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yuuri-nsane · 3 years

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Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: nothing, apart from swears, mild dirty jokes and recurring mentions of nudity? BAHAH IM SORRY I PROMISE THERES NOTHING GRAPHIC THO TOTALLY SFW

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more than to spoil his lovely poodle, Vicchan, and if that meant playing a game of Truth or Dare in a broken elevator to attain the likes of a beautifully pink chew toy, he was game.

[Inspired by a little rough imagine I posted a while ago]

a/n: honestly dont even ask me how this happened, happy holidays!! i wish you all a very merry chrysler, and if you dont celebrate, a very happy december!

oh and dont forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! dont hesitate to tell me what you think of my work, and also! please please ple e a a s e tell me if you see any spelling mistake or grammatical errors! THANK YOUUU!

also please note that this will be posted to my ao3 account: @yuuri_nsane

---

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

He thinks back to the start of the day, wondering how exactly he'd wound up sitting in a broken elevator, positioned in between the third and fourth floor, having just ended a dastardly game of Truth or Dare with quite an attractive man.

Said attractive man was not only attractive, but also very, very naked, save for the pair of patterned purple socks still clad on his feet. He also had the entirety of the Russian National Anthem scrawled on his left leg, as well as a black eye and terribly painted nails: a bright hot pink that shrieked against impossibly pale skin. Not to mention the taunting pastel dog toy he was now cuddling with.

Yeah, no. Yuuri was stuck in a predicament - one far too mortifying yet amusing for his own comprehension.

How in the ever-loving fuck had this happened?

---

Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

He loved his mom, fed his dog, never showed up late to work.

He was good at recycling - always remembering to separate the cardboard tube and plastic lid of the Pringles' can he'd eat out of during a late night binge.

He watered his plants religiously, and no, it didn't matter that one out of the four of them were fake. He loved all his plants equally, thank you very much.

He held the door open for people no matter how far away or close they were, and even when they did that awkward little jog, he made sure to give them a warm smile.

He cleaned after himself, not at all tolerating any bits of scrap paper or crumbs left as residue from a busy night of studying and stress eating, no matter how tired he was.

He even cleaned up after other people! Like, for example, when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, had eaten too much takeout and could barely move - Yuuri had offered to clean up for him. Phichit, with somewhat of a moral compass thanks to Yuuri, had protested at first; Yuuri had replied with a gentle 'tsk' and a 'go get some rest, you can make it up to me by doing the dishes tomorrow and the day after that'.

And so, to conclude, Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

So why, why exactly was he here, in the middle of a bustling mall at 2pm, so close to being trampled on in the midst of hectic shopping, staring down an unfairly good-looking stranger, both their hands having met in the middle - the middle being a cutesy dog toy, the last one in stock.

Yuuri had naively left his Christmas shopping till the very last minute, much like everyone else present in the store. He hadn’t intended to buy Vicchan another toy, Lord knows he had plenty more at home and that Yuuri’s bank account was suffering because of it. But it was Christmas, and if anything, his dog deserved the world.

One more as a little festive gift wouldn't hurt, and it certainly brought Yuuri a step closer to giving Vicchan ‘the world’.

And so, he needed this.

And he was not going to give up that easily, despite the fact that the universe decided to make his life just a little bit harder, since the opposition made Yuuri slightly more weaker in the knees than he'd like to admit.

He winced in the bright white lights of the shop, the Christmas music blaring and irritating, no longer as heart-warming as Yuuri had found it when he first entered. The excessive Christmas decorations made him cringe - it was as if one of Santa’s elves had puked all over the place.

"Why," the other man began, his voice oozing with honey, with charming remnants of an accent. His soothing verbal confrontation had caught Yuuri’s undivided attention. His hand was inching closer to the catalyst of this hassling event and Yuuri barely fought the urge to slap it away (or hold it tenderly), "I believe I saw this first."

Oh, heck no.

Yuuri scooted closer and desperately tried to ignore the blooming heat on his cheeks, "Actually, I think I did."

This did nothing to deter to the other man, who with his height, easily stood over Yuuri and glared ever so passive aggressively.

"Well, okay then! Since we can’t decide who gets the damn toy, why don't we settle this like men?"

The black haired male stared frozen in shock. He was not looking for a fight, no matter how eager he was to spoil his little poodle with all the gifts he warranted and more.

"Uh, I don't- um, I'm not looking for trouble!" Yuuri ranted swiftly, slowly pulling his hand away from the dog toy.

So close, yet so far.

It wasn't like he couldn't fend for himself, God knows he was stronger than most people with the avid workouts he did to prepare for dancing recitals.

(And let me tell you, Yuuri has never skipped leg day. Ever.)

But at the same time, he knew it would be less than ideal if the young man spent his Christmas holiday sporting a black eye or something similar.

In response to his quick exclamation, the silver haired male beside Yuuri also retracted his hand, a look of bafflement evident on his chiselled features.

"I-You..." he started, looking at Yuuri far too intensely than the other male was admittedly comfortable with.

A few seconds later, he burst out into laughter, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. He tilted his head back, arms grasping his middle.

He gasped for air, dramatically wiping a tear away, "You thought - you thought I wanted to fight for it! Like in some sort of - cliché romance where the two love interests fight for the main character's hand in marriage! Or something!" He babbled on, leaving Yuuri flustered and awfully ready to make a run for it.

In his fit of embarrassment, he raised voice, "Well, what the hell did you mean by 'settling this like men'! Of course I thought you wanted to get physical!"

Yuuri regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.

"Physical? Well, I'll have you know I have a bit more class than that. I'd take you out on a date first, if anything."

The shorter male sputtered angrily, his blush not at all dying down, but instead doing the opposite. He glared at the other man, cursing his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty voice.

And much to his luck, the blue-eyed villain pursued his words, snickering, “Not to mention here of all places! Quite the voyeur, are we?”

Yuuri was a Good Person™ - what the hell had he done to deserve this!

The taller male must've noticed Yuuri's increasing discomfort, and his teasing came to halt. He inclined his head in the direction of the damned chew toy and reiterated, "What I really meant was we could buy the toy and decide outside who gets to take it - like civilised human beings. You rest your case, I rest mine! Sound good?"

Yuuri pondered, before slowly nodding his head. It wsn’t like he had anything better to do, and he really wanted this dog toy. If only he knew the events that would follow soon after, he might’ve have ran fast and far before giving a real answer.

Fortunately, it seemed that both of them were just about finished with their shopping, the dog toy being last in each other's spontaneous list.

The light haired man took this as inclination to pluck the dog toy off the shelf, giving Yuuri a confirming look, and leading them both to the checkout.

They squeezed their way through the crowds; meandering, lifeless beings that swayed from aisle to aisle. Once they made it there, they payed for their own items separately, before splitting the money for the toy.

Afterwards, they made way to the elevator just two shops down, both agreeing to settle their dispute in the parking lot. They were on the top floor of the shopping centre, after all. Yuuri figured that the both of them would be more comfortable if they weren't surrounded by other people, who could very fairly judge them when arguing about the baby pink dog toy. Said baby pink dog toy had somehow found its way into Yuuri's grasp. If he wasn't such a good person maybe he'd have run away by now, pastel chew toy in hand. But damn it, he was, so he swallowed down the urge.

They stepped into the elevator, the shiny silver doors sliding apart before meeting in the centre. A sickening array of tinsel was hung to the upper corners, along with a few baubles hanging from them. Yuuri noticed the red ribbon twined in with the tinsel, and wanted to grimace at its tackiness.

The young dancer then turned to his companion, now realising how dangerous this situation actually was. Without thinking he blurted, "You're not a serial killer, are you?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Well no, but I wouldn't put it past myself to become one for the sake of that toy." He waved nonchalantly at Yuuri's hand, the chew toy dripping from his fingers.

Yuuri instinctively took a step back.

"Oh my God, I'm kidding!" The man chuckled, turning away and watching the numbers at the top of the elevator decrease gradually.

"So, uh, what do we do now?"

To this, the male looked back at Yuuri, and replied simply, "I come up with a sob story to convince you to give me the toy!"

Yuuri pursed his lips, unimpressed. He was tired but by God, was he so not above from entertaining the notion. "Okay, then. Go ahead. After you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

He was met with a smirk, a smirk far too devious for Yuuri's liking. Before the other man could attempt to pull at Yuuri’s heart strings, however, the room jarred and the two men in the elevator were sent tumbling to the ground.

"What just happened."

It came out more like a statement than a question, a robotic string of words that spewed from Yuuri's lips involuntarily.

"I think...I think the elevator just...broke down."

They stared at each other for a moment, and the next words came flying about - who said them exactly left a mystery.

"Oh, fuck."

---

They spent the first five minutes panicking, calling for help in such an inglorious manner that Yuuri was sure they'd both lose their voices. They spent the next few moments afterwards checking their phones, and resentfully realising that somehow, there was no reception. And that, of course, since the universe seemed to love good ol' Yuuri, that his phone was at a sad two percent.

