers into him.

“Oi, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but she’s mine.”

“Yours? Aren’t you the dickhead who cheated on her? Why would she want you back” Dabi’s laugh isn’t teasing like the ones you’ve heard before. It’s condescending, and you start to feel an energy you’ve never felt before radiating off of him.

“Tell me, dollface.” His voice is deeper and when he turns to look back at you his eyes are darker with what you hope is “Is this mutt really the one you want fucking you right now?” Bakugou’s jaw twitches and he clenches his fist ready to swing at Dabi.

“Tch, down boy” he sighs and just like that Bakugou’s body is slammed down to the cement. You’ve never seen Dabi use his powers before and it does nothing to calm the raging storm of lust about to boil over in your.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to pick up where I left off before you rudely interrupted.” Your wide eyes are still focused on Bakugou’s form kneeling behind Dabi, until he grabs your jaw with one hand and backs you up against the wall.

“I’d much rather you focus on me than him” He mumbles, giving you a sly smile before claiming your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are so much better than you imagined, soft and yet rough at the same time. The cold staples on the corner of his lips lightly scrape against your skin but you don’t care. Sliding your hands underneath his shirt you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

Your nails clawing at his back hard enough to make him hiss and bite down harshly on the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulders met. If your brain wasn’t so muddled with pleasure it might have been more painful but it only sent sparks throughout your whole body. It didn’t matter how tightly you grabbed him and pulled him closer into you, it wasn’t enough.

Dabi hooked your right leg over his hip, the other hand trailing up the back of your neck tangling his hand in your hair and pulling it back. The feeling of his lips sucking dark marks onto your flesh elicited a loud wanton moan from your lips. Your fingers buried themselves in his raven locks tugging his head up so you can slip your tongue between his lips. The hand holding your thigh tightens as a carnal growl makes its way up his throat.

Kissing a god was nothing like you’d ever experienced before, it felt like with each kiss he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, Dabi could have ended your life right then and there and you would have let him. Throughout the past few weeks he’s been living with you, you’ve pictured this in your mind countless times. But you’d never thought that there was a chance in hell that it was ever going to happen. Yet here you were, back scraping against the brick wall of the club’s alley with Dabi’s fingers digging into your hips in a way that would leave their mark there for days.

His lips moved against yours like he was a man starved of touch and affection, his teeth bit harshly against your bottom lip pulling a half strangled moan from your throat. His hands, which felt like they were growing hotter every time he brushed against your bare skin, tightened their hold on your hips to grind you against his dick. The sharp hiss he lets out goes straight to your already throbbing pussy, something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel like this and lose control of himself just makes you want to push him farther and see how long it’ll take to break him.

Reaching down between your bodies you grab his hips trying to bring them closer to yours for more much needed friction. The action makes Dabi chuckle against your lips.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” Dabi tries to come off as nonchalant but he wants it just as much you do. He’s been holding out for weeks, at first he just enjoyed making you flustered, pushing all your buttons to see how you’d react. But the longer he spent with you the more his feelings turned from curiosity to genuine interest and the small embers of lust that lay dormant in his gut had erupted into a fire that was rapidly consuming him.

It was dirty and rushed, teeth clacking together as you both tried to bring your bodies closer together until there was not an inch of space left between you. Your dress was now barely hanging on to your hips, but you couldn’t care less because the only thing on your mind was feeling Dabi inside you NOW. Rolling yourself against his dick the best you can while having one leg on the ground, you can’t help but smirk when Dabi moans into your mouth. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing your thighs where the hem of your dress meets your exposed skin before inching closer to where you want him most. His arm sets your leg down in favour of spreading your legs wider for him, tugging your dress up even higher to give himself a better view.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” Dabi laughs in your ear, enjoying the way you inhale sharply as his fingers circle your puffy clit.

“Dabi, don’t be a tease” you shoot back, trying to sound as dominant as you can but instead it comes out as a breathy whine. The contrast of his soft top lip combined with the roughness of his bottom lip against your neck was making you dizzy. It was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure, and it was only serving to turn you on even more knowing that you had provoked him into doing this.

“You know, I was going to fuck you anyway but don’t you think it’s a little more vengeful if I show your charming ex how to really make you scream?” You were so distracted by the feeling of finally letting out your sexual frustrations that you’d forgotten all about Bakugou who was still under Dabi’s influence.

Before you can answer him, Dabi slides two fingers into you with ease curling them at just the right angle to have you panting against his neck. His movements are anything but gentle and he gives you no time to adjust to his pace as he works his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. Your hands wrap around his biceps, allowing you to have some sort of stability while he’s finger fucking you fast enough to leave you light headed.

“Such a fucking tight pussy you’ve got doll” he chuckles breathlessly. His thumb nudges against your clit tightening the coil of white heat rapidly building up in your lower stomach. His fingers are hitting against your sweet spot so perfectly, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs in breathy moans as he increases his pace.

The wet sloppy sounds of his fingers in you are only heightening your arousal. Dabi’s lips start sucking against the space between your neck and shoulders, making you tilt your head to give him better access. You’re so close you can feel yourself coming undone, without warning Dabi bites down hard enough to break the skin sending you towards your first orgasm. You don’t even care that you’re moaning loud enough for anyone to hear you, Dabi’s fingers don’t stop giving you no chance to recover.

“Come on princess, I know you’ve got another one for me. Cum on my fucking fingers like a good slut” his rough voice right against your ear does nothing to help bring you down from your high. You’re helpless to do anything but let yourself become putty in his hands as another orgasm leaves you breathless and nearly sobbing against him.

You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, but you don’t have to wait long before he turns your body around to face the wall, bending you over and unzipping his jeans to free his aching cock.

“Remember when I said we’d discuss what I wanted in exchange for helping you out?” he asks, his voice raw with arousal as he slides the tip of his cock against your dripping folds. You can barely remember what he’s talking about, your mind is so focused on wanting to feel him inside you that you can barely keep track of what he’s saying.

“I think this is a pretty good exchange don’t you think?” Not giving you a chance to respond he grabs your hip with one hand and tangles your hair with the other while sheathing his cock fully inside you with one sharp thrust. Your nails dig into the brick wall as you fail to bite back a scream. He’s so thick that you can feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls with each thrust. The hand fisting your hair tightens its grip, pulling your head back towards him. Dabi’s hot breaths are hitting against the base of your neck, the feeling of him inside you is making your head spin with pleasure.

