#I mean have you seen people who are trying to quit smoking?

[breadmecoshy]

Oumota comic, Part 1

Headcanon - Kaito has nicotine withdrawal during the events of Danganronpa V3 (among other things, what happens to him there). Just a cute little comic

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/breadmecoshy/747478711136354304/jhgfd?source=share

This headcanon was born out of Kaito's official art with a tobacco pipe, and how irritable and aggressive Kaito is sometimes portrayed

I think he started smoking with the handouts of his older comrades at his astronomical internship. Maybe he thought it was cool, or maybe he just didn't want to be perceived as a child :D

To be continued! (and only Kaito and Kokichi will be in it, I promise)

[love-that-we-were-in]

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes. 

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.” 

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.” 

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see. 

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party. 

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly. 

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.” 

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.” 

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets. 

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.” 

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead. 

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick. 

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?” 

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table. 

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game. 

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win. 

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet. 

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?” 

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.” 

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond. 

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more. 

*

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this. 

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night. 

“Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.” 

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?” 

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way. 

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around. 

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap. 

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more. 

“Fancy a rematch?” 

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?” 

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.” 

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.” 

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.” 

“How many beers have you had?” 

“Three, I think?” 

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you. 

So you say it anyway. 

“I bet I could outdrink you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition. 

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight. 

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?” 

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.” 

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.” 

“Are you going to?” 

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?” 

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.” 

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.” 

*

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head. 

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once. 

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch. 

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest. 

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building. 

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting. 

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again. 

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms. 

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.” 

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway. 

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes. 

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.” 

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.” 

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.” 

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system. 

“You ever blown a smoke ring?” 

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now. 

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?” 

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes. 

“We can share.” 

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea. 

“You’re on, Castellan.” 

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular. 

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore. 

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you. 

“Can I help you?��� It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close. 

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby. 

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen. 

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.” 

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

*

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.” 

“I know you hooked up with Luke.” 

“Seriously?” 

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.” 

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.” 

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.” 

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight. 

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy. 

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend. 

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight. 

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does. 

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?” 

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t. 

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it. 

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter. 

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

[azrielwingspan]

SOON (THEO NOTT X READER)

Summary : Theodore Nott was just another Slytherin asshole to most of Hogwarts. But to you, he was something much much more.

Themes : Mild kissing and swearing.

A/N : This is my first Theo fic AHHH. Just thought I would give it a shot. Let me know how it is!

P.S.- This is strictly a one shot. There will be no part 2.

"He is quite charming isn't he?" Ginny commented sneaking a glance at Theodore Nott. Seated at the Slytherin table between his usual rowdy gang of friends, he smirked at something Lorenzo had said.

"I think the word you're looking for is enigmatic, Gin. For all we know, he could be Voldemort in disguise." you stated flatly, stabbing a piece of potato on your plate. Earning a smack on the arm for using You-know-who's name so boldly, you ignored Ginny's attempts at convincing you to attend the party being thrown tonight.

"Help me understand why you're so bloody against the idea?! Is it because you have to bring a date?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"That may be a part of the reason." you refused to meet her owl like stare, instead choosing to focus on the copy of the Daily Prophet in front of you.

"Why would that be an issue ? I can name five people off the top of my head who would say yes instantly." she prodded further, thankfully choosing to redirect her gaze towards the mail she'd received. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, you snuck a glance at Theodore again. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled upto his elbow and you greedily took in the sight of his veiny forearms.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny broke you out of the reverie, your eyes immediately flitting towards the shawl Pansy was wearing.

"Pansy's new shawl. I can't recall which store I've seen it in but it looks very familiar." The lie rolled out smoothly, misleading Ginny. The pang of guilt ,that never lessened in impact, hit you yet again.

"Oh. Yeah, it does look quite familiar now that you mention it." She went off on a tangent about clothes and you let out a relieved sigh.

Ginny couldn't know. Not for now atleast.

The morning went on, your focus elsewhere during most of the classes. Ginny hadn't brought up the party again but you knew it was unavoidable. You were definitely acting quite strange. Not being the one to turn down an invite, your sudden refusal to attend this massive party did come as a surprise to your friends.

You had your reasons. Utterly selfish reasons.

However as the evening rolled by, Ginny had cornered you into agreeing. On bringing up the issue of the date, she'd simply shrugged and said "I took care of it."

That did not sound very reassuring.

It was worse than you had expected.

"CORMAC MC FUCKIN LAGGEN ?!?" you hissed at Ginny , your back to the boy in question.

Ginny looked away sheepishly and said "He told Hermione who told me that he had a thing for you. So I thought you guys could talk? I mean you don't have to really. Just drop him off in a corner."

"Drop him---" pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you whipped around to face Laggen and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Nice to meet you Laggen but I'm not interested."

He looked astounded, trying to wrap his head around the rejection. After a few seconds, he managed to sputter out "We haven't talked yet. How can you--"

"Yes. Yes I can. You have my permission to tell everyone I'm your date but please don't approach me again. Bye." you sauntered off into the party, Ginny keeping up behind you.

"Where's Harry anyways?" you asked, straining your neck to see past the crowd.

"Running late. Neville set his pants on fire so Ron and Harry are helping him out."

Shaking your head in amusement, you let your eyes run around the room searching for him.

There.

Theo sat on the couch near the fireplace, one arm thrown around the back , a glass of amber liquid in the other. The smoke from Mattheo's cigarette made his figure hazy.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink." Ginny said her voice floating by. You nodded distractedly , your attention held captive by Theo.

As if sending your presence behind him , he turned his head around and met your eyes. Slight confusion marred his face making his eyebrows furrow. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

Signalling to you with a quick nod of his head, he excused himself from his group of friends and made his way to his dorms. You stayed down for a couple more minutes , getting yourself a drink to throw off suspicion.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Ginny change your mind?” Pansy popped out of the blue , startling you.

“Uh.. Pansy, hey. Yeah you know how Gin is.” Pansy was a bit of a talker. Aware that this conversation could go on forever , you tried to come up with an excuse. “Hey listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll find you again alright?”

Not waiting for a response , you made your way in the direction of the bathrooms and took a sharp turn in the opposite direction once you made sure Pansy had redirected her attention. Sneaking up the stairway to the boys dorm, you took a moment for yourself outside Theo’s dorm room, straightening out your clothes.

“Took you long enough.” His voice drawled as you entered his room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort.

“Pansy almost started a conversation.” You said laughing lightly at his wide eyed expression.

“Didn’t take you long then.” He corrected his previous statement , prowling towards you.

“No. I guess it didn’t.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a searing kiss that had you holding onto his shirt for balance. The words 'I missed you' played at the tip of your tongue struggling to be let out.

He nipped at your lower lip , a breathy sigh leaving you as you tangled your hands in his hair.

"Cormac Mc fuckin Laggen? Seriously?" Theo muttered , lowering his head to place soft kisses across your jaw. Leaning your head back to give him more access, you let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Ginny is the real culprit."

A strangled moan left your lips as he sucked at your neck, immediately soothing it with a sloppy kiss. "T-Theo..you idiot. That's gonna leave a mark." He just hummed in response seemingly lost in the pleasure. Tugging his head back, you made him meet your gaze head on.

"If we stay up here for any longer, they'll suspect." A shiver passed through you as his hands trailed lower and cupped you arse, pulling your hips to his. "Let them." he said dropping his head to capture your lips once more.

"THEO, YOU IN THERE ??" Blaise Zabini's voice boomed through the door making you jump. A string of Italian curses left Theo's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah give me a minute!"

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to your face placing you at eye level. "It'll all be over soon alright? We won't have to hide anymore. We can be free." The promise in his eyes lit a spark of hope within you, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Soon." you whispered , your eyes fluttering shut as you placed a kiss on his Dark Mark.

[familyvideostevie]

watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore,  and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders. 

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe. 

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go. 

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre." 

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor. 

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes. 

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you. 

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.  

"Miss me?" 

"Dumb question," he mutters. 

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch. 

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man. 

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar. 

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be. 

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid. 

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed. 

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar. 

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek. 

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's. 

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums. 

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his. 

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games. 

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time. 

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you." 

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun." 

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly. 

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move. 

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him. 

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think. 

"Got any gossip for me yet?" 

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it. 

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face. 

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but  in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed. 

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway. 

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs. 

"Joel?" you call quietly. 

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late. 

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it. 

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark. 

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question. 

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute." 

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here. 

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs. 

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl. 

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together. 

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?" 

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks. 

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder. 

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here. 

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you. 

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy." 

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[kalims]

cupping their face

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. heartslabyul

content. gender neutral reader

riddle

he has very squishable cheeks despite his concerning diet mainly revolving around tea, biscuits, and whatnot (tarts).

you suppose the chubbiness in it comes from the mounts of sweets he can't exactly resist. of which trey is probably to blame.

riddle grew up with his very picky mother with her particular food choice for him so when he arrived in NRC without her eyes he gained a lot of freedom.

so if you hold his face in your hands the fat from his cheeks pokes out of the hole between your thumb, and pointer fingers. it's so cute 😭 so you can't resist the urge to sneak a squeeze.

it makes it all the more comical becomes he looks so confused, furrowing his brows at you like he can't believe whatever the hell you're doing right now.

plus points if you start to randomly caress his face cause he's slowly realizing that this is just a show of affection and is turning more red by the minute.

it would be a flustered riddle without the steam out his ears after all!

riddle avoids your eyes. "what in the world are you doing?" but makes no move to... well, move.

trey

uhh compared to riddle he's not in that level of squishy cheeks despite him being a baker and all.

I mean it's more of a 'you can feel the curve of his cheekbones' rather than the 'chubby cheeks' kind of thing. let me tell yall, the muscles in those damn arms aren't there for show!!

but yeah I firmly believe he just takes bites out of his batter / finished product to check if he should add a certain ingredient from the taste.

but it's usually the other people that do the eating.

though if you pinch hard enough you might be granted the satisfaction of smothering his cheeks (and a trey who is trying his best to keep the increasing pain off his face cause you seem to be enjoying yourself too much.)

anyways yeah cupping his face! from my memory, to me he seems like a person with a more lean face? (I have not seen him in a while lmao) but when you do he just raises his brow a little and watches you patiently.

you won't know if he's caught on what you're doing but you'll know he's starting to enjoy it when your palms are growing heavy from trey slowly leaning the weight of his face on it.

"is this a reward for my hard work?" trey huffs in amusement. "tell me when it's too heavy."

cater

wow he's so cute 😞

cater likes to snack every now and then and all that food just teleports to his face rather than anywhere else so it's prominent even if he laments about it.

I think it just makes his smile cuter cause you can see dimples pop out of his cheeks as well 😭 it tempts you to poke them all the well.

notable. they're also kinda stretchy, you can poke, pinch, and stretch them wow. the versatility. at this point everyone should have a cater to poke, pinch, and stretch out his cheeks.

^ stress reliever.

as you're cupping his face his response is just to automatically cup you back? and he's already giggling about this 'couple bonding' thing so you're not quite sure how to proceed.

but cater's laugh is pretty contagious so you end up laughing along. both of you are cupping each other's face, and you can feel the curve of his grin from your palms.

... next thing you know in a poof of smoke two more cater appears wearing similar pouts, of which are whining about their turn..

"you guys go away!" the cater which you remember to be the original dramatically pours himself over you. arguing with.. himself. "this is og cater and (name) bonding time, shoo!"

ace

is his cheeks squishable or not? we will never know cause everytime your hands are near his face he's flying backwards to avoid you.

what a menace with the suspense and all. ace is always trolling you so it's understandable. he's like: "haha get trolled." AND WHEN YOU ACTUALLY IGNORE HIM HE'S LIKE: "wait no that was a prank too pls."

if his ego wasn't taller than him he definitely would have regretted it 💀 honestly I'm so in dynamics with ace where he thinks he's the dominant one in the relationship and if you tell him to sit he's immediately sat.

it's gonna be more of a challenge to actually get a hold of his face but pro tip: just tell him to stop with a stern face, and he's just gonna go stiff but grumble when he feels your fingertips.

he's looking annoyed the whole way but you notice the twitch of his brows. suddenly he's looking just a little more comfortable in your hands.

point it out it out if you want but his face is just gonna revert to that annoyed look, just honestly let him loosen up (and loosen up he will, don't be surprised if he just starts demanding those face caressing thing you just did in the future.)

^ well he's only doing that if you initiated it a handful of times. if not he's taking that desire to the grave.

"wow. are you really that much starved for me?" ace smirks, and nods. probably praising himself in his head. "just keep doing whatever you want, I don't care." ???

deuce

the most squishable cheeks. I take no objections, I do not care ‼️ (even though certain official art might not say so) I bet he eats with a mouth full of food, it just inflates his cheeks lol.

if we have characters we call baby girl like jamil over here, we got deuce spade our resident baby boy.

probably the one that eats up all your attention even if he's embarrassed. not of you of course! but if you ever do public displays of affection he's just hyper aware of the eyes kqbsjajss.

but he likes you a lot so he just tolerates it <3

cupping his face hmm... honestly he looks like a very innocent puppy, he's watching you with those kind of eyes. curious and patient 😭 he's watching to see what you'll even do next.

he doesn't really speak. was this man even actually a delinquent before? who the hell was that cause all you know is this very endearing, shy deuce of yours.

if there was a tail it would be wagging slowly!

man the inner man is him is wrestling him rn cause where is his pride?! but the person it's fighting is his love for you so the inner man is losing lowkey 😞

"..." there is no words, just a very flustered, pleased deuce.

end notes

trey the gentleman fr.. also ace's part is vv chaotic lamao

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

You Didn't Save me (I begged You Not To)

Lex Luthor is not a good man.

He is a literal supervillain, he's also more than aware of the consent issues of what he did when he created Connor.

Yet he is surprised by how furious Superman is making him.

Not that he isn't always angry with Superman but before it wasn't quite so personal.

It was a bigger issue what Superman stood for what he was but right now he's not picking the fight with Superman but with Clark Kent.

He has spent as much time as possible studying everything about kryptonian's from their weakness to their language.

Essentially, Superman should keep better track of his belongings.

Kon-El means abomination.

Lionel Luthor was never a kind man he knows exactly why he is who he is today. He still has slight scars from his fathers belt. Cruel words that years after his father's death, will still haunt his memories.

When he was younger he was friends with Bruce Wayne before being a Villain was his priority.

He remembers hiding at Wayne Manor a feeling of safety he had never felt before.

He's also more than aware that his old friend is running around as a Bat.

Bruce Wayne even as a child always stood for hope was always ready to change the world to stand for something better.

That's is why years later Lex Luthor is knocking on a door that he's not hundred percent sure he won't be turned away from.

Yet Kon-El means abomination.

"Mr. Luthor I was unaware Master Bruce was expecting you?"

Alfred looks older than Lex remembers for some reason the man always seemed above aging untouchable even by time.

"He's not, I need to speak with him please it's urgent."

He is a Luthor begging is below him, but right now he feels fourteen again, with the belief that the people within Wayne Manor can fix anything.

"Of course. Master Bruce is in his study, I will lead you please follow me Mr. Luthor."

He doesn't bring up how he knows the way. That he once ran chasing after Bruce hiding in that very study. That they had broken Vase playing like little boys did. He doesn't bring up crying, terrified that Alfred had promised him no harm should come to him in these halls.

He doesn't correct how he used to be Master Lex. He lost that privilege long ago.

It's been a very long time since he has laid eyes on Bruce Wayne he's seen the tabloids, even a passing glance at a gala but for some reason he didn't picture slight gray hair, a dark black suit, he imagined a Gotham Academy Uniform or a Nirvana Shirt that Lex always wanted to steel but never quite worked up the courage.

He doesn't even hear Alfred's depart he can't tear his eyes away from Bruce.

His throat is dry like all the moisture has somehow left since he walked through the doors.

He is Lex Luthor but right now he doesn't remember what that means.

"Kon-El means abomination did you know that?"

His voice weak. Bruce's face doesn't change, blank.

" I am not my Father. I don't know what to do but I refuse for my child to think he isn't loved by at least one of his parents."

He breathes.

"All those year ago, you told me that you would help that all I had to do was ask, I was an idiot, it's too late for me but not for him."

Bruce's voice startles him he hasn't realized how deep in his own mind he had sank.

"All you had to do was ask."

Bruce's face painted in the same smirk as if they were eighteen again smoking on the manors roof.