His company's was no better, where his phone was at a fifteen, to which the taller man responded with a sheepish, 'I forgot to charge it last night too.'

They realised then that they had no choice but to wait until help miraculously found its way to them, and so they indulged in the waiting game.

The next hour or so consisted of the two bantering back and forth, 'sob stories' passed around like old folk's tales. They bickered and still, their argument over the dog toy was left unsettled, and Yuuri had to admit, it was kind of fun.

Time had whizzed past, and soon enough it was already 4:37pm. The other man spoke up suddenly, sat opposite Yuuri on the cold, hard ground of the elevator. His skin was painted in the gold of the old light that flickered above them, his blue eyes sparkling impressively. Yuuri wanted to look away, yet simultaneously couldn't find it in him to.

"I just realised that I don't know your name. And you don't know mine! Chances are, we'll be spending all night together," he wiggled his eyebrows. Yuuri choked in response, the other male continuing, "so let me introduce myself! Viktor Nikiforov!" He held out his arm out, humbly awaiting.

Yuuri clasped it gently, mumbling a near silent, "Yuuri Katsuki."

Viktor reacted with an all too cheery, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuuri!"

They held hands for almost a second too long, until Yuuri forced himself to pull away.

The two men once again decided to engage in such chatter, bordering small talk. They joked and teased, each finding out more and more about the other.

Yuuri now knew that Viktor Nikiforov was four years older than he was, a good twenty-six, and had a lovely little poodle he called Makkachin, or Makka for short. (He guessed that she was the reason for Viktor's desperate need for the dog toy.) He was Russian, and moved to the states just a few weeks before his nineteenth birthday. His favourite food was Borscht, a beef stew mixed with all sorts of vegetables, and that he almost burnt his kitchen down once upon a time trying to make it. And, to Yuuri's surprise, Viktor was a choreographer for all sorts of dances, his specialty being ballet and contemporary.

In response to this sudden spout of information, Yuuri had offered his own age and his dog's name and breed. He also told Viktor that his parents were from Japan, but moved to Detroit to start a hot springs. He explained too, that his favourite food was Katsudon, a pork cutlet rice bowl, and that his mother made the best of them.

Yuuri even mentioned his own career in dancing, to which Viktor had reacted to with an animated widening of his eyes and a contemplative 'really?'.

He also swears that Viktor had checked him out soon afterwards, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Soon enough, boredom got the best of the two, having spent the last three hours doing nothing but lounge around. Their phones were now completely out of battery (no, Yuuri didn't spend the last two percent playing Candy Crush-); they were hungry and unentertained, and it didn't take long for Viktor to begin whining.

Immediately, he shot up, forcing Yuuri into a frightened jolt.

"Sorry, sorry - I was just thinking, since I'm bored and you're bored, we should play Truth or Dare!"

Yuuri stared, "Really? Your first thought was child's play?"

"Aw, please! Yuuri, don't be like that! I'm literally dying of boredom-"

"Stop being so dramatic, Viktor."

Viktor ignored him, "-and you know what! We could settle this," he gestured rapidly to the dog toy, where it lay in between them, holy and seemingly unattainable.

Yuuri had never been more stupid to have asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we play Truth or Dare, and whoever forfeits first means that the other gets the toy! And bragging rights!"

He crawled over to Yuuri, too close for comfort, and drawled, "Pretty please?"

Yuuri, feeling scandalised and suddenly like a hormonal prepubescent teen, pressed himself up against the wall, looked away and squeaked a feeble, "Okay, fine!"

He felt regret seep into his soul for the umpteenth time that day.

---

He sighed.

Yuuri Katsuki was a good person.

He was a good person and he knew so much.

And so he wondered again, quite bitterly, why and how the planets had aligned in such a way to quite literally fuck him over in this elevator, where the most handsome man he'd ever seen was now lying in front of him, naked and quite the hot mess - a result of playing Truth or Dare.

Viktor, being the proud little shit he was, had chosen nothing but Dare - whether to egg Yuuri on or likewise.

Yuuri had wasted the pink nail polish he'd just bought for his sister Mari in response: his first dare being a cheap jab at the man's dignity. Though, it did little to do so, as Viktor painted his nails happily, albeit messily, and wore his paint job loud and proud.

After that, he had dared the man to write the Russian National Anthem on his leg with a black sharpie, one he’d conveniently carried around in his coat’s breast pocket. Viktor had done so entirely without complaint, going as far as to showcase his leg in a fucking split.

The dares that followed were mild, if not slightly concerning - Yuuri having dared Viktor to lick the floor, to pluck the hanging tinsel from the corners of the elevator and stuff it in his mouth, to try and do a handstand, to stand on one foot for two minutes and so on.

Watching Viktor, physical perfection on legs, trying to stuff a wad of sparking red tinsel down his throat was more amusing than Yuuri cared to say, and it came to show that the taller man was just as human as he was, despite his uncanny appearance to that of a greek god.

Although Yuri didn't even want to recall how Viktor had ended up wearing nothing but his socks, and even the nasty black eye now splotching across his fair skin.

He was more than happy to block that out from his memory.

Because of this, he’d stuck religiously to choosing Truth, not at all willing to risk whatever was left of his self-respect, in fear that Viktor would take no pity on him and get his revenge.

In fact, the worst question Viktor had asked him was,

"What's your biggest turn on?"

And Yuuri, being the sad, and easily embarrassed person that he was, had panicked and briskly declared, "Katsu...don?", his confidence soon blinking out like a candle flame halfway through saying so - it was evident in his statement all but becoming a gratifying question.

It was 6:29pm, and Yuuri's sure that help was on its way - for he could hear the bustling of what he assumed to be mall security outside the elevator. He wondered briefly, how worrying it would be for the two men to step out the elevator, one untouched, and the other looking as though they'd flushed themselves down the toilet. Repeatedly.

Yuuri kept his gaze away from Viktor and his...glory. He scowls, remembering how Viktor won the dog toy fair and square: Yuuri having refused to carry on playing after Viktor's little strip tease. Or whatever the hell it was.

He sighs another sad sigh, shaking his head and wishing for oblivion.

---

It was 7:01pm, when the elevator doors were finally opened. Yuuri and Viktor were helped up, blankets wrapped securely around the both of them - specifically Viktor, for obvious reasons.

Security were nothing short of polite but it was safe to say that when they managed to open the elevator doors, the last thing they were expecting was a 5'9" Russian man to come stumbling out, naked and, oh yes, naked.

They were ushered to a nearby bench on the fourth floor, surrounded by nearby onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves. The mall security had asked them politely to wait by, probably to offer some sort of compensation, Yuuri expected.

They sat in silence: hungry and tired - most definitely ready to go home, after a lovely evening spent stuck in the elevator for roughly five hours.

Viktor clutched at the dog toy and his blanket - his clothes and plastic shopping bag resting rumpled on his lap. Yuuri kept his head ducked down, listening pathetically to Mariah Carey and her silky singing echoing in the mall.

All I want for Christmas, Yuuri pondered spitefully: beyond mortified by the near nude man beside him and his demeaning loss when playing Truth or Dare, is to dig my own grave!

Suddenly, Viktor spoke up besides Yuuri.

"I was thinking-"

"No! Viktor, when you think, it ends badly!" Yuuri exclaimed, turning to point at Viktor's general being and the chew toy that he held loosely, "that was traumatic."

"It's nothing bad! Or at least I don't think it is..." Viktor helpfully supplied.

Wait, was as he, blushing?

"...What is it then?"

"Do you, uh...thinkthatVicchanwouldliketohaveaplaydatewithMakka?"

"Huh?"

Viktor coughed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. His blanket fell from his shoulders and rested at his waist. Yuuri kept his gaze from trailing down, and could've sworn he was going to have a heart attack.

"I just...uhm, do you want to, maybe, uh...organise a play date for our dogs, or something?"

Yuuri straightened up immediately.

"You, you don't have to say yes! I'm sorry! I-I get that you're probably really busy, since Christmas is in like, two days, and you might have better things to do than go out with me - I mean, go out with my dog, wait, no! I mean-" Viktor rambled on, his face getting redder by the minute.

Yuuri, being the good, merciful, and apparently brave that person he is, disregarded all rational thought and leaned in to kiss Viktor on his cheek; a sweet press of his lips to soft skin that made the dark haired male tingle all over.

He pulled away, noting the relentless flush that started from Viktor's hairline, all the way down to his toned chest. And along with that, the older man's abrupt silence. He stared quizzically at Yuuri, reaching to touch the cheek that had been kissed.

"I'd love for our dogs to have a play date. But on one condition," Yuuri teased, a devilish grin making its way into his face, "you take me on that date, okay, Viktor Nikiforov? We can't afford to forget about class, now can we?"