“Go on, tell him who’s fucking you this good” Dabi’s hips are slapping against your ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less.

“You are” you whimper but it’s not good enough.

“Say my fucking name” he growls in your ear before reaching down to rub hard circles against your clit.

“F-fuck! Dabi! You feel so fucking good” you cry out as another orgasm washes over you making your legs feel like jelly. You’re almost certain that anyone within a two block radius can hear how loud you’re screaming but you don’t care. Before you can process what’s happening Dabi pulls out of you flipping you back around to face him and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist he slowly pushes back into your hot walls.

“Such a greedy cunt you have, dollface” he grunts and you can’t do anything except nod. Your back hits the wall as Dabi’s hips rut against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His hand wraps around your throat, restricting your air flow and making your pussy clench around him.

“You like it when I choke you? Such a nasty little whore” he laughs, tightening the grip he has around your neck until the edges of your vision start to blacken.

“Your pussy’s so good I might have to keep you” You’re not even sure how he’s still managing to speak in full sentences, if there was anything that reminded you that Dabi was a god it was his insane stamina. He’d already fucked you through three orgasms without being anywhere near cumming. Not only that, but the force he was using the fuck you with was sure to leave you unable to walk for a week.

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he begins rubbing your clit once again making you whine loudly.

“Too much”

“You can take it baby” His fingers show you no mercy causing you to throw your head back against the wall. Your hands push against his shoulders trying to move him away but Dabi is a lot stronger than you gave him credit for.

“Cum on my fucking cock, you can do it. Show him what a good little slut you are for me” Your fingers are gripping his hair so hard you’re sure you’ve pulled some out as you cum around his dick, your eyes struggling to stay open as you feel liquid splashing against your thighs.

“That’s my girl, squirt all over my cock” His fingers grip your jaw as he brings your lips together in another heated kiss. His thrusts become sloppier and more rushed as he chases his own release.

“Fuck Dabi cum in me” you moan against his lips and he curses under his breath as he spills thick ropes of hot cum inside you. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you can barely stand on your legs when Dabi puts you down. You can feel his cum start to drip down your thighs as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Your eyes finally gaze down towards Bakugou who looks like he’s about to burst a vein. His eyes are burning holes into your neck where dozens of dark marks litter your skin. From the sounds he’s making, you can tell he wants to say something but under Dabi’s control he’s powerless to do anything.

“How was that for revenge?” Dabi smirks.

“I don’t know, might have to try again at home” you reply cheekily.

“What makes you think you’re making it back home? I meant it when I said I was keeping you”

Masterlist

913 notes · View notes

roseprincessarts · 2 years

Text

Tohru -- Reading

Here is another anime fanart of pen and ink with Tohru, reading a book 🥰

This is the 2019's version of Tohru

I watched 2011's Girl Fight and then watched Mean Girls, and they are both good, and here's the thing, bullying to make things better by doing something to make them feel bad gets nowhere to make things better. Unlikely or likely what the girls from Fruits Basket (can't remember their names) who falsely accoused of Tohru taking Yuki away from them and they are jealous. This art has nothing to do with that, maybe, but I did this for fun ^^ and I decided to have a pen and ink without colors lol

And I continued watching Fruits Basket after awhile ^^

Also, tomorrow, me and my fam are going out for pizza with my aunt and cousin before going to my nephew's birthday party, and it'll be fun :3

What y'all think?

No copyright infringement is intended

Used: pen

#fruits basket tohru #fruits basket #fruits basket 2019 #tohru #tohru honda #anime #fruits basket fanart #fanart #anime fanart #reading #pen and ink artwork #pen and ink #traditional art #funimation

6 notes · View notes

yellowbluemoonshine · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket; Writing Criticism

Thanks for the ask, @a-ymoon .

Critiquing writing is important because in order to write a good critique you need to critically read: that is, you need to closely read and understand whatever it is you are critiquing, you need to apply appropriate criteria in order evaluate it, you need to summarize it, and to ultimately make some sort of point about the text you are critiquing. (Source)

Before i start, i need to say that criticism is necessary for readers and even for writers cause it lead us to think what we actually read, it help us to think critically and it can improves us. Every story has its own flaws and now, lets look at problems with the Fruits Basket’s writing under the cut.

1- Selflessness or Self Sabotage?

I think this is one of the biggest problem in this story. It shows with a story that called Foolish Traveler. Its about a boy who lets people to take advantage of him, to the point he will let them hurt himself, he will sacrifice himslf for the sake of others. Momiji says he doesnt rthnik he is fool, he views him as admirable person. This same trait is shown especially with Tohru and Kureno. Kureno who neglects his own desires, freedom for the sake of crying girl and Tohru who neglects her own needs to help others.

Now lets continue why this framing is bad.

Its because there is a difference between being selfless and being self destructive.

Most of the time, helping should be a win-win endeavor—you should feel good about working to give someone else a leg up. If your helping efforts are more draining than inspiring, see if you can find another helping situation that adds to your life satisfaction.

And as psychologist Susan Newman points out, you shouldn't feel bad saying “no” to someone's request if helping will cause undue strain—mental, financial, or otherwise. While leading a selfless life is one of the greatest gifts you can give others and yourself, you need to foster your own well-being at the same time. (source)

We saw that Tohru helping people during the series but you can also eaiesly see that she lets other people to treat her as she is less, with the name of kindness. Like, how she keeps apologising for the things she had no fault or how she cant even say no.

What starts as a genuine desire to make a difference in others' lives can sometimes morph into pathological giving, leaving us feeling wrung-out or resentful—or even hurting or offending intended recipients. (source)

Especially this part really explains Kureno’s sitution. How his desire to help someone evenually turned into something toxic and unhealthy. Its because he neglected his own needs and end up enabling Akito’s self destructive behavours and made condition worse.

Tohru doesnt go far as Kureno, there are times she stand out for herself and others too but you can see that when they act like this, they are not being kind or selfless, they are being self neglectfull. And this part of them is shown as good thing by story.

