#dude's gonna have to go out and get groceries because man knows for a fact he's only got tofu or something in his fridge but also knowing h

[alpanmix]

Thinking about your fox Mashita AU a bit and can’t help but imagine Yashiki just concernedly checking on his possessed friend, making sure this isn’t adversely affecting is health and asking him a bunch of questions and Mashita in this state is just enjoying the attention with the concern flying straight over his head

oh my god, he's trying his best to think about what to do in this scenario but Mashita would not allow him the peace of mind to do it. Also because let's face it; unfortunately between these two, Mashita is usually the one holding the single braincell they share.

[steddieas-shegoes]

The first time Dustin tried to get Steve and Eddie to meet, Eddie refused.

“You expect me to be nice to Steve Harrington? The King of Hawkins High?”

“I told you, that’s old news,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Last year isn’t exactly old news, Henderson.”

So Dustin let it be.

— — — — —

The second time they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie was wanted for murders he didn’t commit, and Steve was well-versed in the ways of the Upside Down.

When Eddie almost died, it was Steve who was able to carry him through the gate.

When Eddie was in the hospital for three weeks, it was Steve who sat by his side every night so he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

When Eddie got out, it was Steve who brought him to his appointments and helped him get settled in the new government-provided house for him and Wayne.

When Eddie thought about it, Steve was probably the nicest guy he’d ever met.

— — — — — — — —

But Steve ended up having to go back to work when things got fixed up.

His parents left him the house, but otherwise cut him off.

Groceries and gas don’t pay for themselves.

So he saw him for an hour here or a few minutes there, always checking in when he dropped Dustin and Mike off for D&D.

Eddie started to wonder if Steve only hung out with him because he had like, survivors guilt or something. He had been so kind and caring, but clearly the clock ran out on that.

But to Dustin, it was just a reset.

Steve hadn’t changed, just his available time.

And it was time to do something about it.

— — — — — — —

They say the third time’s the charm, but in this case, it wasn’t.

In fact, Dustin almost gave up when this result ended in Eddie telling Steve to go fuck himself.

He didn’t know what happened, and he never found out, but Steve looked hurt, and Eddie shut himself in his room for three days.

— — — — — — —

Dustin was sick.

The flu was running rampant through the streets and school halls of Hawkins, leaving no person left untouched by the worst nausea and body aches known to humankind.

Also, Eddie’s dramatics may have been rubbing off on him. Just a little.

So he couldn’t go to Hellfire, and without him, they couldn’t finish the campaign.

But in his drug-addled mind, he thought of a resolution. Potentially. But bribery would have to be involved.

So he called Steve.

“Steve.” He turned up the pitifully low rasp of his voice to make it seem like he was dying. “I need you to cover me at Hellfire.”

“Why? So Eddie can tell me to go fuck myself again? No thanks.”

“Dude. Please. I’m too sick. Everyone’s been wanting to finish this campaign for a month.”

“Can’t they reschedule when you’re better.”

Well, yeah, probably. Eddie had been way more open to rescheduling since everything happened.

That would ruin his plan, though.

“C’mon, Steve! I’ll owe you!” He coughed to add to the drama of it all.

“Fine! Fine.” Steve sighed. “I hope you know you’re gonna lose.”

“Nah, it’s a team effort. Everyone will help you.”

“Sure.” Then, because Steve was Steve: “Need anything, Henderson?”

Dustin almost felt bad about what he was making Steve do. Almost.

“No, mom’s making me a broth soup to try to sip on.”

“Okay, call tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

If Dustin wasn’t as sick as he was, he probably would have tried to stay awake to call tonight.

But he fell asleep within minutes.

— — — — — — — —

“I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Steve rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Filling in for Dustin. He’s sick.”

“You can’t do that.”

“He said I could.”

“He doesn’t run Hellfire, does he?”

“Shouldn’t he? Since you graduated?”

Eddie glared.

“If you two are done bickering like old ladies fighting over the same man in the nursing home, we have a campaign to finish,” Erica said from her seat, looking at her nails instead of at them.

“You heard Lady Applejack,” Eddie gestures towards the table.

Steve sat in the largest chair at the end and leaned back.

Everyone was staring at him.

“You’re not that dense. You can’t be.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is there a problem?”

“That’s the DM seat. I’m the DM. Therefore, my seat.”

“It’s big enough to share. I like the view from here.”

“You can see all my notes from here!”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was so red, it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded yet.

But he didn’t continue arguing. To Steve’s delight, and Dustin’s if he were there to see it, Eddie sat down on the edge of the chair. Steve scooted over a little, but they were pushing each other and being immature and stupid.

They both fell on their asses and Lucas finally spoke up.

“Can we just reschedule? This isn’t gonna work.”

“No. We’re so close. Dustin wouldn’t have sent Steve if he wanted us to reschedule.”

Eddie looked at Steve, searching his face for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it.

“Alright. Steve’s in my lap. Let’s go.”

He clapped and pulled himself back into the chair, patting his thigh and smiling at Steve.

“The whole game?”

“It’s this or Dustin’s spot over there.”

Steve wasn’t having that. He deserved this spot.

He stood up and sat down in Eddie’s lap, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at being close enough to smell the shampoo Eddie used. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips to hold him in place while he leaned around to check his notes.

“Let’s begin!”

Luckily, Steve didn’t have to do much. The rest of the group kind of played for him, knowing he was just a warm body at the table.

And he was certainly warm.

Eddie’s hands had been finding new places to touch on his sides or legs or back or stomach all night. It was distracting. It was annoying. It was intoxicating and addicting and Steve never wanted to leave.

He was completely zoned out, barely registering he was supposed to be an active participant in this fucking game when he felt a light smack on his thigh.

He let out a whine.

And then reality came crashing in.

Everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Eddie was completely still under him. He was mortified.

But he still didn’t want to get up.

He kind of just wanted to turn around and bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

As soon as he has the thought, his body is making it happen. ‘Your wish is my command,’ it’s saying in excitement.

Within seconds, his body is turned facing a shell-shocked Eddie, legs using the space between Eddie’s back and the back of the chair to wrap around his waist, and his face burying itself into his neck. He let out a much quieter whine, and felt his whole body relax.

A hand was on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and he sighed.

He could feel vibrations, like Eddie was speaking, but his head was cloudy and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was saying.

It didn’t really matter anyways. He was cozy and safe and relaxed for maybe the first time ever. Unless Eddie physically removed him from his spot, he wasn’t moving.

Time passed, but Steve couldn’t take a guess at how much.

“Stevie? You awake?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna get comfy?”

“Am.”

He felt Eddie laugh more than he heard it, but he just snuggled further into Eddie’s neck, bunching his shirt in his hands.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pick you up and go to the bedroom. It’ll be better to sleep.”

Sleep? Was it that late? Where was everyone else?

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just squeeze your legs around my waist and hold on.”

Steve followed his instructions to the letter and he could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper “good boy” into his ear, but that could’ve been wishful thinking.

The next thing he knew, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his own bed with Steve in the same position on his lap.

“Wanna get in comfy clothes?”

Steve shook his head.

He was so tired.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno. Week?”

“A week?! Steve…”

“Shhh. Sleepy.”

“No shit. You haven’t slept in a week.” Eddie sighed and then somehow managed to get them both settled in bed, Steve’s body almost entirely on top of Eddie’s. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, but he was already almost completely asleep.

— — — — — — —

“So he just…cuddled him? Right there at the table?”

Dustin couldn’t believe his plan worked and he wasn’t even there.

“It was awful,” Erica spit out.

“It was weird,” Lucas added.

“It was disgusting,” Mike said, pointing a glare at Dustin. “I wish I had the flu so I could’ve missed it.”

“And has anyone checked in on them since?”

Two days had passed and Dustin was finally able to keep solid foods down and his fever broke more than 12 hours before. His mom was even going to let him call Suzy later.

“Uh. Should we?”

“Lucas! Dude! They may have turned on each other.”

“Yeah, more like turned each other on,” Erica mumbled.

They all stared at each other, disgusted at the thought of their friend and babysitter being close.

“Gross.”

But Dustin smiled anyway. His plan finally worked.

[milf-n-dilf-dippin-dots]

IM GOING TO KILL IM GOING TO KILL IM GOING TO KILL

Last night my roommate and I got some drinks- i shared some soju w him and hit the hay after packing away some stuff n tidying/rinsing etc

I leave at 9am this morning, 3 bottles of soju on the table, 2 cans of sprite and some snacks on the table "oh its fine, he knows im out im sure he'll tidy and throw out some of the counter rubbish for me :>"

Come home at 4pm

The only thing thats been done is the 8 dishes that were in the sink (lil cups, 2 bowls from dinner and cooking utensil) not including the pan on the stove

Nothing thrown away!! Im going crazy!!!!!!!!!

Be so fr gang, am i like. Blowing it out of proportion? Or is the fact that im the primary cleaner of the house insane.

Important note is that i have no choice but to be the person who does mostah the cleaning- because he sleeps 12 hours a day, waking up around 2 or 3 pm and not going to bed until 5 or 6 am.

I went away for 2 nights n i come home and hes like "oh i could finally get stuff done because im only productive at 4am"

Which hey man sure dude you do you i dont care what you do in yer free time-

But my ass isnt gonna go 'yes! Sure! You can vacuum and wash dishes late at night/early am! Even though it keeps me awake because i cant close my door!'

But i also dont want to end up being this dudes damn mother the fucking manchild doesnt even know how to mop properly- or vacuum properly! And he doesnt vac the carpet! Or wipe down the oven/benches after using em! Like cmon man!!

"Oh but maybe he didnt get taught!"

Dawg i am his roommate, at what point is it my responsibility to teach a whole entire dude how to take care of his surroundings. I saw his room when he moved out- it was bad. This dude borders of raw negligence of his surroundings, and if it wouldnt cause me the harm i would stop cleaning up after him just so hed suffer. And he leaves the tap running to wash dishes.

I dont know what i expected tbh- his parents built 2 houses for their kids next to their 2 storey spiral staircase chandelier having house.

Im fighting for my fuckin life over here- 300 rent a week, 125 a fortnight for a couch, 50 a month for wifi, etc while this dudes like "yeah i paid all my rent a month in advance, and i get my money from dividense" it makes me want to break his trachea.

Like lets be fr i am blatantly not a pleasant person, moreso in high doses, and moreso when i have to deal w someone who fucks their own life even when theyve gotten dealt the perfect hand of cards to do well.

Like, yeah man im sorry you cheated on your girlfriend of multiple years for 5 whole months then got sad about it and became an insomniac but im not gonna suffer your shit schedule and not sleep well because you wont see a therapist or take meds. Like is that my problem? To be clear im not a cunt to his face, but i am a cunt. And i am annoyed at him. Maybe i should commune like a normal person, but that involves me sitting this dude down to tell him he needs to pay attention to things like 'responsibility' and 'reasonable expectations'.

He had guests over a while ago and i ended up cooking for them all!! And cleaning up after them!! And making breakfast the next morning!! He apparently makes 1800 a fortnight and he spends almost all of that. He owes me money!! Sometimes i pay for groceries n he just has to pay me back! Like dude???

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Okay so I hope you guys r ready for a long one because baby I’ve had an interesting week.

So on Monday I accidentally no-call no-showed to my second job. I only got the messages like an hour after my shift was supposed to end so like I really fucked up. The next day, I got an email asking me what happened and I was immediately overcome with anxiety and just didn’t respond. Then on Wednesday I was like okay I really need this extra income so I will deal with this. I’d had a great day sales wise at my Real Job (tm) so I was feeling jazzed enough to want to deal with it. I got home an immediately I was The Opposite Of Jazzed and send off my login information for my email to my best friend who dealt with it because she’s the best person on this fucking planet.

So then today, Thursday, I got into my Real Job and found out that my boss was recommending me for a full time leadership position. I was very pumped and still am. Then, after that shift, I hightailed it to my second job (the one I no-call no-showed at on Monday) and sat in absolute fucking agony for 30 minutes while I thought about what to say in the impending Corporate Meeting Regarding My Behaviour. I got in there and turns out I was going to be completely on my own for my first close and I was like cool great I don’t have to Have a Meeting.

Everything was going good for a while until I met my fucking supervisor: a middle aged man with a ponytail. Immediately the vibes were off but I was like Nah you’re just not used to working with men. My Real Job (tm) only has 12 men on the payroll company wide and my previous jobs have all been predominantly staffed by women/queer people so like I just don’t see many straight/cis men in the workplace.

Anyway I was right to have weird vibes about him because the ENTIRE NIGHT anytime we came face to face he was hitting on me. At one point I was trying to get him to come over without hollering over a customers head by making eye contact with him. He comes over and just said “oh sorry I didn’t think you wanted me to come over I just thought you were checking me out” and I just laughed uncomfortably because there was a customer right in front of us. He proceeded to get uncomfortably close to me and do the task I was trying to do completely wrong.

And then finally, it was time to close. This was my first time closing and I had no clue what the procedure was in the slightest. I get locked in a fucking cash office with him while he got uncomfortably close to me and we counted my till. At every other job I’ve ever had I’ve either counted my own till and had it verified by someone else the next day or just not had to deal with it. And normally I am not the type to feel anxious about being locked in a tiny room with someone because I know I’m fuckin safe but this dude?? Dog the only thing that brought me comfort was the fact that we both knew there were cameras in there. Like I know he was probably trying to be nice / funny and all but like he just gave me the creeps.

Anyway I’m counting down the days until I find out if I get that leadership position at my Real Job so I don’t have to go back to my second job ever again. A 30% discount on groceries is not worth it at this point what the fuck. Like I’d already lost patience with my second job pretty soon after I started but like this is just another nail in the coffin. I’m losing my mind because realistically I’m probably just missing a joke of some kind so I can’t really go to HR with anything cuz like he didn’t do anything but have pungent vibes and creep me out but also I don’t ever want to work with him again because I care about my own peace too much. I’ve got a light at the end of the tunnel so I’m just gonna avoid him until I can secure a full time gig at My Real Job

[jmflowers]

Thanks for the Red Delish history; they’re the apple I grew up with, and it was so interesting to read their storied past. Very intriguing stuff! I gotta branch out and try some more apples. Your passion has inspired me. Honestly honeydew is probably in my top 5 –maybe top 3– favorite fruits. Beats cantaloupe by a country mile

Oh man, I typed you out a whole beautiful answer and then lost it! Let’s see what I can remember… I think I started right here:

My dude, I could talk about apples (and fruit) all damn day. I grew up with Red Delicious apples, too, and remember liking them, even. But then I got spoiled by working on a farm, in close proximity to an orchard that grows 14 different varieties just of apples, and I don't think I could ever go back. (Don’t get me started on strawberries and raspberries and pumpkins and corn.) Not sure I'd eat a Red Delicious these days. Or a Gala.

Honeydew is a super cool fruit, too. We have such easy access to it because it’s one of a few that can grow in both hemispheres. It’s also a winter melon, which means it’s got a good thick skin to help protect it during transportation. Like apples, though, there are a bunch of different cultivars and they all have a slightly different taste. If I were a connoisseur like yourself and happened to live in the USA, I’d be heading to California in the late summer/early fall (August, September, or October) to eat a few in their peak season. Everything always tastes better in season if you can eat it right where it’s grown.

Your feelings on cantaloupe might actually be defined by what continent you live on, though. North America has a different type of cantaloupe taking precedence in the market than Europe does – in fact the rinds are different enough that I’m not sure I’d recognize a European Cantaloupe as a cantaloupe right away, having grown up in North America. Behind watermelon, cantaloupe and honeydew make up the top three exported melons in the world. And they’re also in season in California around the same time as honeydew.

But listen, if we’re gonna trash cantaloupe, it’s gotta be on the grounds of their rinds being prime hangout grounds for salmonella. A mouldy cantaloupe in Illinois in 1942 was found to contain the highest yielding strain of mold for penicillin production after a worldwide search.

Honestly, like an embarrassing amount of fruit, I think most people just serve melon either over- or under-ripe. This mass-exportation world we live in takes us further and further away from our food sources and so we end up with things that no one actually knows what to do with or how to handle properly. All those “organization” videos of people loading their fridges with their groceries and washing their strawberries to put them away just makes me wonder if they’ve ever been on a strawberry farm, since most strawberry farmers will tell you the easiest way to ruin their flavour is to wash them too early.

Does it help or hurt my street cred if I follow all that up with a #buylocal? Haha

[shorkbrian]

Omg hi so I read your babysitter fic and I was thinking what if bakuogus tired of reader being a brat with him so he brings Kiri over to help him out 🤤 srry im just being horny on anon rn

“C’mon princess, move your ass before I move it for you.”

You huffed at the blonde, opening the car door, stepping outside and slamming it shut. Bakugou shot you a harsh glare, but you weren’t looking at him, instead crouching to tie your shoe.

He gave you a moment to do that, before the man got impatient, clicking his tongue, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go, it’s not like I have all fucking day.”

You knew for a fact that yes, he did have all day.

Your mom was away again, another business trip. She was working towards a promotion - a position that meant more hours, more work, more travel.

More time being spent with your stupid babysitter.

With your rapist.

He hadn’t touched you, not outright, since that day. Every time your mom suggested having him over for dinner, you conveniently found somewhere to be; out with friends, on a date, having a sleepover. Anything so that you didn’t have to look at Bakugou Katsuki’s stupid, smug little face.

But your mom had surprised you yesterday night, letting you know she’d be leaving in the morning, that Katsuki would be staying over again. There wasn’t any time for you to argue with her, to plead for her to stay, or to take you with her, or for you to stay at a friend’s house, anything but Katsuki.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to avoid him!” She had laughed, before wagging a finger at you. “Don’t be rude. He’s a nice man, and I trust him to keep you safe. He did last time!”