He was bombarded with a humiliated shriek: a high-pitched squeal that left Viktor's lips, which stringed along like music to the younger man's ears, and a promise for a date - both for his dog and himself.

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

But he certainly wasn't complaining. Anymore, at least.

---

BONUS:

“I’ll see you later, Viktor! Um, merry Christmas! Oh, yeah and Monday, alright, Vicchan and I will see you then! Call me!” Yuuri all but whispered hastily, carrying his shopping and Viktor’s heart away with him to the other side of the parking lot.

Luckily, their cars were in the same district, and the Russian watched dreamily as Yuuri made his way to his car, and he himself got into his. He giggled bashfully, glad he forgot to go Christmas shopping last week.

What were the chances that he’d have ended up spending five hours with such an attractive and certainly interesting man, in the small confines of a horribly decorated elevator?

He smiled softly, making one last assessment of his things. His watch, shoes, shirt, pants - it was all here! Along with his shopping bag, Yuuri’s number and-

Wait.

Where...

Where was the dog toy?

Viktor didn’t enough time to fully wrap his head around the disappearance of the chew toy, before he heard maniacal laughter, and a dark blue Volkswagen blurring past. The car’s windows were rolled down, an insulting pastel pink lolling out slightly.

“Finders, keepers!”

A mortified gasp.

“Yuuri!”

Fin

---

Taglist:

@maximoffzinha @the-immortal-thylacine @holaboiiiiis

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

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Okay, I just got myself a tumblr account to ask for this Ikémen Vampire scenario, because the world needs this. Can you do one where the MC questions Mozart about his song "Leck mich im Arsch" (Ger. for "Kiss my ass" (lit. Lick me in the ass). I just can't imagine IkéVamp Mozart composing something like this so please be creative and do something funny. The song really exists btw. Real Mozart was a savage.

Started off serious, became trashy insults somewhere in the middle

Mozart being asked about his song “Kiss my ass” - ikevamp scenario (TW; mature language)

Thoughts are in italic

Bold AND italic is just me highlighting something

"Ugh, it hasn't even been a week and Sebastian is already burying me with work!" You mentally whined as you stretched your arms over your head. "Collect the sheets, wash the dishes, polish the shoes and wash the tablecloths..." each chore you listed made one of your fingers go up, and as the count reached ten you let out a deep sigh. You weren't even nowhere to be finished. "...ain't mama raise no weak bitch. Better get done with this before Sebastian yeets me into oblivion", you quietly spoke to yourself before going back to your full time slavery.

A lonely figure in the long corridor, you walked slightly bent forward for both the heaviness of the basket you were carrying and the mental and physical tiredness of your untrained body. As you took a turn at the end of the hallway, the lone sound of your footsteps found a companion. A sweet melody, a familiar one you had heard as a child, drifted through the air and waltzed its way to your ears. About ten meters from you there was the music room; you remembered it from Sebastian's tour of the house, but mostly because of the ever-so-friendly white haired composer that threatened you to stay kilometers away from him unless you wanted to be smacked to outer space. You had every intention of listening to him and avoiding any type of unnecessary contact with the man, but right now an irresistible curiosity pushed your feet to the prohibited door.

Was he composing something? Would he let you listen to one piece of his or play a modern-time song if you begged hard enough? somebody come git her she's dancing like a stripper If getting on your knees and throwing the last ounce of dignity you still had out of the window meant getting to witness Mozart's genius with your own two eyes --an impassable opportunity, too taunting to be ignored-- then someone better had to open up their purse and buy you some protective knee pads, 'cause ya girl was ready to crawl all around the mansion to get that P iano performance.

Inhaling some well needed air to get oxygen to your already malfunctioning brain in preparation of what was to come, you left the heavy basket full of dirty laundry and responsibilities behind and gently pushed the door open while peeking in with your head through the opening. As soon as he felt a pair of eyes on his back, Mozart abruptly stopped his magical fingers to turn to you, face contorted in an annoyed grimace.

Mozart: what.

MC: I- uh- uhm,,,, uhhhh- I... um

"Great job, chicken brain. The hero I absolutely didn't need right now"

Mozart: "I- uh- uhm,,,, uhhhh- I... um"...? I understand 15 languages and troglodyte isn't one of them. If you have nothing to say then leave.

MC: wait I-

Mozart: you didn't even knock. Are you really that impolite or did you grow up in a cave or something?

It hadn't even been 30 seconds and you had already been owned so hard not even a burnt Thanksgiving turkey could compare to this level of roasting, but there was no way in hell you were going to give up just for some edgy frail-looking man spouting some insults at you. You could probably smash him to the ground if you wanted, maybe... actually it would probably end with him snapping your neck like a twig, but at least the will to punch him was there.

You were ready to talk back with a savage comeback of your own, but before your mind could send the input to your mouth, his curt tone cut you off.

Mozart: Staring at people is a normal thing for future people? Makes me pity mankind. Get out.

...as kind as ever, the pianist! Kinda makes you want to kick him in the shins but you kept that thought to yourself.

As you were about to leave, two pair of footsteps got nearer to you from the corridor. Turning your head to the side you saw the clown duo making its way to the room, and you knew they were the ones who could provide you with the perfect chance to either succeed in your intent or bring you to a violent death.

Arthur: Oh my, what's happening in here? Is our wolfie making a move on our lovely MC before I can ask her out on a date myself?

Dazai: Good evening, Toshiko-san! Is something the matter?

And if this was your only opportunity, then you were going to use all your cards from the beginning. Mustering the best puppy eyes you could manage, you turned to the couple, and with a slightly whiny tone that resembled a half plea for help, you said:

MC: Ah, Arthur, Dazai-san! I just wanted to ask Mozart if I could listen to him playing the piano but he did nothing but be mean to me the whole time! I didn't even speak a word and he's already told me to leave twice~

Mozart: Which you didn't. So now I'm telling you a third time, leck mich. (=bug off)

Catching your subtle hint and feeling in the right mood to mess with the other fellow vampire, they decided to fan the flames of his annoyance by bringing in the discussion that one thing they knew he abhorred talking about.

Arthur: "Leck mich"? Why, Wolfie, you surprise me! You really haven't changed from your youth days, haven't you? My dear MC, did you know that the genius pianist here wrote a song called "Leck mich im Arsch"? A song about licking bums!

Dazai: Buttholes!

Arthur: Arseholes!

Dazai: Bungholes!

This was NOT the type of conversation you would've expected to have in a house full of historically important figures of such caliber, and foremost you were so close to bursting into a raging fit of laughter that only the scary aura of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was preventing you to do so. Despite the amusement you were worried the vein on his temple would explode and show you something you did not sign up for.

Mozart: Haven't I already told you not to bring that up?

Dazai: My, what a chilling smile, Wolfie-kun! Keep that up and you'll scare all the ladies away~

MC: pft——— what ladies?

Mozart: What are you laughing about, dumbass

Arthur: Woah, woah, woah! That's not the proper way to speak to a lady, Mozie! Bad wolf, bad!

Mozart: Did you take me for a dog, you four eyed caveman?

The more the snow white haired man was filled with rage, the more the situation escalated into something even more ridiculous , so much that in the midst of it you didn't even mind the recent insult.

But something was nagging you at the back of your mind. Why did someone as much as a clean freak as him write a song about licking ass? Though you realized Arthur probably gave you the literal translation just to be more direct about his bullying, you guessed it still was something pretty vulgar for someone like him. although you had to admit that the gracious idea you had of him crumbled away the second he opened his mouth

MC: I would've never expected someone like you to write such a song...

Mozart: What are you talking about?

MC: Uhm, you know, you're pretty neat, you don't let anyone touch your piano because of their 'filthy hands'... a piece about butts is a bit...

Mozart: I was still young at the time. My humor used to be different from now, people change in the span of 100 years, you know?

Arthur: Sense of humor? I wasn't aware you had one!

Mozart: Ahahah, so very funny, you stupid tratschtante (=gossip aunt)

Dazai: Maa maa (=now, now ; ara ara maa maa), I don't think the song is that out of character. After all, "licking butts" still has the idea of cleaning something, doesn't it?

Everyone: ...

Arthur: ...That was a bit too much

MC: Yeah, it was.

Mozart: Disgusting. This is why I dont like you people

MC: Wait, so can I listen to-

Mozart: Scram. All of you.

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp mozart #Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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daddynegandesires · 3 years

Text

My little runaway pt. 2

@buttercandy16

(Quick summary: after leaving the sanctuary you started a new life at Alexandria trying to hide away from negan he stumbles upon you while taking half of ricks shit and takes you back to the sanctuary with him.)

Warning: angst, fighting, jealousy, mind control/brainwashing, fluff

*sanctuary*

So many things have changed here since ive been gone so many more rules negan was more strict than ever and now Simon and arat were his right hand men i had no more existence towards those positions nor did i want anything to do with his killing posse his mind was sick and twisted he wasn't the negan i use to know. I was gone for months before negan had claimed rick after some people at Alexandria had killed down some of negns men. I knew me being gone had caused way more problems than there needed to be and i know i was in deep shit....