Not just those two, you can see this with other ‘good’ characters. For example;

When we heard Hatori’s story, Momiji specifically talk about the part how Hatori didnt blame Akito for it and its the part that Tohru felt sorry for him the most because he takes care of everyone but he neglects his own needs.

Then we hear Akito and Kureno’s story. Even though, traumatized kid in story is Akito but story empathize with Kureno the most because he sacrifice himself for other people, again this is the part Tohru felt sorry for him the most.

Or with Yuki who choose to not blaming anyone or Rin who try to make Haru free, instead of herself etc etc. Every time, a character neglects their own needs for the sake of others, story tells you that this character is really doing their best or they are very kind people.

Yes, story also says that ‘sometimes its okay to think about yourself’ or ‘its okay if you dont force yourself this much’, basically it says that its okay you dont neglect your own needs but this is literally condracts with what story shows.

I will give a simple example to explain this;

For example. You really wanna be good person, like really wanna do your best, helping people, being extremely kind person is your desire. Then, you start neglecting your own needs and you are suffering in deep. Then, your mother realizes this and say ‘its okay, you dont have to do this, you can be very kind person while still taking care of yourself’. Then you learn self worth and you dont ever neglect your own needs but your sibling is doing the things you used to do. Your sibling is neglecting his own needs for the sake of helping others and people around you praise him for it. They says ‘your sibling is doing his best’ but you did your best too. Didnt they say ‘its okay to care about yourself?’ Didnt they say ‘you can still be equally kind’ but then, why they praise your sibling for his self neglect and treat him like he is somehow more hardworking than you.

Just like this story, characters says its okay to think about yourself but then treats people who self destructs as the kindest people ever exist.

When you say ‘oh they do their best, she really does her best, she even self destructs, she thinks about others too much, what a kind person’, When you praise someone for their self destruction or self neglect, at the same time you are literally saying ‘thinking about yourself/having self worth makes you less good person’ Which is far away from truth.

The problem with this kind of framing is its making self worth look as bad or less good. If Tohru says she is dirty for thinking about yourself, then it also means that she thinks people who think about theirselves is dirty too which is very insulting.

2- Parallels and Comprasion between abuse victims

This part is connected to first part actually.

In any narrative, a foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist.[2][3][4] In some cases, a subplot can be used as a foil to the main plot. This is especially true in the case of metafiction and the "story within a story" motif. (source)

Usually, in stories, author makes parallel characters to explain their story and character better. You can look at those parallels to understand them better but i think author didnt do well because it resulted with making one abuse vcitims look good cause they react their abuse with socially acceptable way while other ones look bad cuse they didnt react their abuse with socially acceptable way. I am talking about the unfair comprasion between Yuki, Rin, Kyo, Tohru and Akito’s trauma.

For example;

- Yuki reacts his trauma with shutting himself down from world. Why exactly he choose this way? Its because he was powerless against his god and adults in clan. He was treated as tool who just has to obey, he realize his words don treach out to his mother so whats the point of talking?

Will story tell Yuki that he doesnt have to aplogise from Hatori for blaming him? Nope.

- Rin who self destructs and isolates herself from others cause she thinks she is unworthy, she is psyhcially abused by her parents so badly to the point violence triggers her.

Will anyone tell Rin that asking for help isnt using someone’s kindness? Because of the line Rin said, some people said Akito was using Kureno's kindness which is ridicilous.

- Tohru who force herself to smile and please people around her, this is how she deals with her fear of abandonment

Will anyone tell this girl that sacrificng yourself is NOT kindness but nope.

I used to say that having black white mindset is Rin’s flaw but thats not actually true. Yoıu can see this in every character, how they look down people who acts ‘self centered’ or how they admire poeple who neglects theirselves. This is jut how author write her story.

All those ‘good’ characters is being compared against Akito’s trauma. Why Akito react differently? Why she didnt force herself like Tohru, why she didnt self destruct like Rin, why she didnt shut herself down like Yuki?

I think many people dont seem to understand how mental health and trauma works. Her position and her trauma is whole different them. Of course, all those characters would react differently. One was stuck in room to listen, one was beaten so badly, one was expected to be good girl and Akito who was groomed to be god.

For beginners, giving impossible expectations to a child is abuse. Sayind that they are special, born to be loved, they are god’ is abuse. Why its horrible? Because its a lie. Child would believe in adults worlds and build their mindset depend on it and thats how their identify develop. But what will happen when they face with reality? Then what, who will be become, if adults were lying? They will have mentalbreakdown, its just unevitable ending. Akito’s sitution is not better than zodiac’s abuse at all.

Imagine a child who was only seen as worth as long as she is god, she also has mother who keeps abusing her and noone does anything about it. Ren just daily abuse her and people are just watching. But she becomes bad when she does the same.

This child’s all worth is depending on that connection with people, of course she will holding onto it with everything she had. She also literally has supernatural power that forces zodiac to obey, how much that kind of power can corrupt a child’s mind. Not only that, adults around her encourage her destructive behavours. All that god position is meant to be above on zodiac, she is meant to treat them as they are lesser, her position is literally expect her to be ‘abusive’.

And raising a child with ‘its okay to you hurt them’.

In fandom, many people says they related to her pain but they never abuse others. I think most people love the idea that they would never hurt anyone this way but i disagree.

Yeah, most of us suffers as abuse victim but we need to understand what exactly hold us; you cant lash out, if you are powerless. If you know that there will be consequences of your actions, you hold yourself. Especially many of us were taught from young age that we shouldnt hurt people, good people wouldnt hurt people, you cant do that but what if we were told that it was okay to do it? What if we were constantly heard from young age that its ok to do whatever we wants, its okay to hurt others, what if there were no punishment for it?

I will give a real life example.

Sylvia Marie Likens (January 3, 1949 – October 26, 1965) was an American teenager who was tortured and murdered by her caregiver, Gertrude Baniszewski, many of Baniszewski's children, and several of their neighborhood friends. This abuse incrementally lasted for three months before Likens died from her extensive injuries and malnourishment on October 26 in Indianapolis, Indiana. (Source)

In court records, they’ve been asked that why they did such a horrible things, despite she didnt do anything wrong. And all those children answered ‘i dont know’. They were just children but they did it anyway. Why exactly this happenned? Its because the adult in charge told them its okay to do it. You can find many real life examples of how dangerous it is to build a mindset like this. Not only this, Akito is raised in clan and she has many limited world view cause she doesnt have outside expreince without it.