Lex Luthor is not a good person, but for Connor Luthor he will try he will rebuild bridges, bend his pride he will beg on his knees.

He never unstood how a parent should be or what it really meant to wake up everyday and have your whole being dedicated to loving and protecting something.

As he watches the rise and fall of his child's chest wrapped in the arms of the third Robin safe in his penthouse behind security straight from Wayne Entirpries and he doesn't regret it.

He know's he would do it all over again and when next Sunday comes and he gets a invite to brunch that he never throught he would see again he knows it was all for the better.

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 2)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

[dabisqueen]

College Touya x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 11K

⇢ plot: getting into one of the most prestigious universities comes with a (literally) huge surprise

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, lots of dialogue, bantering and bickering, use of alcohol, Keigo is being a spoiled rich brat so he's not getting any ass but Tenko is finally getting his d*** wet and Touya as well, a bit of yelling, some kabedon action, steamy kissing, dry-humping, unprotected consensual sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

⇢ personal note: this was just another AU I was dreaming about. First time writing this kind of trope. Thanks to @/dreamy-collective for being my beta!

***

Moving away from home and starting your first year at a university was a challenging act on its own. So it was given that you were busy trying to adapt to the new college life, learning the campus layout, and establishing a daily routine. In other words– beginning to experience life as a university student.

But not only that. The university you had managed to get into was one of the most prestigious ones in the country and with the priciness of its tuition, you were glad to have landed several scholarships that needed extra effort.

Therefore, starting classes not only meant trying to cope with the pretty busy schedule change but also putting in your highest effort to keep your grades among the best. So you barely spent time socializing with people in the tight-knit community of the college campus. And a week into the semester, you still hadn't made any real friends yet, except for your roommate. 

Still, even though you didn't belong to the social circles on campus and you never cared for gossiping, certain rumors spread so far that even you heard them. About these three guys, all seniors belonging to the privileged elite of the university, stirring quite the fuss– especially the raven-haired and the blond one. 

It was the second week and your roommate and you were approaching the main entrance to your college building, ready to go to classes. But you stopped dead in your tracks, an all too familiar sight ahead of you. For a moment you questioned reality, having not seen him in almost a decade. 

"What's he doing here?" You asked, stunned. 

Of all places in the country you had to meet him here. Life has its shitty ways of fucking with you.

"Who?" Your roommate asked, her gaze following yours to some guys standing across the yard by the wall, smoking.

Staring straight ahead, you would've recognized him anywhere– hands lazily stuffed in the pockets of his dark ripped jeans, the usual bored expression on his face. That all too familiar mop of raven hair with bangs falling over his brows, those broad shoulders—

—and those incredibly piercing blue eyes that just now flicked up to look at you.

Shit, you tried to calm yourself, No need to panic. He won't recognize you after all these years.

But that hope was thrown out the door as quickly as it arose when he aimed a wickedly seductive grin right at you, his strikingly blue eyes continuing to observe you.

Damn, he knows.

"Ok, we gotta go. Now!" You swung around and swiveled around your roommate who struggled to catch up with you. "We're gonna take the back entrance."

"Hey, what was that just now?" She breathlessly asked.

"Nothing." You grumbled, reluctant to get as much distance between you and those mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Oh, don't you dare nothing me!" She took a few wider steps to catch up with you. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You might be right about that," you muttered under your breath. "Let's go, we'll be late for classes."

***

A sound stirred you from your work assignment late at night. "You're not telling me something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Looking up, you saw your roommate standing at the door of your bedroom.

She cocked an eyebrow, kicked off the door frame, and walked towards you.

"The raven-haired guy. This morning." She continued, "I saw him looking at you– and then you freaked out."

Oh no.

"It's Touya Todoroki." She stopped in front of you, placing her hands on her canted hips, "The hottest guy on campus, according to what I've heard."

"Don't know what you're talking about." You mumbled, the tips of your ears turning scarlet as you kept yourself busy counting the dust specs on the screen of your notebook.

"C'mon! I know you're hiding something," she sat down next to you, batting her pretty, long lashes at you. "You've got to tell me."

Inhaling deeply, you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm your tired and overworked nerves.

"Alright." You sighed. "But this stays between us ok?"

"Pinkie swear!" She beamed at you, offering her smallest finger and you locked it with yours.

"Touya and his buddies Tenko, and Keigo—we used to be childhood friends. We grew up together living in the same neighborhood." You pulled your hand back and tugged a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. "We also went to the same elementary school."

"Aw, that's so cool!" She giggled, urging you to continue. 

"Yeah, really sweet–" you huffed and looked straight at her. "Did you know he calls me Cheeks?"

"No—but that's adorable!" She smiled.

"You know what it stands for?" Cocking a brow you waited.

She shook her head.

"Buttcheeks." You inhaled deeply before continuing. "In second grade, he pulled my pants down in front of everyone - even the teachers. I was the laughingstock of the entire school for weeks."

"Oh sorry," Your roommate was visibly afflicted. "That's not so adorable."

You continued, picking up a few pieces of lint off your pants. "A year later, my parents and I had to move away to another state. That's when I saw him last."

"Mhhh, maybe he was a jerk back then," she pointed out, "But did you ever think about him having changed?"

"Nope. People like him don't change." You added bitterly. "I need to focus on my studies now, ok?"

"Yeah, sure." She sighed.

And with that, you ended the conversation, your roommate straightening up to return to her room and leaving you to finish your essay.

***

As you were leaving your classroom, you stopped dead in your tracks seeing Touya with Keigo and Tenko, leaning his back against the building wall, observing you, hands buried deep in the pocket of his pants. 

Touya just rocked the hottest-guy-on-campus look. Even though his frame was lean, he was well-toned, his body reeking of masculinity. He was wearing a plain black long-sleeve shirt, tight black pants, biker boots, and rings on his hand as well as piercings in his ear. 

But it wasn't just his physique. His presence alone took up space and dominated like nothing else and you had to take a few moments to catch your breath. A few moments that were over too quickly when he started to strut over into your direction, his eyes strikingly light blue.

You instantly turned to make an escape, but at that same moment a door to a lecture room opened and a crowd of students poured out, crushing your plans to get away.

"Well well well, if it ain't Cheeks," an arm slung around your neck. "Of all places, I've never expected to run into you here."

The subtle scent of expensive cologne surrounded you and his own scent, warm and masculine at the same time. He smelled amazing, and it left a feeling in you that you couldn’t place your finger on.

Shit.

"Fuck off, Touya…" you mumbled, a bit of color rising to your face.

"Why so rude?" He chuckled and leaned in closer. 

A group of students had stopped to watch the two of you talk, chattering behind raised hands.

"What are you doing here?" You tried to get away from him but his embrace was too tight. 

"Could ask you the same." He hummed back with a curious grin on his face.

"I'm enrolled in classes, duh." You remarked, trying to keep your tone flat.

"Heh, I'm a Senior." His free hand came to pinch your cheek.

"Did your dad bribe the University Board to get you in?" You looked sideways at him, shamefully breathless at his close proximity. 

His eyes seemed so captivating—more than they used to when he was a kid.

"Naah— got in here myself." He grinned, icy blue eyes flashing. "Excellent grades."

"Doubt it." You hissed at him.

"You're hurting my feelings, Cheeks." He gave you a light chuckle that you felt way too much in your chest.

Rolling your eyes at him, you finally managed to shrug his arm off as he loosened his hold on you—when you heard another voice closing in. "Hey, Touya, who's that Hottie here?"

It was Keigo, narrower and shorter in build than Touya, with windstrewn ash blond hair swept messily backward. He was blatantly showing off his wealth, wearing luxury label clothes, and sporting a huge Breitling aviator watch on his wrist. 

"Don't you recognize her?" Touya glanced at him over his shoulder.

The blonde looked at you with a slight arch in his eyebrow. Then his golden eyes lit up in surprise. "Shit, it's Cheeks!"

"Damn, it is," Tenko muttered, who just joined the three of you. With the long tangled hair and the simple, black hoodie pulled over his head, he seemed more innocent than the other two, which was a welcoming change. The only thing giving him away was the rather geeky expensive Devon Star Wars watch at his wrist.

His cheeks reddened behind his pale bangs when your eyes met and he muttered a shy, "H-Hi Cheeks…" before averting his gaze, awkwardly scratching his nape with his fingers.

Keigo however, stepped even closer, his golden brown eyes mustering you as he leaned in, flirtatiously. "So—you got a boyfriend?"

"Nice move, but– no." You groaned. "Not interested in one as well."

Just as Keigo was about to say something Tenko interrupted, looking at his watch. "Guys, we need to go now if we wanna get to class in time." 

"Yeah, we're coming." Touya looked at you with an amused glint in his azure eyes before turning to leave.

"See ya, Cheeks." He waved goodbye as they strolled off.

You couldn't help but follow him with your eyes, when suddenly Touya stopped to toss you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he caught you staring, before continuing on his path.

Shit, you felt your cheeks burn. Shit, shit, shit.

Your roommate, who had stood off to the side unbeknownst to you now stepped close, letting out a deep sigh, "Sorry, didn't want to interrupt. But damn, are you lucky."

You bit your lips as you continued to watch him. "Jerk. I hate him."

"Oh, are you sure? You blushed there quite a bit, I'd say." She sheepishly added.

"Thin ice, girl." You pursed your lips at her, "Very thin ice."

She only giggled in response.

"I would give everything to be fucked by that guy." She gazed at where he was walking off with Keigo and Tenko. "C'mon, just look at him!"

You leveled her with a flat look and folded your arms under your chest. She sighed. 

"Girl, he's rich!" She wiggled her hand in his direction, "His dad is fucking loaded!"

"I don't care about all that, you know me" you commented nonchalantly.

"But—I heard he's even going to graduate summa cum laude."  Her eyes became dreamy, "If you land with him, you hit the jackpot."

"Oh, s'that so?" You picked up your bag. "You can have him. I'm not interested"

"You should be. I heard he also fucks like a God."

"Good thing I'm an atheist then." You winked at her and turned to walk away, trying to ignore the wet stickiness in your panties that wasn't there before.

***

The following weeks were absolute torment. Even though Touya was a senior and the paths you crossed were rare, he was constantly around, repeatedly seeking you out in the crowd, his little naughty grins always catching you off guard and making your face heat up. He was smooth, you had to admit, and surprisingly persistent– despite your constant rebuffs.

So it wasn’t long until your name unwantedly became the talk on campus. People were staring at you, muttering behind your back, wondering who that normal girl was that managed to get Touya Todoroki's attention. You weren't used to the looks that everyone was giving you, and felt utterly uncomfortable.

Whenever possible, you avoided large groups of people while on campus. Still, it was unavoidable that some girls' stares always followed you, their whispers behind raised hands a constant backdrop in your head.

It was frustrating, in more ways than one. Because even though you tried to deny it, you started catching yourself having constant thoughts about Touya. And they weren't exactly innocent ones. Whenever you saw him from afar, your chest tightened and your heart thundered a thousand miles a minute. You couldn't shrug off this feeling of wanting to be close to him, to hear his sultry voice, and to run your hands through his raven hair. 

Albeit your own feelings – or rather to deny them – you dedicated yourself to your studies for the next few weeks. So it was no surprise that when midterms came around, your relentless studying paid off, walking out of classes with the highest grades of all.

***

It was late spring and a sudden heat wave had hit your area, making everything unbearably sticky and gross. You opted for a midday walk as some sort of a stress reliever when you heard steps approaching and a familiar voice saying "Hi Cheeks–"

Touya came to a stop right in front of you, dressed in a short sleeve shirt. Intricate black and blue flame tattoos decorated both his arms, complementing his natural looks perfectly. 

After reaching inside the pocket of his jeans, he took a cigarette out of the box he had retrieved, and placed it between his lips. He lit it up, a cloud of smoke billowing up in the air as he exhaled deeply. His smoldering turquoise eyes dragged up your body and stopped at your lips.

"Wanna go eat something, Cheeks?" His gaze continued to linger on your lips.

"Sorry, I think I just lost my appetite." You deadpanned.

"Cmon–" He tilted up his chin, looking at you, smirking.

"Touya, I'm not interested."

"But I'm hungry…" And his eyes flicked back to your lips. 

"Go eat alone then." You mumbled.

Looking up at him, you noticed his rapturous looks, something wicked and flirtatious flickering behind the azure hue of his eyes. Your stomach somersaulted and you knew it was lust in his heavy-lidded eyes when your gazes locked.

"I'm not hungry for food, Cheeks—" his voice was husky, successfully making your spine tingle. 

"Oh for God's sake," you tried to swat his chest but he dodged gracefully, a playful smile on his face, taking another drag of the cigarette he was holding between his fingers.

You couldn't help but stare at his sinfully seductive lips, the way they urged to be kissed—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself.

But you were caught already as he observed the way your cheek reddened and cocked his head, eyebrows raised. “Bet you're thinking about me right now, Cheeks.”

"Excuse me?" You lied, the spreading blush reaching your ears, “F-Fuck off Touya!"

You felt like you were seconds away from exploding, with your heart rate blasting through the roof. 

"I think I'm making you nervous." He grinned, 

"God, you're so full of yourself–" you started.

Luckily a high smooth voice interrupted your little bantering. 

"Hey Toto, been looking everywhere for you!" a stunning girl approached.

Touya didn’t even pay a glance as she got close to him, manicured fingers trailing up his arm.

"Missed you, baby" she pouted her plush lips at him, "Why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

Touya sneered, his usual bored expression back on his face, "Should be self-explanatory."

He placed his cigarette between his lips again, sucking in his cheeks, his hooded gaze not leaving yours. 

The girl was stunned by his rude reply but then seemed to brush it off. Moving her face close to his, she purred, “What’s with the attitude, baby?"

"Told you, I have other plans..." Ignoring her completely, his eyes continued to be trained on you as smoke billowed around his face.

Even though he was clearly not interested in that girl, it still left a pinch of bitterness in your heart. You felt disappointed. You'd heard that he had gotten around quite a bit– but seeing the girl just being so much better looking than you made you feel so inferior, so ugly, so—

—you had to get out of here. Now.

"I think you should satisfy your hunger with her," you pointed out and before he could reply, you shouldered your bag and left down the path to the library.

You heard Touya call after you but then the high-pitched voice of the girl interrupted, followed by rough cussing on his behalf before you could get out of earshot.

Serves him right.

***

This irritating, depressing sting of jealousy had been gnawing away at your heart ever since the scene outside with the girl and left you almost sleepless at night. Let's face it, you weren't exactly a virgin anymore either. But your experience had been rather—bleak, to put it nicely. With some random guy. For a whooping ten seconds. Leaving you beyond unsatisfied.

But Touya– he must have been in bed with so many girls, must have gathered so much experience that the thought alone made the bile of jealousy rise in your stomach. And as it was apparent to you, all the girls he had were all pretty and perfect and you couldn't help but feel inferior to them. And you hated yourself for thinking this way.

But that wasn't the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied– no. You couldn't quite shrug off the idea that – even though he served her off, or maybe just because of that – each girl was just a joke for him. As were you.

You had just finished your last lecture for today and, grabbing your iPad from the counter you winced, a stinging pain shooting through the tip of your finger. You pinched it between your thumb and index finger, seeing a splinter stuck in it. You knew you had to wait till later to get it out with tweezers at home.

You sighed as you exited your classroom ready to head outside—when you felt a soft hoodie sleeve slide along your neck as an arm draped around your shoulder, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke starting to engulf you.

It was familiar, comforting—

—and yet still so unwelcomed.

"There you are, Cheeks, missed ya." Touya's low, sultry voice close to your ear sent instant shivers up your spine. 

Your step faltered and you spun around only for another arm to coil around your waste. Dragging your gaze from his chest up to his face you instantly shrunk beneath the intensity of his stunning blue eyes. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, too struck by how inexcusably handsome he looked up this close.

"That really hurts, huh?" He said with his husky voice, looking down at your finger.

"Let go of me, Touya" you shivered under his touch and tried to shake off his arm.

His eyes never left yours as his hand wrapped around your hurt one, bringing it close to his face. Breathlessly, you watched as he latched his lips around your fingertip and flicked his tongue over the wound before starting to suck.

You inhaled sharply, as a piercing pain shot through your finger, his eyes heavily lidded with lust and desire when you locked gazes.

Shit.

Suddenly, the pain was gone and he released your finger. He stuck out his tongue, the splinter sitting on its tip. He turned his head to spit it away and let go of you, smoothing his hair back. He watched with an amused grin while your cheeks went slowly ablaze.

"D-Don't do that, Touya," you stuttered.