We arrived at the sanctuary coming to a hault hearing the breaks squeak as Dwight put the truck in park and turned it off. Negan flung his door open dragging me out causing me to fall on the dirt covered ground.. my hands were tied so i had no way to brace myself.

"Cmon darlin, you're back on your own turf now" negan bent down to my eye level

"But dont think for a second you are getting special treatment.....not after what you did"

his sacastic laugh filled my ears making me shut my eyes tightly. He yanked me up by my arm dragging me to the double metal doors of the sanctuary. He kicked the doors open holding me close to make sure i didnt break free. I was pulled down one of the many hallways untill he came to a stop at a door he opened it with his free hand still having a tight grip on my arm. The room had a bed and a small kitchen in it i wasnt use to staying in these rooms because i was negans right hand woman, his bestfriend before i left so i was given alot of special treatment.

"Home sweet home" negan said throwing you face down on the bed untieing you

You could feel him leaning up against your ass while he freed your hands he then flipped you over on your back holding you down by your throat.

"I missed you....." A grin grew across his face

"...if you think im going to be another copy and paste of everyone else and drop to my knees when i see you....then you are so wrong" you struggled to get the words out breathlessly as his grip slowly tighted around your neck.

"Oh baby....i know..i like the frisky ones. You forget i know you better than you know yourself" he released his grip from you before giving you one last good squeeze causing you to choke and raise up on the bed

"You know nothing about me..." You grabbed your neck rubbing at it

"Quite frankly i dont even know who you are anymore...youre sick..." You stood up getting in his face

Negans tongue slid across his bottom lip then causing his jaw to flex letting out a long groan

"Without me....they are nothing...they all love me" he paused and let out a sarcastic laugh "....just like you without me are nothing"

"You....you are nothing but a fucking monster....lucille never deserved a man like you.." You could feel tears swelling up in your eyes you couldnt believe what had just came out of your mouth after knowing what happend in the past between you two.

All of the color drained out of negan he was furious he grabbed a fistfull of your hair yanking you up to your feet and, dragging you down the hallway your screams were echoing off the walls you were trying to grab onto something to save yourself. He opened a metal door it was dark. There were no windows the room was completely empty. Negan threw you onto the cold floor you caught yourself with your hands before your face clashed with the cold cement floor. You looked up at him through the messy strands of your hair and couldnt see his face only a dark shadow casted upon him. You knew He had no expression just a blank expression almost terrifying youve never seen him like this out of all the years youve known him you didnt even know who he was anymore and its only getting worse.

"You....are going to regret all of this...." Negan slammed the door and locked it you could hear his footsteps trail off.

"AAGHH GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. YOU FUCKING COWARD!" all you could do was scream and yell and cry you were pounding on the door untill you finally gave out and got tired enough to pass out on the floor.

You were woken up by light shinning on your face someone had opened the door and was speaking to you your head was pouding and your ears were rining from all the screaming, yelling and crying you had done from the days prior.

"Get up. Im not gonna tell you again" Dwights voice hurt your ears

"D...dwight....you have to help me" you stumbled to your feet and walked towards him

"This...this isnt negan...hes going to get us all killed we have to go save Alexandria. Please! Believe me!" Your hands were gripped on his t-shirt yanking him towards you. All he could do was stare at you he had nothing to say just a blank expression. Footsteps came appraching up the hallway towards you two... it was negan

"Wellll....rise and shine babydoll!" Negan swung his bat up over his shoulder

All you could do was glare at him no words could come out

"Time to get to work dollface"

negan held the door open for you and you walked out watching him close the door he led you outside and put you on fence duty to kill walkers for half of the day the sun was blistering feeling beads of sweat run down your face you havent had a shower in days. Negan did nothing but stand around and make orders to everyone or he would spend time fucking his multiple forced wives. It was only a matter of time before he shoved you back into that hell of a room.

You could over hear negan on the walkie talkie he was speaking to rick. It was hard to make out what the both of them were saying but i could tell it wasnt good. Negan always started conflict or maybe it just found its way to him.

"Hey....hey is that rick" you walked over cutting negan over mid conversation

"Well you better find a damn way..." the beep of the walkie talkie went off after negan finished talking

"How does it feel to be on the other side?...working for points...getting yourself all dirty out here. You lost your chances" negan slid the walkie into his belt biting his lip

" let me speak to rick so he knows im okay...please" you begged

"Rick this rick that..ya know im starting to think you are developing a little crush" negan began to walk away

You ran to catch up with him standing infront of him to stop him.

"Why are you doing this to me...dont i mean something to you. You just kick me to the dirt...I THOUGHT WE WERE A TEAM" you screamed at him

"You. Ran. Away. You live here you follow my rules at all times no exceptions! I will not tolerate anything less from you!....things are different now..." negans face grew a frown

Negan pushed past you and walked off you followed right behind him to his room he surprisingly let you in and shut the door behind him.

"I...look....Can i atleast get a shower im filthy..." You said with your arms crossed

All he could do was point over to the bathroom you sighed and walked over to the door after locked yourself in the bathroom you began to take off your clothes and run the water waiting for it to warm up when you heard a knock on the door.

" one more thing.....no locked doors" negan said in a low demanding voice

You swallowed hard and walked over to the door unlocking it hearing the lock make a quick click. Negans footseps slowly faded out as he walked away. You slipped into the shower letting the hot water run down your body watching all of the dirt trickle down the drain. The hot water relaxed you letting out a deep breath you closed your eyes letting the steam fill up the bathroom. The door quietly opened you quickly sprung your eyes open your body went stiff.

"....i layed out some clean clothes for you....i know you could use some" negan said clearing his throat

"Oh...thank you" you replied shocked

"(Y/N)....you know i uh...i still care for you...things are just...different now but im still that guy you use to know. Look..i have to go out on a run just make yourself at home" negan closed the door gently and walked away

The room went silent you your eyes were swelling up with tears it felt like you couldnt get the right words out of your mouth. You knew deep down that warm hearted negan was still there the negan that you missed the negan that use to be your bestfriend. He was buried under all this power and built up rage from before the apocalypse and now. Maybe this was going to be a new begining...a fresh start at the sanctuary.

Just maybe.

#jdm #twd #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan #negan

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kota-bee · 3 years

Text

moony

a/n: hey look a new series because i got overhwhelmed by in the dark. this will be a self indulgent story so its ok if you dont like it. im trying a new writing style so let me know if its any good. this isnt really edited so read at your own risk. shout out to anyone who can figure out which part of this chapter i inserted after it was done.

chapter 1/? word count: 1628

warnings: none i think. a weeny bit of blood.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

towering trees and bright flowers are all i can see for miles, it was the most beautiful thing ever. mother held my hand, swinging it as we walked along the dimly lit dirt path. "happy birthday my love! how does it feel to be 6 hm?" mothers words are soft and full of love as she looks down at me fondly. "not much differnt, i think im taller maybe?" i screw my face up trying to think if i felt taller or not, i *felt* taller. mother laughed heartly as she looked around us. "youre almost past my hip now! youve definitely gotten taller." mother cooed still looking happily at me. i smiled, i *am* almost past her hip now! i swung her hand even more as we contiuned on our walk. "dad doesnt like to go on these walks does he?" i questioned, looking up at mother. "he doesnt like to get his fancy shoes dirty, Alexander has always been that way" she reasured me softly. the bush in front of us rustled, mother excitedly pulled me down to crouch so we didnt scare the critter moving towards us. i wiggled excitedly, hoping it would be a bunny. "stay still. maybe its a deer" mother whispers into my ear. the rustling get louder before a dirty tired looking man stumbles out. mother pulled me up harshly and hid me behind her. i tried to peek out at the man but she shoved me behind her again. i suddenly remebered what day it was, the full moon. i clutched to mothers shirt as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"can i help you sir? you look ill" mothers voice is shakey but firm. "now that you ask... i do need help"

im on my back on the floor, its uncomfortable and bumpy. my hands are wet and warm, it feels gross and sticky.i raise my hands to my face, theyre red? i turn my head to see if mother knows whats happening and... the man is on top of her, his teeth digging into her neck. shes screaming, crying, "m-mom?"

"mom?" i whisper but im not in that forest anymore, im on my bed in my room. i look around my room, at the posters and drawings on my wall that i made myself, at my trunk and bag near my door. it takes me a second to register the knocking at my door. "andi we need to go" a sandy haired man says softly as he pushes through my door. its just remus, im safe. i push myself up to sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my messy curls. "are you alright sweetheart?" remus- dad, asks me softly. "nightmare" i mumbled sleepily. he sighs and sits down next to me. he rubs circles against my back. "its always worse after the full moon, give yourself some patient love" dad said softly, he knew i wouldnt actually give myself time to bounce back. it was frustrating to admit i needed time to heal, i didnt like admitting i was differnt. dad sighed and kissed my forehead gently "get dressed, you can eat at the weasleys, molly will have plenty of food for you"

i pull my t-shirt and worn jeans on and try desperatley to make my hair less of a mess. i dragged my trunk downstairs towards dad who was waiting patiently at the door. "ready? molly will have some ointments for you when you get there."