But story makes it look like the way Rin and Tohru reacts their abuse is better or good, praising their self destruction and Akito becomes bad because she didnt self destructive, she becomes destructive. Using abuse victims to dismiss another abuse victim’s pain is horrible. They shouldnt be compared, there is no right and wrong way to express trauma. Self destruction isnt right way or better way. Victims can lash out, self destructs, shut theirselves down etc, all those ways are unhealthy equally, they should learn to express their pain with healthy, instead of being categorized as good and bad victim.

Not only her way of reacting abuse makes her look bad but also, she is compared with abusive parents of zodiacs. How can a child who was groomed to be god, isolated, had mentalbreakdown shown as they are same as those educated who was supposed to know how to treat their children? Yes, she is abuser just like them but in her condition, it impossible to not be abuser, this is what being god of zodiac means.

The definition of justify is to provide an explanation or rationale for something to make it seem OK or to prove it is correct or OK. (source)

When we as readers make those kind of explanations, people say ‘its no excuse’ which has nothing to do with it. Akito’s actions werent okay but we need to understand the position she was in. Why she act that way and what lead her to change?

Story shows her as she was kind, cheerfull girl and she didnt abuse zodiac until she had mentalbreakdown. The fact that she was holding herself until her mentalbreakdown, all that grroming about being god, then she was ready to change when finally someone treat her as human being and she was also ready to take responsibility for her actions, all those things should give you the answer of her character.

But in the end, she is hardly seen as victim and mostly treated as ‘bad guy', even though, she is clearly not. The way story makes its look like 'she is bad cause she didnt express her trauma with sacrifical way’ is horrible. It also give an conclusion that author doesnt really understand how abuse works.

3- Unadressed character flaws

If you make your ‘good characters’ look as flawless or dont really adress the problem, of course it would make antagonist look worse.

Slapstick, a type of physical comedy characterized by broad humour, absurd situations, and vigorous, usually violent action. (source)

In a story about breaking cycle of abuse, Kagura and Yuki’s beating Kyo is shown as comedy with the name of slapstick. Same for Uo hurting him for no reason and its again used for comedy. And Hana’s bullying bullies too. Or Rin almost kill Tohru at their first meet which isnt funny at all, such an understimated and overlooked scenes but its ignored by fandom cause story doesnt adress it.

The problem with this; There is no such a thing that ‘violent/toxic behavours that we are not meant to take seriously’ because any kind of toxic and violent behavours are abuse, just because it doesnt end up traumatizing someone doesnt make it less important. Which is exactly why its weak writing because its character flaw and we are supposed to ignore it.

I already mentioned that Tohru’s self neglect (one of her flaws) isnt really adressed, her pollyanism is also shown as good thing, even though its very unhealthy so it should’ve been flaw.

Another example; How older zodiacs did nothing about whether Ren’s abuse on Akito, Akito’s abuse on zodiac and enabling her destructive behavours. This part doesnt necessarely a big fault of them since they are cursed too but i wish its still shown as mistake and flaw.

Kureno’s flaw wasnt him being too nice or not abandoning Akito. His flaw was him being there but doing nothing, just obeying. There is a high difference between enabling and not abandoning. Kureno’s choice was right, his flaw was something else and it was hardly mentioned and again story treated him like a prisoner, despite him having control of Akito.

Shigure’s biggest flaw is his unwilling to change but also he literally get away with how he treated Akito, he was acted like jerk but just because it somehow ended well, he never had to face with consequences of his actions. Shigure wasnt hero at all, the only good thing he did was bringing tTohru and giving a safe place to zodiac but other things he did; his motivation is selfish, his actions also hurted someone means he is villain too but kind of villain who didnt get redemption.

He is villain who got away and seen as good. For beginners, he also enabled Akito’s destructive actions too. No, he enabled those actions the most cause he traumatized her by sleeping with Ren and unlike Kureno and others, he did this on purpose. But story make it look like he is doing a good job by fighting against Akito like this. But again, there is high difference between standing out for yourself and abusing someone.

Not just them, even generally how zodiac treated Kyo as he is lesser than them or ignored him but when he acts as outcast, they shut him down. Yes, its part of system but thats the point. Akito treated zodiac as lesser cause she was god and zodiac act the same, they didnt do anything for Kyo’s going to prison because they internalized the idea of he is lesser but again, its same as Akito too. Again, its a flaw that hardly discussed and adressed.

The only character whom actually flaws adressed is Kyo’s blaming Yuki but even their complicated relationship is written as comedy, more than tragedy, Tom and Jerry style.

And even all those abusive parents and messed up clan is hardly adressed. So again, if you dont really adress all those character flaws, it will make look the one (Akito) whom flaws is adressed.

4- Too much empathy for abusive parents

I think its not hard to see this story specifically show empathy towards abusive parents in story. We know that there are many abusive parents in story but we hardly talk how easiely they get away.

For example, Momiji’s mother. Momiji himself explains how hard it is for her, for Sohma parents to be parents of zodiacs. This is a mother who abandonded her son just because he existed. But Momiji isnt even mad at her.

Or Yuki’s mother. Many people blame Akito for Yuki’s abuse but Akito is literally child and also victim in this sitution. There is high difference betwen an abused child who was groomed to be god and educated adult who is responsible for their children. This woman literally refered her son as tool, she openly said she used him for her own gains, she abandonded him to pain and her both sons have empathy for her. Look at how Yuki is happy to hear that.

Or Rin’s parents. Rin never mad at them, she is even asking forgiveness from them. There is a scene where Haru says children can be sad just like adults. This is not just character speaking, this is also what narrative is saying. But there is something wrong with that sentence. Children arent like adults, they feel emotions more, especially compared to adults. Those two sitution cant even be compared. At least, we see Haru hating them but onl y because they didnt apologise and feel sorry.

And Kyo’s father. He is not portrayed as bad but mostly as pathetic. But again, Kazuma compares him and Kyo, how Kyo acted like him. I mean of course Kyo will act like his abusive father, of course his father’s behavours will affect him.

And Akito’s mother is same too. Kureno says ‘they both hated each others’ and probably older zodiacs see them as similar too. I mean, again, there is a difference between mother’s hating her own baby and child who will hate her mother because her mother hated her. Of course, it will affect her.