He leaned close, propping himself against the wall next to you. There was that smirk again— the one that made your heart skip a bear. His hand came up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear and his light warm touch had your stomach flutter.

"Don't do what?" He cooed.

"D-Dont touch me." Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

Damn.

You hated it. You hated how he made you feel inside, how he made your body react to him. You felt heat rising inside of you again and your resentment towards him increased.

“I'd say you like my touch,” he smirked a bit wider seeing the rosy blush spread on your face. "It's more than obvious."

“You wish,” you retorted, shifting to the side, further away from him.

"And I need to go now, I need to work on my scholarship project." You mumbled as Touya watched on with his lazily lidded eyes.

As you took a step away from him, you felt him hold you back by your arm.

"Wait!" He called out and you stopped, staring straight ahead.

“Listen, Cheeks. I want to apologize,” he sighed, sounding pensive. “You’re busy and here I’ve been, like, keeping you from your work."

Turning around you took him in. He seemed apologetic. And honest.

"I really like spending time with you." He cocked his head, slowly releasing his hold on you. "Why don’t you tell me what the assignment is about so I can make up for distracting you by helping out?"

This was unexpected. His honest expression caught you off guard, and, hesitating for a moment, you told him about your assignment. Not before throwing him a glare–out of mere spite. 

"Well, come to think of it," he mused, "That's a topic I aced last year. I could help out."

Of course, he did, you mentally slapped yourself.

"Ok, here's my offer," his smile became wider. "I'll book a quiet room at the library and help you out."

"Ok, but we only study." You scrunched your nose cutely at him.

"Aw Cheeks, I'm hurt that you think so lowly of me." He chuckled, "Of course, we will only study—promise."

His cerulean eyes were lit up beautifully, bright, with a glint of his usual mischief in them, but also integrity. It brought back memories of when you were kids, of how he used to look at you back then. Full of contentment and—

"Ok," you declared defeat. "Three o'clock. Library. For studying."

He whipped out his phone, asking for your number and typing it down in his contact list.

"Yup, just for studying." Placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, he leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. "See ya at three, Cheeks!"

And then he strutted off, hands lazily stuffed in his pockets. As you watched him leave, you noticed the whispers from your classmates as he passed, some eyes even trained on you. It made the heat in your face even more obvious and you quickly turned to walk away.

***

It was half past two and you were sitting at one of the reading tables aligned along the wall in the basement of the library. Touya had texted you that he had successfully booked a room down there. As you were trying to kill time, you were reading in preparation for the meeting. The supportive stone pillars served as dividers in between the tables, yet not as any kind of soundproofing.

At the table adjacent to yours, two girls had been keeping you from studying, irritating you with their endless gossiping. Finally, it sounded like they were gathering their stuff when—

"Have you heard the latest news about Touya?" The first one whispered.

"Spill the beans, bestie!" The other urged.

Oh no, here we go, you thought, clearly annoyed by the fact that every girl seemed to know something about him.

"A girl I know from a party said she slept with him recently." The first one started.

You rolled your eyes. This was the worst conversation to listen to. You tried to focus back on the book, starting to read the first line when—

"You know, she claimed they did it here — in this library."

Oh for Christ's sake, you slammed your hand on the pages. You were close to standing up and leaving. But the desperate urge to want to hear where this was heading took control.

"No way, that's so hot!" The other girl gushed.

"Yeah, can you believe it? She said he invited her for a study session." You heard her shifting in her seat.

You froze, all blood starting to drain from your face.

"What, really?" The other girl's voice was high with excitement. "That's so treacherous. And naughty—"

"He signed up for a quiet room and then they fucked—" there was the sound of fabric rustling as the first one stood up.

You didn't listen any further as all sounds around you started to disappear. The pen you had clutched between your fingers slipped away from your grip, clattering onto the table.

Your heart pounded in your ears and your throat constricted. With your stomach churning and tears starting to form, the world seemed to spin as you slowly rose on your wobbly feet, snatching your belongings.

As you started walking, it felt like gravity had been turned up as every muscle in your body suddenly felt too heavy to move.

God, why did you fall for this…

***

"Please!" 

"No." You scoffed.

"Pretty please?!" Your roommate tried again.

"Still no."

Considering for a second, she continued, "I'll do the dishes for the entire next month."

Contemplating your answers for a second, you exhaled heavily. "Still no." 

She groaned out loud, but then offered with a mischievous smile on her face. "I know secrets about you that I'm not gonna hesitate to spill."

"You wouldn't dare—" You let out a harsh breath, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"Try me!" She boasted.

You turned your attention back to your studies.

"Ok, dishes and groceries. For a month."

You let out a deep sigh, closing your book with a loud clap. "Fine."

***

So, this is how you ended up at Keigo's birthday bash - organized and hosted by none other than Touya Todoroki. 

You wanted to leave before you had even arrived. Ever since you walked out of that library a week ago, you had successfully avoided Touya and ignored every one of his calls or messages. And now you were here, able to run into him at any minute.

The party had been the talk of campus for quite a while and everyone had taken desperate measures to get their hands on the limited tickets. Even though Tenko teued to convince you to attend, you kept refusing. That was, until your roommate came into your room, fanning her face with two of those most sought-after invitations, courtesy of Tenko, and bribed you into joining her.

The party took place in an opulent suite at the noblest hotel in town, owned by none other than Enji Todoroki, Touya's dad.

Standing against the wall in a corner of the spacious two-story living room area, you took a glimpse around to take in the scene. There was a huge bar and a professional flair bartender currently doing a performance flipping his mixers and bottles, perfectly emphasizing the sleek contemporary furniture.

The entire room was filled with pro lighting effects tailored to the music of a professional DJ playing off to the side. A huge luxury buffet with an assorted arrangement of foods - all masterfully prepared - was placed against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It wasn't only a feast for the eye, but also one to spoil the palette.

Your roommate had already excused herself to approach some of the Seniors standing at the bar, leaving you to yourself sipping on your gin & tonic. Sliding your free hand along your dress, you nervously tugged at its hem, trying to pull it down further. Your roommate made you buy it earlier this afternoon and it felt way too short and way too tight for your liking. 

You sighed and stepped towards the well-endowed buffet table when an arm wrapped around your waist from behind and pulled you around.

"Hey, Cheeks!" A voice whispered close to your ear– but it wasn't Touya's. Blond hair tickled your cheek as Keigo dipped his head against the curve of your neck, his warm soft lips grazing your skin.

"Keigo, let me go."

"But you feel so nice." He slurred, a hand starting to wander lower. "And warm."

"Keigo–" You tried to free yourself from his embrace, "Let. Me. Go!"

"Sorry, not happening," holding you with one arm tightly, he quickly chugged a glass filled with whiskey he was holding before placing it carelessly on a catering table nearby.

You tried to push against him but years of being on the Varsity Team had obviously paid off – he didn't budge an inch.

"Lemme kiss you..." He whispered against your neck, tongue dipping out to taste you.

An uncomfortable feeling spread through you, his breath hot against your skin, heavy with the scent of whiskey. 

"Keigo, keep your hands off me–" You kept struggling against his hold as his hand slid down from your waist to your ass. “I swear to God, I’ll punch you."

Just that second you were pried out of Keigo's grip. You lost your footing and stumbled back against a warm body, a strong arm keeping you from falling. Seeing Tenko casually restraining an obviously drunk Keigo, a suspicion arose as to whose arms you were in. As you tilted your head up, a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes glanced down at you, a mischievous glint in them.

Yep. Touya.

"Please don't punch him." Touya chuckled, making sure you had safe footing before releasing you and sending you an apologetic smile. "He's just a bit drunk."

The blond man swayed in Tenko’s embrace, grinning stupidly at you, "Pfff, I'm not drunk! I'm sexy…"

"Well, you better keep restraining me or else I'll punch his pretty face nonetheless…" You growled in return.

"Ha! She said I'm pretty," the Blonde beamed, obviously delighted about your description of him.

"Tenko, please take Keigo over there," Touya nudged his head towards the other side of the room, "I saw a bunch of sorority girls looking for him."

"Yeah Tenko," Keigo's face turned bright and he slurred, "Let's go get some ass!" 

And with that, he raised his fist and stumbled off through the crowd, with Tenko rushing after him but not before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Trapping your chin between his thumb and index finger, Touya angled your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. "You're OK there, Cheeks?"

His scent was intoxicating. It numbed your mind and sent heat straight down between your legs. Embarrassingly enough, you noticed how just this subtle gesture of affection had your panties stick wetly to you in an instant.

"Thanks, Touya," you muttered and tried to push past him, trying to get away from him. 

But he was quick to wrap his arm around you, keeping him close to you.

"Nuh-uh, you're staying with me." He grinned, picking up a nearby fresh glass filled with amber liquid from a table. "You keep disappearing on me…"

"Oh, so what—you need me to punch you as well?" You cocked a brow at him.

"Worth the risk." A smugness settled on his face as he took a sip of the amber-colored drink from his glass.

The liquid glistened on his lips and your eyes flicked unconsciously to them before he licked it away. They were the most alluring feature, soft and slightly parted—and again you couldn't help but fantasize how they would feel pressed against yours.

You were quick to avert your gaze again. But an unwanted desire grew in your chest, and you clenched your thighs in an attempt to stop the heat from spreading.

But Touya's mouth quirked suspiciously at the corner, having seen your wandering gaze. 

You took a deep breath to keep your annoyance at bay. "What are you smiling at?"

"Hmmm let me think…" he tipped his head and added with a cheeky expression "You, staring at my lips?"

"No, I wasn't," you braced your hands against his chest in an attempt to free yourself.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks when you felt him, all the firm muscles under his soft shirt, warm and solid, his strong heartbeat pounding against your palm.

Shit.

It stirred something inside you, making you aware of just how attractive he was, how close you were to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, his sweet breath fanning your face. The blush kept spreading to your ears especially when you noticed something else that was solid as well. And it was pressing against you. 

Just lower.

Your body felt hot all of a sudden and you tried to blame the little alcohol you had consumed so far. But the thought of how his chest would feel, bare underneath your skin, how it would feel to press your lips against it clawed its traitorous way into your brain.

Luckily the train of thought was cut short.

"I'm pretty sure you were staring at my lips," He fought back a grin as he raised an eyebrow. 

Bastard, you cursed inwardly a few times for having been caught red-handed.

"No, I wasn't," you answered, wincing inwardly from sounding so weak.

A pleased sound rumbled deep in his chest. "I think you're lying, Cheeks."

Why is he so infuriating, insufferable and so–

– goddamn attractive.

"Touya, please–" it came out as a mere whisper while you swallowed nervously.

“Please what?” He tilted his head, looking amused. “You don’t have to be shy, you know.”

He was obviously having a blast with your reaction. He has always been like that. One second he was nice and sweet and the next second his blatant cockiness annoyed the hell out of you. 

“I’m not shy.” You tried to defend yourself. "You're just annoying, that's all."

His eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth and you felt it straight in your belly. It took over your senses and clouded any coherent thoughts.

“And you’re pretty." Touya whispered, leaning in further.

“What do you want from me?” You trembled beneath his gaze, suddenly feeling so vulnerable.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tilting his head to the side, he angled his mouth above yours. “You."

You could feel his warm breath on your lips, the tip of his nose tickling yours. Maybe he did change. Maybe he really was interested in you. So without thinking any further you let your lids flutter shut, parting your lips when–

"Oi Touya!" A guy shouted at him over the noise of the crowd and the music, "Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes shot open as both turned your heads towards a young man with short auburn hair approaching, wearing a black shirt and white tie.

"'Course you fucking are, dipshit!" Touya growled at him, obviously not happy about the guy's appearance.

The other took you in before asking, wearing a stupid grin on his face. "What happened to the cute blond girl from before? No wait, she was brunette, wasn't she—?"

"Shut it," Touya hissed, loosening his hold on you as he was ready to approach the other man.

Memories of the conversation between the two girls at the library flooded your mind and it churned another feeling inside you— one of betrayal. And suddenly you felt so dumb for thinking that he'd ever change. He would always be the guy who humiliated you and would do it again without thinking. And with that last thought, you dove under Touya's arm to start digging your way through the crowd toward the exit.

There was a loud cuss as your dark-haired admirer picked up the pursuit. But even though he was larger and stronger, you were quite agile, twisting and diving around and under people.

"Cheeks, stop!" Touya called after you.

But you didn't think of it. You almost reached the door when fingers clamped around your wrist and pulled you back.

"Fucking stop running!" Touya glowered at you, his tone aggravated. 

"Let me go!" You dug your fingers under his to try to free yourself from his grip.

"Hell no," he hissed and turned around to drag you up the stairs with him. "We're gonna have a talk."

"I don't want to though." You continued to struggle.

"I don't care, I'm sick of this!" He didn't even look at you as he arrived at the mezzanine floor.

"Touya please, you're hurting me," you whimpered, his grip on your wrist relentless as he kicked open the first door.

Touya shoved you into the room, booting the door shut behind him and you stumbled, catching yourself on the couch. Turning around you visibly paled. Touya stood in the doorframe, you'd never seen such a serious expression on his face. As he started approaching, you backed up, shrinking away under his intense glare.

"Touya, let me go–" Your voice sounded too shaky to be strong.

"No, you're not leaving until we've talked." He answered while approaching.

"You're scaring me—" You stepped further back until your back hit the wall. 

He was taking another stride until his body was directly in front of you, slamming his hands against the wall next to your head, caging you in.

"Touya—" You sniffled, "What's gotten into you?"

The blue of his eyes was dark, pointed sharply at you. 

"You're asking what's gotten into me?" His voice was dangerously low and rumbling. "Should ask you the same! Every time I wanna talk to you, you run away."

You cringed at his harsh words, his mouth pressed to a thin line, its corners angrily twitching.

"I want an explanation" He lifted his hand to slam it against the wall again, giving his words ample support.

"You pulled down my pants!" You yelled at him.

There. You said it. 

His expression turned puzzled, seriously taken aback.

"You're still mad at me for that?" His tone turned more aggravated.

“You ridiculed me!” You glared back at him, feeling your eyes watering up.

"That was ages ago!" He slammed his palm against the wall again. "I was a fucking dumb kid!"

Your bottom lip was trembling when your eyes locked. Frustration and anger clawed their way up your chest and without thinking you blurted out, "And what about the girl you fucked in the silent room? Were you gonna pull the same stunt on me?"

Your entire body was trembling by now, tears sitting heavy at your lash line.

"What the—no! Who told you that bullshit?" By now, he seriously seemed confused.

"It's no bullshit!" You spat back, "Some girls talked about it while I was waiting for you."

"So, that's why you left…" his eyes darkened, "Listen Cheeks, people say a lot of shit about me. If you would've just asked–"

"And what about that blond–" you cleared your throat, trying to suppress a sob, "No, brunette girl earlier on?" 

"Oh for fucks sake!" Touya's anger was palpable by now. "Kai hates me and always makes up shit like this just to get at me."

"I don't believe you." You turned your face sideways to avoid his gaze.

He stared at you in disbelief for a moment, before—

"You don't believe me?" He almost yelled at you. "I've been honest with you the entire time and you have just been so—aaahhh!"

He slammed his palm against the wall again. You flinched at its impact, a single tear freeing itself from your damp eyelashes, making its way down your cheek. Another one quickly followed. You choked on a gasp and noticed you had held your breath. Slowly, you breathed through trembling lips.

A heavy silence settled between you, the only audible sound being his heavy breathing and your silent sobs.

There was a subtle touch to your cheek as a warm hand gently cupped your face, turning it towards him. 

"Look at me," he said, his voice much softer.

You did, your gaze slowly rising to meet Touya's eyes. All anger was gone from his features, another expression instead passing over his face, one that was almost... tender. And affectionate.

His azure eyes took you in, the way you sniffled softly, another tear rolling down your cheek. His thumb brushed the tiny drop of salt water away as he continued gazing at you.

"Never made a girl cry like this before." His voice was low and made your heart pick up a beat, "Except for in my bed underneath me."

You giggled, sniffling, and leaned into his comforting touch. "You're such a dick…"

"I know," he chuckled and shifted forward, subtly eating up the space between you.

You could feel his warm breath fan over your skin. Then his lips ghosted over your cheek, the tip of his tongue dipping out to lick away the salty warmth of a single tear.

"Please forgive me?" He murmured against your skin, moving lower, following the trail of your tears, licking them up, one by one.

It was hard trying to formulate a response with his warm lips on your skin. You tried to say something, tried to push him away but you had forgotten how to speak – how to move.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he breathed and adjusted his direction, going lower, and lower, his tongue flicking out to lick the corner of your mouth.