"i double checked this time" i chuckle, more than once ive forgotten something important, my school supplies werent exactly cheap so that wasnt exaclty ideal. dad chuckled and looped his arm through mine and, with a loud pop, we landed at the burrow. my second home! i live here as often as i do at dads house. it was the most brilliant house ive ever been too.

the door flew open and two lanky twins came flying towards me. fred and george collided with me, hugging me tightly. i giggled squeezing them tightly. Remus put his hand on my shoulder “I’ll see you at the train station, be safe” and with a pop he was gone.

“He never comes inside” a sweet voice came from the doorway. A plump woman was looking fondly at the three teens. She opened her arms wide, beckoning me forward. i smiled and wrapped my arms around molly. “Hello dear” she cooed into my hair. Molly pulled back and looked me over, cupping my face and turned it side to side, examining the new cuts and bruises i donned. She hummed

“Ginny! Ron! Come here!” Molly shouted as she pulled me inside, the twins following.

“She’s going to coddle you” Fred whispered into my ear with a little chuckle. i rolled my eyes as i followed molly into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny had just rushed in.

“Andi!” Ginny bounded towards me wrapping her arms around me and hugged me like it had been years since the last time she had seen me. Ginny had always looked up to me like an older sister ever since she could speak. i hoisted Ginny up and into my arms spinning her around. god i loved the weasleys, every one of them, including percy.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t do that for us” George huffed feigning hurt.

“Yeah come on andi, I thought we were your favourite” Fred added, mimicking his twin.

“Now when did I say that boys” i teased as i plopped Ginny back on the floor. The twins rolled their eyes before throwing their arms over my shoulders. the twins did this to me so often, we were always joined at the hip in some way.

“I dunno I just have a sneaking suspicion that you like us” the boys said in unison. i snickered and gave Ron a happy “hello”

“Now now boys don’t be too rough on her” molly scolded shooing the twins off of me. i sighed, Molly always had a tendency to treat me like i was fragile. “Oh come on mum it’s not like we’re throwing her around” Fred whined. “We could if you wanted” George whispered. The trio had learned early on that the best way to annoy the younger groups was to mock flirt with each other. After awhile it became an inside joke that the three found hilarious. Much to everyone’s dismay.

“Come on andi let me clean you up” Molly’s words are sweet but insistent. i know better than to argue with molly over this stuff. Molly is a excellent healer and it would be stupid to deny her help. i looked over at the twins who are grinning ear to ear, they did warn me i suppose. i rolled my eyes once more before following molly to the living room. i sit down on the sofa the twins and i often crowd. It was far too small for three lanky teens. Molly began rustling in a little bag near a bookshelf. She was humming a song and shaking to a tune only she could hear. Ah ha! Molly exclaimed as she pulled out a little jar full of white paste.

“This will help it heal a little faster, it won’t keep it from scarring unfortunately” molly starts excitedly before mumbling off the last part. i knew this, magic was wonderful but it couldn’t prevent scarring in most situations. i had more scars than i cared to count. Molly cupped my face as she smeared the paste over my wounds, i winced slightly. no matter if it had numbing ingriedents or not, this part always hurt

“I know it hurts, just breathe” molly humed. “Do you have anymore?” Molly questions looking me over. “You know the answer to that question” i chuckled dryly as i stood pulling my shirt up with me. Revealing a bandage stretching across my stomach.

Molly sighed, she hated seeing her kids hurt, not that Andi was her kid but it certainly felt like it. Molly peeled the bandage off slowly trying desperately to keep it from hurting too much.

i shuddered biting back tears as i felt the bandage pull healed skin with it.

The twins were watching from the doorway as molly tended to Andi. They knew what Andi looked like after full moons but they never got used to the gashes and bruises she dawned afterwards. Fred turned away, he felt sick to his stomach, he loved Andi, he wished he could take this from her. She didn’t deserve it.

Molly patched andi's stomach up once more and pulled her shirt down over it.

��Put this on your face twice a day and I’ll help you with your back until you go to school then then ask one of your friends to help” molly instructed waving her finger at me to enunciate her words.

“Yes ma’am” i mock soluted, i knew how much that annoyed her. i turned towards the door way and gave George a lopsided grin and peeked past him at Fred who was leaning against a counter.

“Want to show me what your letters talked about?” i said my tone dripping with mischief. The twins faces lit up as they grabbed my hands and dragged me up the stairs, giggling like kids the whole way to their room.

“What are you three planning??” Molly shouted up the stairs. She knew those three were troublemakers at heart. They had been since they met when they were 7. Remus needed help with Andi after a rough full moon and the rest is history. The three of them managed to turn rons teddy bear into a spider once.

#harry potter headcanon #harry potter fandom #harry potter stories #the weasly twins #the weasleys #harry potter #fan fiction #harry potter fanfiction #fypage

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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Note

OMFG IM SO SORRY TO BOTHER YOU WITH THIS WHILE YOURE IN A WRITING PAUSE BECAUSE I DONT WANT YOU TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE TO WRITE THIS BUT IF I DONT TELL THEN I WONT REMEMBER😫:

I saw one of your recent reblogs with the little bats and you mentioned getting it tattooed. So my brain came up with this idea that I find ✨adorable✨. Do you remember when we were talking about how in a modern AU, Regis would be like a sophisticated older man, but he would be tatted up? Ok so imagine him and reader being in a relationship for a good long while, and he at one point told her that he really thinks through his tattoos before he gets them done and puts a bunch of thought and feeling into each one. So as a gift during a milestone in the relationship, he says that he wants to get a matching tattoo with them, and they can help choose some ideas, and the reader recommends the two little bats because 1. Cute, and 2. She Knows about what he is and wants to show their love for him?

Im so sorry this is super detailed and I know your busy but I had to share because I thought you’d appreciate it🥺💕love ya dear!❤️—🍯

A/N: I needed to distract myself from rdr2 so this is what happened. and I’m not even gonna lie. I am seriously thinking of having someone commission Regis with tattoos…...

***

You hummed quietly as you moved around the room, gathering what dishes had been left on the table and placing them into the wash basin. You didn’t get very far before hands were on your hips, stopping you from moving, and a warm breath was brushing across your neck.

“Darling, I told you I’d get these when I returned. Dettlaff just needed a moment to chat before he left.”

“I know.” You looked over your shoulder to Regis. He kissed your temple and tried to gently move you aside but you refused to move so easily. “No! I’m already here and I’m already cleaning it up. It’s almost done-,”

“Then there’s no harm in letting me finish it, is there?” He raised his brows.

“Regis-,”

“My darling, you are so stubborn.” He gave you another kiss to the temple. “Just let me help you.”

Using a little more strength on you than what he’d usually like to, he was able to move you aside and start picking up the wine glasses from the table.

You huffed and hurried around the table to try to get the last two cups on the other side, but Regis beat you there, using his vampiric powers to teleport himself there. What he didn’t count on, however, was you bumping into him. This caused him to spill the remnants in the wine glass all over himself and on your dress.

You gasped, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. Regis laughed, moving to place the glasses with the rest of the dirty dishes.

“Regis, I’m so sorry-,”

“No worries, darling.” He cut you off, shaking his head. “No worries at all. It’s just clothes. Clothes can wash.”

He took off his doublet and put it over the back of a chair, then he began to unbutton his undershirt. You went to help him, gently nudging his fingers away so you could work on the buttons yourself.

“I don’t mind doing the cleaning.” You spoke softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Especially when Dettlaff is here. I know he has a hard time sometimes. With…. With just….”

“He struggles fitting in sometimes.” Regis sighed gently. His eyes fell to watch your nimble fingers. “But he will be okay. He’s always okay.”

“You just worry about him.” You finished unbuttoning the shirt and looked up at his face. “It’s a shame he wouldn’t stay here a bit longer.”

“He didn’t want to invade- which I told him was rather silly.” Regis shrugged out of the undershirt and put it over the same chair the doublet was on. You watched him move, admiring the way his muscles moved beneath ivory skin.

He had a number of tattoos across his back, including a large moth that spread across the top of his shoulders and a skull that rested at the small of his back.

“But he insisted. Saying some nonsense about it being our fifteenth anniversary.” Regis continued to talk, though you were too caught up admiring his tattoos to really listen.

He turned back around to face you, wondering why you weren’t saying anything.

Your eyes immediately darted up to his face upon realizing he had caught you staring.

“I, uh, I was, erm-,”

“Staring?” He grinned, tilting his head to the side a bit.

“Well, yes.” You admitted, feeling your cheeks get hot. “But I-I was also thinking…. Fifteen years?” You repeated, almost in disbelief.