Yeah, and he also assaulted you last time, so maybe he wasn’t as nice of a guy as she thought.

He was taking you to the mall, not even really giving you a choice, just telling you to get dressed, that the two of you were going out.

Now here you were, trudging silently behind the older man, glaring at the ground.

“Bakubro! Over here!”

A loud shout drew your attention, Bakugou grinning as he started veering towards the shouter, a red-haired man waving enthusiastically. You followed behind him obediently, taking stock of this new man.

He was fucking huge, thick thighs bulging against his jeans, biceps straining against the fabric of his navy hoodie. This new guy was handsome too, a wide, sharp smile, soft red eyes, a clean-shaven face.

“’Sup Idiot? You tryin’ to attract the whole mall? Always so damn loud.” Even though he was complaining, it was clear that these two were friends as Bakugou let the other man pull him into a hug. They pounded each other on the back, before the redhead drew back, pushing past the blonde to give you his full attention. 

“Who’s this? Did you get a girlfriend? She looks a little young bro.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” You spat, and the redhead held up his hands in surrender as Bakugou shouldered him to the side.

“It’s the little fucker that I’m looking after as a favor. You know I work security for that office complex?” The redhead nodded. “Yeah, one of the milfs gave me free range of her house as long as I watch her.”

Both men looked at you, and the redhead smiled brightly.

“Ah, well, I’m Kirishima! Nice to meet you, sorry you have to put up with such a grumpy fucke-”

“Hey, shaddup.” Bakugou elbowed him, but Kirishima was already extending a hand for you to shake, and you did so gladly. At least you weren’t the only one who thought Bakugou was a grumpy, stuck up mess.

“’Kay, now can we go? I’m starving’, wanna eat before we do anything else.”

Kirishima winked at you as he threw an arm around your shoulders, his other arm around Bakugou. “Food court? I think they have a pretty good selection here...”

-----

Kirishima was much more tolerable than Bakugou.

He was funny, cracking jokes and making you almost spit out the soda he had bought you, slipping you five dollars behind Bakugou’s back for you to get a drink.

The redhead sat next to you while the three of you ate, including you in the conversation whenever Bakugou seemed to forget about your existence.

As the three of you walked from store-to-store, Kirishima listened to you ramble on about the latest game you’d bought, what you thought of your favorite snack brand trying to collaborate with a fashion company, all your opinions on the music playing faintly through the mall speakers.

It was fun when he grabbed your hand, tugging you away from Bakugou and along with the redhead as he ducked into a random store. It was some street-wear fashion place, and Kirishima wanted your thoughts on if a shirt was his color, or if he could pull off one of the hats that adorned the mannequin in the store window.

The two of you were busy laughing at how the hat couldn’t even press past his spiky hairstyle when you noticed Bakugou, glowering at you both from the outside of the store, lips pulled into the deepest frown.

Kirishima started laughing at the man’s expression, and you quickly followed suit, before Bakugou stalked inside, cuffing his friend on the ear.

What a spoil sport.

You couldn’t deny that by the end of the few hours you’d spent with Kirishima, you found yourself attracted to him. Not only in looks, but also in his goofy personality. You wouldn’t mind being friends with him.

It was easy to exchange numbers with the man, easy to let him lift your spirits.

And then it was time to leave, all three of you grouped at the entrance, saying bye, Bakugou and Kirishima giving each other another bro-hug.

You gave Kirishima a hug, leaning into his warm touch, enjoying his spicy cologne as you pressed your face against his broad chest. He eagerly returned the hug, until Bakugou was scoffing, pulling you out of his embrace.

“We’re in fucking public, you two, chill. Keep your pants on, sluts.”

Kirishima laughed, giving you a cheery wave as Bakugou gripped your hand until it hurt, dragging you out of the mall quickly.

-----

“Why are you being such a brat? You were fuckin’ fine earlier.” The blonde man grumbled, glancing over at you from where he was making dinner.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your water. “It’s not my fault you have a stick up your ass. All I said is I don’t like when you make food, tastes bad.”

Bakugou huffed, turning off the stove. “Are you fucking serious? You’re just trying to mess with me, aren’t’cha princess?”

“Could you stop calling me that? I’m not your princess.”

“You’re whatever I want you to be, princess.” Bakugou sneered, stomping towards you.

You quickly backpedalled, setting your glass of water down on the counter, stepping back. “I’m going to go set the table!” Was your way out, and Bakugou backed off as you threw open a cupboard, rummaging for plates and cups as he chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, you do that.” 

It wasn’t long before the table was set, Bakugou bringing the food to set it down onto the hotplate in the middle.

Even just a whiff of the food had your eyes watering, the spice through the roof.

“Seriously dude? You know you’re cooking for two people, why the fuck did you make it inedible?!?” 

The blonde man glared at you as he sat down, jaw working, mouth twisting. “You gonna be a bitch-baby about it? Should be fuckin’ grateful that I even made you dinner.”

“Thanks for dinner.” You mumbled, staring tiredly at the food Bakugou was heaping onto his plate. You didn’t feel like eating anymore, his outburst ruining your mood, reminding you of the time when he got angry because you wouldn’t go to bed, wouldn’t listen to him-

“Eat the damn food.” Katsuki snapped, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

You did as he asked, even though it burned your mouth. Dinner was quickly gulped down, followed by desperate swigs of water as you tried to chase away the spice. Bakugou huffing the entire time at your inability to handle the level of spice he preferred.

Afterwards, you gathered up the plates and washed them, conscious of Katsuki hovering in the background of the kitchen, watching you work while he tapped away on his phone.

When the last dish was washed, dried, and put away, you began rummaging in the cupboards, looking for something sweet, something to soothe your tastebuds.

“What’re you doin’, didn’t I just feed you?”

Bakugou’s harsh voice made you flinch, but you kept your back to him. “Was hoping there’d be dessert.”

A long, irritated sigh, then a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you away from the kitchen cupboards. “Ain’t got any of that shit in the house princess, you don’t need it.”

“But-” Your plead was interrupted by Bakugou rolling his eyes, snorting.

“Why are you being such a whiny baby? Is this cause Kiri was spoilin’ you earlier?”

Jutting your chin out, you glared up into red eyes as you turned around seething. “Maybe I like being treated like a person and not a problem. I don’t even understand why he’s friends with you - you’re mean and crass and stup-”

“So you’re just acting out cause you want some extra attention or some shit? What a brat.” The blonde sneered, leaning back against the counter as he tapped away at his phone again.

“You want Kiri so bad, fine. I’ll have him get you some shitty grocery-store dessert. Then maybe you’ll stop acting like a bitch. Stuff some candy in that mouth, will that keep you quiet, huh?”

It was infuriating, being treated like a child. Ignored, talked down to, unable to assert yourself or make decisions. 

“Whatever.” You huffed, shaking your head as you walked out of the kitchen. “Anything’s better than having to sit here with you.”

-----

The front door opening and the faint rustle of grocery bags caught your ear as you fumed on the couch, angrily questioning “why me?” as to your situation. But the noise meant your new friend was here, and he was much nicer than Bakugou.

Nice enough to have you smiling a bit as you rose to your feet, padding into the dining room as you beelined to the soft murmur of two manly voices.

“Heyyy! Long time no see!” The redhead was dressed in a loose tank top and basketball shorts, shoes discarded somewhere in the hall. 

You’d known he was muscular, but actually seeing his muscles without clothes in the way? You were stunned.

A bright blush encompassed your face when Bakugou snapped his fingers, narrowing his eyes at you. “Ay’, stupid! Focus! He got you a bunch of sweet shit. Rot your teeth out.” While gesturing to the two grocery bags resting on the dinner table.

“Hi Kirishima, thanks for the desserts-”

“Aw, it’s nothing. Bakubro wouldn’t tell me what kinda flavors you like so I kinda got a variety...”

Cupcakes and candy and various other sweet treats were nestled in the bags, and you grinned. “Dude, it’s all good. Wanna sit down and have some too?”

Bakugou snorted while Kiri smiled at you, nodding his head.  The dining chair creaked as his weight settled in it, the redhead pushing the grocery bags towards where you sat, encouraging you to pick anything you wanted.

The two men began to talk about this and that, mundane things about work, odd jobs, what their plans for the weekend were, boring stuff you easily tuned out as you indulged in sweet desserts.

Their attention turned to you when a whine slipped from your lips as frosting fell rom the cupcake you were eating and onto your shirt. Before you reached for a napkin, Kiri was leaning over, invading your space.

“You’re kinda messy, aren't you?” He breathed, a single finger swiping through the frosting on your shirt before the redhead sucked it into his mouth, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh-u-uhm...” Was your elegant reply, tummy filled with butterflies at the fact that his finger had pressed against your skin through your shirt, right underneath your breast. 

He was so hot.

“Yeah, and a fuckin’ brat too. Little bitch can’t stop complaining about every little thing. Shut up the second I mentioned you were coming over.” Bakugou cackled, breaking the mood completely.

But Kirishima’s eyes were still on you as his now-clean finger slipped from his mouth. It was mesmerizing, watching the muscles in his arms shift and move as he leaned closer, slipping his hands underneath your shirt and raising the fabric so he could lick at the frosting still stuck on it.

Your breath stuttered, heat flaring suddenly in your tummy at the action.

And then Bakugou had to ruin it again. 

“You can fuck her if you want, I don’t mind. I told the old bird I would watch her kid for her. Didn’t say nothin’ about not getting her drunk on some cock.”

Eyes squeezing shut, you opened your mouth for some snappy reply, but Kirishima beat you to speaking.

“Yeah? Alright. You good with that baby?”

Wait, good with-?

Kirishima was looking up at you expectantly, fingers still clutched in your shirt, refusing to touch your skin. He was hot. This was hot. It’d be perfect if Bakugou wasn’t here.

“C’mon, just fuck her man, she’s been gaggin’ for your dick since she met you. Stop being a loser and man up.”

The redhead in front of you smiled, sharp teeth on display and gleaming. 

Then your shirt was being pulled over your head, hands gripping at your chest, thumbing over your nipples through your bra.

“W-wai-Kiri! Uhm, can’t we- uhm-”

Your voice was ignored, the redhead’s eyes glued to your chest as he pulled down your bra a bit, until he could palm each breast without anything in-between his warm hands and your soft skin.

“You’re so pretty...”

“She’s a whore.” Bakugou snarked.

Hands migrated to your waist, and you were easily lifted onto the table, Kirishima rising from his seat so he could push at your shoulders until they met the solid wood. Bakugou stayed seated, casually notching his hands behind his head and leaning back as he watched the show unfold before him.

Things were happening so fast, you didn’t know what to say, couldn’t move your hands to push away the broad redhead. This was so confusing. Yes, you wanted him, but you didn’t want Bakugou watching. You didn’t want to do this on the dining room table, didn’t like the quick turn the night had taken.

Your pants were being pulled down before you could organize your thoughts, before you could do much else aside from whimper and press your legs together.

“Hah, cute panties. You always wear stuff like this?” Kirishima asked, sliding a thumb underneath the elastic waistband only so he could snap it against your skin. You gasped at the little sting, unsure what to say, what to do.

“Most of her stuff is stupid girly shit like that, so yes.” 

You tried to throw a glare Bakugou’s way, but with the blonde somewhere behind you sitting at the table, you couldn’t turn your head far enough.

Especially not when you were distracted by Kirishima pushing down the waistband of his shorts. 

“I’m so glad I didn’t wear jeans.” He chuckled, holding his cock at the base as he sat back down again, scooting his chair up to edge of the table where your legs were splayed wide.

“Okay pretty, try and stay still for me. Make as much noise as you wanna, Bakugou and I don’t mind.” And then a warm mouth was pressed up against your cunt, licking at you over your panties, dragging the rough cotton against your most sensitive parts.

“Oh! o-oh, oh-oh-” Was all you could make your mouth manage as the redhead gripped your thighs in his giant hands, pushing them apart and allowing his massive shoulders to fit between them as he bent to lick at your pussy.

It felt... It felt so good, building up pressure in your stomach as your hole clenched around nothing.

Then Kiri did something awful, pulling your panties to the side and nosing into your folds with a pleased grunt. His skin was so warm, and you were so wet, and his nose started bumping against your clit as the man sloppily mouthed at you, and you couldn’t-couldn’t

“Stop-stop! ‘m gonna cum!” You wailed, legs twitching.

Immediately Kirishima drew back, soothing circles getting rubbed into your calves by thick fingers. “You don’t wanna cum in my mouth? Wanna cum on my cock instead? That’s cute.”

He stood up, and you barely got a glimpse of his dick bobbing against his stomach before he was leaning forward and catching your lips in a kiss. It almost scared you, sharp teeth poking menacingly against your lips, dragging across your skin as Kirishima moved his mouth against yours, but the redhead knew how to work with his teeth.

“Man, she really is a slut for you.” Bakugou piped up from behind you. He was a bit breathless, voice scratcher, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Kirishima was pulling away with a groan, one of his hands fisting his cock.

The redhead gathered the spit in his mouth, leaned down, and let it drip onto your cunt, panties still pushed to the side. It was burning hot, adding to the fire in your tummy, blazing higher and higher.

Heavy breathing and labored panting filled the room as Kirishima edged closer to you, laying his cock flat against your entrance, playing with your panties as he did so until they pressed against his cock as it nestled between the lips of your cunt.

And then he started grinding.

Slow, delicious, absolutely heavenly.

You almost didn’t care about the disgusting little groans coming from Bakugou, the slick sounds of him fucking his fist, the creak of his chair behind you.

Almost.

Your attention was more focused on the pleasurable little zings going up your spine as Kiri rubbed his cock through your folds, all slick and wet. You kept your legs spread wide for him, barely able to breathe at the heat that seemed to fill the space, fill your lungs and steal your voice.

Kiri leaned down to kiss you again, and your hands fisted into his tank top, the material sweaty as it clung to his chest. If you could focus, you’d be trying to pull it off him, see the beautiful skin underneath, the man’s gorgeous body.

But what he was doing with his hips felt so good, you couldn’t even think.

“Kiri-Kiri, gonna-ohmygod-gonna-!”

And you came, shuddering as his cock kept fucking back and forth through your folds, twitching against your clit, veins in his dick pulsing and dragging against your skin.

He wasn’t stopping.

“Unhh, I came, please, wait Kirishima-”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to cum on my cock baby? I’m barely getting warmed up.” A feral smile gleamed bright from his lips. “I don’t play like Bakugou, I like messy girls. Gonna get you so fucked out you can’t even speak, can’t even walk. Won’t give him any trouble then, right? You’ll be good? For us?”

The look in his eye told you that you weren’t going to get a choice.

“Fuck Kiri, turn her over when you fuck her cunt so I can use her mouth.” Bakugou’s voice cut in, and your mood soured even more.

But Kirishima was already agreeing, cock still thrusting against your cunt. 

You didn’t get to make decisions anymore.

[seijorhi]

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you. 

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you. 

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop. 

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes. 

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy. 

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him. 

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before. 

Happy. 

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s  shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle. 

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement. 

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you. 

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.” 

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you. 

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.  

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes. 

 Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground. 

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath. 

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but… 

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin. 

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.” 

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free. 

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit. 

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth. 

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen. 

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come. 

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion. 

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–” 

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you. 

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips… 

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it… 

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him. 

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

[idy-ll-ique]

See You Tomorrow On The Other Side.

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex

Requested: nope

based on this prompt.

Summary: Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! enjoy!

---

Wait, why is it so cold?

Y/N blinked her eyes open, flinching when she felt blinding pain in the side of her neck. Touching it, she found out that she was bleeding. What in the world…? "What the fuck?" she mumbled, moving to turn on the night-light but instead, she heard loud gagging noises coming from next to her on the floor.

She froze. I live alone. And then her instincts kicked in. She started screaming, only for her mouth to be clamped shut by a cold, freezing hand. "Shut up! Don't scream!" a raspy voice hissed. "Who the fuck are you?" Y/N demanded, though her voice came out muffled. "Forget that— why the fuck does your blood taste so gross?" the man asked instead.

Y/N's eyes widened with fear. "My— you— who are you?!" she yelled. "Shush! It's the middle of the night!" the man groaned, "My name is Bucky Barnes, happy?" Y/N huffed, clutching the side of her neck. "And what the fuck do you mean by your blood tastes so gross?" she questioned. "Did I stutter? I mean exactly that. Why the fuck is it so disgusting?!"

Y/N froze for the second time that night. Her first thought was that it was a dream, but the very real pain in her neck and the blood on her fingers suggested otherwise. The man— Bucky— he bit her neck. And that had only one reasonable explanation. "Are you a vampire?" she blurted out.

"Aye, see? Knew you were smart," he beamed and she stared at him, shocked. "Vampires aren't real." His face dropped and he rolled his eyes. "Then how do you explain me?" He flexed and Y/N scrunched her nose in mild annoyance. "First off, you're too annoying. Second— what the hell are you doing in my house?!"

"What do you think I'm doing?! I was hungry! Now answer my damn question— why is your blood gross?" He tapped her on the forehead twice. She blinked. Well, since this night couldn't get any crazier… "I have anemia? I guess that's why. Now you answer my question! Why did you select me to be your food?"

"Because you look like a snack?" he offered sheepishly but she only raised an eyebrow. Bucky blushed a bit; he very well couldn't tell her that he had had a crush on her ever since he had seen her— that was a few months ago. Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there? "Okay wait, come back to you— you have anemia?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you care? Go away, dude, you got your taste, you didn't like it, now leave me alone!" Y/N scoffed, turning to lay back down but Bucky put an arm around her, pulling her back up. "No, we gotta talk about it. Are you taking anything for it? Supplements, Vitamin D pills…?" Y/N stared at him.