You sucked in a little breath of surprise and he took the small advantage to move his mouth over yours, dipping his tongue inside.

You let your eyes flutter shut, your entire brain short-circuiting as it hit like a lightning strike. You forgot yourself, forgot everything else except for the tip of his tongue on yours. 

Your mouths started to sensually and slowly work against one another as were your tongues, leaving you lightheaded and knees buckling as you moved your hands up to steady yourself on his hips.

He smelled and tasted like the best thing you've ever tasted, with warm skin, and a hint of smoke. You kept kissing like that, his hand cupping your face, sliding behind your neck, to cup your nape, to angle your face and pull you deeper into the kiss.

You felt his thigh slip between yours, pinning you in place. The unmistakable press of something stiff against your hips caught your attention, making you gasp into his mouth. Goosebumps cascaded up and down your body and you felt each hair stand on end.

With each roll of your tongues, he humped his clothed erection against your core. A small whimper spilled past your mouth and it earned you a quiet hum of approval in response.

You were starting to lose your mind as you continued to intensify the kiss, mouths working against one another. He groaned at the way you ground your hips forward, meeting his in a desperate attempt to feel more of him.

His movements became erratic before he pulled back, panting heavily, eyes dark and hooded with lust.

"Jesus fucking–" his words came out hoarse and breathy.

Then his hands swept along the back of each of your thighs to lift you off the floor and onto his hips.

You squealed his name against his lips as he swung you around and laid you down on the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed in one swift motion, his mouth not once leaving yours.

Fitting himself between your legs, he spread them easily with his body, grinding his pelvis against your clothed heat, making sure you felt just how huge he was and how much he wanted you. 

With each rut, he pressed his throbbing cock directly against your sensitive nub. It had your blood boiling, your core clenching and you canted your hips to meet his, the coil inside of you tightening by the second.

"Touya–" you panted into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt.

It felt better than anything you could've imagined. The pressure in your guts increased, the coil wound tighter and tighter, a white heat starting to blister, and with the next press of his hips against your mound—

“Touya, wait!" you gasped against his mouth, but it was too late.

Your orgasm exploded and had you moan into his mouth, back arching off the soft mattress, pressing your breasts against him.

His movements stalled and he looked at you with a puzzled look on his face.

"Did you just…?" A surprised smirk spread on his face.

You just laid below him, trying to catch your breath, cheeks bright red and lips raw and swollen from the intensive kissing.

"Yes, you did!" His soft chuckle vibrated through you, making you squirm underneath him.

"S-Shut up," you muttered, your hand raising to cover your blushing face.

"I think it's cute." A hand slid into your palm, fingers interlacing with yours as the other rose to brush a piece of hair away from your eyes.

"I'm just sensitive." You tried to explain, your face warming.

"I love that about you," he said, his warm breath fanning against your skin. "No need to apologize."

"You're just messing with me" you murmured, eyelashes fluttering shyly.

"I'd never," you heard him say under his breath.

You both stayed like this for a few more moments, warm bodies pressed against one another. 

Then he asked, tentatively, "So, you want to stop here?"

Carding your fingers through his messy hair you laughed, "You better not--”

He buried his face in your neck and groaned deeply. "God, why do you have to be so perfect—?"

"Trying my hardest," you giggled.

He started nibbling against your pulse, making you writhe underneath him. You could feel him smirking against your skin at your reaction, lips finally brushing yours and you untangled your fingers to pull at his hair. You started kissing, deep and longingly, darting your tongue between his lips to get a better taste of him. He kept kissing you, deep and messy, just pausing to nip at your lips before shoving his tongue in your mouth again.

Without breaking the kiss, you propped yourself up on your elbows. Touya wrapped his arms around you, grabbed the zipper of your dress, and slowly pulled it down to its bottom. Hooking his fingers under your straps, he pulled the dress down over your bare breasts and you helped get your arms out. Leaning back, he gently guided you back onto the mattress. When the dress was at your hips and you lifted them, allowing him to glide it over your butt and off your legs. 

The kiss never broke, eyes closed with lust, until suddenly he straightened up, eagerly taking you in with smoldering turquoise eyes. "Shit, you look more beautiful than I imagined." 

"You imagined—?"

"Oh, you don't know how often I dreamed about you." Tracing his fingers around the curve of your completely exposed breasts, "Ever since I first saw you on campus."

With that he sunk down, latching his warm lips around your erect nipple. You sucked in a breath, a blistering heat shooting right through your body as it ripped a loud moan from your mouth. As he continued, running his tongue over your nipples, alternating between swirls and flicks, you gasped for air. His mouth closed in on one, then the other, sucking and biting lightly, while Touya hummed in approval and continued his ministrations on the other breast. 

When he stopped, you looked up at him. There was so much heat between your legs, and you were dripping wet.

“Can't believe that after all these years I finally have you in bed with me." He breathed out heavily, eyes glazed with lust as he peered at you below him. 

And If it was possible to fuck you with a look, this was it.

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “What are you waiting for then?"

“Atta girl,” he said and hooked his thumb under the hem of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs.

Grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart, his breathing became faster, seeing your glistening folds, all that arousal seeping out.

"Cheeks, let's skip the foreplay." His face took on a pained expression as he gulped. "I think I'll bust a nut in my pants if I wait any longer."

Tilting your head, you took in the huge, twitching bulk in his pants, urging to be released. "Y-Yeah, go on, I'm ready."

"Thank God." He growled deep and low, hooking his fingers under his shirt.

Pulling it over his head, he threw it carelessly across the room. When he started unbuttoning his pants, you gasped as you saw a neatly trimmed black happy trail leading up to—

Sitting on his knees he pulled his pants down. 

—his pierced cock. 

Jesus Christ. Figured he was pierced– and went fucking commando.

You realized you were holding your breath when he had his eyes on you, asking with an unexpectedly low voice of his, “Ready?”

You nervously nodded when Touya was settling himself back between your legs.

Grabbing his cock at its base, he positioned it against your shimmering folds, sliding it back and forth over your slick pussy instead of putting it in. Precum mixed with your slick, his gaze transfixed on your face, waiting for approval.

The way you tentatively bit your lips was all he needed.

His cock started pressing hard against your entrance, and after a bit of resistance, the head popped in with a burning stretch.

Simultaneously, the both of you moaned out loud and tried to hold your composure. With gritted teeth, Touya pushed further agonizingly slow, groaning, each piercing slightly resisting before finally slipping in.

You felt split open, so sensitive that you struggled to last as he pushed in further, deeper. When he was finally inserted, you couldn't help but cry out again. It wasn't only the length that was impressive. The thickness and piercings were what got your head spinning. 

“Fuck,” Touya hissed through his teeth, desperation in his voice. His head dropped against your neck, his hand tapping out on the sheets.

"I-I think I need a moment here," he panted against your skin, his stiff cock wildly throbbing inside your pussy, close to painting your insides white with his creamy release.

"Whom are you telling," your breathing was labored, trying your hardest not to cum on the spot. 

"Shit, you're so…" he gulped, "Why are you so fucking tight—?"

"Cause you're huge!" You gasped sharply, clenching even harder down on him.

His breathing was still strained, his face still buried in your neck.

"So, do you need me to distract you?" You wheezed. "Pinch something or maybe—punch you?"

"Don't you dare," he chuckled, playfully biting the skin of your shoulder.

“I would never---” You giggled, close to bursting out into laughter over him.

Noticing the tension inside you slowly subsiding, you placed your warm palm on his back, gently running it up and down his stiff back, hoping he’d finally relax. Feeling the muscles slowly soften under your touch, his nether regions calmed down as well. 

"Ok," he finally breathed, "Ready?" 

You only nodded and he—

Holy shit.

You weren't prepared for this at all. Your hand was clutching onto Touya's shoulder for dear life as he began to slowly pull out. All nerve endings were on fire instantly and one hand darted up to clasp over your mouth. 

It felt amazing, his piercings adding just the right friction, his girth to the heavenly pressure. Touya grunted as he stopped, only the cockhead still buried inside your wet warm walls.

Then without a warning, he leaned his weight onto you, sinking his entire length into your pussy again, all the way to the base. He started a hard and deep pace, knocking the breath out of you.

“Touya—” you hit your head against the headboard from how urgently he thrusted forward.

“Cheeks,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he continued to slide his cock in and out of you. “How the fuck do you feel so good?"

"Y-You tell me—" You moaned.

Placing his hands on your hips and wrapping his fingers under your back he suddenly sat on his knees, lifting your butt off the mattress. Forcefully, he pulled you off the pillows and towards him, onto him, and slung your legs over his shoulders. 

Oh! was the last coherent word that your brain came up with before he started fucking you in earnest now.

Fisting your trembling fingers into the bed sheets, you bit your lower lip at the feeling of the steady push and pull, making you gasp and clench around him harder.

Touya muttered feverishly, “Fuck, you’re so wet,” under his breath, dropping his head out of pleasure. "You're dripping down my balls–"

He leaned closer to you, knees at your arms, chest pressing against your breasts as he kissed your lips while continuing to move his hips. His mouth was warm and wet and eager against your own and you clutched your hands around his nape for stability.

You slowly started losing your composure, struggling to hold back your orgasm. Still, you begged for more, more– and he delivered, thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before, stimulating that special spot in you, brutal and quick.

And you couldn’t help but sob at how good it felt. Never in your life had you experienced anything like this. He hit all the right places, his piercings adding perfectly to the friction. You felt the coil inside you so close to bursting again.

Oh my god, you were gonna cum again.

You honestly never thought that sex could bring this much pleasure, with it feeling raw and amazing at the same time. Your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, squelching sounds mixed with your incoherent sobbing and his low groans, while Touya's heated gaze drank up the lewd expression on your face as you came.

“Wanna fill you up with –fuck– my fucking cum, Cheeks.” He emphasized each word with a hard thrust, making you moan even harder around his length.

You could barely speak at that point, couldn’t even find the energy to move so he slid his hand between your legs, talented fingers starting to rub your clit. 

His mouth found yours again and he kissed you– hungry and sloppy– muttering under his breath, "Do you want me to fill you up? Do you want my cum inside of you?"

"Oh god, yes." You whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

He started to give you deeper, harder strokes now. You were close to crying, with it all being too much. Your vision became blurry from all the tears in your eyes and your body trembled, legs shook as his thrusts prolonged the orgasm and unearthed another one right behind it.

It made your eyes roll back and toes curl, losing all control as you felt the tingly feeling begin to unwind in your abdomen. You were a mess below him by then, pleading for him to go faster, harder, voice wracked with sobs of ecstasy.

The pleasure coiled, tighter and tighter. You couldn't hold back anymore, with him sliding in and out of you at this insane speed, his cock pounding into your G-spot with every thrust forward, working you both towards your shared high.

Your cries and the wet, squelching sounds of your messy unity echoed off the walls. You didn't care if people at the party downstairs could hear, too lost in each other's pleasure to think about anything else.

“I–,” he slurred, completely out of control. “I’m gonna cum.”

And then Touya’s head dropped against your shoulder, hot breath coming out in rough pants from the exertion. His eyes rolled back and he shuddered — pounding deep into you, erratic and needy. 

The sight of him being so close to bliss, the feeling of him slamming his dick into you— you couldn't handle it, and it had you falling over the edge again. The tension burst, another intense wave of pleasure racking your body as you gushed around his length. It felt like you shattered into a million pieces and then he pulled you back together again.

With his rhythm becoming sloppy and one last thrust, he came deep inside of you. sharing this moment of all-encompassing pleasure with you. 

You felt Touya toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest rising and falling fast as he tried to pump back some air into his lungs.

“Holy—,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck.

"Yeah—" you wheezed, trying to get your heart from racing in your chest.

You both stayed like that, drunk on the endorphins rushing through your system. His hair gently brushed over your skin, his soft lips alternating between nibbling and kissing your skin while you ran your hands across his back.

He eventually got soft inside of you and then slipped out, each piercing slowly popping out. Your combined release gushed out, dripping warm and creamy down your ass and onto the sheets below.

Bit by bit, the muffled sounds of the party came back, filling the room. 

"Sooo—" He glanced at you from under his dark bangs. "Are we good now?"

"Touya…."You scolded, shuddering under the feeling of his warm lips against your neck.

"I love how you say my name." He was nosing your skin, "'Getting hard again."

"Imbecile" - you groaned when you felt his soft cock starting to twitch against your dripping folds again.

He chuckled at that response, rubbing his slender nose into your pulse.

"But since you asked so nicely— I'll think about it," raising your arms you weaved your fingers into his hair, earning you an appreciative hum.

"You're so mean, Cheeks" he cooed, continuing to cover your skin with little kisses.

"Just paying you back for years of torture," your lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile before you turned your head to meet his lips for another passionate kiss.

***

The constant talk of the professor made for a monotonous backdrop. You sighed, looking at the digital clock on your tablet. Still a few more minutes to go before class was over and you could enjoy the rest of the day off.

You paid little to no mind to the professor's words, thinking about the weekend and all that happened. After you spent the night with Touya, you both woke before anyone else. He offered to drive you home, but not without buying you your favorite coffee on the way there. After a goodbye kiss at the door, he drove off. 

To your surprise, your roommate had spent the night with Tenko and apparently would stay at his place. It was a turn you'd never anticipated but were pretty happy about. And– it left you alone in your apartment, having enough time to ponder the endless possibilities of what that night with Touya meant for you, with it occupying your mind more than you anticipated. Because even though you knew he was probably busy with getting the cleanup organized, it still ate away at you that he didn't even call once.

So needless to say, doubts were nagging at you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what his intentions were. There were a million other girls in the world he could have chosen. So many hotter ones, prettier ones. So, were you just a phase, just another girl in the line of all the others he's had?

The pain in your chest rose as you kept thinking about this. And you finally concluded that he had to have teased you, that you were just another trophy on his wall of girls he fucked.

You hated this. You hated feeling like this, these thoughts making the turmoil inside you grow. You covered your face with your palms, feeling your eyes turn hot and your lower lip starting to tremble. 

Luckily, you were ripped from your thoughts by the shuffle of the people in the room and realized that the lecture was over. You took a moment to steady your pulsating heart, sighed, and stuffed your belongings into your bag, standing up and shouldering it. 

As you headed towards the door of the lecture room and stepped outside, you only took a few steps before someone was by your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders, and pulling you close.

Looking up with wide eyes, you saw Touya, effortlessly handsome as always, grinning at you, "Hey, Cheeks, missed ya."

You didn't know what to say, noticing how people stopped in their tracks to stare at the both of you, whispers starting behind raised hands.

"W-What are you doing here, Touya?" Your cheeks blushed as the wetness of your lashes reminded you of your recent doubts.

"I'm here to see my girl." He circled one arm around your waist, rasping, "I'm sorry, but my dad kept me busy yesterday so I couldn't talk much."

"Oh," you replied as his hand slipped behind your nape, pulling you closer.

"I'm gonna make it up to you, ok?" He leaned his forehead against yours, his perfect turquoise eyes glancing right into yours. "Let's spend the rest of the day together."

You only nodded, brain empty, just filled with his scent, his warmth, his low seductive voice in your ears. It made a certain heat rise inside of you again and you clenched your thighs, secretly cursing him for having such an effect on you. 

Then Touya dipped his head down to press his warm lips against yours, not caring about the increasing number of onlookers. All thoughts left your brain when the wet tip of his tongue flicked across your lips, demanding entrance. His hand moved to your cheek to tilt your head so he could kiss you even deeper. With the rasp of his warm tongue against yours, you tangled your fingers in his hair, making him moan into your open mouth. His kiss, his touch, had your stomach in knots within seconds.

When you both pulled away for a brief moment to breathe, he groaned "God, I missed this." 

He tugged you back towards him, his tongue plunging into your mouth. You felt hot all over, your skin tingling in anticipation, as your desire for him built inside of you. He shuddered slightly when you worked your hand under his shirt, not thinking about anything but wanting to touch him, feel him.

Being in his arms again, feeling him so close, felt heavenly. 

You shivered, wetness pooling in your pants again, “Touya—”

"Bro, what the fuck?" An all too familiar voice interrupted over the whispers of the surrounding onlookers. "You kissing in public?"

Touya groaned and broke the kiss, straightening up. "Got a problem with that, dumbass?"

"Maybe," Keigo approached, raking his manicured hand through his blond hair.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Keigo hooked his thumbs into his expensive Gucci jeans as he took both of you in. "So Cheeks, can I have a kiss as well—?"