And when Kureno asks ‘is Ren evil?’, Shigure answers ‘no, she is pitifull’. Story also said she is mentally unstable. Again, you can see story shows empathy for Ren.

And compared this to Akito's sitution, zodiac always talk about forgiving Akito, Yuki and others and especially Rin.

We see the scene when Rin says she will never forgive Akito but thats not the problem here. The thing is why the concept of forgiveness only exist when it comes to Akito. Why Rin never mentions about her parents? Why other characters dont get mad at them? Why people who never feel guilty, who dont change gets empathy but abuse victim, Akito doesnt get even half of it?

In real life, its so realistic. Usually abuse victims dont get mad at their abusive parents. Its easy to only blame Akito but story never adress this in the end. You can easiely see that all those abusive parents gets more empathy than abuse victims who was groomed since childhood by narrative. Which i think its ridilicous.

A character who feels extreme remorse, a character who try to change for better, a character who have terrible story deserves more empathy than those who wont change and feel sorry about their actions. Not only this, those abusive parents never really punished while abuse victim Akito is punished horribly.

And only Kyo and Akito were used to fight back against their abusers but when Kyo was healed, he stops. And after her redemption, Akito stops fighting back too and we see her, after years later, she let her abusive mother to stabs her and says she deserve it with a smile on her face.

I really dont know what author is trying to say. Like, dont fight back agaisnt your abusive parents cause they are your parents and you should reconcile with them? With every way, this is so frustrating and so unfair. Of course, they can get empathy, parenthood is hard too but this is taking it too far. They get away too easiely.

5- Normalized Toxic Love

Fruits Basket is not the first story that normalizes messed up relationships but here we go. Especially Katsuya-Kyoko, Akito’s relationship with Kureno and Shigure, high age difference, minor x adult type of relationships, also there is grooming etc even though, those things are important too, i dont wanna bring to those subjects.

Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. (source)

There is also pedophile and grooming in their relationship which is horrible.

And even except those factors, Akigure is canonically toxic relationship but i think its still very overlooked.

Not just because Shigure slept with her mother, i think one of the most overlooked and messed up about this relationship is how Shigure abused her. Psychological abuse. Intentionally making someone insecure, playing ith their emotions, He literally played with her mental illness and its jusitified by narrative and also by fandom.

Fandom couldnt care less about Akito because they dont have enough empathy for Akito to care. They literally put Shigure and Akito to same position, even though they are not. Why?

1- They both hurted people but at leaast Akito was dealing with many severe of mental illness while Shigure doesnt have that kind of problem

2- Akito gets punished for her actions while Shigure gets away with it.

3- Akito recognized her wrong actions and try to change for better while we never see Shigure’s actually feeling remorse for what he did to Akito. He simply doesnt see it as wrong. He thinks they are same and justify it. He thinks Akito deserved it which how many abusers think about their victims, they think they deserve it.

Many people say their relationship become healthy but there is no way this relationship can be healthy without Shigure ever recognizing his wrong actions towards Akito. Why? Because Akito wasnt the only problem in relationship, Shigure is problem too, he should look at his own actions too but nope. In the end, it never happens and story makes it look like its okay, this is love. Story justify Shigure’s abuse, just because Akito isnt ‘innocent’. When Akito does, its bad but when Shigure does, its not.

You might say ‘but author says this is love’, 'but author said their relationship became healthy’. As reader, what author shows me in her story is more important than what she says in background. Because this is clearly not love. You can look at how healthy relationship works in here and the difference betwen love and obsession in here. Akigure is opposite of love.

And their relationship never develop healthy nice relationship either, more details about this in here and here.

6- ‘Redemption’ & Fake ‘Happy’ Ending

At first, its was nice to see that Akito wants to make up for what she did and the idea that she will try to change that place for better, like how she will break the cycle of abuse but end of story condracts with this.

Furuba another is nice and children are really adorable. But really…they are written only to tell their parents story. They just dont have their own characters, to the point they look exactly same as their parents. They always talk about their parents. In the end, its extra story of main one.

We also get a chance to see how much Akito feels guilty about her actions but- this is NOT karma or redemption. This is not breaking the cycle of abuse at all. Akito being stabbed by her abusive mother, being harrassed by people who literally groomed her the way she was is NOT justice or fair ending. This is NOT someting Akito deserves or something she should endure. She was their victim and she continues to be their victim again and people around her dont do anything cause oh yeah thats how she should atone. She has friends so its okay now. Look having emotional support is good but that doesnt disappear the effects of abuse, especially if people who supoort you ignore it when you are being abused, then it gets worse.

In the end, Akito the one who is abuse victim just like zodiac, end up being still cursed.

7- Writing Villain, Hero & Story

The problem with Akito’s story is not that she is not sympathyc but opposite, she is actually very sympathic character but author failed to show it to the readers. This is exactly why its so frustrating.

Set up compeling backstory that show he/she at the beginning is a good person at heart or at the very least a decent human being but due to some event (cruel/tragic/betrayal) losing hope in the goodness of men or after being corrupted by the evil of the world then choose to walk the path of villain. (source)

Author could easiley show Akito’s past with more details, her kind cheerfull self, all that grooming, how it effected her etc but we hardly see it. her redemption happens with 1 chapter which is so rushed.

During the series, she stabs, push someone out of window, cutting he hair, hitting people, beating child etc especially for this kind of charatcer, if you want to give redemption, you should make extra effort it. Also, all those things were so unnecessary. Its like author needed one bad guy to make story look better, instead of making all characters gray, she used one character for it so it would be a lot easier to push all blame to her. Which is very lazy writing, instead of adressing every character’s flaw and making them human/gray characters, she is somehow related to every problem one way or another.

Just like cartoons. One hero saves everyone, one cause trouble for everyone. To make them foils, you need to show how dark hero can be or let your vilain grow during the story, not the end of it.

Or at least, you should show your villain’s struggling, showing her mindset so readers can have empathy for her but instead all that suffering Akito endured happenned in background, we hardly see it.

In the end, Akito is sympatic character who is related to the theme of story the most but only to be wasted. More details about her character is in here.)