"No," she replied flatly, "Medicines taste bad and I've already come to terms with my condi—" Bucky scoffed harder. "Really? You are a dumbass, you know that? I'm bringing you the medicines tomorrow, and you're gonna take them every night in front of me, got it?" Nothing wrong with being worried about your darling's health.

"Do you usually get this involved with your prey/food?" Y/N deadpanned. "You're not— don't argue! If you're not going to take care of your health, I'm going to have to do it for you," Bucky huffed. "As sweet as the sentiment is, I think the fuck not. Goodnight, Bucky, I will not see you tomorrow." She gave him a sweet, fake smile and lay down.

This time, Bucky didn't stop her. "Dumbass," he muttered under his breath as he stood on the window sill, promptly turning into a bat before flying away into the night.

---

"Hey, welcome home!"

Y/N screamed, almost dropping her bag of groceries on the floor as she whirled around to see Bucky sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of a magazine. "Couldn't figure out how to turn on the TV," he muttered as Y/N eyed the magazine. She couldn't help but snort. "Ancient."

"Hey, rude." He narrowed his eyes at her and she narrowed hers right back. "Okay, had your fun reading the magazine? Now get lost or I'll call security," Y/N threatened him and stood in front of him, her arms crossed. He smirked and rose to his full height, causing Y/N's resolve to crumble.

He was much, much taller than her. "Go ahead, do it, baby girl," he whispered tauntingly, leaning in so that their faces were inches apart. Y/N whimpered involuntarily at his sweet scent, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror when she realized what she had just done. Bucky burst out laughing. "See? You want me here."

"Flatter yourself, Barnes," she mumbled but the truth was, she did want him there. The previous night, she had failed to notice just how beautiful he really was; now, she found out. He was also funny, charming, caring and sweet— not bad company. "So, am I cooking dinner for one or for two?"

"You? I'm cooking dinner! And you're gonna eat whatever the hell I'm going to make. Go take a bath in the meanwhile, I'll handle it." Bucky ushered her towards her bathroom and she blinked. "What, I— hey! Wait!" He stopped pushing her. "Why are you cooking for me?"

"Because your dumbass doesn't eat shit it should be eating and instead eats what it shouldn't! You're anemic, and yet I never see you eating food that has high levels of iron in it. You just don't care about your life, do you?" Y/N laughed, pinching his cold cheeks. "You're really cute, you know? Dude, I'll be fine—"

"Okay, how about this? I'm doing this for myself because your blood tastes gross and I gotta fix it," he suggested. "I have a solution: why don't you go find someone else to be your food? Look, my blood tastes bad, so why waste all your time trying to fix it? Get someone else, kill them!" Bucky pulled a face.

"Kill them? You think you'll die if I bite you?" Y/N nodded slowly. "Um, no, sweet pie, you won't die if I bite you. You'll… maybe get sick for a few days, but then you'll be fine," Bucky explained. "What if I don't want to get sick for a few days either? Just go away, find someone else, make them sick!" Bucky pouted.

"You really don't want me to be here?" he whined. "I— Fine! Fine! Cook whatever the hell you want, stay, but on one condition." A huge smile bloomed on the vampire's face as he nodded. "You don't get to bite me, ever." His face fell. "Not even a little…?" Y/N shook her head. He pouted harder. Y/N stared back, unwavering.

"A little, small bite…?"

"Bucky, don't push it," Y/N warned and Bucky immediately raised his arms in surrender. "Now go take a bath, I'm making food." With a small smile, Y/N entered the bathroom, starting to fill the tub up with water as she sat on the toilet seat, thinking back a few hours.

How did this even happen? First, she wakes up to find a stranger on her bedroom floor gagging on her "gross" blood; second, he reveals that he is a vampire and third, he wants to take care of her and wants her to get better. Teenage her, who was quite fond of Twilight, would've loved this dude.

But now? Y/N was still skeptical, but at least Bucky hadn't pulled any sketchy shit. So far, he had been nothing but sweet. "Maybe I can give him a chance," she whispered to herself. She had no doubt about the fact that he was a vampire; he was always cold, had sharp, pointy teeth and she had practically seen him turn into a bat last night.

So yeah.

Y/N was going to allow a vampire to take care of her.

"Oh good, you're here," Bucky called out when she finally walked out of her room in her pajamas. "Smells good, what did you make?" Y/N smiled, sitting down at the kitchen island. Bucky placed a plate in front of her. "Beans. We'll start small. Do you eat meat?" Y/N nodded, eating a spoonful of the beans.

"Mm," she groaned, "These are so good! You're a great cook, Bucky." He rubbed the back of his neck shyly as Y/N beamed at him. "Thanks. My ma taught me, back in the 1500's." Y/N's eyes widened. "How old are you?" she asked with disbelief as she picked up the bread he had prepared along with the beans.

"A few centuries. You kinda lose count after a long time," he laughed. "Were you born a vampire or were you turned into one later in life?" Bucky pondered for a few seconds. "I was born one. My ma and my pa were both vampires." Y/N nodded before looking at him with a curious look. "What do you want to ask?" he teased upon seeing her expression. She chuckled.

"Can I become a vampire too?"

Bucky froze. "Do you want to be one?" he spoke slowly. "I mean, sounds cool, don't you think? Of course, I'm not completely sure, I just— wanna know how you turn someone into a vampire. Can you turn someone into one?" she blurted out. Bucky gulped hard; God knew he had been dreaming about turning her into a vampire ever since he had seen her.

Vampires having relationships with humans wasn't uncommon but he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And with vampirism comes one boon— immortality. So, if he turned her into a vampire, they could be together forever and always, literally. "I— I can turn people into vampires. All it takes is a neck bite."

Her brows furrowed. "But you bit me last night, am I—" Bucky shook his head. "You aren't a vampire, Y/N. There is a specific spot on a person's neck that you have to bite in order to turn them into a vampire. I didn't bite you there." She nodded and exhaled. "Good. I don't wanna be a vampire just yet, gotta think more before making a decision."

"So in the future maybe, you'll be open to becoming a vampire?" Bucky asked, his hopefulness shining through in his voice. Y/N laughed. "Wanna turn me into a vampire that bad?" she teased and Bucky looked away, an embarrassed look on his face. "I'm not desperate," he muttered. Y/N finished eating her dinner, did her nightly routine and got into bed.

Bucky soon approached with two pills in his open palm, his other hand holding a bottle of water. "Just gulp it quickly and you won't have to taste the pills," he reassured her as she eyed the pills with disdain. Putting her doubts aside, she quickly downed the pills, pulling a face as she did. Bucky ruffled her hair.

"Good job, sweet pie! See, easy, wasn't it? Now get a good night's sleep, I'll see you tomorrow evening." Y/N lay down on the bed, pulling the covers on top of her as she smiled sleepily at Bucky. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow," she yawned and Bucky gave her a huge smile before jumping out the window like he had done the night before; flying into the night as a bat.

---

"Bucky! Are you here?"

Y/N walked into her dimly lit house, confused. All the lights were off, the house lit by candles placed strategically here and there. She could smell roses too. "Hi, sweet pie." A gasp escaped Y/N lips when Bucky walked out of the kitchen. He was dressed in an all-black suit, a suave smile on his face. She stood frozen as he approached her, taking her hand.

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and Y/N found her voice. "What is this, Bucky?" she chuckled. "Our six month anniversary, sweet pie. Did you forget?" he pouted. Y/N laughed harder. "We're not dating." His smile stayed confident. "Would you like to?" She paused mid-laugh, staring at him through wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"Are you… asking me out?" she whispered and Bucky nodded. "Oh my— yes! Yes, Bucky!" She ran forward and jumped into his arms, ignoring how cold he was as she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. As he stated, six months had passed since Y/N and Bucky became friends and Y/N was quickly falling for him.

He was literally perfect. There was nothing she didn't like about him; she had even gotten over the fact that he was a vampire. "Oh, fuck, I thought it was gonna fail," Bucky laughed as he pulled her flush against him, one arm wrapping around her waist as she other cradled her head. "No way, Buck, I've liked you for a while now."

Both of them walked into the kitchen, where Y/N got another shock. The floor was covered in rose petals; they formed the shape of a heart. There was a bouquet of roses sitting on the dining table as well, between two plates of delicious-looking food. Next to the vase were two bottles of expensive champagne, and two glasses.

"How long did this take?" she whispered, snuggling further into Bucky's arms as she admired the scene in front of her. "A few hours. But all worth it." He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "The rose heart looks awesome," she grinned, thanking Bucky when he pulled out her chair for her. "Ha, thanks," he laughed.

They maintained a light-hearted conversation as they ate dinner; afterwards, Y/N took a relaxing bath, took her medicines and got into bed. "Bucky," she called out tentatively and he turned to her. "Yes, my love?" She smiled shyly. "Will you stay the night?" Bucky grinned broadly. "Thought you'd never ask."

He stripped down; only in his boxers as he got into the bed with her. Before he could lay down Y/N pulled a pro-gamer move on him and straddled his lap, rendering him speechless. "Sweet pie," he groaned when her lips came crashing down on his. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, kissing her deeper.

Somewhere in the kiss Bucky's hands reached the hem of her t-shirt and he broke the kiss to pull it off of her. Another few minutes in, Y/N found herself laying on the bed stark naked under Bucky, who was equally as naked, his hard length poking at her tight entrance.

"Bucky," she whimpered as he slid home, a deep moan leaving his lips. "Fuck, sweet pie, so fucking tight," he praised, one of his hands toying with her breasts as the other grabbed her headrest, using it as support as he thrust into her repeatedly. Y/N's hands fisted around her bedsheets, the pleasure in her abdomen becoming too much to bear.

"I'm close," she announced breathlessly and Bucky dropped his head, pressing kisses to her face. "I'm close too, just a minute more." Y/N tried her best to hold the pleasure in as Bucky's thrusts started becoming sloppier. "Such a good girl for me," he grunted as he felt himself inching closer to the edge.

"Let go for me."

Both of them let go at the same time, Y/N cumming around him with a soft whine as Bucky shot his load into her with a guttural snarl. "Oh, fuck," he panted as he fell on top of her, both of them out of breath. "Bucky, I— I wanted to ask you something," she whispered shyly as Bucky rolled off of her, only to pull her closer to him. "Yes, darling?"

"I wanna be a vampire."

Bucky turned to look at her, wide eyed. "Are you sure?" She lowered her eyes and nodded. "I— I love you, Bucky, and there's no one I'd rather be with than you. So please, make me— make me immortal." Bucky blinked back tears and cupped her cheek, tilting her chin up. "All mine. My beautiful girl. I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

He then strayed to her jaw, peppering it with kisses until he finally reached her neck, nuzzling into it for a few seconds, breathing in her scent. Soon, he found the spot— the one that would turn her into a vampire. "It'll sting just a bit," he warned her, "Then you'll go to sleep. When you wake up, the transformation will be completed. Are you sure you want this?"

"I have never been so sure of something in my entire life." Bucky smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her spot before sinking his teeth into her neck; Y/N winced a bit at the sting but overall, felt fine. When Bucky pulled away from her, he was wiping blood off his lips. He then reached down and picked up her t-shirt.

Y/N smiled sleepily as he cleaned her neck, admiring the mark for a few seconds. "Looks good. And tastes much better." Y/N giggled and slapped his bare chest, making him grin. Both of them then lay down on the bed, arms around each other as they closed their eyes.

"Goodnight, Buck."

"Goodnight, princess, see you on the other side tomorrow."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[waitineedaname]

"Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out"

For benrey @ gordon?

“And can you pick up some oat milk while you’re there? I just realized I’m out.”

“Man, oat milk freaks me out,” Benrey said, pushing their shopping cart towards the dairy section anyway. “Like, do oats even have, uh. Others?”

“Others?” There was a beat of silence as Gordon attempted to figure out exactly what the hell Benrey was talking about. “You mean udders?”

“Yeah. Cow things.”

“Dude, that’s not how oat milk works.” Gordon’s laugh made Benrey’s cheap phone speakers crackle.

“Then how does it work? Huh? Mister scientician?” Benrey propped the phone between their ear and shoulder as they opened the fridge door to grab the brand of oat milk he knew Gordon liked.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not a goddamn milk scientist.” Even through a phone call, Benrey could hear the smile on Gordon’s face. “They squeeze juice out of the oats or smush them into a paste or something. I don’t know. Stop making me think about how oat milk works, it’s going to make me not want to drink it anymore.”

“Cool, so I’ll buy milk with extra lactose then.”

“You will not, unless you wanna deal with me laying on the couch complaining all afternoon because my stomach hurts.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Fuck off, man.” Gordon’s tone of voice didn’t carry any bite to it. “Alright, I gotta go, I’m almost at the end of the queue to pick Joshie up. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Mhm. Love you, bye.” Benrey hung up and shoved their phone back in their jacket pocket. They unfolded the shopping list and attempted to decipher the mix of their own chicken scratch, Gordon’s doctor handwriting, and the occasional misspelled request for snacks in Joshua’s six year old handwriting. Okay, they had to get those frozen chicken nuggets Joshua liked, another pack of seltzer, a can of black beans since Gordon was planning to cook dinner tonight-

Thinking about Gordon made them suddenly freeze in place as they realized what they’d just done. Did… Did they just say “love you” on the phone with Gordon?

Aw, fuck.

They’d been living with Gordon for a while now. It hadn’t always been an easy thing for either of them. When they’d been freshly respawned, both of them had been jumpy around each other at best, and at worst, they were at each other’s throats trying to kill each other. It took a long time and a lot of uncomfortable conversations for them to get to the point where they could interact without an unbearable amount of tension. From there, they were able to start rebuilding an actual friendship. Turns out, they got along a lot better when they weren’t in mortal danger. Who knew!

Living with Gordon involved a lot of rules, both spoken and unspoken. They involved stuff like “don’t ask weird questions about Gordon’s feet,” “if one of them gets too angry, walk it off instead of actually fighting,” and “no gross body horror in front of Gordon’s son.” It also involved shit like “please for the love of god don’t put empty juice cartons back in the fridge” and “don’t stain the carpets with Sweet Voice, this is a rental and that security deposit is worth getting back.” So far, Benrey hadn’t had too much trouble following the rules. They had been a security guard, after all; following rules was supposed to be their thing. Besides, they were a low price to pay to get to spend time with Gordon.

One of those early unspoken rules, however, had been “keep the flirting to a minimum.” That one had been a little tricky at first, but it had been necessary, especially back when they still weren’t on the best of terms. Benrey learned that when Gordon was already worked up, blowing a kiss did the opposite of diffusing the situation. This was news to Benrey. Who didn’t love a little kiss from their buddies? Lame.

That had been an early rule, though, and one that had kind of faded into the background over time. The longer they lived together, the more physically affectionate they both got, and a little domesticity is only to be expected when you share a household. It was nice. Comfortable.

And then Benrey had to go and say “I love you” on the phone. What the fuck.

That had to be crossing a line, right? Gordon was fine with some handholding and some cuddling and they’d make dinner together once a week, but this had to be pushing it.

Benrey went through the rote motions of buying the rest of their groceries without really paying attention, too busy panicking. There was only one option. They had to move out. This was fine. This was totally fine. They could just crash on Tommy’s couch until they find a place of their own because there was no way this wasn’t going to make Gordon freak the fuck out. As much as they loved fucking with Gordon, they’d learned there was the fun kind of freaking him out and the bad kind of freaking him out. They were fairly certain this fell into the bad category.

By the time that they were walking up to their apartment door, they were already mentally packing up all their things, resigned to their fate. They were so stuck in their own head that Joshua barreling into their legs when they opened the door actually startled them.

“Benny!” Joshua cheered, clinging to their jeans.

“Hey, li’l dude.” Benrey carefully tried to push past the kid without tripping over him on the way to the kitchen. Tragically, that’s where Gordon also happened to be.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Gordon asked, taking some of the grocery bags from them. “I thought you’d gotten lost in Costco again.”

Benrey grunted noncommittally and started putting away groceries instead of answering Gordon. Maybe if they didn’t look at him, they could avoid confronting whatever Gordon’s reaction was. Yeah, definitely, this seemed like a sustainable, reasonable decision to make. Yep.

“Dude.” Gordon’s hand suddenly appeared on their forearm. Benrey stared at it, then looked up at Gordon’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re putting carrots in the utensil drawer.”

Benrey looked down at their hands again. Oh. So they were.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from the store,” Gordon said, gently taking the carrots away from them. “Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?”

Benrey screwed their mouth up. No, they didn’t want to talk about it, but learning how to talk through things like adults was something they both had agreed to do. That had been a rule introduced by an exasperated Tommy, sick of mediating their bullshit. So, they sighed and looked away while Gordon put the carrots in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “I was thinking about how I’ve gotta move out.”

“What?” Gordon stood up too fast and smacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Benrey reached over to hand him a bag of frozen peas to put on the back of his head. “Thanks. But also, what? Since when are you moving out?”

“Uh, since now?” Benrey said, confused. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said I love you on the phone? Dummy? You, uh, a fucking old man got bad brain disease, not remembering things?” They said, defaulting to picking on Gordon to avoid focusing on anything else. Gordon stared blankly at them for a moment, then, against all odds, a grin spread across his face.

“Benrey,” He said, and Benrey decided he didn't like that tone one bit, “Are you embarrassed?”

“Whuh? No.” There was no way they could be embarrassed. That definitely wasn't what was going on here. Nope. Not a bit, “...Maybe.”