"No, you fucking can't." He hissed, his arms circling protectively around your figure. "Don't even think about touching her."

"Touya, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." You tried to intervene.

Touya looked straight ahead at Keigo. "Oh yes, he did."

"Yep Birdie, I would love to have a taste of you…" Keigo winked at you.

You blink twice, taking a moment to process his words.

“Piss off, Keigo." Touya hissed.

But the blond man wasn't phased at all by the threat.

"Why not?” Keigo smirked, ruffling his hair. “Are you, like dating or what? Cause, you never date---”

You froze and averted your eyes, afraid of his answer because you still weren't sure what this meant to him.

“Of course we are,” Touya said, unfazed, drawing you closer to him.

"W-We are?" Your stomach somersaulted, heart rising to your throat at his words.

"Sure Cheeks, what else did you think?" Seeing you with disbelief in your eyes he rolled his eyes at you. "That this was just a one-night stand? You disappoint me—"

"Her reaction doesn't surprise me at all." Keigo's teasing smirk split into a full-blown grin, "Never took you for a relationship type of guy."  

Touya’s head spun around to face his friend.

"Me on the other hand," Keigo mused, grinning suspiciously at you, "I am all for a serious relationship, just saying."

"Shut it, Keigo," Touya growled upon his words, visibly irritated. "She's mine."

Looking at Keigo you noticed the corners of his mouth wobbling suspiciously, as his eyes flicked to yours before focusing back on Touya.

Oh. Ohhh—

You found yourself holding back your giggles, watching the scene now unravel in front of you from a different perspective.

"Well, ok," Keigo wiggled his eyebrows at you, "My offer's still up though."

Touya growled deep and threatening. "Keigo, I'm warning you—"

The blonde shrugged at the threat before continuing with a big mischievous grin. "So, was he any good? Cause I'm much better—"

"You motherfuckin–" Keigo barely dodged Touya's fist and spun around to run off cackling, only for your boyfriend to take after him.

"I'm also much bigger than him!" You heard Keigo yell, followed by Touya's angry howl.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing looking after them running down the hall like two little children. Needless to say, this was the best start to college for you after all.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve And Robin Are Stuck in A Timeloop AU 

Steve's lost track of which time loop this is.

Had lost track pretty much instantly, because it turns out when people die repeatedly in front of you, it kinda takes precedence in your memory. 

Besides, Robin has a list in her head, memorized via some kind of musical code, alongside all the dates and times they wake up in. 

(Steve doesn't see what difference it makes if they wake up at 7:15 am the day of the Championship or 8:25 am, but Robin's insistent that even the slightest variations could mean something.) 

He’ll have to ask his soulmate when he finds her though, because presently Steve has determined they're having one of their weirder loops.

Typically, when the two of them get kicked back in time, they wake up the day of the Championship game. Occasionally it will be the day right before or the day after, but sometimes? 

Sometimes they’re sent back someplace, some time, that isn’t related to 1986 at all. 

Thus far, the Starcourt loop had been the worst. 

("If it happens a third time I'm killing myself." Steve had told Robin after they’d failed that one. 

Robin didn’t even look at him, the two of them huddled up together in Steve’s bed. "No you're not Dingus, not without shooting me first."

"How come I have to shoot you!? Is it because I'm a man? That's not very feminist of you."

"No its because you've seen me shoot, I would miss!") 

Steve had even woken up in an odd place. Not his bed or the couch, but the driver's seat of the Beamer, seated in the high school parking lot.  

It made him immediately uneasy. 

The chair is reclined all the way back, the mass of cars indicating it was a school day. Steve struggled to recall when he's ever taken a nap in his car as he got out of it, trying to decide how he wanted to go about things. 

Felt his pocket and was surprised to find it full of a packet of smokes. 

The sheer implication of that had him pulling out a cig and lighting it before the knowledge that he'd officially quit buying his own cigarettes in 1985 sank in.

Panicked and chainsmokes three, before deciding his best course of action was his usual one. 

Find Robin. 

Which of course means that he found Eddie instead. 

xxx

He’d started his first lap, walking out if the parking lot and round to the more shaded, empty parts of the building when a voice he knew yelled. 

The kind of yell he’d grown intimately familiar with, the one Eddie used when he was terrified and using anger to hide it. 

Steve turns automatically, following the taunts and loud, pained breathing until he finds a handful of jocks encircling the metalhead. He's down on one knee, snarling like a wildcat caught in a trap while some guy Steve barely recognizes holds him by the hair, laughing. 

Red coats his vision instantly, and any thoughts Steve had about being stuck in time (sort of) vanish from his mind entirely. 

The world shrinks down, to that white knuckled grip on Eddie's hair, the way it’s pulling the older boy’s face up so that Steve can see the straining muscles in his throat. 

The protective creature that lives in his chest and likes to punch it’s way out of problems awakens, and a thrum goes through Steve as he feels its demand for blood. 

"Hey fellas " Steve calls joyfully, striding directly into the crowd. "What’re we doing?" 

Two part before him like fish seeing a shark,and a faraway inner voice identifies them as members of the swim team. 

Which likely meant the other two were football players, and for all the tackling they did they were surprisingly easy to scare, if you knew how to play it right. 

Steve absolutely knew how to play it right. 

"Fuck off Harrington. This isn't your business." The one holding Eddie's hair spits. 

"Well that would be where you're wrong." Steve was still keeping things conversational as he positioned himself, arms nice and loose at his sides. He lets the thing that lives inside him, who made him turn right back around all those years ago and charge back into the Byers house, out a little more. Feels the need to protect, to save, to destroy the things that are his, fuel him.  "Seeing as all of Eddie's business is my business."

Eddie stares up at him, wide eyed at the declaration. 

Feeling entirely out of control of his body, Steve sends him a wink. 

"Since when!?" The other football player asks. 

"Since now." Steve declares cheerfully--and then smiles. 

It isn’t a nice smile. 

Thoroughly unnerved, his swim team members shrink back. He’ll have words for them later if he has time--Steve can't ever recall the swim team members being dicks but who fucking knows. 

His memory wasn't the best before he and Robin got stuck in time. 

"You fucking into drugs now or wha--" Their ringleader, still holding onto Eddie by the hair, doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Mostly because his mouth is too busy catching Steve's fist. 

Fighting, he knows, is something he does best when it's too the death and he's armed with something. 

Bonus points if his opponent is a horrific monster from another dimension. 

He has gotten better though, and here the rapid pace he sets feels almost too easy. 

The first guy goes down on the ground before the rest pick up on it, giving Eddie time to lurch backwards as Steve turns and torpedoes into the next jock. 

This one gets in a good shot--Steve staggers with a blow to his side but it's not enough to wind him. He keeps to his feet and advances, delivering one more punch before the swim team guys are trying to call him off. 

"Come on man, you're gonna kill them!" 

Steve almost laughs-- he hasn't come close to killing either idiot-- but backs away, keeping himself between them and Eddie. 

They wave their hands, getting ahold of their bloodied friends as they slowly ease between them and Steve. Make apologizes and promises that it was a poor joke, Munson just got to them, hot heads you know? 

Steve snarls at them to fuck off, and glares until they're gone. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks him, and Steve turns to find him on his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the school. 

As far as he can get away from Steve. 

"Our football quarterback can't hit for shit." Steve informs him, having finally placed an least one of the guys. "It's probably why we always lose." 

Eddie gives him such a freaked out face it almost makes him laugh a second time.

The effect isn't helped by the fact that Eddie's normally long mane is hovering just over his shoulders, the curls somehow poofier than normal. Clearly he’s still trying to grow it out, but it just makes him look like one of those frazzled dogs. 

Adorable. 

On instinct Steve reaches out to playfully pull a few strands, then freezes when Eddie flinches from him. 

"Sorry." He keeps his hands up, as he takes in Munson's face. "Shit dude, he got your nose good." 

There's blood smeared under it, and given the look of the skin surrounding it? 

Eddie's gonna have an impressive bruise soon enough. 

Steve gets a glare sent his way. "Why do you care?" Eddie spits, back very much still up, and-- right. 

Right. 

Time travel. 

"I'm really bad at explaining it." Steve warns, running a hand through his hair. He did this part plenty without Robin (meeting Eddie that was--Robs usually tackled Nancy.) But he also typically did in it 1986, and with at least three of the kids, not whenever they currently were. 

"We usually start with facts only you'd know, but I don't actually know when I am right now." He finishes, and realizes immediately that it doesn’t make a lick of sense. 

"When you are?" Eddie asks, because of course he clocks that part immediately. 

"Ye--eah." Steve says, dragging out the word. 

He looks at Eddie desperately, like the metalhead will tell him the exact information he needs. 

Eddie just stares back. 

"Look, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Steve says finally, because fuck, it does!

"Comparable to all the other times you talk out loud?" Eddie snips, voice full of venom. 

"Shut up.” Steve replies automatically, but his tone holds no heat. He’s too used to trading banter with Eddie that is friendly.  “I'm gonna preface this by saying I can prove it."

"Oh wow preface. Such a big word for you! Did Nancy Wheeler teach you that one?"

"Robin actually." Then, "Nancy?"

The look Eddie gives him could melt steel beams. "Yeah man. Nancy Wheeler. Your girlfriend." 

"Oh--oh god." Steve says, because that means they're way back. Possibly to the beginning. 

Or worse, before he and Nancy had broken up.

"I can’t handle that breakup a second time." He says wide eyed, the panic gripping him for a second. “I could-no, no I could get Robin to tell her!” 

Because that sure would work. 

Steve can just imagine it now. Robin, sauntering up to Nancy and going ‘Hey, we really haven’t met yet but you’re gonna dump Steve, if you haven’t already and to cut through all the drama, I’m here to just tell you on his behalf that it’s over. What was that? A coward? Why yes, he is one!’

You know, provided she didn’t just laugh in his face and then cuff him over the head when she realized he was being serious. 

“Dude.” Eddie says, sinking a world’s worth of judgment into the single syllable. 

“Yeah, you’re right, bad call.” Steve says, and whatever Eddie was expecting it clearly wasn’t that. 

“Are you on drugs right now?” Eddie finally asks when Steve reverts back to looking to him as if he’s going to help. A bad habit, and one Steve knows he needs to stop doing. 

Even if Eddie, in the original timeline and every one after they got him on board, eventually becomes someone Steve can rely on like that. 

“You can tell me if you are, man, you know I won’t judge.” The hateful air around him is fading into something more confused, and then into something else entirely. The persona Eddie pulls when he’s hurt and trying to hide it with jokes and rants. “Unless you and your buddies bought from someone that wasn’t me, in which case I get exclusive rights to judge.” 

He’s shifting as he finally stands up off the wall, and Steve doesn’t miss how he hugs one hand to a rib. 

Shit. 

He needs to get Eddie up to speed and he needs to do it fast.

Steve sighs and just starts listing Eddie Munson Facts like an unprepared kid who was called on in class. 

"Okay, so your uncle collects mugs, right? And--fuck I don't know when you get all the tattoos,” Steve makes a vague gesture around his chest, “but you have bats on your arm and you gave them all names." 

Eddie's eyes pop wide again, jaw slacking as Steve volleys off a few more Munson Facts. 

"You have this weird fear about red ribbon necklaces because of a book you read in third grade, your first guitar has this giant ugly--sorry dude, but you cannot write legibly to save your life, 'This machine slays dragons' quote across it and--oh!"

 He was so fucking stupid. The answer was literally staring at him in the face, dangling around Eddie's neck. 

Steve snapped his fingers excitedly. "The guitar pick on your neck is your moms!"

Eddie’s mouth open and closes like a fish, long enough that the smile slowly slides off of Steve’s face.  

"How the fuck do you know all that?" He manages after a long, tortuous moment, looking like he’d been sucker punched. 

Again. 

With the most pained look his face can manage, Steve finally answers. "Time travel."

Eddie blinks.

Then blinks again. 

 "Time travel." He echoes faintly. 

"Yeah. I'm from 1986, where things kinda got really fucked up."

"No kidding?" Eddie says, right before he erupts into giggles. 

"Did they get you in the head?" Steve asks, abruptly concerned, as Eddie collapses back against the wall in a growing fit of laughter.  

Concussed Eddie was not a road he wanted to go down but Steve knew better than anyone what happens if you ignore such things. 

"I think my weed just hit." Eddie explains as he wipes away a tear, and Steve wants to shake him, but knows it won't get him anywhere. 

"That's great. That's just great."  He grumbles, hands going onto his hips. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get you a bandage. And then find Robin.” 

Robin, Steve decided, could handle a high, concussed Eddie.

[ay0nha]

Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader 

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy. 

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

[discordantwritings]

Distractions (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, minor talks of cuts and blood, Benn has a hair pulling kink you can’t convince me otherwise, PiV sex

WC: 3.5k

Summary: As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Notes: for the lovely @fanaticsnail who is correct, Benn needs more love

“You already know what I’m going to say.” You tap your pencil on your clipboard, looking up at the grey haired man on your examination table.

“Doc, don’t start this again.” Benn’s tone is only slightly annoyed as he looks back at you.

“All that smoking is going to kill you.”

As a doctor on a pirate ship your life was all uphill battles that you were not going to win. Telling pirates to be less risky, drink less, and as is the case with this particular first mate to smoke less- all of these were battles you know you were not going to win. But it sure doesn’t stop you from trying, determined to be the annoying thorn in their side to at least make them stop and think before doing something stupid.

“Being a pirate is going to kill me, not the smoking.” Despite his tone a smirk sits on his face, he’s familiar with this song and dance you two engage in at the end of every regular check-up.

“I’m just trying to make sure you die of plain old age, alright? You know I expect the most from you Beckman, you’re the only responsible one around here.” You swivel around in your chair, placing your clipboard on your desk before standing.

“I think you’re wrong there.” Benn stands up as well reaching into his pocket to pull out his carton of cigarettes.

“Don’t you dare- not in my office!” You playfully hit him on the arm and he laughs.

“See- you’re the responsible one.” He twirls the carton in his hand, movements you’ve seen him use to spin his guns.

You roll your eyes but you can’t muster up any actual annoyance. “Maybe I am. But you’re a close second.”

Benn moves towards the door out of your office but hovers before he opens it. After a few seconds he turns back to you.

“But if I wanted to cut down- not quit mind you- just curb it. What would you suggest I do?” It takes all your professionalism not to grin from ear to ear that you had finally broken him down.

“Well, since we don’t have any nicotine substitutes one of your best bets is developing new habits.”

“You’ll have to explain a little more for me Doc.”

“Well, smoking is a whole ritual, right? You have to cut out the ritual around it and the best way to do that is to from some new rituals and habits. It’ll be good to think about some good distractions for when you feel cravings.” You explain, happy to see that he is actually listening to you.

“That does all make sense.” He shoves the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket. “I’ll try out your advice, but no promises, okay?”

“Just you trying means a lot to me.” You say honestly.

“Alright, alright. See you later Doc.” He waves and leaves you to take your next patient.

It’s only two days before Benn is back in your office, hovering in your doorway right after sunset. When you really look at him you sigh. A rag is wrapped around his hand and red is seeping through the white fabric near his palm. He gives you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for coming in right as you should be getting off for the day but-“ You are already right in front of him, delicately unwrapping the rag to assess the damage.

“Beckman what happened?” You tilt his hand to look at the deep gasp across his palm.

“Well, really it’s your fault.” He says as you guide him to sit before grabbing your supplies.

“My fault? Really?” Laying out your salves and antiseptics you shoot him a curiously look.

“I was trying to distract myself by sharpening up my daggers and, well…” He trails off but you can put two and two together.

“You’re not normally on the list of people I have to tell not to use weapons while they are of not sound mind.” Carefully you clean the wound, impressed with the way he doesn’t flinch as you do so.

“I didn’t think I was that out of it.”

“It’s your first day of cutting back.” You sigh as you get a clear view of the wound. “You’re really lucky this wasn’t any deeper. You still need stitches though.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

Despite today’s events he was your best patient, never saying no when you tell him something needs attention. You thread up your needle and begin your work.

“Well, I guess pain is a distraction.” He jokes and if you were to look up you’d bet good money he was smirking.

“Don’t make this a habit Beckman. I can refuse to help you.”

“You would never. You’re too nice for your own good doll.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to try and tamper your reaction to the pet name. It’s not often he uses them for you, almost always referring to you as “doc” or “doctor” but when he does it always makes your heart lurch into your throat.