The easiest way to avoid unrealistic behavior is to research how real people behave in similar situations. If real people who are locked in a basement through adolescence end up with serious problems, so would your dungeon-confined character. Not that your character should be like everyone else; you want him to be distinctive. But the bigger the gap between his traits and normal behavior, the more convincing your explanation must be. (source)

And making a sunshine main character who magically save everyone, who did nothing but help people. Then, of course people wont take seriously of Akito’s parallels with her. Every main character has plot armor but it should make sense, for example, Kyo and Yuki’s not joining the new year meeting for the sake of a girl they didnt meet a lot of time doesnt make sense. Especially, if Yuki was really afraid of Akito, he wouldnt be able to do that. Also you cant heal people like Tohru, just being positive and hopefull doesnt work. You should let your hero (Tohru) to be gray too but instead she is being protected by all dark things during the series that villain (Akito) had to live with all her life.

Its like; one young girl who was raised with love and end up finding more and more love while another young girl who was trapped with cycle of abuse and end up having more and more pain which is very unfair, let both of them to be happy, especially the ones hwho was in pain.

Of course, if you dont adress the system and clan, people only look at Akito, other problematic characters are hardly shown, its like they are hiding behind Akito. Who is exactly at fault here? All those adults who decided to continued the traditions? Abusive parents? Or a child who was groomed since her young age? Akito didnt create the situtions, she is victim of it but why she has to take everyone’s responsibility? Why her abusers and enablers are blaming her and author make it sound like its redemption? How being abused by her abusers can be her karma? Do us readers have to ignore all that grooming, trauma and abuse she had?

What exactly the message author wanted to give? And did she really success? Lets look at the fandom.

There is no eternal bond.

If you make a character who reach out to people with unconditionally love and again, make your hero and villain so dark and light, some people migh t not ice the similarities. They think Tohru is reaching out to Akito cause she is forgiving, kind and unconditional love an all but in that scene, it was supposed to be opposite. Its interesting because its personal but again, its hardly noticed that Tohru was helping Akito, not for her but mostly for her own sake.

And the biggest flaw both Tohru and Akito had was depending on bonds, people. Tohru learns but ending Akito with a guy whom she had very toxic relationship, whom she is very depentive of and literally their whole romatinc relationship is based on ‘eternal’, uncontional love. Akito was supposed to be her own person, meeting with people who will love her as her own person, she needs time to develop personality and healing but ending her with Shigure....thank you, author, showing that noone can love Akito as her own person, only a guy like Shigure who saw her in his dream can love her, right?

Its not about forgiveness.

Story repeatedly say forgiving or not, its not important but people constantly focusing the part Akito being forgiven or not. Some says ‘she was forgiven by zodiac’, ‘some say she wasnt forgiven’ or ‘she doesnt deserve this’ which is the opposite point of story. The reason story tells its not important, its giving you a decision, the whole reason says he doesnt want to blame others anymore is because he wants to get rid of ‘victim mentality’ which is the last step of healing. There is no such a thing that she deserve or doesnt deserve, its literally about feelings and only thing matters is moving on.

what’s the difference between a positive character arc and a redemption arc?

Well, redemption arcs are simply a more dramatic form of positive character arcs.

A normal positive arc character is flawed, but is still on mostly stable moral ground. A character who undergoes a full redemption arc, on the other hand, starts from a much worse place. Their actions at the start of their story are likely awful or borderline unforgivable, meaning they have much more work ahead of them to truly overcome these problems. (source)

There are people who said Akito didnt get redemption or her acrs isnt about being forgiven which is again....redemption is exist for people like Akito who did unforgivable things,not just Akito, noone’s character arc is about being forgiven by people they hurted.

Some people in fandom justify how Shigure treated Akito and they say how characters like Shigure and Ayame push her which is again far away from the truth. Atyame’s constant ignorance and especially Shigure’s triggering her trauma is the reason she felt insecure, its made her condition worse. Hatori said this, every time Shigure came, her condition is gotten worse. Akito could’ve healed with a lot of ways other than this so saying that Shigure had to do this, she had to or deserves to have mental breakdown is horryfing. But of course, people will think that way because author made story like that too.

Dont categorize people like that.

Author use this line with Tohru but of course, its clearly not that effective for readers. The fact that people spend so many times of getting mad at Akito, talking about forgiven or not, how her redemption isnt exist or not about its etc etc this shows lack of empathy. Its been years since story ended but people still talk about this means they didnt acknowledge her change and redemption that much. Of course not because some poeple dont even understand what is exactly her trauma or they even assume Tohru would never do this which doesnt work in real life. The fact that she is stil refered as abuser but not as abuse victim, even after her redemption shows it. People are categorizing characters as good and bad. People take seriously of Kyo and Yuki’s trauma but dismiss Akito’s trauma.

If readers dont feel empathy for a character they are meant to empathize, then its bad writing.

Its okay, if you dont force yourself like this.

Authors tell people, her characters that they dont have to for theirselves like this, they dont have to smile, they dont have to sacrifice theirselves, they can think about their own needs too but of course, again this message doesnt work because we never see main character or other characters actually learn and take lesson with this. Because its never shown as flaw. Its shown as hardworking.

- - -

Okay, i really appreaciate the messages author intented to give. How people shouldnt depend, they should learn to let go of things, how relatiomnships can end but there are new meetings...its really really good message. I admire that part of story and characters and story was really entertaining in general.

But you can clearly see that author’s message didnt really reach out to her many readers, yes, we can say its lack of reading but its also author’s fault cause she write her story with black and white world view mindset.

What could’ve happenned?

We dont need sexual relationships plot at all, just feelings were enough, Akito and Shigure not ending together, story adressing every character’s flaws, pushing out of window was unnecessary instead just cutting hair part was enough, Kyo’s connection with Tohru’s mother was unncessary, his trauma is enough, story being with a little more dark but with happy ending, Tohru interacting with worst characters and maybe having breakdown and acting dark too, not putting all blame on the Akito, not making everyone couple or hetero, or letting Akito grow as person during the story and seeing her backstory with full details or at least giving Akito a happy ending or etc many many things just could’ve happenned.

She could easiely be the most popular character. Think about why Kyo is the most popular because he is realistic, he lash out, gets angry, we have his whole backstory, show his growth since beginning, feel his pain with closer look, unlike other characters, his flaw is adressed so its interesting, its realistic. This is why he is popular, if only author did the same thing with Akito, she would be easiely most popular character in story.