“Dude, you don't have to be embarrassed about that.” Gordon laughed. “Do you know how often I've said stupid Freudian slips? I called my sixth grade teacher mom once and wanted to change my name and move to Canada. I've been there.”

“It wasn't, uh… It wasn't too much? Not crossing a line or anything?”

“Nah, man. It was kinda sweet.” Gordon flashed him a smile and finished putting away the last of the groceries.

“Cool.” Benrey relaxed, letting go of the tension that had been building in their shoulders. “That's good ‘cause I was gonna fight you for custody of your Xbox.” Gordon snorted.

“Good fucking luck, you’re too much of a Playstation guy to win that case.”

The evening passed relatively uneventfully from there. Gordon enlisted Benrey’s help in cooking dinner, and Joshua eagerly told them all about the cool dinosaur facts he’d learned in class that day. They went through the easy routine of watching just one episode (which of course always turned into several episodes) of Joshua’s choice of TV, then Benrey helped wash up in the kitchen while Gordon put Josh to bed. Gordon joined them as they finished washing dishes and squeezed Benrey’s shoulder affectionately when they were done.

“Alright, man, I think I’m gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Benrey nodded. “Cool. I’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, dude.”

“Night, Gordon.”

“Oh, and Benrey?” Gordon paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Benrey glanced up at him. Gordon smiled. “Love you too.”

He shut the door before Benrey could respond, leaving Benrey to stare blankly at the door. They let out a groan, careful not to wake Joshua. Oh, Gordon was going to be the death of them.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it.  She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac.  I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm.  Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

Next ->

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - May 2021. New rec list for you. Hope you enjoy these delightful reads featuring our favourite werewolf and human dorks <3

May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin? by Leslie_Knope (1/1 | 1,478 | Teen)

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

you all over me by Poe (1/1 | 3,705 | Explicit)

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

a bad case of the wilds by kaistrex (weishen) (1/1 | 6,446 | Explicit)

“I could smell you all over town,” Derek growls.

Stiles squints back at him, trying to parse what Derek wants from him with that statement. An apology?

“Okay?” he says instead, which, as with everything else he says around Derek, seems to be the entirely wrong thing to come out of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes go red and Stiles bolts upright in his chair, trying to scoot backwards, banging into his desk.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Get away from me, Stiles,” Derek bites out, hands clenched into fists.

Stiles rolls his head on his shoulders. “Dude, this is my room. You get away from me.”

–

Basically, I wanted Derek fucking Stiles up against his bedroom window on a full moon with the blind up, so I wrote it. Happy Valentine's Day!

Cabins, Confessions, and Cockroaches by Nutellargh (1/1 | 4,009 | Teen)

That's how Stiles found himself in the middle of a forest, trying to grab the one bag of clothes and a bajilion bags of mystical powders, liquids, books and weapons, and instantly dropping them as he spotted the cabin dude.

Derek Hale chopping wood with an axe while shirtless was not a sight Stiles was prepared for.

the rescue by EvanesDust (1/1 | 860 | Teen)

Stiles has spent every moment of the last four months tracking the hunters who took his mate. Now that he’s found them, nothing will stop Stiles from taking back what’s his.

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs (1/1 | 14,980 | General)

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Big Bad Wolves by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt (1/1 | 1,144 | General)

"What's one more canine?"

But it's better when it's you by Tails89 (1/1 | 9,707 | Mature)

Shuffling slowly towards the front door, Stiles throws it open.

“What?”

Stiles’ brain short circuits - just a little - because standing in front of him is Derek Hale.

He hasn’t seen Derek in almost four years and now he’s standing on his doorstep, in shorts and a tank top with a canvas bag clutched in one hand.

Teen Wolf Fic Fest Prompt: Someone breaks a bone and someone unexpected winds up on their doorstep with a bag full of groceries

My Soul to Keep by jacyevans, Jmeelee (7/7 | 18,660 | Teen)

Stiles came with a whiteboard, and blue dry erase marker, flapping it over his head like a white flag on a battlefield.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You must want to say something. You've never gone this long without telling me to shut up." He waggled the marker in Derek's face. Stinging alcohol and pungent polymer singed Derek's nose hairs.

His fingers itched to pick up the board, and not because he wanted to tell Stiles to be quiet. He enjoyed the babble that filled the apartment every few days, the hearty food, Stiles' particular, reassuring smell: maple sugar buzz, spicy-sweet deodorant, milk-sour frustration, floral shampoo, and spring grass at night. It soaked into Derek's couch, his bed, his skull.

If any of it were real, Derek would take the board and write: thank you.

Lost Without You by ash_mcj (1/1 | 7,799 | General

Derek made a deal. A very stupid, no-good, mortifying deal because he couldn’t bear to tell his idiotic (secret) mate no. -- “You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.” “He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.” “That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.” "Derek," Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing. I’ll do anything. I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.” "When you graduate," Derek relented. --- And then Stiles graduated. And Derek had to perform for him. And then the fact that Derek saw Stiles as his mate wasn’t a secret anymore. ---

(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 3 and 4: Secret Crush and Love Song)

**Songfic to "Lost Without You" by Freya Ridings

princecharmingwinks special mention (i have never read a merman AU for sterek and this was a delighful introduction to the trope! Also it has meddling erica which we all know any mention of her is my weakness!)

Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen (1/1 | 4,226 | Teen)

“Derek,” Erica singsongs loudly. Rather than knocking on the rather flimsy-looking piece of driftwood, she grabs a coconut filled with seashells and shakes it violently. “We’ve got a surprise for you!”

“I hate surprises,” Derek answers, voice slightly muffled through the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be out exploring the caves with Isaac?”

“He has some special guests tonight,” Boyd says. “And so do you.”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, and Stiles can almost imagine him sighing.

“Come in,” he yields finally. “You know it’s unlocked.”

Erica flings the door open, nudges Stiles inside, and slams it behind him.

“Surprise!” she yells, and then Stiles can hear her and Boyd’s footsteps quickly retreating.

Oh, shit.

---

When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle's beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader...

And that’s it for the month folks! Thank you to the amazing fandom always giving me so much content to enjoy, sterek fandom is the best fandom ;) 

[sparkles-and-trash]

The Gaang are Roommates AU ~

note: this is a rewrite and repost of my old roommates au, there was some stuff I wanted to change, and I wanted to make the parts a little longer, so yeah, ta-dah! 

- think modern setting in the canon universe, bending is still a thing 

- the Gaang are all in going to Ba Sing Se University 

- I’m gonna change the ages a bit to make it easier for myself, sorry 

- Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Mai are 20, Katara, Ty Lee and Azula are 19, Aang, Toph and Yue are 18

- so, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph end up living together in a big loft type apartment 

- Sokka and Aang are old best friends, they met Toph in Middle School, and Katara is a natural part of the group 

- until now Sokka and Katara have both been living in the dorms, and they both hate it intensely 

- but now that Aang and Toph are also in uni, they all decide to move in together!

- …but the only problem is that the only place they find that they like is just out of their price rage (Toph’s parents aren’t supportive of her major so they’re not helping out much)

- enter: ~ Zuko ~

- so, Zuko has been living with his uncle Iroh since his Father, who’s a high up in some big and important company the Fire Nation, disowned him for speaking up against the company’s shifty treatment of workers and ruining a lot of sacred land etc 

- they’re still firebenders and the scar still happened, not in an Agni Kai, but it happened 

- but after Zuko started uni, Iroh really tried to push him to meet some people his own age and make some friends

- the only people Zuko talks to on the regular besides Iroh is Azula, Ty Lee and Mai, and Mai is the only one who is like, his friend yanno?

- the last year the deal was that if Zuko didn’t branch out, Iroh would have him live one year with other students

- it’s his idea of tough love 

- Zuko tried to do some random kid’s homework to have them pretend to be his new friend in front of Iroh so he wouldn’t have to, but Iroh can tell he’s lying so easily 

- so, Zuko ends up hearing about the Gaang through Mai, who heard from Ty Lee, who plays field hockey, Suki, who’s best friends with Sokka

- so, he goes to meet them, and it’s so awkward mY GOD

- Katara is a B I G environmental activist and HATES Ozai and his company, with good reason

- she eases up a tad when Zuko admits to being turned away from as a teen, but she is still suspicious

- Aang loves him right away, ofc, and that makes Katara even more suspicious because she’s pretty protective of Aang

- she claims it’s because he’s so kind and believes everyone but she totally liikeees hiiiim

- Toph is just like, sure, as long as he pays his rent idgaf

- Sokka is weirdly quiet, because he’s had a huge crush on Zuko forever, and the only one who knows is Aang (and Toph but she ain’t no snitch)

- so, ya boy makes the cut, and before they know it, it’s move-in day!

- but, the idiots didn’t think through the facts that it’s only three bedrooms oops

- and Toph is NOT afraid to pull the “I’m blind and I need my space” card

- and nobody’s up to fight her on it, so 

- let’s just say there is A LOT of back and forth, but with Katara refusing to room with her brother again, and Zuko being rightfully scared of Katara, it ends up with Zuko and Sokka sharing a bedroom, and Katara and Aang

- they have separate beds ofc

- but still, tension, man, so much tension

- it takes a while, but the dynamics starts working out really well

- Zuko is good at grocery shopping and likes to clean, and Aang is always happy to help him out

- Sokka loves cooking, so he does that a lot

- Katara is always on top of the others with schoolwork and making sure everyone is okay, and she usually does it in genius, sneaky ways so people doesn’t even notice that she does it

- Toph is clearing the air off bullshit

- like, she will call a bitch out

- but because she cares about said bitch

- so, Aang knows that Sokka has a crush on Zuko because Sokka told him in a weak moment, and Toph knows because she just knows

- Aang is a good friend tho, and he tries to like, ease them together

- but he is so awkward about it, the poor thing, and Zuko doesn’t understand AT ALL

- Toph is just sitting back and sighing a lot

- Katara doesn’t understand either but she just stays out of it (smart girl)

- but okay, we know how oblivious Zuko can be right?

- Sokka can give him googly eyes and blush and stutter around him so much and he still has no clue at all

- Zuko starts thinking Sokka just doesn’t like him at all

- but then one night Zuko has this really intense nightmare

- okay and quick addition, his scar is… handshaped? Like, you can clearly tell what happened to him

- but nobody talks about it, yet

- but then he’s having a terrible nightmare and is talking and begging and pleading in his sleep

- so much that Sokka wakes up

- and he catches on pretty fast, but had no idea what to do

- so he just shuffles over to Zuko’s side of the room and starts tapping his shoulder rapidly

- but nothing happens

- so he just… gently and awkwardly pats his head until Zuko wakes up

- and Zuko is like… wat u doin there bro

- and Sokka is like… just patting ur head to wake you from a nightmare bro

- and they awkwardly just mumble and go back to their beds

- but Zuko is smiling a lot because someone who’s not his family or a family friend really cares about him

- after that, Zuko slowly starts opening up to all of them, but Sokka especially 

- he never really tells them about being cast out and burned tho

- until one day he kinda casually slings it into a convo all fast and awkwardly

- it’s just Toph, Aang and Sokka there

- Toph yells so WHAATTT so loudly and just metalbends the whole fridge into a clump in rage

- Aang cries lmao but he tries to hide to and be supportive and not awkward

- Sokka is kinda quiet, but he carefully asks about it that night when they’re in their beds, and they talk a little about it

- Aang tells Katara (with permission) and she awkwardly, but wholeheartedly tells him that he can always talk to her

- they do that «awkward sibling hug» from Gravity Falls after

- *hugs stiffly* «pat, pat»

- but okay, Toph and metalbending when angry, it happens quite a lot 

- this was the first time it was the fridge, but the toaster, the microwave, and several other appliances have met the same fate

- everyone is kinda used to it now, and she always replaces it

- except Zuko, who’s still kinda new to them all

- but what are you supposed to say when your new friends is so outraged by the abuse you went through that they crush a whole ass fridge?

- it actually reminds him that he’s cared for here, by these people who owe him nothing, and is not related to him, and it makes him a little dizzy to have people care this way

- he casually mentions it to his Uncle Iroh the time he’s in at work, that his new friend is a metalbender and squashed their whole fridge when she was pissed on his behalf

- Iroh is thrilled

- to the point of offering Toph a job lmao

- Toph, desperate to cut of as much ties with her family and be as self-sufficient as possible, agrees

- and now Iroh have two formerly rich kids with no clue about any sort of customer service and basic stuff like that working for him

- Toph is a hard worker tho, and she and Zuko work surprisingly well together

- Katara is a little relived, because the more those two work, the less are the chances of either of them trying to cook or do too many chores around their apartment

- they mean well, or, Zuko does, but he does so much dumb shit when trying to help lmao

- Sokka starts spending a lot of time over at The Jasmine Drago too

- Aang is still trying to keep the fact that Sokka likes Zuko a secret, but he is having trouble

- Katara is his biggest weakness, and now they’re suddenly alone with her a lot

- someone else who could always read Sokka really well is Suki

. whom he used date in high school, but they parted as friends and everything s cool

- but Sokka is a little taken aback when she comes into The Jasmine Dragon one day, hand in hand with Sokka’s childhood crush obsession, Yue

- for the first time in man’s memory, Sokka is a little speechless

- and Suki’s like “lmao dude I haven’t seen you like this since the first time you saw Zu-”

- cue Zuko popping out behind them like “WELCOME TO THE JASMINE DRAGON FRIENDS OF SOKKA :D”

- Sokka is so fucking red, poor boy is just about having an aneurism at this point

- but luckily something happens and Zuko gets distracted

- Suki is having the time of her life tho, Sokka always used to tease her for her crushes before and after they dated, and suddenly, here they are

- at the apartment, Aang decides they need some apartment traditions

- they’ve been living there for almost three months, after all

- so he decides that weekly movie nights are mandatory

- so are pillowforts

- Katara is actually really excited for it, she loves all things cozy and fall-like

- also… she is weak for Aang, y’all, and she loves seeing him all excited

- Zuko barely knows what a pillowfort is, he didn’t think real people actually made it

- but imagine these dorks in a pillowfort with hot chocolate and lot’s of pillows

- Toph claims that she thinks it’s soo dumb, but she will always make sit in the middle of the group all wrapped in her blanket and laughing when the others jump and get spooked from the horror movies Sokka always wants to watch

- and she will make sure the fort is right and perfect lmao

- Zuko is a little awkward about it at first, but he likes it too

- Sokka always manages to plop in next to Zuko lmao

- they haven’t talked about the head patting incident yet, but Zuko is def starting to feel the butterflies

- one time after a movie night Sokka falls asleep on Zuko’s shoulder, after the others have left for the night

- Zuko can’t resist waking him up with awkward head pats similar to the one Sokka used on him

- Sokka thinks he died and went to heaven lmao

- but then he fully wakes and sees Zuko’s shit eating grin and can’t help but laugh at the whole thing

- and Zuko has his “oh no he’s hot beautiful and I really adore him” moment

[haikyuuthots]

Hi I really enjoyed you tik tok prank head canon! Is there any way you can make a head canon where the reader calls them bro prank lol. Like how would they react. Can you do Atsumu, Suna, Bokuto and Ushijima please!!!! Thank you 😽

Calling him “bro” prank

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Suna Rintaro, Bokuto Koutarou and Ushijima Wakatoshi

Warnings: none I think

Scenario: how the boys would react if you tried the calling them bro prank on them haha

A/n; thanks for requesting!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, I hope you enjoy it 😌💕

——————————————————————

Miya Atsumu

You always referred to Atsumu as babe, baby or love

So when you saw this prank on Tik tok you wanted to see how he would react

You were both sitting in the living room of your shared apartment

He was watching a volleyball game on the tv while you were writing an essay on your laptop

He was going crazy talking about a serve one of his favorite teams just did

“Woooo babe did ya see that crazy serve?!??”

You thought this might be a good time to pull the prank off

“Mmm no i didn’t can you go back so I can see it?”

He rewinds the video and you watch intently as he shows excitement all over again

“Bro!! That was so cool” you say as casual as possible

Atsumu’s entire demeanor changes, and the look of excitement he had seconds ago completely fades

“What did ya just call me?” His face filled with confusion

“Huh when?” You try your best not to laugh out loud, he looks completely lost lmao

“Literally 3 seconds ago, you called me bro.”

“I did?” You’re doing your best to play it off

“Yes you did! I hate it I’m not your bro. ” He’s slightly pouting

You slightly chuckle “aw come on bro don’t be like that.”

He looks towards you with a disgusted face, he is evidently unsatisfied with your choice of words

“Y/n stop dont call me that I’m baby and nothing else I will actually ignore you if you call me that again.” He actually looks a bit upset

But you still wanna tease him a bit more

“Fine I’m sorry.,,” you briefly laugh and pause for a second “...bro”

“That’s it I’m ignoring ya til ya act right.”

He gets up and begins to walk away

You’re full blown laughing now “baby baby wait.” You say as you reach out to stop him

His ears slightly perk up at the mention of his regular nickname

Still laughing you talk “it’s a prank. I’m just messing with you. I saw it on Tik Tok

He looks down out you, in disbelief, his frown quickly changing into a smile

Soon after he starts laughing with you

“Chaotic duo*

“That was actually kinda mean babe, I was like wtf why is she calling me her brother”

You start laughing even more “ wtf did you actually think I would call you bro? Never. you’re baby.”

He leans in closer to you and gently grabs you by the waist kissing you softly on the lips “better be.”

You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck, he softly picks you up causing you to wrap your legs around his torso as he continues to kiss you

Pulling away briefly he speaks again “but seriously don’t ever call me bro again I hate it”

“I won’t” you answer smiling up at him.