It’s stupid, you know, having a crush on a pirate. Having a crush on someone you work with. But when he’s so kind and thoughtful and helpful and so damn handsome… well who could blame you?

“You really should let me teach you how to shoot one of these days.” He says after a few more moments of silence.

“You know my answer.”

“You really should know how to protect yourself.” There’s serious concern laced in his voice.

“I’m a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm.” You explain to him, like you have many times before.

“And you’re the only doctor working on a pirate ship who takes that oath seriously.”

You pull the last stitch tight before looking up at him. “I know but, the thing is I’ve never felt the need to protect myself on this ship. Sure I’ve felt in danger due to the sea but from other pirates?” You shrug. “I’ve never had any doubts you’d be there to protect me.”

There’s a few beats before you’ve realized what you’ve said.

“And Shanks and all the other crew.” You quickly add, darting your gaze away as you grab a bandage. He chuckles and you hope to whatever gods are out there you aren’t completely flushed.

“Well, can’t say I don’t like that answer.” He keeps his hand open as you wrap the bandage securely around his hand, wrapping it around a few more times for security.

“Now do your best to not break your stitches, alright?” You finally look up at him, matching his gaze.

“I’ll do my best.” He promises and you believe him. “But I’ll probably need a different distraction.”

“Yes you will.” You laugh. “Look I know it might be boring but I do need help sorting through the supplies I picked up last week when we were docked.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” His serious tone has you concerned for a second but you see that sly grin. “You’re just using me to do your dirty work.”

You gasp, mock offended. “You really think that low of me?”

“I would never think low of you. In fact, making me do your grunt work is very smart.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“No, seriously you do so much to help us all it’s only fair I help you.” His uninjured hand covers yours it’s in that moment you realize you never let go of his hand after bandaging it up. You freeze and feel your skin heating up somehow more than it already was.

“That’s- I mean- it’s my job you don’t owe me anything.” You don’t meet his gaze directly but don’t move your hand away either.

“It’s your job to help us if we get sick or injured in battle. It’s not your job to help us every time we get drunk and accidentally shoot or stab each other.”

“Very good point.”

He pats your hand before pulling both of his away and standing up. “Again, you’re too good. But I’ll be around tomorrow, alright doll?”

There was that damn pet name again and you fought the urge to melt into the floor. “Thank you Beckman.”

“Thank you Doc.”

It’s embarrassing how you count down the hours until he’s at your door again, knocking on the open door with his good hand. You’re already in the thick of organization, crates of bandages, medicines, and other supplies strewn about your office.

“Oh! Hi Beckman! C’mon in.” You stand up and begin gesturing around. “It’s a bit cluttered but trust me there’s a method to the madness.”

You go through and explain what needs to be done and Benn listens carefully, asking questions when he has them. The second you’re done he gets to work, following your orders perfectly. Well, that’s one of the many reasons why he’s an amazing first mate you suppose.

The two of you work together and have casual conversation for a few hours and the time flies by in his company. Before you know it you’re almost done and working side by side with Benn on the last few things.

“Did you redo your bandage today?” You ask as you get a good look at his hand.

“And miss the chance to have your capable hands do it?” He smiles as he hands you the final box of gauze you need to put away.

“Or I think you just forgot.”

“Maybe.” He admits and you get up to get fresh bandages.

“You’re lucky you already helped me with all this work or I might’ve handed you the bandages and sent you on your way.” You hop up on the exam table you had been using to sort supplies and take his hand, carefully unwrapping yesterday’s bandage.

“Didn’t we go over this yesterday sweetheart?” His smooth tone has your heart hammering in your chest.

Sweetheart. That was a new one.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to play it off but you know you’re flushed. You busy yourself with replacing the bandage. “Anyways, how are you feeling? Did this help?”

“Hm? Oh the distraction thing.” He thinks it over a second, watching you bandage his wound. “Mostly.”

“Mostly? Still feeling the cravings?” You finish your work but selfishly still hold his hand in yours.

“Yeah. I mean working with you did the trick, don’t get me wrong but now that I think about leaving and going back out on deck…” He shrugs. “But I guess that’s just how it’ll go for a while.”

“It will. But I’m not kicking you out, you can stay here as long as you like.” You secretly hope he sticks around, his presence made your work faster and your heart lighter.

“You’re offering to keep distracting me?” There’s a tilt to his voice that makes your heart hammer in your chest.

“Ah- I mean-“ You kick yourself internally for being so easy to fluster. “If that helps.”

Benn chuckles. “Now you’re not thinking anything dirty are you?”

Well- none of those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind before that but now? You’re acutely aware of the fact the hand you’re holding is so close to your lap and how close his chest is to your knees.

“No?” Your attempt to lie was uniquely pathetic but it earns you another laugh.

“And if I was thinking something dirty, you wouldn’t think less of me would you doll?” He slowly stands up as he speaks, tall frame hovering over you.

“I would never.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as you stare up at him.

“You’re too good to me sweetheart.” The hand not in your lap is used to hold himself as he leans further over you, face closing in on yours. “But I gotta know this isn’t just a treatment plan.”

“No- Beckman-“

“Benn.” He corrects softly.

“Benn.” You repeat. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all he needs before he closes the gap and kisses you. His lips are chapped but his kiss is soft and the hand in your lap moves to intertwine his finger with yours. His kisses you until you’re breathless, having to pull away to gasp for air. As you do he moves to your neck, pressing delicate kisses along the sensitive skin. Your free hand comes up and tangles in his long grey hair, anchoring yourself.

“Can I-“ You moan as he mouths against the curve of your jaw. “Confess something.”

“Anything.” He stops to look into your eyes.

“You look really hot when you smoke.”

There’s a pause where he process what you says before bursting into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“So that’s why you didn’t make me go cold turkey?” You feel his smile against your neck.

“I can be a little selfish.” His body is still a little too far away so you push your hips forward, able to just meet his. Benn groans against your neck as you feel his clothed length press against you.

“Doc, be as selfish as you want.” He adjusts his stance so he no longer has to lean on his hand and uses the now free arm to pull you flush with him. You automatically wrap your legs around his hips, moaning at the friction.

“Then can I selfishly ask for you to take your shirt off?”

“Of course.” He places one more quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and taking off his shirt. You can’t help but admire his frame- broad shoulders filtering down into a narrow waist.

“Don’t go giving me an ego now sweetheart, I’ll be as bad as our captain.” His fingers play at the hem of your shirt before pushing under, calloused finger tips splaying over your stomach.

“You could never.” You press up against his touch, needy. “C’mon Benn.”

His hands slide up and push your shirt up over your head and the second the fabric is past your face he’s kissing you again, deeper than before. Your legs grip tighter around his waist, chasing any friction you can get. His hands now push against the waistband of your pants and he breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear.

“Let up a second doll.” You obey without a second thought, unhooking your legs so he can yank your pants and underwear off, stepping away so he can fully snuck them off your legs.

Long fingers hold your thighs open as he hovers back for a second, getting a good look at your soaked core. Embarrassed you go to shut your legs but you’re not match for Benn’s strength.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” He finally moves back in, slotting his hips against yours as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s a hunger to his kisses now as you press your hips up and grind against him, moaning into his mouth.

You feel those long fingers dip down between your bodies and you let up on your grinding, inviting him in. Two fingers press into you and you break away from his kiss to throw you head back in a moan. His mouth moves to your neck as his fingers take you apart, curling in while his thumb gives you the pressure you need on your clit.

“Fuck- Benn-“ You hand comes up to grip in his hair and as he hits that spot inside you you pull on his hair.

His fingers falter for a second as he groans into your neck and you smile knowingly. “You like that?”

“Don’t tease me doll.” He redoubles his efforts, a third finger sliding in that makes you see stars.

You can only hold onto him while he takes you apart with just one hand, your moans filling the air as you get closer and closer to your peak. You slap his shoulder as you feel yourself on that edge, warning him.

“Hm? Don’t worry I can feel how close you are sweetheart, it’s alright I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?” His low voice is right in your ear and is all you need to be pushed right over the edge.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” Benn speaks to you softly as he slowly pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss.

You watch as his holds his fingers up and you can see them covered in your slick. You’re about to be embarrassed and turn your gaze away but then his tongue darts out and licks and sucks away all of your cum. It’s hypnotizing the way he actually relishes in your taste and you feel a whole new wave of need wash over you.

“Benn- I need you in me now.” You pull his hair tight and he chuckles.

“Who am I to say no?” His hands quickly work at his pants, pulling them down just enough to release his cock, springing up to lay at your folds.

You can’t see his dick from this angle but you can feel it- long and veiny as Benn grinds between your folds. You moan as he ruts up against your clit but you’ve had enough teasing.

“Inside- please Benn.” You whine and he presses a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek.

He guides his tip to your entrance and he easily slides in after all the work he did moments before. The two of you groan in unison as he slowly pushes in, careful not to hurt you. He stills when he’s full sheathed in you, his head resting on your shoulders as he pants.

“Sorry- fuck doll you just feel so good- need a second.” You feel him throbbing inside you and you run your hands through his hair gently, giving him the time.

“Take your time baby. Love feeling so full.” He seems to reach and fill every last inch of you and you soak up the feeling as he gathers himself.

“Gonna start moving.” He warns you just before he slowly moves out, the drag making your toes curl.

He’s slow and steady and you can feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. One of his hands is holding him steady against the table while the other is on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“You feel so good sweetheart- so warm and tight around me- knew you’d feel good doll.” He whispers loving praises into your ear as he thrusts and you grip the base of his ponytail to anchor yourself.

It’s not long before his pace picks up and you lock your legs around his waist as his thrusts get rougher and deeper. Your moans and the sound of his hips meeting yours fill your office, the lewdness of it all making your head spin.

“Fuck- I can feel you gripping me doll- you close? Keep- fuck- keep sounding like that I’m not gonna last long.” The hand on your hip moves and one of those damn fingers finds your clit again. You yank on his hair and grin at the way his pace stutters when you do so. “Just like that doll- please-“

You can’t deny him- not when he’s making you feel this good. You pull on his hair as your other hand grips onto his shoulder for dear life. Praise spills out of Benn’s mouth as he thrusts into you and works your clit and there’s nothing you can do but take what you’re being given. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm building up, vision blurring at the edges as you throw your head back.

“You’re almost there aren’t you sweetheart? Need to feel you cum around me- fuck- please doll.” He sounds so needy and at his demanding you’re pushed over the edge again, cumming around his cock.

“Shit-“ Benn spits out as he quickly pulls out of you and right as he does so you feel his warm cum splatter onto your hips and stomach.

The two of you catch your breath, still holding each other closely as you both figure out how to speak full sentences again. Benn’s the first to regain functions, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling himself from you. He walks away but you see him go over to your sink and wet a wash cloth, coming back over and cleaning you up. You hum in appreciation, kissing whatever skin of his you have access to as he works.

“So Doc, if I ever need a distraction…” His hands hold your hips as he looks down at you with a smile.

“Then you can come find me.” There’s a slight pause before you add on- “Preferably in a bed next time.”

The two of you laugh and you’ve never been so happy with a course of treatment.

[candy69gurl]

Drink Dalliance

‎

Shiu Kong x f!reader

18+, dark, dub/con, use of alcohol, age gap, clit rubbing, pussy eating, raw sex Collab with @prashanddash

“Pretty lady, can I get you a drink?” Shiu chuckled

You bit your lower lip before replying, "I mean, if you want."

He noticed the lip bite and raised an eyebrow. He’s used to women wanting to gain something from him using their bodies, so he gave her a once-over.

“I think you want more than just a drink.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Hmm?"

He grinned. He’s seen this look before; it’s as if she’s trying to act innocent while being the opposite.

“I know what you want; you think that because I look serious and uptight, it would make you the dominant one in this situation.”

You laughed, trying to lighten up the situation.

With a wave of his hand, he would snap his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “A drink for my lovely lady; she prefers it to be something on the fruity side, I’m assuming?" He chuckled before turning back to you.

"Yes, I'd like that,"  you said, resting your head on one arm on the counter.

A simple wave to the bartender is all he needed to get the drink ordered for her.

When the drink eventually arrived, he handed it to her, watching her as he blew some smoke to his side.

“So, what’s a beautiful lady such as yourself doing here today?”

"I am so bored with life." 

Seeing her bored puts a smile on his face. This is right in his ballpark; he’s dealt with much harder situations and people; this is a cake walk.

He took another drag off his cigarette.

“A pretty girl is bored? No boyfriend around?” He said it in a mock-surprised tone.

"Not really"

He let out a small chuckle; he knew that answer was coming.

“Well, it must be really hard being single, especially for someone as young and beautiful as yourself.”

"I know right."  You took a few sips.

He let out a grunt of amusement. She's taking the drink and conversation just exactly how he thought she would. The ball is in his court, and he'll only let it go if he wants it too.

He smoked his cigarette casually, his gaze following her as she took her sips.

“You must have plenty of guys that would try and hit on you every day, right?”

"What do you think?"

“It's either they are just too shy, or maybe they just don’t think they have a shot?”

"I don't know, I am so tired," you sighed, resting your head on the counter.

He let out a small hum as he watched you rest your head. He kept up his calm demeanour, but inside, it’s as if he knew he had you at his mercy.

He then leaned back on his stool and kept watching.

“Tired, huh?”

He’s quiet for a short moment.

“So, are you out for a night out drinking alone? Or did you come here with friends?”

"Alone"

“Oh, so you actually decided to head out and drink by yourself? It's quite brave of you, don’t you think? You’re a pretty girl, and you come out alone to a bar. It’s like you want to get hit on.”

He said it definitely feels like he’s teasing you at this point. He leaned towards you, removing strands of hair from your face.

Your breathing stopped for a moment as you observed his hand movements. "And why are you here?"

“Me?” He said it with slight amusement. “I just came out to get a drink and look who caught my eye.”

He chuckled as he leaned back on his stool, still keeping a firm gaze on you.

“So, are you going to tell me your name? Or let me guess it.”

"Y/N,"  you replied instantly without letting him finish the full sentence.

“Pretty name,” he said, giving a smile before quickly catching himself.

“You can call me Shiu, by the way.”

"Shiu.. mhm"

He was looking at you, taking in your features. He’s definitely noticing everything about you, trying to mentally put the pieces together behind your looks.

“Hey. Are you alright? It looks like alcohol has gotten into your cerebellum, huh?”

You nodded, looking at him with a hazy gaze.

“You’re so quiet, aren’t you? I bet you like when others take control, huh?”

He smirked. He’s got you figured out already, or at least this is what he’s letting on.

"Depends on my mood,"  you replied in a teasing tone.

“Hm. And what kind of mood are you in right now?” He asked, leaning forward slightly. He knew exactly how to push your buttons; he'd seen girls like you before.

You smiled, blushing, still resting your head on the counter. "You're feisty, aren't you?"

He gave you a smirk as he watched you blush. He's so close to what he wanted; he just needs to make a few more moves, and the game is his.

"A little bit," he says back, keeping a smug look on his face.

You get up to regain your original position. "I like it."

"Oh, you do?” He said, grinning, watching her move. He’s keeping his cool, but inside he’s getting a bit more worked up. He’s seen this game played, and he’s confident that soon he’ll have her in the palm of his hands.

“So, would you like to get another drink?” His voice has a bit of a seductive quality to it now, and he’s definitely turning that flirtiness up to a higher level.

"Mhm, I'd like a martini,"  you replied, licking your bottom lip.

Without saying a word, he waved his hand, getting the bartender’s attention. He ordered the martini, which got delivered pretty fast.

He then slid the drink over to her when it arrived; he did so with a smirk, and it looked as if he'd been trying to read her expression the whole time.

“You are already so drunk. You should not drink anymore,” he added, his smirk never leaving his face as he kept teasing his prey.

"You keep offering me, and who's going to turn down some free shots?"

He gave you another grin as he watched you bite your lip.

"Oh, of course, I can't turn down free shots," he said mockingly, his smirk never leaving his face as he leaned up. "But I also don't think someone like you should be getting any more drunk than you are right now," he added. He's playing this to the very end.

"And why do you think that?"

"If you get any more drunk, I may end up taking you home with me," he said, that smirk still never leaving his face.

"Take me,"  you replied, pouting and tilting your head to the side.

He let out a scoff at how easy she was playing into his hands.

"Both ways?" he asked smugly.

You smiled sheepishly and said, "Yes."

He leaned up slightly and offered his hand.

"Well, then, shall we head out?"