“Fifteen years.” Regis confirmed. He nodded his head, closing the space between you two. “Seems like just yesterday you stole something very important from me.”

The corners of your lips turned up as he approached you. You couldn’t help but step back until you bumped into the counter. Your heart was racing, thumping against your chest. It was the most wonderful feeling to have your heart race the same way it did when you first met him all those years ago.

“What did I steal from you?” You tilted your head back to look up at him properly.

His long and slender fingers trailed along the side of your throat then your jaw until he reached your chin. His thumb carefully traced your bottom lip.

“My heart.” His breath was warm as it fanned across your face.

You giggled. Your eyes left his, trailing down to the moon tattooed over his heart. You brought your hand up to trace over the black ink just as you had done numerous times before.

“Fifteen years.” You whispered.

Regis took your hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. Then he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Let’s get this mess cleaned up, darling. I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you.” He began to pull away without any further explanation, leaving you a little worried.

“Oh, okay.” You nodded your head. “Um, is it-is it anything I should be concerned about?”

“Oh, Heavens no.” Regis shook his head, moving back to you to give you another kiss on the forehead. “I’m sorry to have worried you. But it’s nothing that you need to worry about. Just something I want to discuss.”

***

Regis climbed into bed to get comfy while you finished braiding your hair at your vanity. After the braid was finished, you moved around to your side of the bed. You clambered across the mattress until you reached him. Instead of laying down, you leaned against his hip, curling your legs up beside you.

“What do you want to discuss?” You asked. You picked up his hand and decided to examine the tattoos on the back of his hand and his fingers rather than look at him.

“Well, I know today marks the day of our anniversary so I’d be a little late for it, but I want to do something for our fifteen years. Something that isn’t just dinner with Dettlaff and a romantic night in.” Regis watched you curiously as you looked his tattoos over. It fascinated him how you were always so captivated by his tattoos even though you knew every single one he had.

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Mhm. A tattoo.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his almost instantly. Your lips parted and Regis could hear your heart start to beat quicker.

“Oh, Regis. That’s-That isn’t a good idea.” You shook your head.

“Why?” He sat up, propping himself up on one elbow. “I’ve given it plenty of thought. Marriage isn’t an option, it’s not something either of us want.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should get something permanent like a tattoo for our anniversary on your body, Regis.” You shook your head. “What if we aren’t…. What if we aren’t permanent?”

“My darling, there has never been a time in our fifteen years that I have ever thought I’d want to be with someone else.” Regis sat up all the way and reached out to cup your cheek. “And if there would ever come a time when I no longer had you, I’d seek out someone willing to liquidize me again. I don’t want to be without you, Y/N. I love you.”

You searched his eyes, your hand coming up to hold the back of his that rested on your cheek.

“You’ve thought it through?”

“I have.” He nodded firmly, pulling his hand away from your face. “I’ve thought it through plenty. It’ll be a bat. And I want it here on the inside of my wrist, just above my pulse.” He turned his arm over to show you the bare skin on his forearm. You brushed your fingertips over the spot, pressing gently until you could feel his pulse beating firmly beneath.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He wanted to do this as an act of commitment to you. As if he hadn’t proven his commitment before. You both had rings from your tenth anniversary and necklaces from your fifth. Now, he was getting a tattoo.

“I want one too.”

Regis’s eyes widened as he lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“Darling, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You nodded softly. “I want to.”

“Where do you think you’d want it?”

You thought about it for a moment, looking down over your arms and then your torso.

“Perhaps my ribs. The left side. Your heart is bigger on the left, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“That’s where I want it.” You stated proudly, rubbing your side through your chemise.

“If it is what you want, my darling, but please don’t feel like you have to.” Regis shook his head softly.

“I want it, Regis. It’s a really nice and-and a really beautiful idea.” You clasped your hands together in your lap, but they didn’t stay there for very long. Regis took them and held them in his own.

“Why do you want it there?”

“You have my heart.” You answered softly. “It’s yours. You protect it.”

He smiled at you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

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#Regis x reader fluff #Regis fluff #the witcher the wild hunt #the wild hunt #the witcher #Regis #blood and wine

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rexaleph · 3 years

Text

So i used up a 10 ml decant of ELDOs Vierges et Toreros, which is a crazy amount for sth as intense and as in need of sparing use as this. And like, its the one scent i kept wanting to wear, not bc i was looking to test it out or it went with my clothes or the vibes i was looking to conjure for the day, but for its own sake. Tho wrt vibes, and this is a stupid consumerist refrain, VeT makes me feel powerful. It's very loud and very forwardly androgynous, where it simultaneously projects a peppery dry leather you'd find in very old-fashioned mens scents and a huge floral element. Which like, leather and strong florals, especially tuberose and ylang ylang, usually just kinda make me nauseous and give me a headache but here it all bypasses my gag reflex completely, theres none of that sickly sensation. As for the leather, i know its gotta be sth about how ELDO compose their leather accord in everything they make, bc ive never had a problem with any of them. The tuberose and ylang ylang might just be contained by the rough sharp notes that theyre embedded among.

But yeah, the imagery suggested by the brand is this spectacle of violent heterosexuality, the bull is to the man as the man is to the women, bloody penetration and all that. And yeah the leather is very suggestive of animals, though what it really smells like is a saddle rather than a living bull. I could also swear that ive seen costus listed as a note in this, but its not on fragrantica or the brands site. Maybe it was added by an editor who thought they knew better than the brand and got cleaned up eventually, but anyway, i can kinda see it. Costus smells of dirty animal, its magnetic and repulsive, it feels like being hit in the back of the throat and makes me salivate. I actually think i may have found VeT by looking for things with that note. If its actually there or not i dont know at this point, but the leather aspect of this perfume is exactly the kind i like - dirty, animalic and rough. coming back to the concept, the flowers here for sure do not give virgin, they give courtesan. Which is honestly the entire vibe of this perfume for me. Its meant to be "a tuberose for men", but what it suggests to me is like the image of like a renaissance era sex worker, someone agressively sexual who wears sweet heavy perfume and washes once a month. A prominent note that i can distinguish is nutmeg, but it blends in with just a lot of rough, warm, scratchy spices out of which leather and tuberose emerge as the two poles of the fragrance, depending on how you focus your attention. Which is another thing, imo its very linear, always all of itself at the same time, opens loudly and mostly stays that way.

It's not at all something id have ever have expected to love as much, i kinda think of myself as a subtle person lmao. i got a tiny dabbing wand sample because the costus rumors made me curious and then i had to get a bigger atomizer of it to really try it out, and that is all to say, i just got myself a 100ml bottle. While i was waiting for it to be delivered, i got into reading its reviews again and it is polarizing. I think the people who smell blood are getting too carried away by the marketing story, but theres a lot of "you cant wear this, it wears you". I think the worst one was "definitely not for women but i'd hate to be around the guy who thinks he can pull this off". Which lol. Lmao. Im not sure im the transsexual to make this work for me. So i did get kinda freaked out that people will think im gross and regretted the purchase a bit. but also ive been wearing it for a year, carefully, under my clothes, the way something like this really should be worn imo, letting people catch a little of it when youre really close.

that is all to say, im so glad i didnt get that stupid rhubarb cologne a month back, could you imagine

#perfume #perfume bullshit #Do i need to have 2 big stupid bottles of leather fragrance made by the same perfumer for the same brand?#yes i do <3 #he made 2 more of my faves for them but im happy having the ones i do #je suis un homme is redundant after VeT #and Rien... maybe one day

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tokyoghoose · 4 years

Text

is it hot in here, or is it just me?

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: dirty dirty - charlotte cardin, so hot you're hurting my feelings - caroline polachek*, i touch myself - borns ( cover )

warnings: mentions of sex and dirty thoughts, fighting/violence, mentions of murder, the word slut ( towards reader ), daisuke being hot af ig

summary: while on an undercover mission you reunite with an old partner before things get 'frisky' and not in a good way.

announcements!

first full length balance unlimited fic! im actually quite proud of it even if the anime is postponed. I will continue to write for them 😌

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

—————

The bar is more like a club, except for the fact there's no one so extremely intoxicated that they're acting a fool. No, it's actually quite prestigious for being underground. White and gold outline outline the area and it smells like expensive cigars and leather. Live jazz music plays in the background, setting the mood for the couples huddled together in love booths. It's nice, beyond nice— whose daddy paid for this?

In a red dress, you stir your gibson cocktail, awaiting the signal from your boss over the earpiece. It's already been an hour and there's been no sign of the suspect. Maybe you've been played. As time passes that seems more and more likely. At this point you were ready to turn in and call it a night. Places like this were no fun unless you had someone with you. And honestly, being alone in a place like this wasn't the most comfortable. There were eyes looking your way from singles and couples a like. Who knew there would be so many swingers.