Her many characters arent realistic, real problem of story/curse was hardly adressed, Akito who is very great example of real life abuse victims is shown as evil. Author ended up normalizing toxic relationship, justify abuse cause the person was abuser too. And story is about breaking bonds, cycle of abuse but in the end, its not what happens in story.

What author shows is more important than what author and narrative says in story. This is not love, this is not how people break cycle of abuse, this is not redemption, this is not how people with mental illness act, there is such a thing that grooming, long effects of mental illness and how it will effect mindset. If author isnt gonna adress it, then why she write her villain like that? Does she even know what she write?

I know that author is not psychologist but i wish at least she made some research about mental illness and abuse victims before writing about it. She is human being but this is exactly why we need to accept that there are many flaws in her story. I cant say why she did write like that or maybe she just didnt care that much, its her own story but as reader, i have a right to criticize story and i need to say that i hate how the way she handled her story, her characters, especially Akito.

This is why i hate Akito’s ending, she is very sympathyc character for me cause she is great example of real life abuse victims but her pain and trauma is so overlooked both by story and fandom. And thats very disturbing and sad because it reminds me of how abuse victims are treated in real life, how their pain doesnt valid because they didnt express it with the way people wanted and this story normalize it and show this as good thing. Those are the reasons why i hate it. (I might edit things later).

#fruits basket #fruits basket meta #furuba analysis #writing criticism #natsuki takaya #fandom criticism #sohma akito #redemption arc #character arc #bad writing #anti #:///

30 notes · View notes

maymyheartbmyguidingkey · 3 years

Text

aren’t we a nice pear

you can blame @duelistkingdom for this, not me

Yugi was quickly learning that certain fruits may have been tough to come by during the 18th dynasty - if not non-existent.

His first clue was when he brought a coconut back to the apartment, intending to make his famous coconut curry and sticky rice.

Atem had peeked into his grocery bags, adorably curious (Sugoroku had always done the grocery shopping, and rarely did he ever obtain fresh fruits), and had gasped dramatically, startling Yugi so badly he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"What? What's wrong? I swear to god, if I broke the eggs -"

But when Yugi swivelled to survey the damage, he found instead Atem holding a coconut aloft, reverently.

His shoulders fell.

"A coconut," Atem hissed. "When father would return from his diplomatic travels he would near always bring coconuts. The juice was divine."

Yugi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and returned to putting away their groceries. "You almost gave me a heart attack over a coconut. What, were they not very popular in your time?"

Atem was silent for long enough that Yugi knew: if he looked back at him right now, he'd be met with an unfairly incredulous stare.

So Yugi turned to him, face resolutely deadpan, finding his prediction entirely correct.

"Yugi, my partner, light of my life -"

Yugi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"- coconuts were an import," Atem said, like it was especially important, clutching the coconut to his chest as if it were a wounded animal. "Only the fabulously wealthy -" he pantomimed tossing hair over his shoulder, "could possibly afford such a luxury good."

Yugi snorted, finding the eggs (thankfully, in good shape) and placing them delicately in their designated spot in the fridge.

"Well you were fabulously wealthy, O dearest Pharaoh, so why are you clinging to it like a starving man?"

"Because coconuts are - what is it Jou always says? It is the most ridiculous - oh yes - lit."

Yugi froze, eyes squeezed shut. "Atem. My world. Dearest heart. Never say that again."

But then his brain buffered. Wait a damn minute -

Eyes comically wide, Yugi said, "Wait. Atem. What kind of fruit did you have?"

Atem pursed his lips, tossing the coconut from hand to hand, resting his elbows on the quartz island between them. "Grapes. I rather liked those. Oh - figs, though I found them too sweet. Nabk -"

“Atem,” Yugi pressed, suddenly desperate, “what’s a strawberry?”

Atem blinked, confused as to how and why the tone of their conversation shifted. “I... suppose I'm not quite sure? When you say the word, an image crops up, but I have not the faintest -”

Yugi was already grabbing his keys. “I'm going back to the store.”

“What on Earth -”

“I’ve been craving cherries anyway. Oh my god, and pomegran - no, wait, you guys had those, right? Pretty sure that was an 8th dynasty thing. Peaches! Pineapple? Holy - I need to learn how to slice a pineapple -”

“Yugi, my love, what is happening right now?”

“Oh, I’m so stupid,” Yugi scoffed, taking Atem by the hand, who squawked indignantly at his self-insult. He dragged Atem hurriedly to the front door, fumbling to slip on his shoes with only one hand. “You can just come with me.”

“Call yourself stupid one more time. I have hands now, Yugi. I can smack you.”

“Why, what better for me to kiss, my dear?” Yugi said, throwing his pharaoh a sly smirk, raising Atem’s knuckles to his lips. Atem’s face flushed a pretty red, and he stared pointedly down at his own backless loafers, grumpily slipping them on.

“Cheeky,” he mumbled, sounding secretly pleased.

☆

“Yugi. Where... what is this place?”

Yugi sent him a bright grin, squeezing Atem's hand where he held it in his jacket pocket. “This, O mighty Pharaoh, is the grocery store.”

Atem gawked at the various signage as Yugi dragged him to the cart well, snatching up a handbasket and promptly making a beeline for the produce section.

“Wait, wait, was that - was that a massive cart to wheel your groceries about in?” Atem asked, incredulous. “How affluent must you be to fill one of those?”

Yugi snorted. “I can't believe I never once brought you to a grocery store. Goes to show how often those lunches from 7/11 saved my life in high school.”

“Oh,” Atem said, staring at the wall of colorful greeting cards as they passed. “Well, this is delightful. It's much like the market, just. Indoors. And with fluorescent lighting.”

“Yeah, you get it,” Yugi encouraged, leaning over to kiss Atem’s temple firmly. “C'mon, this way.”

The produce section was lush today, what with it being a random Thursday afternoon, and Atem was already spotting things he had never seen before but knew the names of (thanks to the brain of a certain now-adult who he had often possessed when he was nothing but a no-name disembodied spirit).

“There! The - what was the word? - strawberries,” he chirped. “What kind of name is that, by the way?”