Suna Rintaro

You usually don’t try to pull pranks on him because he normally never falls for them

But after watching so many of these on tik tok and watching the reactions you were curious to try it out yourself

You’re casually sitting on your boyfriends lap while you’re both on your phones watching short videos

A few time passes by when Suna breaks the silence between you two

“Hey babe you hungry?”

You thought this was the perfect time to call him bro

“Nah bro I’m good” you say sounding as normal as possible

Suna drops his phone and gently shifts you from his lap making you look towards him

You ignore him and continue to look down at your phone lol

He doesn’t say anything at first, leaving an awkward silence for a few seconds

Still staring in disbelief he breaks the silence again “pause that and look at me real quick.”

You do as he says and you look up at him innocently acting like nothing is wrong

“What’s up?” You innocently reply

His grip tightens around you waist a bit “did you.. really just call me that?”

“What are you talking about?” You’re trying your best to keep a straight face

“You just called me bro.” He’s pouting

You honestly can’t believe he fell for it hahahaha

“Oh. Yeah I did. Does that bother you?” You’re just trying to rile him up at this point lmao

He scowls at your reply, gently pushing you off of his lap so he can look at you better “yes that bothers me, I’m not out here calling you dude or anything because you’re my girlfriend.”

You can’t help but laugh at his expression. Completely satisfied at the fact he actually reacted to your little prank

Suna is beyond confused “why are you laughing? I’m serious please don’t call me bro.”

“Baby” you gently leans towards his chest as you continue to laugh “I’m totally joking, it’s a prank I saw on tik tok.”

He cracks a small smile before he speaks again “this is the dumbest prank ever.”

You’re still laughing “yeah? But you were hella pressed so it worked.”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing “yeah yeah you got me.”

Still smiling you sit on his lap again and hug him tightly placing small kisses on his face to lighten up his mood

“I promise I would never call you bro and mean it.”

He smiles into your kisses, tightening his grip around your body while he kisses you gently on the lips

“I’m glad you wouldn’t cause I’m your boyfriend.”

“I know baby.” You respond leaning in once again, to close the gap between your lips.

Bokuto Koutarou

You have not called bokuto by his name since you started dating

It’s always a baby, babe or bub

So when you were on tik tok and saw a girl prank her boyfriend by calling him bro you wanted to try it out yourself on your boyfriend.

You and bokuto were tangled in each other’s arms watching a movie together.

The movie was a suspenseful, drama and the scene that was playing had a lot of blood

As you wince at the gore, you quickly decide this is where you’re gonna do the prank lol

“Aww bro look at all that blood.” You say, with a hint of disgust in your voice

Bokutos grip around you loosens, and he quickly goes to look for the remote to pause the tv

He’s looking towards you, with a very large frown on his face

You slightly chuckle “what’s wrong you don’t like the gore?”

“No it’s not that.” He answers still frowning

“Then what is it?” You respond pretending to not know why he’s really upset

“It’s just..... are you mad at me or something?”

You give him a confused look “why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know but you always call me babe, or something but just now... you called me bro.”

You’re doing your best to hold back your laughter “bro you sound crazy.”

Now Bokuto is pouting even more than before “aw did you just bro me again?” He dramatically buries his face in his hands “im sorry i made you mad but can you please go back to calling me baby?”

You can’t keep the joke going any further, Bokutos distressed figure is actually making you feel bad

“Baby” you coo as you remove his hands from his face “I’m just kidding, it’s a prank.”

You start laughing out more as you watch Bokuto relax into your touch

He instantly joins in to laugh with you

“Oh my god I can’t believe you got me.”

“I honestly didn’t even think you would notice”

“How could I not, you called me bro!” He replies still laughing a bit

“Why would you think I was mad though?” You question, still chuckling

“Why else would you call me such a terrible name? The only reason I could think of is if you were upset with me.”

You briefly laugh as you lean in to kiss bokuto softly on the lips, he reciprocates right away tightening his hold around your waist

Pulling away from the kiss bokuto speaks again, “do me favor and never call me bro again? I really hated it.”

You lovingly look at your boyfriends face “ oh I promise I won’t, I hated it too.”

He chuckles at your reply as he leans in to kiss you once again

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ushijima was used to you calling him Toshi or love.

In fact he only ever responded to you when you called him one or the other

One time you called him by his last name and the man deadass unintentionally ignored you

That being said this man is still very stoic and hardly ever shows any reactions

So when you saw this prank you weren’t sure if he would react, the most you were expecting was to be ignored lol

You and Ushijima were out in the store buying some groceries

You were thinking of a good time to causally call him bro and you finally decided to do it when you were at the vegetable aisle

Picking up a giant broccoli you look over to Ushijima, quickly grabbing his attention

“Bro look at this broccoli it’s huge!” You say enthusiastically

Ushijima is staring at you with a blank stare, almost trying to understand the words that just came out of your mouth

“Helllo????” You say waving your hand in front of his face

Ushijima gently grabs your hands and lowers it

Still holding on, he asks in the most serious tone “what did you just call me?”

You’re holding back a smile trying your best to be as serious as you can

“Oh just now??? I said bro”

“Why would you call me that?” He’s looking at you with a confused face

“Because we’re close, people who are close always casually call each other bro”

“But y/n we”re dating.”

“Sooooo??” You say still trying your best not to burst out laughing

“People who are dating don’t call each other bro they call each other cute pet names”

“But you don’t call me any pet names?”

“Babe. I call you babe, that’s a pet name.”

“Well I want you to call me bro.” At this point you’re about to break, this conversation is so funny to you.

“I’m not gonna call you bro. And I don’t want you calling me bro either, I hate that.”

“Come on bro don’t be like that.” You teasingly say letting out a small chuckle

Ushijima once again stares at you, this time he’s evidently unamused

“I won’t respond to you if you keep calling me that.” He says as he begins to walk away

You’re full blown laughing as you run to stop Ushijima from walking away any further

“Toshi wait” you say holding onto his shirt

Ushijima turns around to look at you, still very confused

“I’m totally joking, I would never call you bro. It’s a prank I saw in tik tok.”

Ushijima cracks a soft smile, looking down at you as you laugh

“Thank god, I was so confused by that entire conversation.”

“I could tell, you’ve never looked more lost.”

He gently grabs you to hold you as you guys begin to walk again

“Alright let’s go, we need to finish shopping.”

“Okay love.”

He smiles as he hears the common pet name. That what he loved hearing you call him.

[mickgaydolenz]

sadly this isn't a monkeemare, (Monkee NightMare) but it is weird as hell and mentions them so here :)

I was wandering through a hotel lobby, and eventually, it turned into a grocery store but it was just the liquor part of it (I could tell it was a grocery store cus of the linoleum) and this like, dude guy with a beard came up to me with an old lady and challenged me to a yogurt chugging contest??? and the worst part is I said yes??? so I just took some chunky (bleh) strawberry yogurt and just chugged the living hell out of it, trying to beat the old lady, but I got bored just standing there chugging yogurt (never thought I'd say that) so I started walking around, then I was back in the hotel lobby and someone who I'm guessing I was supposed to know just went "there you are! C'mon Ray we're gonna be late!" and so she started dragging me, then she spilled the DISGUSTING PINK CHUNKY YOGURT ALL OVER MY SHIRT and didn't even CARE. then we were in our room and she just told me to change my shirt and put a sweater on, because "we're on vacation, girly. and we need to go check out the Dell Hotel, did you know they shot the Monkees Pilot episode there???" and she just threw me the ugliest sweater I've ever seen and then we were in front of the dell, just the two of us, and she made it a game to look for all of the spots they used in the episode and eventually we got to the basement to get icecream (its true the Dell Hotel does actually have like an icecream parlor in their basement its awesome) and she ordered mint choc and I got cookie dough (duh) then wee kept wandering, and this entire dream I was like "man, she my friend is really reminding me of someone right now" and then she spilled some ice cream on the pavement and looked at me and giggled then I realized it was GIRL MICKY (okay so maybe this does count as a monkee dream) and then I was like, "whats your name again?" and she looks sooo offended and was like "its Asia. Raya. what you hit your head or something?" IT WAS YOU. BUT YOU WERE YOUR PROFILE PICTURE BECAUSE I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE. I apologize, and we just go and be tourists in sandiego for the rest of the dream?? then we just get back to our hotel and sleep???

RAYA I WANT TO KISS YOUR BRAIN THIS IS INCREDIBLE! AND! AMAZING!!!!!

but also. ironically dream me being lowkey an asshole fits because every friend who has ever had a dream with me in it, i’m just a menace, the worst. i’m sorry i spilled pink nasty chunky yogurt on you and then gave you an ugly sweater to wear ✌️😔. also the fact that i was girl micky……👩‍🍳💋

[heffrondriving]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊ ❛ why love myself (when i found you instead?) ❜ : ̗̀❥ james × jett ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: G // WORD COUNT: 5,710 // CHARACTERS: jett stetson, james diamond // TAGS: one shot, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, grocery shopping, domestic bliss, idiots in love, established relationship, schmoop, jealousy, protectiveness, insecurity, himbo boyfriends, prompt fill, jett-centric, i.e. a sad mad (smad?) jett lowkey adhd-monologues a whole loooot

: ̗̀❥ inspired by the song Glitter Times by Waterparks and dedicated as ever to the wonderful @cvsmicbaddie1 💜

: ̗̀❥ [Part 5 of Cupid Got Us F♡cked Up]

❝ so when you go, trap the feelings we both know, line your ceiling love you so rough it burns my bones yeah, when you go, leave those feelings home alone, busted pieces... ❞

The grocery trip wasn’t going out as well as Jett had hoped, and he was seething mad.

No, it wasn’t because he and his dumb boyfriend had wasted thirty minutes in the dairy aisle shivering and locked in a pointless heated debate about what kind of milk to get (James wanted plain oat milk—talk about Stuart Snooze!—but Jett wanted to try out this schmancy Japanese mushibou-gyuunyuu milk made from rice that was a million times healthier and was loaded with vitamins from A to Z and could probably extend your lifespan by like a good ten years or something, which they were so gonna need if they wanted to preserve their ‘best-looking people ever’ status). Or the fact that the gawky-faced teenager manning the checkout counter hadn’t been broken in on how to input simple coupon codes and nearly cheated Jett out of a good deal—seriously, 40% off on Le Labo hand soap and a free box of ultra-soft makeup tissues? That was a SuperStore steal!—if the scowly bearded manager with the unwashed apron and Hail Mary keycards hadn’t shown up to perform his pre-lunch break miracle (even with his reclaimed freebies, Jett still unfortunately had to use James as a human buffer to keep McNotLovin’It dude’s ick from spreading to him, as he made a mental note to cleanse his boyfie with palo santo and lavender incense later before he let him step a single cursed foot inside the apartment). Or even the disastrous fact that the flimsy paper bags ripped apart just as the couple had finally exited the premises and mister caveman-handed Diamond had to duck back and ask for some new ones, leaving one extremely miffed super actor superstar to chase after and pick up the tumbling products that had long-found their way to the disgusting confines of LA’s sidewalk gutters.

At that point, Jett’s life was just trying to be some sitcom. Some unfunny, sound effect-riddled, cheap cardboard sitcom that certainly didn’t deserve to have an A-list celeb such as bien à vous anywhere on its tiddlywinks show roster. If he heard that stupid disruptive uh-oh-oh song playing anywhere at all, he was seriously going to lose it and commit unspeakable acts of gorgeous violence (like how he played his role as a gorgeously evil half-wizard, half-demon in Witches of Rodeo Drive, but like, minus the star-spangled robe costume and zappy lightning magic and for realsies this time).

All of these consecutive troubles only really left the weary actor to wonder, not for the last time in his grievous life, why he even allowed James to tag along with his important shopping duties when he was perfectly capable of doing it alone without any added hassle. Sure, Jett could also just assign the weekly grocery list to his saintly agent and have her toss the task off to another lackey who’ll take care of everything without him having to lift a finger or touch the money with hideous old men in it, but he quite liked the rigmarole of this mundane ritual more than he’d openly admit, and he just couldn’t trust some unpaid intern to choose the perfect quality ingredients for his delectable recipes. Besides, Jett wasn’t about to pass up any easy opportunity to get all suavely styled up for the weekend and fatten up his paparazzi portfolio with candid photos of how glamorous and yet still smashtag relatable he was—tweenies and tryhards on ScuttleButtr ate up that kinda lifestyle press, after all.

James also had a big day off from howling in his papa dog’s studio today and an even bigger heart for wanting to help out...but that heart was unfortunately as sharp-witted as its biggest idiot owner and always ended up klutzily knocking the last seven letters out of assistance, no matter how desperately James wanted to spend his time with the amazing Jett ‘Sexyman’ Stetson enough to lap after his heels and do him all these spare domestic favours.

Which fine, Jett can’t really fault anyone for that, he liked having some (or lots of) extra muscle around and he was just that amazing after all—but he could, however, still fault James for the rest of this grocery pickle (no, not the ones that just did an Olympic-sounding splooshy dive into an open manhole). Matter of fact, why was the amazing Jett Stetson the one out here actively making a fool out of himself trying to play catch the freaking street cabbage anyway? For crying out loud, he was so not gonna make his super special cherry tomato couscous salad with cholera-infested chickpeas and sewer-tangy feta cheese!

Though, all things considered, their time at the grocery store was all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows with a bearable side of bickering and business as usual. Surely a few lost purchases was the far ideal outcome than say, James’ rabid hockey hound besties making a surprise cameo and ruining their lovely day out together with some ‘brilliant plan’ that would inevitably burn down the whole establishment and get someone’s troublemaking butt carted off to the nearest LAPD station. But Jett found that it was always simply getting back home afterwards that was the hardest part of going out.

After all, he was going out with James Diamond, a looker and a stunner and a charmer all around, cicely smiles and a carved physique and a crooning voice that could haunt kaleidoscope daydreams and velvet-lined palace hallways alike. Whenever the heavens rained down to bless their horizons with affection, James always got soaked to the bone and still had enough space left to drown the ocean. Flitting spotlights and starry eyes couldn’t get enough of him, and neither could Jett—even if most of that irresistible attention came in patronising backchat and lethally exasperated doses (and sometimes sneaky kisses). Still, like the contrary was god’s gracious truth, maybe the actor should also count himself pleasantly lucky to be with such a spectacular trophy boyfriend for the crushers and the cameras...but then again, why should any other five cent vanilla-plain cretin be able to share the same four-leaf clover fortune as him?

It’s just not frigging fair.

No, it wasn’t some kinda weird obsession, whatever—‘cause people obviously obsessed over Jett, not the other way around!—but it was just plain common sense. Jett was more than used to getting attention. He doesn’t have to turn all choosing beggar for it like anyone else in this hack town, it was served up to him with a gold-flaked garnish and a lifetime supply of garlic breadsticks with an all-expenses paid bill, and that’s all part of the Stetson charm.

But when he was with James? As much as Jett hated to admit that he had met his match, the warning signs couldn’t lie when they were smacking into his forehead all over the city, reddening his vision and forcing him to pay attention to the attention that was supposed to be all his, now divided into measly portions. Wait, no, not just divided—it was like some dumb waiter with string worms for arms decided to draw the line between who was gonna get the bigger half and who was gonna starve for scraps.

Surprises, surprises, James always got his fill. And Jett was left feeling like the trophy idiot. It made him painfully sick to his stomach, that infuriating imbalance, feeling like he was somehow lagging a thousand steps away from James as they walked arms steadfastly looped and strides side by side down the bustling boulevards of Hollywood, Jett forced to take a backseat for once—even that alone was already unfathomable, unless he was being chauffeured around in his personal CW-provided limousine—and watch James’ hungry gravity suck every innocent passerby in, James Diamond in his best element and he knows it.

And he knows Jett knows it, too.

See, Jett wouldn’t give a sewer rat’s mangy butt otherwise. Have a bottle-blond boy draw down his pricey knockoff Ray-Bans for a ‘Cuda cool check-out and a sneaky snake-skinned wink or have a tropicana-fragrant girl flip her sundress and temptingly wiggle her fingers in the smoggy wind to the siren’s lure of a prospective date, fine, whatever—that was all standard shindig and fruit loops flattering. But seriously, did his jerkfaced Jimmy Dean really have to lay down the charisma card so thickly suffocating with polite affectations and keep going all showbiz talk-show to every sweaty stranger who stopped them in their tracks with a disgustingly-drawled beckon of his name?

One moment, James was holding Jett’s hand, tenderly rubbing his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles (a reflexive habit, it seemed, but an endearing one all the same), and juggling the stuffed paper bags in one cradled arm so he could stoop down to sneak Jett exasperated giggles and fleeting chocolate-chip kisses (James was one of those chronic post-grocery snackers, so Jett made sure to toss in some nice cookie treats or two in the shopping cart for him) as they talked about their plans for the rest of their treasured day off together; which resulted in the usual squabbles and tongue-in-cheek threats to shut up before the other’s cherry lips did the shhhhutting up for them.

But Jett can’t even enjoy that much, because everyone just kept getting in the way.

Have these rude litterbags seriously never heard of the side of the sidewalk? Trust the city of angels to be littered with devilish desperados looking for their next cheap thrill hit, carelessly sticking to boot soles and the roof of mouths like discarded cigarettes. Some frumpy Tweedledumb and their preening Tweedledork twinsy looking like Old Navy mannequins gone rogue, hanging around at CVS parking lots like their next illegal prescription fill depended on it always had a wry greeting, a smudged phone number, a halitosis-callous “ditch...whoever that total loser is you’re with and go out with me instead, why don’t you?” to sic upon James. Now Jett really wished one of the hockey hound besties would actually show up, so he could then sic them as an easy distraction for all the townie weirdos craning their necks out for a back-alley good time. Sure, Kendork might not fall for such a ruse, but maybe the helmet shortie terrier or poindexter nerd supreme could work well enough with biting off a couple ankles. Freaks, geeks, and wannabes were the new online trending topics these days too, wasn’t it?