There's a patterned knock at the door that makes you perk up and glance through your peripheral. The body guard looks through the slit in the door, moving to mention something about the password. The club was always tight on security, afterall. To get in you needed to prove you were coming with a member or waiting for someone who was one. The whole process is quite time consuming when you're faking your identity.

Finally, the door opens and you can see a tall man in a dark grey suit walk in. Curiously you turn your face to place your chin in the palm of your hand. Eyes travel up the figure before finally reaching the face of the mystery man. Not the suspect, but he's even better. A fond smile comes to your face at the realization of Daisuke Kambe. The name has a familiar taste on your tongue and it's honestly quite uplifting seeing such a 'friendly' face. He looks the same after three years and you wonder briefly if he's undercover too or if he has paid his way in. Daisuke was never frugal when it came to getting what he wants. Where he was lacking in words, he made up for it with expensive charm.

Oh how you had missed him.

Meeting his eyes, you raise both brows in question before turning away to down your drink. You push the glass to the bartender, holding a finger up before glancing over at daisuke, who sits in one of the booths across the room. He narrows his eyes at you in question, jutting his chin over to the bar before nodding to the door.

So he's on a mission afterall.

Your eyes shift to the door as well with a nod. He seems to understand well, but it's not a surprise after the time you worked together. It was a brief two years, but during it you learned to communicate in silence. His eyes told you much more than his mouth ever could. Now thinking of it, all the Kambes were better with actions than words.

—————

A few conversations have picked up after twenty more minutes of waiting. Perhaps if there wasn't another man in the area, the other's advances would have moved you. You weren't picky with your men, but you weren't one to settle for second place when first is still an option. Still, it kept you distracted for the time being. Besides, Daisuke looked was busy with a man himself.

You lean in, placing a hand on the chest of some patron with a giggle before the door opens once again. This time you're quick to look, seeing another man trail in. The static in your earpiece comes alive, the voice on the other side stating that it is in fact your target. The patron you were with turns his head as well and smiles before pardoning himself to shake the hand of the man. You briefly recall the suspects name: Vince Aiko.

Now the party was getting started. You wave them over, batting your eyes with a small smile. You don't miss the woman that walks in behind them, but she doesnt stop at the bar anyway. Instead, she heads over to the raven haired across the way. You resist the urge to follow her figure, instead keeping eyes on the two men and starting conversation.

—————

The goal was simple. Get the target alone and eliminate him. Usually you weren't one for death, but the police weren't helping in this case. The company you worked for took it into their own hands, given the okay. Even if it wasn't your task to kill him, someone else would. No jail time would follow as apart of the deal, so there were no repercussions against you for killing the scum. It's a win win.

The other man had gone to the restroom by now, leaving you alone with Vince. He smells lavish as well. It was clear he belonged here by the way his hair was combed back and how whitened his teeth were. He has money and it's not ruining out anytime soon.

It took you until he ordered a drink and didn't have to pay to realize he was the owner. The assumption that it was daddy's money grew stronger. He was outwardly trying to flex wealth he didn't even own. He wasn't trying to be subtle when he asked for the most expensive bottle or paid the band to play his favorite song. It was entertaining, yet disappointing. At least Daisuke spent the money without mentioning anything about it. At this point you just kinda wished the guy would shut up.

Placing a lingering touch on his shoulder, you lean in again. He smells like a new car. He places a hand on your upper thigh, quickly catching on to your advances.

"Why dont we go to the back."

It's not a question, it's a demand and it's exactly what you wanted. Right in the palm of your hands. With a giggle, you take his hand and stand while plucking the toothpick out of your glass and pulling the olive between your teeth smoothly. Walking past Daisuke and the woman at his booth, you wink.

The backroom looks like how it sounds. Behind another door and a pink curtains, you enter a red room. It has a single loveseat in the shape of a heart and there's champagne and wine on a side table. There's a dark blue light overhead that contrasts the rest of the room like a spotlight. There's no music except for the quiet hum behind the doors, but the further you go away from them the quieter they get. He takes your hand and pulls you to the loveseat.

"I'm can't say I'm surprised. My friend out there thought you were in to him, yet here we are... Is it the money that gets you going?"

His eyes trail over your figure and you understand what this room is for exclusively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes or push him off as his fingertips skim your arms and you play along.

"What can I say? Rich men are the sexiest."

You play with the collar of his suit, looking up at him through your lashes and parting your red lips. He stands up taller to glance down at you, trying to assert his dominance. It's sad knowing that's how he got off. He wants control and he wants you on your knees, the only other thing he could ask for at that point is for you to lick his dress shoes. It makes you sick.

His fingers stop at the thin strap on your dress, fiddling with it before starting to slide it down. You push him away and into the seat behind him. Taking a hold of his tie, you lean down to his ear to kiss underneath it.

"Why rush when I can give you a show."

He chuckles when you turn around and you roll your eyes. What an idiot. I almost want to laugh. You move your arms up, brushing your hair off your shoulders before reaching for the top of the zipper. Glancing at him with a smirk, you shake a finger and turn to face him. His fingers rake up his thighs, reaching out to touch you but you smack his hand away with a tsk.

"Lookie, no touchy."

You start to make a round behind the chair, fingers grazing his shoulders and pulling at the fabric. Once behind him and forcing his head forward you take out the earpiece and reach for your thigh. There's a gun there in the holster and a knife beside it, hidden by the red drapes. Thank god the for the slit. When rounding his other side you pull the firearm out and aim it at his temple, stabbing the knife into his thigh before he can jump up.

"Sit down, sicko. Don't try anything or I'll put a bullet through your skull."

You stick the earpiece into his ear, waiting for the receiving in to chime in.

"Who let you think a soundproof room was smart? It's like one of those double sided mirrors in here. Honestly, you're such an easy target."

His eyes glower at you like his expression alone will make you back down.

"You slut! I'm gonna kill yo-" He's cut off by the earpiece. They ask for information, stating that if he complys his life will be spared.

"I'm not stupid-"

"Beg to differ."

"-I know you'll just kill me anyway. I'm not telling you shit!"

The earpiece goes back off and you take it from his ear to listen to the other side. Two words is all you need to finish the assignment. Kill him.

"This could've been so much easier for you if you just listened. " You feign a pout, clicking the safety off. He struggles against the metal, rambling on about killing you and the company, finding you and blah blah blah. Having enough of his whines, you silence him with a quick pull of the trigger. You look down at the body on the floor and then at yourself, cleaning up quickly before leaving the room, making sure to step on his back in the process.

—————

There was maybe ten minutes before his bodyguards would notice he hasn't left the room. You go to make your leave, but not before stopping by Daisuke's booth. You stand a bit aways, watching him try to get information out of the girl before his eyes glance over to meet yours. A one-sided smirk creeps onto your face. He was never very shameless when it came to things he did and the way his eyes did a slow once over of your body was deliberate.

How you missed that look. It's the same bedroom eyes from the nights you spent together in the sheets. You start to wonder if the body under his shit looks the same and if his fingers still produced magic without even trying. Were his lips still as soft?

Now isn't the time for that. You narrows your eyes and go to slide into the booth beside the girl after you notice the disgusted look she gave you. Shame is her freshly manicured nails were to get messed up in a fight. Not that she was trying to pick one, but-

"Long time no see, Kambe."

Daisuke quirks a brow and gives you a warning look when the girl glances at him. You shrug, placing your head in your hand.

"You know her?"

"Of course he does! I miss the sex we shared every night."

He chokes on his drink, shaking his head. What has gotten into you? You're lucky he had finally gotten the break they needed in the case before you came over. Still, you were way out of line with that one.

"Y/N, this is Lily. Y/N was just kidding, we used to work together. "

When he scowls at you, it actually scares you because he means it. He could take you down with him if need be. He adjusts his suit jacket and clears his throat before continuing, "Thank you for your time, but I suppose i should get go-"

"Aiko's dead! Code red!"

Daisuke looks over with his tongue to his cheek as if to say you fucked up and you're not ever hearing the end of this if we get out alive. Honestly, he might just leave you behind if in sacrifice fkr the case. You shrug in innocence, already calling in help for an escape. Until then you'd have to fight them off. Apparently these dummies were smart enough to notice who Vince went in with and they are quick to lock eyes with you. And so did the rest of the club goers.

You make a move to get up, sliding out of the leather seat with hands in the air in surrender.

"Would you believe me if I said he did that himself?"

It starts with someone attempting to grab you before people go ducking under tables. All those grueling hours of training for really coming in handy now. You just barely miss the grabbing hands, taking the bottle of wine on the table and breaking it. Lily gasps at the shards, going to hide under the table as well and tugging on Daisuke to follow. You gesture the broken bottle about, thrusting it forward.

The men simply laugh and go for the kill. The bottle doesn't last long and you move away from the table for the fight.

Hell is broken loose and it isn't long before Daisuke resorts to joining the fight. It shouldn't surprise you, but it does. He punches one of the guys with a right hook, grabbing the collad of his shirt and throwinf him into another. For someone so weak looking, he sure was strong. It makws you swoon.