Yugi squeezed his hand twice, their mutual sign for it’s okay, grab it, holding the basket within Atem’s reach. “Says the guy with nabk. Throw ‘em in there, hot stuff.”

“The -” Atem blanched, holding up a packet of strawberries, confused. “All of them?”

Yugi raised his eyebrows. “Yes? What, you want me to open it and pluck out a single strawberry?”

“Well - wouldn’t - isn’t the whole thing expensive? They seem like they would be expensive.”

“Oh, no,” Yugi slid the basket to the crook of his elbow, swiping up a packet himself and giving the label a read. “Strawberries are one of Japan's biggest exports. Oooh, and I love amaou variety. Perfect for your first try.”

He gently took the packet from a stunned Atem’s hand and dropped both into the basket. Atem sputtered.

“That is - you can just, buy fruit en masse? Affordably?”

Yugi laughed quietly, spotting the pineapples and leading Atem toward them. “Maybe not as cheaply as in other places - we kind of have a thing for designer fruit here. But these packs are only ¥500 each.”

“Only how mu - oh my land, those are horrifying.”

“Yeah, if you’re not used to them, they’re pretty freaky,” Yugi acquiesced, reaching for a piece of the spiky fruit - only for Atem to slap his hand away.

Yugi whipped around to stare at him, bewildered. The look on Atem’s face wouldn’t be out of place beside the dictionary definition of appalled.

“My Yugi will most certainly not be touching the pointy death fruit!” he hissed, gesturing violently toward the pineapples, like his reaction was obvious. “I used to inhabit that body, you know.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a firm line, trying desperately not to burst into laughter.

“Atem. Pharaoh of my heart. My angel,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I love you so much. Just - watch this.”

And Yugi - while giving Atem a pointed, amused look - reached again for a pineapple, easily picking one from its perch by its uninviting body.

Atem, perplexed, brows raised in astonishment, stammered. “But - it - you -”

Yugi offered it to him. “It's not a cactus. Its bark is worse than its bite.”

Atem hesitated, but Yugi patiently held the pineapple toward him, nodding encouragingly when Atem met his eyes doubtfully.

And so Atem took it in his elegant, princely hands, brows furrowed in confusion when it did not, in fact, slice him to ribbons.

“But... it looks so evil.”

“Right? But it’s only poke-y. Honestly I just wanna meet the guy who saw one for the first time and immediately thought, “hey, I’m gonna crack this shit open and give it a taste”.”

☆

Yugi created a monster.

They had picked out a few more things for Atem to try, including the promised cherries and peaches (Atem giving a smug “now that is more like it” when he saw the peaches priced at two for ¥1990), but also some things that yugi had realized he took completely for granted: blueberries, kiwis - bananas. God, bananas.

Atem had also discovered that coconut water was sold by itself, in convenient single portions, and had happily trotted off to the self-checkout counter with a case of six, an endeared Yugi in tow.

It had been a week since that fateful day.

Atem sat on their cute little cream loveseat, newly-acquired and much-needed reading glasses on his nose and feet propped up on the matching ottoman, his current read in his lap. He held one of Yugi's many reusable water bottles in his hand, half-full with coconut water, blueberries, strawberries and ice floating prettily at the top. His bottle-holding arm was curled protectively around a bowl precariously perched on the arm rest, where he kept his (perfectly sliced) pineapple rings.

"Living in the lap of luxury, I see," Yugi said, plopping down beside Atem and draping himself directly atop the open book. He gazed up at his boyfriend, mischievous. "Lavish attention upon me as you do your precious books and fruits, O great Pharaoh."

Atem rolled his eyes, plucking a ring of pineapple from the bowl and tearing it in half. Yugi opened his mouth expectantly.

"Who said this was for you?" Atem snorted, popping one half in his mouth. "This is the last of it and you are a brat."

Yugi, as per usual, pouted to get his way. Atem, as per usual, was unable to resist said pout, huffing and presenting Yugi with the other half.

"A brat maybe, but loved by you nonetheless," he cheeked as he chewed.

"Exhibit A. Eat with your mouth closed; you are in the presence of royalty," atem said. "And sit properly, for goodness sake - you'll choke, and I refuse to have that on my conscience."

And sit properly Yugi did - mostly. He slung himself over Atem's shoulders, muttering into his neck, "You know, that's the third pineapple you've -"

"Ananas."

Yugi scoffed. Ever since Atem had Googled the Arabic name for the fruit (an adventure in it's own right), he refused to use anything else.

"Yes, ananas, yet somehow I’m the brat here," Yugi continued, "point being: it's the third one you've decimated this week. We just ran out of bananas, and I think that was the last pack of strawberries, too. I'm gonna go broke."

"This is fine. We can subsist off of fruit alone."

Yugi leaned back and stared into Atem's face, who had gone back to reading his book, unfazed. "You can subsist off of fruit alone. I need meat. Protein."

Atem pulled off his glasses and slapped the book shut, giving Yugi the most skeptical look he’d ever seen. "Yugi. You are a waif."

"Hey! No body-shaming here!" Yugi protested, pulling his legs up and into Atem's lap, again smothering the book. "All the more reason for me to have meat in my diet! I won't survive."

"You know, I used that miraculous thing - Google - and it told me that meat is actually quite bad for you. Did you know that humans only evolved to eat it because -"

Yugi groaned, stuffing his face back into the crook of Atem's neck, his next words muffled. "Google made my boyfriend health-conscious and now I can't have bacon. I'm sending corporate a strongly-worded email."

Atem's quiet laughter was like warm sunshine, and Yugi basked in it, the tell tale thunk of his water bottle being set on the side table music to his ears, as Atem could only be freeing his hand for one reason. He began to stroke Yugi's hair, and if Yugi could purr, the sound of it would reverberate through the entire apartment building.

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft sounds of their chewing as they polish off the pineapple rings, Atem more than happy to continue feeding Yugi pieces.

"I may joke around," Yugi finally whispered, like they were the only two who existed in the universe, "but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'd sell my kidney to buy you whatever you wanted."

Yugi felt a puff of a laugh against the crown of his head; the press of Atem's lips. "No need to go to such extremities, precious one. You are all I would ever wish for."

#katie writes #me? writing?? yeah i still do that sometimes #prolly never again tho lmao i'm exhausted #ygo!#puzzleshipping #fanfic

50 notes · View notes