James might kill Jett for it. Or James might actually have some spare brain cells in his elephant heart enough to understand that it was all a part of the fame game, just as much as Jett understood the best when to be a gracious gentleman and let someone else take the spotlight for once—nevermind that it was always inevitably going to get shined back to him. But this courtesy was saved for show premieres, press releases and junkets, and dazzling red carpet walks with fellow illustrious celebrities, not for some lame skeezebag with a pick-up line filthier than their fingernails trying to snatch up his man!

Jett couldn’t stand it anymore. His long-suffering pride absolutely would not stand up nor stand down for it, and he was on his last leg today. He could easily withstand a gaggle of fawning fangirls (‘big timers’ or ‘BTRmy’ or ‘rushheads’ or whatever the heck tacky title they called themselves—at least the Jett-Setters had a cool nickname to scribble all over the back of their lined notebooks) who wanted nothing more than an autographed Overeager Haberdasher headshot and a fantastical one-way trip into the esteemed James Diamond’s low-rise pants. Jett’s had some personal experience with that crowd himself, and more often than not, they were just some harmless little squawking ducklings with the occasional overexcited bitey oddball in between that a hefty bodyguard could easily handle.

But Jett would take that baby wacko wrangling any day of the week than having to deal with some disheveled unattractive rando shooting him the evillest eye that sent a cold shiver snaking down his spine and made him feel colder than getting trapped in a dairy aisle, while mister gross gawker pulled James’ ear real close and whispered something in it. Something slimy and deeply sickening no doubt, judging by the way James’ eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared into the luscious forest of his swoopy bangs. Even with all the various brazen flirtscapade moves Jett had witnessed against James today, that one was truly the lowest of shameless lows. If they handed out annual awards for Most Outstanding Creep, that stranger danger would win every single one without even having to show up.

But that wasn’t even the worst part of everything. Because Jett looked up from sulkily reshuffling his beat-up groceries for the nth time to witness James not immediately drawing back and defending his honour with a sword-fight (or maybe a more sensible shove-fight), and instead simply smiling his perfectly lethal smile as he made a firm grab for the man’s arm. And he leaned in uncomfortably close—making Jett crush up a handful of cherry tomatoes into bloody mush—and whispered something back, something that made the man’s sunken eyes bug out of their sockets as his jaw dropped to the floor and his Skeletor face burned red...even redder than the dripping fruit pulp that the enraged actor had slapped over James’ face in a rightfully aggravated fit. If he was gonna act like a clown, then he was gonna get treated like a clown.

The disgusting nerve of it all!

So no, it really wasn’t Jett’s best move. It was a move for sure, but causing a whole diva tantrum scene, dropping his crumpled grocery bag full of not-so-fresh organic produce for the second time that day, and abandoning James in the middle of the street with Abnormal Bates didn’t scream out superstar sophisticated—but what else was Jett supposed to do? Keep gritting his teeth and smiling politely to the ignorant vision-impaired plebians who didn’t have enough functioning brain parts to recognise and acknowledge his beloved presence? Keep letting those revolting schmucks get away with slobbering all over James as his clueless boyfriend did nothing but stupidly swallow their drip? Keep silently suffering through the blacktop-burning anger that blistered his perfect skin and made him feel hot and numb and shaky all over? Jett was gonna end up knocking someone’s pricey veneers out if he kept it up. Or vice versa, and he can’t get awesome acting roles and rock modelling his awesome movie posters with yucky dentures!

Jett didn’t know how long he ran for, didn’t really know where he was escaping off to, didn’t even realise he had curled up in some dirty alleyway next to an overflowing dumpster until the putrid smell hit him full-force and made him choke into nauseated rage and bitter laughter. Well, whatever. Maybe this was where he belonged right now—he was down in the dumps, after all. He’d laugh some more at his quick-footed wit if his twisted ankles weren’t actually killing him.

With a groan, Jett gingerly stretched out his feet, distastefully kicking aside a soggy takeout box as he did so. Really, he couldn’t have ran that far nor intensely to warrant such a kind of flaring pain. He seriously had to jump back on that elliptical. Or return to his weekly spin class with Anna-the-juice-cleanse-and-capybara-loving fitness instructor. Hopefully the wet market-smelling slimeball three stationery bikes behind Jett who kept ogling those unblinking fish eyes at him had finally decided to change gyms by now...

Jett’s begrudged musings were interrupted by a swarm of unidentifiable insects milling their way out of the discarded food box, as he started with a scream and curled himself up again and seemingly pulled fifty muscles in the process. Jett sighed resignedly. He was just so unlike his perfect baby blue boyfriend, who had the alarming workout ethic and brawny muscles of an ichor-guzzling demigod, who could compete in an Ironman marathon on a downright whim and win that first place red ribbon and sweetest Gatorade shower without breaking a single sweat, who could easily pick him up and carry him around like it was nothing and spoil him with supertastic cuddles like it meant the world and—

Jett only realised his grave mistake right as he felt someone’s brawny arms gently drape around him, the redolent smell of some toxic-man-branded ‘Cuda perfume, his favourite subtle spice aftershave, and the fresh sweetness of cherry tomatoes enveloping him and making his lungs hurt, hurt, hurt.

“Why are you still here?” Jett snapped, refusing to lift his head from his folded elbows. If he had to gander at that wide-eyed sad puppy dog look he knew all too well James was sporting like the latest Milan look, he was going to use the sheer brewing force of his evil will to zap him into a pretty-faced portobello mushroom (yes, very much like those meddling kids in Witches of Rodeo Drive). “You clearly don’t need me around!”

“Babe...what’s wrong?”

“I’m sick of people getting all upfront and personal and creep central with you! I’m Jett freaking Stetson, they should be looking at me, I’m amazing and gorgeous and like, the bestest superstar ever to exist in this slipshod city that I’m way too high-calibre to grace my brilliant presence with!”

“Seriously, is that it? You’re mad at me ‘cause I’m taking the attention away from you?”

“No, it’s because they’re taking your attention away from me, you dense idiot!” Jett’s tone had taken on a petulant whine, and he hated that he couldn’t help it. Just as much as James couldn’t help being so irritatingly...himself. After all, a good stupid heart got you some places, but stupidly good looks gave you the skeleton key to the entire world. Jett didn’t want to let himself open up like this, but James had to hear it from him sometime. If not now, then it would be never. “You crave all the attention and you get all of it whenever you want and from whoever you like and I wouldn’t care—but you also keep flaunting everything in front of me and practically shilling out VIP passes to your gunshow like you’re some kinda discount Oprah, and it’s really annoying! They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve you.”

“Well, it’s not like I can really do anything about it—”

“Yeah, but you also don’t have to freaking enjoy it so much that you’re practically wearing me down with all the smarmy face-rubbing you’re doing!”

“Dude, seriously—ugh, look, believe me, I don’t really enjoy it as much as you think I do. And I swear I’m not trying to do anything like that to you like, at all.”

“Oh? Then why aren’t you acting like it?” Jett accusingly spat. “And seriously, why do you even like me, James?”

“What?!” James threw his hands up bewilderingly. “Where in the world did that come from???”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now or you’re just trying to play nice—‘cause you just love doing that with your innocent little boy act and shiny halo, huh?—but not a lot of people really like me. Sure, they adore me or fear me or obviously wanna be me but they never really care about me beyond that. And like whatever, they’re all just stupid jealous haters and unattractive losers who need lives anyway—but then maybe you shouldn’t have to put up with me, either. ‘Cause I hate fakers worse than plain jerks more than anything else, it’s so obnoxiously tiring. So. I’ll ask you again. Which one are you?”

“Jett, come on...we’ve been together for ages! What makes you think I’m still just faking all this?” James pleaded. “‘Cause if that’s the case, then I’m probably the best darned actor in the whole world and I deserve all the super cool awards and shiny trophies and stuff. But I’m not, you are. And if you’re asking me how I really feel about you, I can only really tell you one thing, and that’s I love you.”

“Yeah, you say that now ‘cause it’s what I wanna hear—but what if you fall in love with someone else, huh? You wanna settle for someone a lot less better than me? You’re gonna find your next love at first lousy sight and final happily ever after on these filthy streets and have your magical movie moment that even Hallmark wouldn’t freaking sell? And then what?” Jett’s shrill voice splintered into a thousand pieces, lodging in his aching throat and heaving chest and prickling his vision to a watery blur, smearing the beautiful image of James Diamond into bleeding bokeh lights. How easy it was to let him walk ahead and fade away, to leave Jett in this unknown alley stretching out to an obscure infinity so he can pick up his uglier pieces by himself and salvage what’s left of his shattered dignity somehow. “Then you’ll leave me too?”

“I’ll never do that even if you paid me a spajillion dollars,” James assured without hesitation, nuzzling his face on the crown of Jett’s head and planting small kisses all over it. Jett shivered lightly as the other boy indulgently breathed in the elusive fragrance of their latest experimental Tropical Coconut conditioner with shea deep moisture (Jett thought the packaging looked really pretty like him, James complained that he didn’t wanna smell like a beach, Jett called him an extremely rude rhyming word, and James gave up...well, after a little more physical persuasion). “And besides, what’s not to love? Like you said, you’re Jett freaking Stetson. You’re amazing and funny and super talented and surprisingly caring, and you can cook up exotic world-class dishes that could put every fancy-schmancy pricey restaurant in LA to shame, and you’re super smart with all those weird obscure history and fashion and culture thingies that even the genuisest person I know wouldn’t be able to catch up with. And yeah, maybe I get super annoyed sometimes, but that’s only because you’re also the best-looking person at the Palm Woods. Or maybe everywhere else you go, for that matter.”

“Well, duh!” Jett huffed with a bemused roll of his eyes, lightly beating a fist on James’ lap. “See, that’s exactly why I don’t even know why you bother with those scuttling street rats when you have me.”

“‘Cause they all want you too, it turns out.”

“...Come again for the big man?”

“You know what that crummy lowlife wanted from me? He was asking all about you, Jett.” James explained. “He said some really nasty things that he wanted to do with ‘your pretty friend over there’ if I did him a solid and introduced you ‘cause you way too busy with moping over the groceries to notice, and I had to very kindly tell him to shove off with sleazing out on my precious boyfriend before I put my pretty foot in ugly places the sun don’t reach. Believe me, I almost friggin’ did. I just can’t let anyone disrespect you or hurt you or speak about you like that, ever. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it...” he exhaled harshly and shook his head in resentment. “But luckily, you running off saved me from having to do anything really bad in the end, so there’s that.”

“Oh...”

“Yeah. And everything about this whole crazy sitch today, from our whole grocery shopping mess that was surprisingly fun to having to fight all those creeps away which was, well, not really so fun...all of it just made me even realise how much I don’t ever wanna lose you to anyone else.”

Jett didn’t respond. He couldn’t bring himself to, not without some oncoming embarrassing breakdown—and he’d had enough of those for one day, thank you very much!—so he settled for a sniffle instead. Maybe it was pathetic enough to sound cute. Or maybe it was the other way around. He couldn’t tell.

“I mean, do you know just how blessed I am to be with you?” James continued in an earnest whisper, lifting Jett’s chin to lovingly wipe off his cascading tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “That out of everyone you could’ve chosen, you went with me, James Diamond, the luckiest man in the universe? Do you know just how crazy you make me feel, babe? You make me feel so happy, so insanely wild for you, so much better everyday that I’m with you, and that’s never gonna change. As a famous pep-talking man always says, things like these come once in a lifetime, and I know that I’m in this for life. So no, I don’t care how many date-worthy people are roaming out there and asking for my number, ‘cause I’ll never feel anything as amazing as when I’m with you, and you alone.”

“Hmph...really?”

“Of course! You’re my boyfriend, my Jett-ski, the luuurve and liiiight of my life,” Jett scrunched up his nose at James’ unabashed cheesiness, making the singer laugh, “and I love you so much, and I’ll never stop loving you forever and ever, times infinity plus one. And I promise you with all my heart and soul and my awesomely smooth hair that I only have eyes for your gorgeous face, you sulky little idiot.”

“You better, or I’m poking them out with a kebab skewer—and it’d be a right shame, ‘cause you’ve got some pretty golden peepers on you and I’m gonna miss looking at them too.”

“I promise.”

“On your life?”

“What, the heart and soul and hair wasn’t enough for you?”

“See, I was almost convinced you weren’t gonna say something immensely annoying between all that glitter-sprinkled sappiness, which means that you’ve probably been replaced by an evil brainwashing skull-faced alien and then I’m gonna have to go all chew gum and kick butt on you.”

“Ugh, sure, I’m the one being annoying—and yes, of course on my life! On our lives together. And my lucky comb. And my cool white v-neck shirt that you keep stealing. And my gorgeously gorgeous washboard abs. Do you want me to go on? ‘Cause I could totally go on.”

“You honestly had me until that last part, which is a total lazy lie.” Jett snorted, poking at James’ stomach and making him burst out in a peeved giggle. “You’re starting to get all soft around the sides—I’m cutting you off from binge-watching Spanish telenovelas while scarfing those guilty pleasure Slap E. Cheese burger abominations with your sleepover besties before you turn all Stay Puft Diamond Boy on me.”

“Nah, that’s actually from you spoiling me all the time with your delicious home-cooking, ya big dummy,” James said, coyly spreading his arms wide open. “But does that mean you don’t want supertastic cuddles from your Jimmy Dean anymore?”

“I didn’t say that...” Composing himself with another tiny sniffle, Jett threw himself on James and smothered him in a koala hug, nearly knocking him flat on his back and onto the teeming insect trashopolis prospering on the ground. “And well, next time, you have to be super mean to literally anyone and everyone else who tries to get with you!”

“Ooh, you know I can’t do that, fuzzybumpkins. You know the paparazzi’s totally gonna tear me to beautiful confetti shreds if rumour gets out that James Diamond of wholesome boyband act Big Time Rush is a total jerkface to fans, and then the whole band’s gonna get in big time trouble with Gustavo and Kelly and big boss Griffin over all the bad PR, and we can’t really have that, can we?”

“Eh...who cares? You’re badly due in for an image do-over anyway, ‘cause the whole snoozy sweetheart show is really starting to go past its prime like rancid oat milk—anywayzies, haven’t you heard lately that bad boys and grunge gangs are making a surprising comeback these days?”

“Jett...” James sighed.

The actor pouted at his boyfriend’s hushed scolding, but slowly shook his head in begrudged understanding anyway. “Okay, maybe not then. But just remember that you’re mine, okay?”

“Awww,” James cooed, biting back a smug smirk, “I love it when you get all adowable and possessive with me.”

“Shut that little mutt mouth—and you’re still mine!”

“All yours forever, babe.” Jett felt James’ lips grazing his goosebumps-stippled nape, pleasantly warm and smiling with the quiet promise of forever, and Jett had no choice but to believe him. Curse his sneaky elephant-hearted charmer for being so good at making him fall in love again and again and still make it feel brand new. Being with James really was once in a lifetime, and Jett was deeply doomed and in it for life—on their lives together.

“Okay...the paparazzi’s totally not gonna...” Jett absently muttered, and gasped in horror once the realisation hit him like a charged clown slap to the face. “Were there any of them today?! Did you hear clicking cameras anywhere or see any E!News vans around?! Did they see any of this go down?!”

“Jett, chillax, I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t, but freaking listen to me—you may be fine with having a rowdy rockstar rep on blast, but I absolutely cannot have anyone seeing me, the amazing Jett Stetson, slap anyone outside of my show-stopping award-winning teen dramas—or—or even dumpster camping!” The shaken actor yanked his shirt collar to cover his face up to his nose and distrustfully looked around the dismal area, using his brawny human buffer to shield him from any potential showbiz vultures lurking around the corner.

“Hey hey, don’t worry—I’m sure we can take it on together,” James assured. “I’ve been through some way worse scandals before...like that song swifting thing with Kendall and Lucy, and Carlos and Logan accidentally terrorising street grandmas, and even Cher Lloyd getting real mad and going after my pretty face!” He threw in a mortified signature hand-face move for extra emphasis. “So we can handle it easily. And if things get out of hand, then...me and the boys will take care of it.”

Jett arched a suspicious brow at him. “Does your ‘grand plan’ for it involve low-level mischief crimes, weird crank calls and ridiculous costumes, and tacky tree hats?”

“Whaaaat??? Noooo, not at all, like we’re—we’re just gonna, y’know, haha...” a sheepish James coughed as he hastily knocked off the leafy headdress that had inexplicably popped up on him. “Like I said, don’t even worry about it, babe!”

“Suuure...”

“And seriously, I’m really super sorry I kinda caused all that trouble just because I didn’t pay more attention to you today. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but I was kinda busy fighting off everyone else who wanted the same thing with a limp baguette.”

“I’m really super sorry you didn’t pay more attention to me too, ‘cause I’m not the one who’s missing out here!”

“Clearly not.” James chuckled. “Anyway...you wanna get outta dodge now or what? This is sweet and all, but the paps still have a good chance of catching us in a bad spot and we’re not exactly in the best setting for this rom-com movie moment to sell to Hallmark...unless we’re secretly filming a segment for HGTV’s Double Dumpster Divers Week and you’re totally punking me hard with the dumpster camping right now. Which if you are, then it’s working, ‘cause well. This place seriously stinks.”

“I think that’s the nasty feral pheromones of all those milquetoast flirters and desperate chancers clinging on you, actually,” Jett snarkliy pointed out. “But we probably should go now, yeah.”

“After you, my darling.”