"I really do miss us, Daisuke. Just like old times."

He scoffs, continuing to fight beside you. He hates fighting and always has. He finds it undignified and perfers to just dodge and have them attack each other if he can't pay it off. But right now there was no room for negotiations.

"Now isn't the time to relive the past, y/n."

It stings, but you know it's true. Daisuke was the kind to get straight to the point. It's part of the reason he was so easy to work with. Suddenly, it makes you upset to realize that this was in the past.

You hear a car screech outside, trying to land one more punch on some bald guy before looking at the door. You tug at Daisuke's suit, practically dragging him towards the door before pulling out your gun and pointing it at the rest of the men standing. The hesitate. As much as they want to go after you, none of them want to die for it.

You push him to there door and nudge him to open it. There's a revved engine outside waiting for you, and apparently now another guest. He takes the hint, pushing the door open and taking the gun from your hands as you flee. There's one shot fired, but you know the victim won't die. He may seem heartless, but he wouldn't kill someone unlwss he had to. He knows when someone will save someone else and he knows what's in people's conscious. He had always been good at reading people when he cared enough to.

The night has turned from blue to black and you aren't sure when. It's suddenly too cold to wear the dress and it's starting to rain. This has really been one hellish night. The passenger waves you over from down the block in a hurry. There are sirens in the distance—they must've called the police to arrest everyone else involved. That's always how it went. They gave the company the ok to take the case and then come in to finish the job and take the credit because of the unsavory ways you deal with the suspects. If you weren't always in such a hurry and you didn't want to be arrested, you'd be pissed. With a huff you kick off your heels and run down the pavement with Daisuke hot on your trail. He didn't usually flee scenes like this, not anymore at least. He'd be lying if he didn't miss the rush of it. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the past life he lived.

When you get to the care, it starts to pour and Daisuke puts his suit jacket over your head and shoulders before pushing you into the backseat. Caring, yet impatient. His attitude makes you roll your eyes and shove him when he gets in.

The car pulls away just before the police arrive and it's quiet except for the low hum of some tape playing. The radio didn't work and the volume knob was stuck, so you'd have to strain your ears to actually listen. But it seems no one minds.

You take off the jacket, handing it back of to him and he puts a hand up to say you can keep it. He says something along the lines of, "It'll still be raining when you get out. Give it back later." Is he insinuating you'll meet again?

"Or I can give it back tomorrow morning, if you feel like staying over. "

The sudden bravery shocks you and apparently it takes him aback as well by the look on his face. His face drops back to deadpan almost as fast as it lifted and he scoffs, looking away and out the window.

"I really do miss you, Daisuke. In more ways than one," you say quietly, looking down at the jacket and running the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. He glances back over at you before dropping his gaze to your hand and with a sigh he places his over your own and squeezes. It's a conformation, a returned feeling, but of what exactly —you aren't sure.

It'd be enough for tonight.

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richterscales3652134 · 3 years

Text

Seductive Spin Class

Seductive Spin

My 4 p.m. Timberlake spin class is about to start and all I can think about is the path my life has taken. I, Benjamin, a once bad-boy with a fetish for bees used to brothel hop and go to matinees alone to use only the most buttery of popcorn to relieve myself in times when my flesh light was stolen. It wasnt until I hit rock bottom half way through what I thought was flight of the bumblebees, when I realized I was masturbating to Akeelah and the Bee and tearing up along with Laurence Fishburne as Akeelah correctly spells logorrhea, when I decided to turn my life around. Trading matinees for daily spin classes, I have devoted my life to healthy eating, exercise and the LA lifestyle. Although my life is now back on track I cant help but have cravings for large breasts, dripping pussies, and holding my cock watching it blow with the force of one thousand fire hydrants – now thats some good shit.

I eye all my clients as they come in the spin room – the environment not unlike one of a vagina—dark, moist, and pulsing to the beat of Justin Timberlakes voice. Looks like the normal group of spinners, until I laid eyes on her. She was the sturdiest woman I have ever seen. Hot like Megan Fox, but body strong enough to withstand a World War. Hair just down to her shoulders, breasts the size of a newborn baby and an ass that I knew that just wouldnt quit. She looked slightly Bulgarian – I love myself a Balkan who knows her way around a glass of Rakia.I looked up her name on the spin chart – Gaby.

Alright guys time to start spinning! Today were spinning along to Justin Timberlake! Just remember to pedal to the beat. DONT FORGET TO TURN YOUR RESISTANCE UP AND ENGAGE YOUR CORE!

As I pedal, I cant help but glance at Gaby, watching her tits bounce with every step. I feel my cock start to move around in my pants; it begins to harder and my semi-erect cock starts to push against the compression shorts Im wearing. There are so many things I could do to her right now. No one would know. I know I cant though; Ive cleaned up my act and one more slip like this….

COME ON LADIES LETS DO THIS!! SING ALONG, DIRTY BABEE YOU SEE THESE SHACKLES BABY IM YOUR SLAVE

I jump off my bike and round the room getting the ladies pumped. I get to Gabys bike and conveniently theres no one sitting around her. The Justin lyrics are starting to push me over the edge -- You see these shackles, baby Im your slave Ill let you whip me if you misbehave…

Hey Gaby, couldnt help notice your form, let me help you, I purr.

I start a slow gradual descent down her back, rubbing my hands down her arms until I reach her fingers grasping the handles of the bike. I can tell her grip is getting weaker as I kiss the back of her neck and rub my now entirely erect penis on her tail bone.

Benjamin what are you doing! There are people around!

I couldnt help notice you when you came in. You know youre the sexiest girl in here. Come on listen to Justin, get your sex on, I coo in her ear.

Gaby starts to moan as I move my hands down her back onto her butt, massaging every inch of her until I get to her dripping pussy.

Ohh yeah, okay but as long as no one else notices Gaby purrs.

The song switches to What comes Around Gos Around.COME LADIES STANDUP AND ENGAGE YOUR CORE, LETS GET THROUGH THIS ONE SLOWLY.

As Gaby stands up I slowly pull down her gym shorts while easing my cock into her pussy, and start to fuck her slowly. Her body begins to arch as I go deeper and her breathing turns into panting, becoming unsteady and exasperated.

Oh baby dont stop, she murmurs.

I look around the room and the other spinners have no idea whats going on. The rush of the secret fuck is making me so hard I need a hat for it. I pick up my legs and wrap them around her body, holding my feet on the handlebars for support. I can feel her trembling tight body and my cock swimming in her drenched pussy. She tries to turn around but I dont let her – it would be too obvious. Instead she kneads my thighs with her hands working her way up to my asshole. She licks her finger looking back at me tickles my puckering hole with it.

Im about to cum, she whispers.

Not yet, I want to keep going,

I slowly pull out and kneel to the floor, pretending to pick up weights. I start licking in the inside of her thighs and make my way up the juiciest pussy Ive ever seen. I start licking her clit and she cant stop quivering.

Gaby you have to stop trembling its too noticeable!

I cant stop. Benjamin your tongue feels so good, ohh dont stop oh dont fucking stop. Да! Не спирайте!

You Bulgarian tigress!

My tongue darts around, swirling and sucking, making sure Im getting every last drop.

Now you stop! IM about to come, come behind me, Gaby begs.

I go behind her and gently rub my mushroom tip on her crevasses, not going in but letting her juices drip right down to the floor.My pre-cum starts to spray on the bikes surrounding but I just dont give a fuck.

Oh Baby just finish me off PLEASE! ХАЙДЕ СКЪПА!

I ram myself inside of her.

COME ON GUYS LAST SONG. REALLY GIVE IT YOUR ALL, I yell as 4 minutes by Justin Timberlake comes on.

I grab her body and pull her in and out of me, grabbing her tits, and pinching her nipples making them so hard anyone in the room could see. I grab her pussy and start fingering her innards around my cock, playing with her lips making my way into her clit. As Madonnas verse comes on I know Im about to cum. With every stroke our bodies become more rigid and our hidden pants turn into loud yells.

OH YES FUCK ME BENJAMIN, FUCK ME.

My cock is swelling and about to burst, her hands are clawing at my thighs in anticipation. Our moaning and screaming became yells and as I was about to climax my cock had a mind of its own.

OHH YEAH we both scream in unison as my cock fires round after round of hot steaming cum into her pussy.Our bodies quiver as we fall to a silence, and look around us. Oblivious to our surroundings we realize everyone has left the class and the manager is standing in the front of the room. The Manager walks over to our naked bodies and looks us up and down.

Benjamin you are fired.

Needless to say Gaby was a fucking smoking hot woman and I regret nothing.

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akechicrimes · 4 years

Note

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

Everything is the same.

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

Everything is the same.

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

#mine #slams hands on table FUTAGO SIBLINGS #futaba's dubious mental health cw #Anonymous

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