"Then follow me," he said as he got up from his stool and headed out of the bar. He grabbed her hand and helped her off her stool, keeping a tight grip before nodding to the bartender, and he lead her out of the bar, a light smirk on his lips as he watched her. He's getting everything he wanted.

You both stumbled out of the club, hands urgently exploring each other's bodies as yall made your way to his apartment. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a heady mix of need and longing that threatened to consume them both. Once inside, you both wasted no time, clothes discarded in a frenzy of desire.

Shiu pushed you against his appartment wall, his hands roaming greedily over your curves. You moaned softly, arching into his touch as he teased your sensitive skin. And then, his fingers brushed against the smooth, bare skin of your thighs, then to your clad clit

A moan escaped your lips as you grinned wickedly, your eyes smoldering with desire. He took no time to take off your panties. He teased your clit and your entrance which was which was already glistening due to wetness.

"Fuck," Shiu groaned, his desire spiking at the sight of your bare and ready for him. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, his lips trailing hot, wet kisses up your inner thighs. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he teased your, his tongue flicking lightly against your throbbing clit.

You were dripping with need, your body trembling with anticipation as he finally buried his face between your legs. You cried out, your back arching off the wall as he lapped at your hungrily, his mouth hot and insistent against your sensitive flesh.

"Please," you begged, your voice a desperate plea as you rocked your hips against his mouth, needing more, needing him inside you.

Your hands tried to take off your dress as his tongue plunged into your hole. As you were near, he leaned back and stood up, towering over you.

"Not gonna let you cum now", he kissed you letting you taste yourself on his tongue, his hand easily slided off your dress, freeing your breasts and your nipples got hard immediately. He grabbed your hair tilting your head, exposing your neck to his gaze. He sucked your neck hard, enough to leave marks, your continuous moans song to his ear as he his tongue brushed down your neck to your breasts, latching on to your breast while one of his hand squeezed the other nipple and his other hand reached your clamping folds.

He inserted his finger, your body shook through his invasion.

"Please I want- I have to cum."

"Don't worry baby, you get to cum on my cock"

And he scooped you in his arms and took you to his bedroom, laying you on the bed, he lined himself up with your entrance.

With a primal growl, Shiu thrusted into your, the exquisite sensation of being filled to the brim making your cry out in ecstasy. He moved in a wild, frenzied rhythm, the sound of your moans mingling with the slap of skin on skin. You were close, so close, your body on the edge of oblivion as he pounded into your relentlessly. And then, with a cry of your name on his lips, you shattered around him, your walls clenching tight around him as you rode out your orgasm.

Shiu slowed his thrusting, grunting by the way your pussy milked him. His orgasm followed soon after, hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself inside your, your bodies locked togetyour in a passionate embrace. He clung to each you, as you tremble. The aftershocks of your and his climax rippled through.

Breathless and sated, he sank to the bed next to you in a tangled heap of limbs and desire, your bodies still humming with the echoes of their passion.

"Gon' make you my wife", he planted a small kiss on your temple as you passed out on his bed.

[ambermotta]

Cleansing Basics – Crash Course

What is cleansing? When should I do it? How do I do it?

These are some of the questions I'll be tackling today. I hope this post will be useful to those who are not quite familiar with how to cleanse and why it's important for any witch or pagan practice!

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Long post based on my experience and research. Meant to be informative. I don't claim to know the absolute truth.

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What is cleansing?

Cleansing is clearing away energy from someone, something or somewhere.

When should I cleanse?

Whenever you need to clear away energy.

Personal opinion: you should cleanse yourself and your house at least weekly.

It is generally recommended that you periodically cleanse magical items and cleanse before and after any type of magical/ spiritual work. Cleansing before contacting deities (even if it's just prayer) is also considered "standard protocol" in some cultures, like in Hellenic paganism and Shintoism.

From my personal experience I do feel I can connect better with spiritual beings when I cleanse beforehand, but I believe my emotional state has a bigger influence on the matter. Cleansing generally calms me down too so –

Why should I cleanse?

The number one reason you'll see cleansing everywhere is because it is a way to help get rid of excess negative energy.

I'm not going to say you can clear away all of it because as living humans, we are constantly emanating energy and a lot of times it is "negative" energy. Which is okay, it's part of being alive. Plus, there are other factors that come into play.

However, cleansing often can help you stay in touch with spirituality and ease your mind since you'll be getting rid of excess (and oftentimes unwated) energy.

Cleansing also comes into play when you want to clear away any other kind of energy, for example, when you get a new magical tool (such as a tarot deck) or finish a magical working. You don't necessarily want the energy that was on that object or that spell sticking to you all day, you know?

How to prepare for cleansing?

First of all, gather your stuff. Gather everything you need and try to avoid interruptions.

I personally recommend you always do a physical cleaning up of whatever you are going to cleanse. Tidy up your house, take a shower, and clean your magical items (if possible).

Dirt and clutter feel bad, and it can distract the mind. Starting your cleansing in the physical plane can definitely make it more powerful in the astral too.

How do I cleanse?

Most cultures/religions/spiritual practices have their own way of doing things (ex: hellenic pagans have khernips), so first of all, do your research! And respect the fact that some things are out of your reach.

There are A LOT of techniques you can use to cleanse that are not particularly tied to a single culture and that can be done in many different ways. I'll quickly go through some of them, but it is by no means an extensive list.

Cleansing with the 4 elements:

Earth: I've mainly seen this in two ways, which are sending energy to the earth (something like grounding) and burrying objects.

Fire: commonly used together with air in smoke cleansing. There's also energy work that pulls energy and sends it towards the fire for cleansing (either a candle, a bonfire, or a visualization flame)

Water: mostly used for cleansing yourself or objects. It can be through herb baths and showers, rain/sea/river water, salt water, or sacred waters. For cleansing spaces, there are things such as water spray bottles and floor washes (though I've only seen this one being used in hoodoo). Careful with objects, some may not be resistant to water.

Air: generally the most common for cleansing spaces or people. Usually achieved by lighting up incense or herbs with cleansing properties and using the smoke to cleanse.

Sidenote: burning a herbs ≠ from smudging. Smudging is a native american practice that is closed to their people. Don't smudge, don't call some herb-burning smudging. It's not the same thing. Stick with what's appropriate for your culture.

Sun and moon: using sunlight or moonlight to cleanse (and often charge) yourself or objects. Always make sure what you are cleansing can actually be left in the sun and handle weather.

Crystals: Some crystals have cleansing properties, usually back ones (onyx, obsidian, black tourmaline), smoky quartz, and selenite, to name a few. Keep in mind that they usually need to be cleansed periodically, too.

Sound: Praying, chanting, singing, music, and using bells or drums are some ways you can use sound to cleanse.

Visualization: There are many techniques used for cleansing this way. While it can be effective, it is definitely not for everyone as a lot of people will find that using tools is easier and more consistent. Visualization requires some practice and a lot of focus.

What to do after cleansing?

That depends on your objective.

If you are cleansing a space, such as your home, and you want to keep it "clean" for longer, you can cast a protection spell.

If you are cleansing yourself or an object, you may want to do a Charging of some sort. When you cleanse, you are getting something out, which opens up space for the new, so you can use this as an opportunity to "fill in" with another type of energy.

Conclusion

Cleansing is very versatile and unique to each practice. There are a lot of things you can do that are fairly neutral, but in general, cleansing always has the same purpose and is done in a similar fashion.

Knowing what your tradition (if you have one) usually does to cleanse objects, people, and places can be very enriching, so do your research!

Thank you for reading!

[robynrocksforbrains]

Mike Wheeler is important and there's nothing wrong with analyzing him

Since y'all wanna be insufferable bitches about it I'm gonna explain to you why he's important, why Will loves him, why his struggles should be acknowledged, and why his character depth is pivotal to byler endgame being a satisfying conclusion for both Mike AND Will. Deal with it!

We are not seeing smoke where there isn't a flame. We are seeing smoke where there is a literal fucking forest fire.

Starting off with something a lot of people aren't ready for but I've seen more people talking about: Mike is the main character of s1 at the very least. He is the character that brings us into the world of stranger things. He is the character that the writers chose for this. Mike is the main character of s1 and it was an instant hit. The writers love Mike. Contrary to popular belief, giving a character an arc where they are struggling and their behavior changes from what is normal for the character we know and love does NOT mean the writers hate that character. It means they deliberately chose to give that character complexity and depth. Your inability to like characters that do anything wrong ever is not the fault of the writers. Your decision to act as if a character is not important is not reflective of the actual narrative because it in fact is in direct opposition to the narrative. So just to be clear, if you genuinely believe that Mike isn't important, or that the writers hate him, or don't care about him, or that his story "takes away" from any other character's - ESPECIALLY WILL'S - you are simply wrong.

In s1 and s2 Mike is established as an extremely caring person. He's loving, loyal, brave, intelligent, and trying his best. He is also established to be hot headed, someone who speaks without thinking quite often, someone who is capable of hurting his friends despite that being the last thing he wants to do. He is all of these things and more. He is a human. He is a kid. So in s3, when suddenly he is entirely different, it is completely logical to assume that there is a reason for that. He did not just wake up one day and decide he wanted to be an asshole, push Will away, make his friends feel abandoned, and echo the same sentiments their bullies held. Something is happening with him. He has so much going on in his head and it is painfully obvious. He's holding something in, he's hiding from everyone and from himself. We see glimpses of what he's trying to hide after Will calls him out on his behavior. Will gets through to him. Mike is usually unresponsive to tough love, except for when it's coming from Will. After their fight, it is obvious that he's trying to be better. But he still doesn't wanna face certain things, and he doesn't know how to navigate that. Because he's 13 years old.

There is a reason for all of that internal conflict. There is a reason it comes pouring out of him at certain times. He's crumbling. He is quite literally falling apart because he's holding on to too much. It's not a stretch to assume that, it just takes basic media literacy. Why would the writers have Mike act this way if he was just supposed to be a one dimensional character? Why would Finn be directed to portray Mike the way he does if there was nothing more going on? There are times where Mike looks like he's in physical pain because of his internal conflict. There is a reason for that. And acknowledging that DOES NOT mean people are taking away from Will. That's the most idiotic thing I have ever heard. Do y'all seriously not understand that more than one character can have emotionally complex storylines? Genuinely asking, is this a new concept for you?

Will's love for Mike

Will is head over heels in love with Mike. That is very much established. So when you're dismissing the emotional depth of Mike's individual arc because you think acknowledging it "takes away from Will" you are actually diminishing the significance of a huge aspect of Will's emotional arc. By taking away the significance of Mike, you take away from the significance of Will.

Let's do a quick recap of the very significant role Mike has played in Will's entire life:

Mike is Will's first friend.

They have grown up together and it can be assumed that they've reached important milestones together.

Mike has always been a safe person for Will. He's been a constant in Will's very chaotic and unfair life. Until the summer of '85, Mike had always been something good in Will's life. (That's not to say he is no longer something good, but it can be assumed that the summer of '85 is the first time Mike has been a causal factor in Will's unhappiness)

When Will went missing, Mike did not hesitate to search for him. It wasn't even a question of if. The moment he knew Will was missing he knew exactly what he'd be doing that night. He spearheaded the search amongst the party. He was the leader.

When Will came back, Mike was the only person that didn't treat him like he was gonna break. He cared for him, and he was there for him, but he didn't treat him differently; Will tells us as much. Which means we can infer that the way Mike was with Will in s2 - how gentle and loving he was - was nothing new. He had just always been like that.

When Will was possessed, Mike stayed by his side. Even when it was scary, even when it could've gotten him killed, he stayed. Because once again, for him, it wasn't even a question. That's just where he knew he needed to be. He was in the shed when they were trying to get through to Will. He was set apart from Lucas and Dustin, but he also wasn't equated to family. And his retelling of the story of the day they first met was the final push Will needed to find a way to communicate.

After a year of things being "weird" between them, Mike tells Will that he didn't deserve to be treated the way he had been. Mike tells him that he wants them to be okay again, and for the rest of the season he puts in the work.

Things get rough in s3, and at the beginning of s4, and despite all of that, Will confesses his love (albeit veiled). In a moment where Mike is feeling awful about himself, he tells him that he loves him and needs him, and he tells him why. And to him it doesn't matter that he's breaking his own heart to do it, because it's Mike. Mike, who makes him feel like he's not a mistake at all, and that he's better for being different. For Will, there was no other option. The person he loves was hurting and he knew how to help, and so he did.

Mike is the first person Will tells about Vecna still being alive. Because they're back to being a team. He knows he can trust Mike, and Mike seems to be very determined to prove him right.

SO.

These are all real and canon aspects of Mike's presence in Will's life. Will falling in love with Mike isn't something that just happened for no reason. Will fell in love with Mike because of who Mike is. When you acknowledge that, and when you acknowledge the reasons they've set out for why Will loves him - the reasons Will literally told us - you can better understand Will. But when you dismiss all of these things about Mike, you are dismissing a large portion of Will's emotional and romantic arc. You aren't being a Will Warrior. You are erasing so much of him and his feelings and his lived experience. That is not the hill you wanna die on.

Will loves a person. Not a feeling. Yes, he says that Mike makes him feel like he's not a mistake and that he's better for being different. But that's not why he loves him. He feels that way because he loves him.

Mike is a fully fleshed out character with his own feelings and struggles and fears and traumas and motivations. He's not a plot device. He's not just an accessory to Will's arc. He's not a character that was written only to be Will's love interest. He's Will's love interest because he's Mike.

If Mike didn't matter, and if Mike didn't play a significant role in byler, then they would be able to write in a love interest for Will in s5 and have it be somewhat satisfying. But they can't do that. Will's love for Mike has so much depth because Mike has so much depth. It is genuinely crazy that this has to be stated and that I have to back up this claim because it is simply a canon fact.

So yes, the rain fight affects Mike's character development and his involvement in it is important. Yes, the van scene literally could not exist without Mike and therefore his involvement in it is incredibly important. Yes, every single byler moment has an impact on Mike, and Mike has an impact on it because they are BYLER moments. Yes, Mike will have a lot of significant moments - with Will AND on his own - in s5 because his arc deserves and needs as much attention as Will's in order to execute byler endgame in a satisfying way.

No, none of these facts negate Will's importance or take away from his story. If anything, they add to it because Mike and Will's arcs are corresponding and intertwined.

Mike's struggles

To name a few

Dysfunctional family

Has been bullied his entire life

Extreme self worth issues

Inferiority complex

Hero complex

Lack of self preservation

Suicidal ideation (has been on display since SEASON ONE)

Internalized homophobia

To get this out of the way: Mike's internalized homophobia is allowed to be discussed. Discussion of it is not the dismissal of Will's internalized homophobia. Surprise surprise, two queer kids in the 80s have internalized homophobia! Who'd'a thunk it?! Their internalized homophobia presents in different ways but it is there for both of them. I personally relate to the way Mike's is portrayed way more than I relate to Will's. So why is it that we can't discuss it without being accused of erasing Will's experience? Or without people saying that we're "copy and pasting" Will's story? Because quite frankly, that feels dismissive of my - and likely many others' - real and lived experience. So please for the love of all things that are good just stop with this talking point because it will never hold up.

Moving on

I'm not gonna do a full breakdown of all of Mike's issues. Because contrary to popular belief, there are a lot. And that would be exhausting and I'd get carried away and it's not the point of this post. The point of this post is to defend the acknowledgement and mere existence of them.

If you're a byler that for some reason thinks Mike only exists to be Will's love interest and his trophy as compensation for his trauma, let me ask you this: Have you considered how awful it would be to have a queer character's individuality and emotional depth completely ignored for the sake of focusing on the queer character that "really matters"?

If Mike's own issues, with his queer identity and otherwise, aren't thoroughly explored... What's the point of all this? If Mike really is insignificant in this storyline and his individuality has no effect on it.. where's the emotional payoff? If his perspective doesn't matter... Why have the writers gone to such great lengths to ensure we don't have that piece of the puzzle yet?

Analyzing Mike and understanding Mike is very important to understanding byler. Once again, I think it's crazy that this needs to be said.

I also think it's important to note that characters can have similar struggles. There's no rule against that. Just like real life. Characters having similar struggles is not a bad thing, and acknowledging that their struggles are similar is not dismissive of either character. We're talking about STRANGER THINGS. Jonathan and Nancy's thing is "we've got shared trauma". They have literal matching scars. Shared experiences are some of the main building blocks for this show's romances. Byler has a TON of shared experience, basically their entire lives. We already know that. So wouldn't it be so beautiful for them to learn that they've been struggling with the same thing this whole time? That the entire time they felt alone in what they were going through when really they had each other and they never even knew it? Wouldn't it be so beautiful for Mike's acceptance of Will and Will's love for him was also a step toward accepting himself? Wouldn't it be beautiful for Will to learn that his love makes Mike feel like he's not a mistake? None of that would be in the realm of possibility if Mike didn't have emotional depth and if his individuality wasn't important.