With a graceful flourish, James stood up and outstretched a hand to help Jett out. Jett accepted it and shrieked in surprise as James suddenly whirled him around, holding him snugly by the waist and dipping him low before bringing him back up in a tight embrace, laughing delightedly at his flustered state. Applemint-cool breaths tickling Jett’s mouth, James cupped his face and leaned in for a happily-ever-after kiss, but Jett interrupted it with a generous pinch of James’ cheek, making his boyfriend cry out in indignant protest as he profusely rubbed at his throbbing face, now red as cherry tomatoes (but minus the smacking application of said fruit this time around).

“Don’t think I’ve fully forgiven you, Diamond boy—you’re not gonna get away with your crimes that easy!”

“What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“Well, I think I have a few good ideas.” Jett grinned toothily, ocean eyes crashing with the familiar tidal wave of mischievousness James had come to both dread and look forward to. With the amazing Jett Stetson, it was always going to be a surprise, but he knew James wouldn’t have the light and luuurve of his life any other way. “But first, we should probably get that rotten smell off you with a nice long bubbly bubble bath, then I’ll whip up a super special, three-course, hopefully sewer disease-free dinner for deux, and then you could show me how just much you’re mine, babe.”

With their scores and plans finally settled up, Jett softly kissed James and gave his flushed cheeks one last fond pinch before intertwining their hands to drag him all the way back to the Palm Woods, their haul of battered grocery bags threatening to fall apart again, their coupled cicely smiles gleaming bright and sweet in the throes of a languid weekend afternoon. So maybe the grocery trip didn’t exactly go as Jett had planned, but it didn’t really matter anyway.

Going home was with James Diamond was always the best part of everything.

❝ so when i go, f♡♡k those stupid girls that don’t mind their business hope you know you’re the only one ‘cause i’d sleep on your sidewalk ; ❞

[kareofbears]

margin of error

Sophia knows a lot, but that does not mean she understands much of anything at all.

Or, Sophia struggles to grasp why Akira and Ryuji don't follow her predictive algorithm.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Sophia knows a lot.

She can tell you almost anything in the known world in an instant. Calculate the radius of the sun. Who won Best Picture three years ago. The outfit to wear when you need to 'dress to impress.' Just yesterday, she was able to find them a bath, a takoyaki restaurant, and an overnight camping site within 0.3 milliseconds. That’s not very many seconds.

Sophia knows a lot, but that does not mean she understands much of anything at all.

She’s quiet while she’s propped on the phone stand, watching the rest of them lounge in the RV. There’s a shape to the interior that wasn’t there before—where it had been pristine when they had first gotten it, now it’s littered with crumbs and instant-food packaging despite Makoto’s half-hearted attempts at scolding them for it. Empty surfaces are filled with knick-knacks, stuffies and a plastic ramen bowl rattling gently along with the RV.

There’s a rare lull amongst them, a moment of quiet. Most of them were napping away the road, gently snoring and bodies jostling whenever a pothole hits, oblivious to the scenery that passes by. Only the soft tunes of pop music from the front and the hum of the engine broke the quiet.

Other than Makoto, there were only two people awake: Akira, scribbling in his journal, and Ryuji, watching him do it. They sat across from each other in the booth, with Ryuji’s chin propped against his hand.

Probability and pinpoint accuracy is what she excels at, and being able to apply them to her friends excites her. Not to mention, she hasn’t been wrong yet.

Idly, she runs the numbers—according to the data she’s collected from spending time with them, the silence will be broken by Ryuji within approximately two minutes. Pulling up a time from within Akira’s phone, she waits eagerly.

A minute passes, and then another. And another. Akira is still scribbling in his neat penmanship and Ryuji is still watching him doing it, unspeaking.

Frowning, she double-checks her calculations. No errors that she can see. It seems that he simply does not want to speak. This is surprising, and very unlike him. He is not usually this quiet. In the Metaverse, he is by far the loudest of them; calling on his Persona’s name can often leave her own ears ringing.

The real world does not stray from that data. His voice is clear in crowded areas, helpful in guiding their big group throughout bustling cities. He is often shushed by the girls when they are trying to sleep at night—Futaba even goes as far as to kick the ceiling from her bunk bed.

The data is strong and sure. There should not be a reason that she should be wrong in this assumption unless there’s a confounding variable that she had missed.

Akira looks up and catches his eye. “Am I boring you?” he asks quietly.

Ryuji shakes his head, grinning. “Couldn’t be happier,” he whispers back.

Sophia’s about to ask when Makoto cuts her off.

“Wake up everyone. We’re here.”

—

“Okay,” Akira calls. His voice isn’t raised, despite the crowded street of downtown Sendai, but they all straighten up. “We’re probably not going to spend too much time here, especially once we take over the Jail. Grab what you need now—snacks for the trip. Shopping. Souvenirs. Frozen pineapple. Any questions?” Yusuke raises his hand. “Yes, I’ll pay for you.” The hand falls back down, relieved.

“Cool. How about we meet back here…” he squints at the large clock hanging on the wall, hand blocking out the blaring sun. “In an hour?”

A chorus of agreements rolls through them as they rush out, excited to explore a new city. “Good speech,” Sophia pipes up from his hand. “Do you do them often?”

“I try not to,” he yawns. His thick black hair is even more unruly than usual, glasses barely hiding the light blue that’s beginning to form underneath his eyes. “Most of the time, they can handle themselves fine. All they need is a schedule and some rules to work with.”

When she doesn’t answer, Akira brings his phone up. “What? Did I say something?”

“It’s because she’s worried about you, you moron,” a disgruntled voice says.

Akira’s gaze flickers towards it. “You’re still here?”

“Of course I am,” Ryuji says. “You really think I’d leave without saying goodbye? Glad I didn’t either, cause you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Still pretty, though. No worries about that part.” He shoves his hand deep in his pocket, stray yen clinking against each other as he rummages. After a moment, he throws something at Akira. “Catch.”

He plucks it out from the air with ease. “Car keys?” he asks, surprised.

“Grabbed them from Makoto before she ran off for stationery shopping.” Ryuji reaches forward, gently turning Akira’s head this way and that, frowning. “I told you to quit staying up so late. You’re exhausted.”

“I am not.”

“He is,” Sophia refutes. “Last night, he had approximately four hours of sleep, with only four minutes of that being REM sleep.”

“I told you. She’s even bringing up computer stuff now.”

“I think you are thinking about RAM, Ryuji.”

“Whatever,” he shakes his head. “Look, just head to the RV, get some shut-eye. You can finally sleep in a proper bed that isn’t an overheating tent with three sweaty dudes and a cat. Oh, and trade phones with me.”

He hands it over without hesitation, sliding Ryuji’s phone into his own pocket. “Why?”

“You have the grocery list in here, yeah? Not to mention, I don’t want Sophia getting bored while you nap it up.” He looks down at her. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi!”

Akira still doesn’t seem convinced. “But I promised Yusuke—”

“Who’s with Ann now, shopping like they’d die if they didn’t get the perfect skirt to fit her next shoot,” he says, uncompromising. “Chill. It’s fine. We’ll survive an hour without Joker keeping an eye on us.”

They stare each other down for a long moment with Sophia watching. She does not need to run the numbers on this one; Akira will not allow himself to go back to the RV.

To her surprise, he relents. “Twenty minutes.”

Ryuji scoffs. “We’ll see about that. You suck at waking up.”

“Shut up.” And then, quieter, “Thank you.”

“You know I got your back.”

He yawns once more, slowly walking back to their car. “Sophia, please make sure that when he gets the Pocky to get the strawberry one. Futaba won’t eat anything else. And also that Haru wanted doilies to make the place look nicer. White, if you can find them.”

“Roger that,” she replies, distracted. How is she wrong again? This is troubling.

“My hoodie’s in my bag if you get cold!” Ryuji calls out. Akira throws him a thumbs up without looking back. “Jeez, that guy. He’s gonna run himself to the ground before he’s thirty, I swear. Like some geezer with a bad back but with really good hairline or something.”

An old man with a thick head of hair shoots him a glare as he passes by them. Ryuji laughs, high-pitched. “Yikes, that was awkward. Let’s get out of here, we need to hit up the grocery store before they run out of carrots.”

Sophia doesn’t answer, too deep in her thoughts and running endless calculations.

—

It’s impossible for her to get a headache, but her code is trying its best to give her one.

Two mistakes now. That isn’t allowed to happen. She’s lucky that they were both relatively small errors, but it can easily become a bigger problem. What can she do?

Luckily, that had a very simple answer.

“Ryuji?”

“Hmm?” He peels his eyes away from scrutinizing the oranges in his hands, the wires from his earphones swaying when he does. After one too many strange looks when he talks to nothing, it was just better to act like he was on a phone call. “Yeah?”

“I have a question.”

“What am I, a teacher?” he snorts. “If you got a question, go ahead. Friends can do that.”

That’s right. They’re friends, and friends have trust in one another. Sophia jotted that down as lesson number forty-eight, thirteen days ago.

“Okay,” she says. Questions float around her, and she picks the one that’s giving her the most stress. “If I was not as useful as you think I am, would we still remain friends?”

The orange tumbles out of his grip, and he rushes to catch it before it hits the ground. “Wha—!” he stutters out. “Duh! Obviously! What the—where the hell did that come from? Did we do something to think that we’d just ditch you like that?” he lifts the phone so that she was eye-level with him. “Be honest,” he says seriously, quickly. “Did I say something to hurt your feelings? I do that sometimes, and I’m working on it, and I know that’s no excuse—”

“You did not say anything to hurt my feelings,” she says before he spirals even further. “In fact, I do not have feelings for you to hurt.”

Relief blooms on his expression, and he sags his body against the fruit display. “Okay, good. Good. Thought I was gonna get a heart attack. I’d be pissed at myself if I did, and I just know Akira would give me so much shit.” He sighs, ridding himself of panic before giving him her full attention. “So what’s up?

“Sir…” an employee shuffles towards them, hands shaking knees knocking against each other. He is afraid, she notes, but of what? “I’m sorry, but it’s against store policy to lean on the product. Please try to understand.”

“Oh, shoot!” Ryuji exclaims, straightening up. “Sorry, man. I didn’t even realize. I think I squished an orange, but I’ll buy it so your boss doesn’t give you hell for that one.”

The employee blinks. “You would?” he says, shocked. “That would be great, actually. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves it off. Tugging the shopping cart, he places Sophia where they’d normally put babies. “Hope he doesn’t get in trouble. I feel kinda bad.”

She thinks for a moment. “Ryuji, why was that man afraid?”

Swiftly, red rushes to his cheeks. “That obvious? Aw, man.”

“I don’t know if it was obvious, but all the signs were there,” she says, watching as he ducks his head, embarrassed. “What is happening? I do not understand.”

“It’s just—” his eyes shift sideways, meeting the eye of a young girl. Immediately, she directs her gaze downwards. “I look really scary to people.”

“You do?” It isn’t in her program to doubt, but she is rather skeptical. During the entire trip, he has been nothing but kind to her. Yes, there are times when he has arguments with others in the group, but more often than not it’s him that’s being teased rather than the other way around. “Why? You aren’t even that tall.”

“Ouch?”

“I’m just saying that you are not scary to me, so I don’t really understand why other people would be.”

He sighs, picking up a box of miso unseeingly. “It’s a combination of a lot of things. My hair’s bleached, and people usually see that as like, punk or whatever. My posture sucks and my voice is loud.” Shrugging, he throws it in the cart. “It doesn’t really bug me though. At least that means strangers usually don’t bother the group, cause they think I’ll kick their ass.”

“And would you?” Sophia crosses off miso. Only bandages are left on the list, but the cart is filled with snacks, sodas, and a small cactus. “‘Kick their ass?’”

“No way. If I did, my mom would kick my ass, and I can’t pull that shit twice in a lifetime.” Pushing the cart, they slowly meander through the aisles, occasionally looking at what’s on sale. Ryuji tosses in rainbow marshmallows, and after a moment, reluctantly puts it back.

“But you know,” he says eventually. “If someone was bothering the group, it’s not as if I’d just let it happen.”

She considers his answer. “You are tough,” she concludes. “But not scary.”

“Uh, yes,” he says, unsure. And then, with more conviction, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Got it. ‘Ryuji is tough, but other people are terrified of him.’ I will make a note of that.” He looks like he wants to say something, but she keeps going. “Synonyms for ‘tough’: robust, stalwart, and strong. Would you say that’s accurate?”

He laughs, disbelieving. “No idea what the first two meant, but the third one isn’t right.”

“Why not? You can fight Shadows. Your muscle ratio is high. One time, when Futaba couldn’t unscrew her water bottle, you did it with no problem.”

“Because, Sophia,” Ryuji picks up gummy worms, and turns to her with pleading eyes. When she shakes her head, he puts it back on the shelf with a grimace. “Strength isn’t always about muscles and who can kill what. It’s more than that.”

It seems as though he doesn’t want to speak about this anymore, but the topic is too interesting to stop here. “Explain, please.”

“It’s...it’s like mental strength,” he says begrudgingly. “Like if someone failed an exam they studied real hard for, mental strength would help them get through a tough situation like that. Like Akira.”

“Akira has high mental strength?”

“Oh, the highest out of all of us without a doubt. The world could explode and he’d be all—” Ryuji lowers his voice by an octave. “‘Here’s what we can do,’ and then fix it somehow. That’s just the kind of guy he is. All plans and no fear.”

All plans and no fear is a good way of describing Joker. “And you aren’t like that?”

“No way. Have you ever seen me have a plan in my life? I’m more of an ‘act before I can talk myself out of it’ person. Usually works out fine in the end. Besides, he does it enough for the both of us.” His eyes light up. “Do you think if I get the panda bandages, it would work better in the Metaverse? Cause of the brain stuff?”

“I think so, as long as it makes people think it works better.”

“Great.” Ryuji tosses it in with the rest. “And I think we got everything! Let’s head out. If we’re lucky, we can grab some ice cream before we meet up with the rest of them.”

“Good job! But you may want to consider removing the orange soda. Makoto is already unhappy with how much junk food you are always eating.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the cactus though.”

It was only when they’re all sleeping back in the RV when she realizes that she never got to ask him her actual question. Actually, she ended up with even more questions than when she began.

Maybe she’ll have better luck asking Akira instead.

—

They, or rather Akira, have their knees buried in a patch of grass in the middle of Sapporo with a small pile of four-leaf clovers by his ankles when she decides it would be appropriate to ask him.

“Akira, can I ask—” she pauses, and tries again. “I have a question.”

His face is so close to the ground that even the dirt would realize that his glasses don’t have prescription, and people are shooting him worried looks that he completely ignores. “Shoot.”

“Actually, I have many questions, and I’m hoping you’ll answer all of them as honestly as you can in order to have the most accurate data possible.”

“Research?”

More often than not, Akira has been giving her information about the world that she does not have access to. Slang terms that Futaba yells out in frustration, Ann’s tendency to jump from one topic to the next with little regard to who she’s talking to. It’s all confusing to Sophia, so she makes sure to memorize all of these instances and bring it to him for clarification.

“Sort of,” she says. “Some of my predictions have been off lately, and I am trying to figure out why.”

“Sure. Oh, another one.” Gently, he plucks it from the soil and gently places it with the others. “For Haru. Apparently, she’s really struggling with economics, so hopefully this helps her out next semester.”

“How many more?”

“Four,” he replies. “Yusuke, Sojiro, Akane, and Ryuji.”

She frowns. “Ryuji already has one.”

“He’s going to need more than one.” Akira turns to her, distressed. “Entrance exams are coming up.”

“Oh.”

“Yup,” he turns back to his task. “Anyway, you had a question?”

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat: a sign of taking a more serious tone. “Why are you scared of Ryuji?”

Akira freezes. Sophia waits patiently. But after a moment, then two, then five, there is still no reaction from him. And then slowly, he faces her with a blank expression.

She has not known Kurusu Akira for very long—only a few weeks in fact. But in that time, she feels that she has come to learn a lot about him. For instance, he does not like pears. He also finds grocery shopping relaxing, and he would die for his friends. Another thing she has learned from him is that he is very quiet; even in the Metaverse, amidst the explosions and gunshots, he does not yell. It is not as if he has nothing to say, but rather he would rather express himself through gestures and the odd comment here and there. He is much happier to let the people around him carry the conversation for him.

Shock racks through her as he bursts out laughing. His shoulders move up and down as laughs pour out of him uncontrollably. “What—?” he tries, pushing his glasses atop his head. It’s almost hidden amongst his thick, black locks. “Did you seriously ask if I was afraid of Ryuji? Sakamoto Ryuji? Blond guy, helps out in the Metaverse? My best friend?”

“Um.” This was not what she was expecting, despite having no expectations to begin with. “Yes.”

He sighs, content. “I really have to thank you, Sophia.” Akira brings his glasses back to his nose, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “That was really good. Haven’t laughed that hard since Yusuke thought Italy was near Mexico.”

She tilts her head sideways. “I was not joking.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He sits up, crossing his legs over each other, giving her his full attention. “Tell me why you thought I was scared of him.” Even as he’s sobered up, he can’t quite finish the sentence without smiling.

“My predictions have been off lately,” she says, a wrinkle between her brows. “This is normal—predictions by their nature cannot always be right. However, I’ve noticed that they’re incorrect more often lately. I ran the data, and these errors are related to two things:” Sophia brings her hand to the screen so that he can see properly. “You and him, as a unit. Individually, there doesn’t seem to be any errors. It is specifically when you are being measured together that creates mistakes. My prognosis on everyone else in the group creates more stable and accurate results.”

Sophia twists her hair in her hands. “The only reason it would be wrong is because of a confounding variable. Maybe there’s something between the two of you that others do not have. So I thought that answer—”

“Was fear,” he finishes. There’s an odd tone in his voice that she doesn’t comprehend. His gray eyes, sharp but never unkind. “I see where you’re coming from. But, and I can swear on this fact—it isn’t fear. I am not, nor will I ever be, afraid of him.”

She deflates. Wrong again. “And he’s not afraid of you?” she asks, out of desperation than anything.

Akira thinks for a moment. “Do you remember when I was cooking, and Ryuji went in to smell the broth, and knocked the whole thing over and onto my suitcase?” She nods. She had taken many pictures of that moment. “He felt really guilty, but he wasn’t scared of my reaction. He was more scared that he had ruined my stuff. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do.”

He bops the top of his phone a few times, an odd resemblance of patting her head. “Cool.”

Sophia stares at the road past their garden of clovers. Cars speed forward, too quick for her to focus on what the driver looks like. It’s hot today, but she doesn’t feel it. She runs her data one more time. “Akira, do you love Ryuji?”

His hands do not pause. “I love all my friends,” he answers simply.

—

At the end of the day, it does not matter if her attempts at predicting the future are fruitless. If she is in fact humanity’s companion, her code makes sure of one thing above all else: to help humanity with any of their endeavors.

That’s a tall order, especially when there are 7,874,965,825 humans within that humanity at this moment. Sophia is only one being, and realism is etched into her. To make things simple, she gave herself a domain of discourse. A sample size. Narrowing what she can do, and who she can help. The entirety of humanity then, at least in Sophia’s mind, falls under the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Sapporo is freezing. Frosty. Crisp. Chilly.

“Fucking cold!” Ryuji shivers, jogging around them in an effort to get warm. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.”

“Even with the space heaters on, it seems that the winter isn’t interested in going anywhere,” Makoto says. She’s standing uncomfortably close to Ann, trying to leech off of her inherent heat. Actually, she wasn’t the only one—Haru is also inching her way to her. “It should probably get better once we start moving. Good thing we won’t be here long.”

Yusuke nods, unperturbed. “Yes, this should be a quick run. We’re just here to collect a desire gone astray, yes?” It seems that the ice does little to bother him. “Oracle, can you find its location?” No response. “Oracle?”

He glances to the ground, sighing when he finds her on the ground, eyes closed and breathing deeply. “Wake up,” he says, nudging her with his boot. When she doesn’t move, Yusuke throws an exasperated look at Akira.

Reluctantly, he nods. “Yeah, yeah, I got her,” he says, summoning Queen Mab. Instantly, the temperature seems to rise, just a little bit. Scooping her up, Akira shakes her roughly like a particularly malicious sack of flour. “Wake up, your space heater’s here.”

“This may be a quick run,” Haru says. “But it doesn’t mean we should take this any less seriously. Someone’s desire got lost on its way back, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, that sounds—Mona, get off my leg—about right.” Ann squints her eyes along the horizon. “It’s far, right? If we start moving now, we can probably work off the frost on our skin.”

“Yeah, it’s about…” Futaba yawns as Akira sets her on her feet. “Twenty-minute walk? Ten-minute run, but unless you want me slipping and turning the ice red, we’re gonna want to slow down.”

Akira touches his mask. “Agi.” A wave of heat rushes over them, and she sighs, grateful for the respite. “Hopefully that helped a little. But it won’t last long, and we shouldn’t waste energy warming up. Quick recap—someone lost their desire, we’re here to make sure it gets back. Our top priority is getting that desire back as quick as possible. Questions?”

Sophia raises her hand.

“Yup?”

“Did you say top priority?”

“Yes, I did say top priority.”

“Understood!” she chirps, making a note in her head. It was hard to concentrate when she felt like her insides were freezing up.

Another hand shoots up.

“Noir?”

“I don’t have a question. I just think you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“Thank you, Noir. Always a pleasure.” He looks around, nodding. “Alright. If that’s it, then let’s do this thing.”

They all move ahead, wary of their footing. Sophia frowns as she scuttles forward, scared of being left behind. There is no room for error here. If she feels that she is not useful in the real world, then she can at least utilize her talents here. And the first step to doing that is to make sure she is doing two things:

1) Not slow

2) Won’t trip

After a while, she looks up and feels her eyes bulge. How did they get so far already? Sophia can hardly see them anymore, especially with the slight fog that’s beginning to emerge. She has to get there faster.

Failed step number one already. For once, she’s glad she wasn’t hardcoded with emotions, or else humiliation would be overwhelming. Quickening her pace, she’s determined to do this correctly. One foot, then the next. One foot, then the next. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left—

She slips.

With a gasp, she moves to twist her body so that it wasn’t her head that would take the impact, and closes her eyes shut.

Just before she slams into the ice, arms grab her torso, swinging her forward. “Whoa there, shorty!”

Ryuji uses the momentum to swing her onto his back, and she latches around her neck, bewildered. “You okay? Almost got knocked out before any Shadow got to us.”

“Yes,” she replies, breathless. “Thank you for saving me. That would have been bad.”

“No prob!” he marches onward as if he wasn’t carrying an entire human being on his back while treading through sleet.

“...You can settle me down if you’d like.”

“I would not like.” He grins, boots finding matte ice with ease. “I kinda love carrying you like this. Not like I can do this in the real world, can I? ‘Sides, Futaba would chew my head off if I tried it with her.”

“Have you?”

“Maybe.”

She laughs as they finally reconvene with the rest of them. When Akira turns to them, his expression softens with relief. “All good?”

“All good,” Ryuji says. “Nothing Sophie and I can’t handle.” He raises his fist at her, and she bumps it enthusiastically. Lesson twenty-three: never refuse a fist-bump. It’s one of her favorites.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop!” Futaba calls out from beside Ann, arms were linked as if they were strolling through a park, and not a Shadow-infested land. “I said stop!”

“We heard you the first time!” Morgana yowls. “Are we here?”

“We’re close. Kinda weird though.” She smacks the side of her goggles a few times impatiently. “Nothing’s showing up.”

“Lucky!” Ann whoops. “Let’s get this over with and get some gelato!”

Rounding the corner of an empty street, Yusuke points forward to a glowing heart, beating in time to its pulsing light. “That’s it, I take it?”

“I can get it.” Sophia pats Ryuji’s shoulder, and he lets her down. “That way, we can finish this as soon as possible.”

She runs forward, eager.

“Wait—!” Futaba cries out from behind her. “We’re getting ambushed!”

As she says it, footsteps surround them, the clanging of weapons and the grunts of Shadows appearing out of nowhere. She starts to run faster, terrified of slipping but pushes on anyway. She can do this.

“Shit,” Akira hisses. “Sophie, come back here!”

Sophia ignores him, the Desire almost in her reach when she feels it. A cold breeze, impossibly colder than the temperature before, almost seems to pierce through her skin. She did not need to turn around to know what it was—every cell in her body is screaming it for her.

A curse. A strong one that would have no problem wiping her out like fly on the RV’s windshield wiper.

Would she at least be able to save the Desire? Even if she ceases to exist? Would it be worth it then? It should be, since this is what she was made for.

Something solid shoves her from behind, and she gives out a yell before hitting the ground, hard.

“What…?” she mutters, disoriented. Somehow, she isn’t dead, or even near death. Shaking her head, she grasps for the Desire in front of her before turning around.

Instantly, her heart stops. The Desire in her hand continues to pulse steadily as she stares down at Ryuji, collapsed on the ground.

“Skull?” she whispers. Leaning down, she can still hear his breathing, though it’s faint. Her hand reaches out, before she remembers. Top priority. The Desire needs to get to Joker first.

The ground begins to rumble, and Sophia looks up in time to see an arch of glowing white explode. Every Shadow is eviscerated, their ashes scattering violently at the aftershock of wind that follows from the impact. Concrete cracks, snow blows away. Without a doubt, it’s an attack from a Persona user, but she has no idea who it came from.

As the dust settles, stray bits of ice falling from the sky like hail, Akira shoots out from the fog. He’s moving faster than she’s ever seen him, and there’s a desperation to his movements that throws her off-guard. Maybe he didn’t see yet? Sophia steps forward.

“Joker!” she calls out when he gets closer, thrusting her hand forward. “I got the Desire!”

He rushes past her without a blink.

Akira skids to his knees. “Ryuji!” When there’s no answer, he pulls Ryuji to his knees, resting his head on his lap. Akira presses his fingers against the pulse on his neck, concentrating intensely. Then he grits his teeth. “I can work with this.”

More footsteps. Familiar ones. “Dammit, Joker!” Morgana says. “You can’t just throw around attacks like that, especially with such weak enemies. You know how draining that spell is.”

He ignores him. Akira removes Ryuji’s mask with great care, setting it aside, before touching his own. “Aid me, Sarasvati.”

“Joker?” she tries.

A floating woman donned in green with a delicate instrument in her long fingertips appeared from the fibers of his mask, her expression kind and tender.

“Joker.”

Healing power flows through his hands, so potent that it glows green. Sweat pours from his brow, and his wrist begins to tremble with effort.

“Joker!”

“What, Sophie?” he rounds on her, gray eyes intense.

“I got the Desire!” she announces triumphantly.

A beat passes. And then another. It was as if there was never even a deafening battle not one minute prior.

When Akira finally speaks, his voice is low. “Panther, take Sophie away please.”

Her breathing stops. She could not inhale the air even if it was demanded of her. Akira turns back to Ryuji, but Sophia’s eyes stuck to him—like she was hypnotized, cemented to the back of his head, unable to look away. Every inch of her body is numb, but none of it has anything to do with the cold.

Ann gently takes her hand, hot as iron against hers, and takes the Desire in the other. “Come on, Soph. Let’s go for a walk, huh?”

She lets herself be led away, blank and unseeing, a part of her staying wishing to stay behind to...what? She didn’t know. There’s so much she doesn’t know.

They keep walking, rounding street corners, quietly passing underneath frozen lamp posts. Sophia wasn’t sure where they were going, but she didn’t bother to ask. Eventually, they duck underneath a railing, Ann covering her head to make sure she doesn’t accidentally bang her skull against the metal. When they straight up, she blinks.

“A heater?”

“Yeah,” Ann sighs, flopping down on a toppled column as if it were a sofa. “I figured if we were going to talk, you might as well stop shivering during that time.” At her words, Sophia realizes how hard she was shaking. Ann pats the spot beside her. “Sit. Nothing a little girl talk can’t fix.” She does.

At her silence, Ann hums. “Cold, isn’t it? You guys haven’t stopped complaining since we got here. I’m super lucky that Carmen’s here to help me. Warms me up even better than this heater, if you can imagine that. Completely different from the real world, where we feel like we’re going to burst into flames any second.” She yawns. “But god, there’s no one in all of Japan that can run his mouth about the weather like Ryuji.” Sophia clenches her fist, but she keeps going, speaking almost wistfully. “I mean, he’s just so loud, you know? Like, how many times have we driven by cows on this trip, and he’d literally wake us all up just to show us? Not to mention, he eats up all the food and snores like crazy. God, one time I invited everyone over at my place, and he just slept in my bed when he got tired! Who does that?”

Ann sighs. “But man, I’ve never met someone more devoted to his friends than him. Sometimes, he’d even give ‘Kira a run for his money, the way he’d just drop everything and run to where trouble is. Day or night, that idiot would show up on your doorstep the minute you shoot him a text, wearing the most ridiculous pajamas you’ve ever seen,” she scoffs. “He started the Thieves with Akira, you know? All gung ho about justice and stuff, you should’ve seen it. And he had the spine to back it up, too.” She smiles, just a little. “Don’t tell him, but I think he’s really, really cool.”

A drop of water hits Sophia’s wrist. And another. And another, until her vision blurs and her chest is heaving. “I just—” she sobs without restraint. “I was just trying to help. I just want to be useful and do what I was made to do, and Akira said from before that this—this was the top priority, and I even made sure, so I asked, but when I finally got the Desire and I was so sure that I’d finally done something right...” the image of Akira’s cold gaze makes her flinch, hard. “He’s just so mad at me, Ann. And Ryuji—” she chokes on his name like a curse, her tongue tumbling over it as if it were getting caught in a lie. “He protected me from before, but he said he was tough, so I thought it was okay since the Desire was the top priority but he got hurt because of me.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling, or why I’m crying, or why you’re being so nice to me even though I know I did something bad! I just—” Sophia buries her face in her hands, muffling her scream. “I just don’t understand anything!”

Warm hands rub her back. “I know,” Ann says quietly. “You’re trying your best. We all get that, and we all think you’re doing an A-plus job.” She pauses. “Sophia, Ryuji didn’t take the hit for you because he was thinking about the Desire. He did it because he didn’t want to see you hurt.”

That makes Sophia peek up. “But that was the top priority, wasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, but that wasn’t his heart’s top priority.” Ann pokes her temple. “That whole logic and calculation thing you have going on is good and stuff, but the thing about the human heart is that you can’t always choose why you do things, or how you react in certain situations. I bet you anything that he totally forgot that we were even looking for this thing when he pushed you,” she waves the beating heart in her hand, still glowing. “And that’s also why Akira got a little mad at you from before.”

She deflates. “He hates me,” she mumbles, feeling her insides churn uncomfortably.

“That boy doesn’t have the time in his schedule to hate anyone,” Ann reassures her. “He’s just...really, really terrified.”

“But why?” Sophia’s starting to despise that word. “He already knew that he was okay. Why would he still be worried?”

Ann looks up, thinking. “You really love and care about Ryuji, right?”

Love was still a foreign concept to her, but for once the answer came forth with ease. “Yes.”

“Take that feeling, that dense, little ball of love and adoration in your tiny body, and multiply that by about eighteen million. That’s probably about the range of what Akira feels about him.”

She quickly runs the numbers. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. Kinda scary, huh?”

It is scary. With numbers this high, she can only begin to imagine what it felt like for Akira to think that he might be seriously hurt, or even worse, dead. All because of Sophia.

“Hey now, I know that look!” Ann flicks her forehead. “I don’t want you to get all mopey about this. You said it yourself—he’s a tough guy. The toughest there is, but don’t tell him that. It’ll go straight to his empty head.”

She stands with exuberance, stretching. “Alright, I think we’re about done here. How we feeling? You ready to go back?”

No. Her heart speeds up at the thought of going back, her shoulders tensing in on itself, but somehow it would be worse to stay here. “I’m ready.”

“That’s what we like to hear!” Ann cheers. “No chickening out now, okay? You can do this.”

“I can do this.” Sophia repeats, and then, louder: “I can do this!

“Yay! And Sophie?” she looks up in time to see Ann giving her a warm look. “Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean we love you any less. You are allowed to be confused and make mistakes. Do you understand that?”

Sophia smiles wide. “I understand.”

—

They were a block away from the rest of the group when Akira emerged from the fog. With his black attire and dark hair, he could have looked like a picturesque horror movie figure, but somehow his expression ruined that facade the moment she saw it.

“I’m going on ahead,” Ann says when Sophia stops in front of him. “Someone has to make sure Futaba doesn’t sleep on us again.”

“Thanks,” he answers. Then, to Sophia, “Hi.”

“Hi, Joker.” She’s been practicing her speech the entire way back, her points all lined up in her mind, all leading up to the big apology. “I—”

“Pause,” he cuts in, and she shrinks. Is he still mad? She can’t read his expression. He kneels in front of her, squinting, and it suddenly shifts to horror. “Did...did you cry? Did I make you cry?”

“No,” she says quickly, but he doesn’t believe her for even a minute. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Oh god, no, please don’t apologize. Shit,” he rubs the back of his neck, sighing. It’s guilt, she realizes with a shock. “I’m such an asshole. I can’t believe I let myself lash out like that. A thousand apologies won’t even be enough. I was scared out of my mind, but that doesn’t mean I can just treat you like that. I even sent you away, like you’re some sort of kid,” he winces. “I’m really sorry. Can you forgive me?”

She stares at him. “I was supposed to say that stuff.”

He looks taken aback by her words. “No? How could you have known that we would have been ambushed? Ugh, I’m so dumb. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” Akira sends her a pointed look. “Though, you really shouldn’t split off from the group next time. Top priority means important, but above all else is your safety. Put that in your code.”

“I will,” she promises.

“Good. And the second priority is—” he reaches forward and engulfs her in a tight hug. “Is that you won’t ever, ever think that I’d hate you.”

She frowns. “How did you know?”

“A hunch.” Beat. “Also, Ann gave me a look.” He pulls back. “Are we still friends?”

Relief washes into her, crashing like a wave. “Of course,” she says, before hesitating. “Is…?”

“Yeah, he is.” Akira rolls his eyes, but there is no hiding the grin that takes over him. “A little too good, actually. He hasn’t stopped running around since I poured some energy back into him. I kind of think I overdid it, actually. Oh, and he’s excited to see you again.”

“He is?” she asks, hopeful.

“Absolutely. Asked about you the minute he came to.” Akira gets to his feet. “Shall we say hi?”

“Please.”

As they walk back, an epiphany takes over her. “Oh!” she exclaims, making Akira jump. “I get it now.”

“What’s up?”

“You love Ryuji.”

“That’s right,” he raises a brow.

She shakes her head. “You love Ryuji,” she insists. Even accounting for a margin of error, there’s simply no mistaking her results.

Akira stares at her for a long moment, before huffing out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says softly.

The moment Ryuji sees her, she sprints, throwing caution to the wind as she leaps into his arms. He catches her without hesitation. “Glad to see you’re safe, shorty.”

Sophia knows a lot of things, but there’s also a lot she doesn’t understand. But that’s fine. She’ll get there, and her friends will be waiting for her when she does.