And that leads me to my concluding point...

A satisfying execution of byler endgame hinges on Mike's individual emotional arc being handled well

God I hope this isn't controversial to say. I sincerely hope most people haven't forgotten that.

Here's a hypothetical:

Imagine season five has been released. You're watching it, and you notice that Mike has been relegated to just a supporting character for Will. We don't get any of his perspective. We don't get any explanation for his s3 and early s4 behavior. His breakup with El doesn't have any real tangible effect on him, it's really just used for El's character development. We never see him pining for Will like we saw Will pining for him. And then suddenly Mike is learning about the painting and then suddenly he's confessing his love and then suddenly byler is canon and official.

Now wouldn't that just be awful? Wouldn't that be unfair to the audience, to Mike, and to Will? For us to never learn just how much Mike had to go through to even be able to say it out loud? For Mike to never get the chance to prove to himself through word and action that he is the heart? For Will to never get an explanation for why things did get so "weird" between them? It would leave us with one big, nagging question: What was the point of everything Mike has said and done throughout the entire show if his conclusion is that lackluster?

Disregarding Mike for a moment (I know that's incredibly ironic given what the entire point of this is but just bear with me) - how would that be a satisfying conclusion for Will? I mean, Will's s4 arc was basically dedicated to showcasing his struggle with his sexuality and with his love for Mike. We were shown just how deep that love is. We were shown how patient, unselfish, unwavering, and beautiful that love is. So how would it be satisfying for Mike's love for him to not be shown with just as much depth? How would it be satisfying for Mike to just be a one dimensional character whose s5 arc is essentially "break up with girlfriend, wait to find out best friend is in love with him, say he loves him back, then they live happily ever after"? I think Will deserves for his love to be returned with the same intensity at which he gives it. And I think it should be clear to the audience and to Will himself.

Back to Mike!

Mike has been through so much shit. I don't think anyone that is denying that actually believes he hasn't been through shit. Because you'd actually have to watch the show on mute and with your eyes closed to think this kid hasn't had just the worst time. It's so ignorant to act as if this stuff hasn't affected him. There's stuff we've seen but there's stuff we also haven't seen. There are issues he has that date back to his childhood pre-canon. Just like Will, Mike has been a queer kid growing up in 80s smalltown conservative america. Acknowledging the pain he 100% carries because of that is so important. His perspective has been withheld from us, not because it's unimportant, but because it's the final puzzle piece. If we had Mike's perspective in s4, byler wouldn't be a "will they won't they" (even though we all know they will). If we got his perspective in s4, byler would be a "100% certain without a doubt they will". But the thing about his perspective is that it's so much more than just loving Will. It's fear. It's pain. It's insecurity. It's doubt. It's the belief that his happiness just doesn't matter all that much. All of that has to be explored. All of that has to be laid out in the open for us in order for byler endgame to feel earned. Mike's emotional payoff will lead to byler's emotional payoff.

Mike has known he loves Will. In s5 we will see him make a deliberate and active effort to overcome the things keeping him from doing something about it. And then he will do something about it.

And so when it finally happens. When both Mike and Will finally know that their feelings are requited, and when their arcs end with us knowing that they will face whatever life has in store for them together, that will feel earned. That will feel like the logical conclusion for both of them. Not just for Mike. Not just for Will. For both.

And Mike is just as important to that conclusion as Will is.

And one last thing...

Some people are going to talk about Mike more. Some people are going to talk about Will more. Because newsflash, people have preferences. Some people just relate to Mike more, or they find his emotional arc extremely compelling, or they just like him. It isn't an attack on Will or any other character. No one is saying Mike is more important than any other character (I'm sure there are people that say that but they are a vocal minority and they are simply wrong). We are just saying that he is important. If you wanna engage in media analysis, please understand that "main character" or "central character" does not mean "only important character" and "only character that should be analyzed". If you wanna talk about Will and only Will, that's fine. But you don't get to act like people that talk about other characters are doing a disservice to your fave, because that's not how any of this works.

[silverbladexyz]

This was based off a request in my inbox that I somehow couldn't find anymore ;w; but it was a cute one :)

The images do not belong to me. They belong to their original owners.

TW: Mentions of smoking. Gender neutral reader

Dazai, Iceman, and Ayatsuji with an S/O who has a pet kitty

Dazai:

-Despite Dazai being quite an energetic drama queen, I have a feeling that he'd be rather chill with your cat

-We all know that he has a special connection to a rather special cat (Natsume), so in the first few times he was alone with your cat, he definitely tried to find out if it was actually an ability user in disguise. And by that, I mean poking it a few times to see if his nullification ability could make it revert back to it's human form (spoiler: it did not)

-But suspicions aside, Dazai loves your pet kitty! When he comes home after a tiring day of work at the Armed Detective Agency, simply stroking your cat's soft fur is enough to temporarily distract his mind from everything. He might even hug the cat to his chest as he lies down on the couch, and prompt you to take a photo since he 'looks more handsome at that angle' Dark Era anime reference owuashaah

-If your cat doesn't warm up to other people easily, then you're in for a treat. Dazai would be chasing after the cat with sardines and toys and everything cats supposedly like to try and win it's affection and trust, while fake crying to you that your pet 'hates him'. He will even try meowing at your cat, and his meows are so surprisingly accurate that you sometimes think he's a cat in disguise

-Over time, your cat decides to finally trust Dazai, and he is overjoyed when it happens. Your beloved will become 10x more affectionate with the feline, and it is now a common occurrence where he hugs it and proclaims how adorable or beautiful it is; often sneaking in a compliment that it was almost as beautiful as it's owner, which is you :)

-Dazai definitely would try to teach your pet kitty some tricks to impress you. Some of the tricks he tries to teach it concerns you since 'no cat would need that knowledge', but he still insists on going forward with the training, since it 'might be useful someday'. You gave up trying to convince him, and you were glad that you did, because now you have one of the smartest and trick-y cats in all of Yokohama. Yay! Though you weren't too impressed when Dazai taught the kitty to fetch things for him... but you trusted his judgement

-He certainly loves having the cat perch on his shoulders while he does his paperwork at home (for once lmao), since I headcanon he likes the silky texture of your cat's fur against his cheek as he writes. Sometimes, when he takes a mini break, or when he's just admiring the lovely Yokohama scenery outside the window, Dazai would pet the cat's head, who in turn nuzzles into his palm

-On days where you're busy, he'll be more than happy to look after your cat for you! Even though he might purposefully mess things up just for laughs, Dazai will actually be more serious when it comes pet-sitting. He wouldn't want to let you down, and ensures that all care your cat receives will be top tier- including baths. You had never seen as many expensive cat shampoos than ever before in your life, and by the end of the entire ordeal your cat will be ✨immaculate✨. Dazai might even joke about starting to use cat shampoo too please don't let him use it

-Uses your cat as an excuse to slack off from work sometimes. Kunikida almost had a meltdown when he can't find Dazai in the usual places, only for Dazai to tell him through the phone 'But I just had to look after my lovely Y/N's cat!~ Or else they'll be quite sad that I'm not bonding enough with our precious child! u.u' #saveKunikidafromDazai'santics

-He would definitely take some videos of your cat doing tricks, and show them to Atsushi, asking him if he could do those tricks but in his tiger form. The poor boy is startled and is going all 'but I can't control my full tiger form!'; it does not help how Dazai says that his nullification ability could turn Atsushi back to normal if things were to go out of control. Fortunately Kunikida stepped in and reminded Dazai to get back to work

-Fun fact: crab meat can be a good treat for cats as it is rich in protein. And we know that our bandaged detective loves to eat crab meat too. So imagine if Dazai opens a tin of canned crab, about to eat it- only to see your cat sitting down at his feet, giving him the cute pleading Puss in Boots eyes as it stares at the crab meat held between his chopsticks. Sometimes, your lover would (begrudgingly) give the kitty his precious crab that was initially meant for himself to savour, but other times he'll just finish the entire can of crab meat while holding a staring contest with your cat as if daring it to do something

-If you wanted to get another cat, Dazai isn't opposed. The more the merrier, and he knows better than anyone else the feeling of loneliness. Be prepared for him to splurge a lot more money on cat products though; and don't even ask where the money came from /j

Iceman:

-Chill assassin dude doesn't show too many outward reactions with your cat, but don't worry since he thinks it's cute and would definitely take good care of it if you asked him to

-Oftentimes, you'd see them next to each other on the couch, with the cat on his shoulders or on his lap. Iceman will sometimes pet it, and despite his frighteningly cold demeanour most of the time, he's actually quite gentle when it comes to your pet

-Because your man himself is so calm and laid-back, he can make even the most energetic of cats be as tranquil as a lake. This definitely helps when you're trying to chase your cat down to give it a bath, because they run fast

-Iceman also stops smoking as often when he learns that cats dislike the smell of cigarette smoke. Keep in mind that he won't fully quit since it's difficult to do so, but he'll definitely be mindful about it and only smoke when he's certain that the lingering smell on his body wouldn't affect your cat

-He also plays music for your cat sometimes! It's scientifically proven that cats tend to like soft classical music, and luckily your partner has quite the collection of records that he'd put on for you, him, and your cat to listen to. It also calms you down after a stressful day, and it sets the perfect mood for your lover to embrace you in his arms

-When feeding your cat, Iceman sometimes leaves some tuna or sardines on top of it's food so that it would add some flavour to the kibble. He somehow always finds the freshest and best quality fish for his favourite feline, and don't worry about the cost since the Mafia pays quite a bit

-Is also the type of guy to buy plush and wicker cat trees for your cat to climb and jump on and off it. If it breaks, don't concern yourself with buying a new one because Iceman is actually quite good with his hands. In just a few minutes, he'd have fixed the cat tree up and made it look as good as new

-Sometimes, when he's had a tiring day, Iceman would cuddle you on the couch while your cat jumps onto your laps- and it's the cutest thing ever with all three of you sharing a nice big hug to wind down and relax

-If your cat is a rather mischievous one with dozens of antics, you can catch Iceman smiling a soft smile as he watches the cat being up to no good again. He'll always intervene and stop it if things were about to go south, but he does enjoy having a good chuckle at it's funny shenanigans

-Like Dazai, Iceman wouldn't mind if you wanted to get more cats, since he's quite easy-going with whatever you choose to do. And the fact that you have a soft spot for cats makes him soft for you too ❤

Ayatsuji:

-Now unlike Dazai and Iceman, Ayatsuji actually has cats too! And he's glad that you have experience in taking care of cats since it would make life much easier for him

-He definitely would introduce his cats to yours. They're actually quite well-behaved, and soon enough you'd have three gorgeous felines clambering all over Ayatsuji's office and being adorable menaces to anyone who visits the room. It brightens Tsujimura's day, but she'd never admit it

-Ayatsuji is a genius, which means that he most likely will also teach your cat some tricks. Such as sitting down, coming back when called, and many more! Even though he rarely would have time to play with your cats (yes his cats are your cats too now), he'd still try to feed them and pet them whenever he could

-Don't worry about your pet making a mess in his office, because your paramour will train it to be civil and docile, which can prevent many incidents from happening. Your cat does find some of the western furniture in there to be fun places to climb and leap onto, but it never damages anything with it's claws, which is what you're thankful for since you don't want a disappointed Ango on your heels

-Despite not being an affectionate person, Ayatsuji actually likes to pet your cat! It gives him a sense of relief and calmness, since he prefers to be alone with cats than with humans (you're the exception). If you ask him to, he'll definitely brush your cat's coat everyday; and he is so focused and detailed while doing it that it makes you think the cat was his own child (in some way it is hehe)

-He also likes the cat's company when he's looking over cases in his office. Ayatsuji doesn't bring your cat to crime scenes since he doesn't want to jeopardise it's safety, but when he is pondering over the perpetrators of the case, the feline would nuzzle itself up against his legs, which would make him become slightly soft inside

-Shopping for cat collars!! If you haven't noticed in the picture yet, Ayatsuji's cats both have cute collars that suit them very nicely, and there's no doubt he'd want the same for your cat (if you allow it of course). He has amazing taste, and knows where to get the cheapest but best looking cat collars in Yokohama. I headcanon he likes the collars with darker colours and a small bell on it; simplistic yet stylish

-As you all know, Ayatsuji likes dolls, and is talented at making them. So over the course of a few days, he might stitch together a few small dolls for your cat to play with. It keeps your cat entertained, and even Ayatsuji himself cracks a few rare smiles here and there at the adorable sight

-10/10 cat parent, and a 100/10 partner. Ayatsuji will treat you and your cat right :)

Now I want a pet cat too 🤧🐈

@circinuus @ruanais @yuugen-benni @oldworldpoolhall @kolyakisses @sariel626 @chocsra

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Ghost Bookshop Romance Headcanons

CoD ML

📖 Ghost is secretly quite bookish, having found refuge in novels during his youth and now even as a grown man. He especially loves bakery and coffee shop romances, though he’d never admit this outright.

📖 No one asks what he’s reading when they see him sitting with his e-reader, more often than not smoking as well.

📖 Those who are brave enough to ask only get glared at in answer and walk away, tail tucked between their legs.

📖 When he’s on leave, back home in Manchester, he watches out for a particular girl he’s seen at Waterstones. Pops by there for hours on end, drinking coffee, smoking outside yet near the shop, all in the hope he’ll bump into you.

📖 Your face looks familiar to him, but he can’t remember where he’s seen it if ever he has. Nonetheless, it’s enchanting, a strange though pleasant (and thoroughly distracting) imprint on his memory.

📖 Unbeknownst to him, you’re secretly his favourite author. However, you barely have any photos out there, preferring the anonymity of your pen name. It doesn’t help you haven’t published in a while due to being grabbed tightly in the vicious maws of writer’s block. Henceforth, despite the loyal fanbase, there’s little talk about your works or you yourself.

📖 One day he catches you sitting in one of the chairs dotted around the store, reading. Finally, at long last, he has the chance to talk to you!

📖 Simon has a whole plan. First he’d ask you what you’re reading and your opinion on it thus far, gradually leading the conversation towards your recommendations and favourites. It’s essential to gain that info because there’s always plenty to say and discover about books. Then, he’d ask you for tea, show you he isn’t as scary as he looks.

📖 But, like out in the field, there can be unforeseen circumstances.

📖 He didn’t account for the goosebumps on your skin, the slight shiver that has you shaking despite your efforts to suppress it.

📖 “Trying to catch a cold?” Simon crouches down before you, takes off his heavy leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s warm, infused with the scent of nicotine, black pepper, gun oil, gasoline, and black tea.

📖 For a moment you stare at him, gobsmacked. After all, you don’t meet someone in a skull balaclava at Waterstones on the daily. Nevertheless, after wrapping his jacket around you a little tighter and deciding he means no harm, you find your voice. “Not consciously. Guess I’m not particularly good at dressing for the weather.”

📖 “No, you’re not.” He chuckles at your expression, a mixture of shock and surprise. Much to his delight, Simon senses you’re not offended by his bluntness. “Fancy a cuppa? My treat.”

📖 “Only if you tell me your name.”

📖 “For now, call me Ghost.”

📖 “Cheshire. Pleased to meet you.”

📖 “Like the cat?”

📖 “Indeed.” The way you tilt your head, eyes bright with defiance and granting him a glimpse of the walls you’ve carefully constructed around yourself, sends electricity through his nerves. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

📖 Simon usually keeps people at a distance, even the taskforce, but he’ll gladly take on the challenge of getting closer. “Yeah.”

📖 As per his promise, he pays for the tea and a scone to share. He cuts it in half, giving you the thicker top part while he settles for the thinner bottom bit.

📖 He doesn’t know how, but as he watches you smear jam and only the tiniest bit of clotted cream on the pastry it hits him. Finally he recalls who you are, where he’s seen you before.

📖 “Cheshire,” he begins, wanting to breach the topic carefully. Still, it’s hard to not get distracted by how you’re innocently enjoying your scone, enough to unintentionally give him the opportunity to wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth. However, to restrain himself, Simon tucks his hands in his lap. “Have you by chance heard of (your pen name)?”

📖 He clocks how you stiffen. Bingo. “How do you know that name?”

📖 “I… I’m… I’m a fan. Inked Monsters is the first book of yours I read. I liked how you discussed the prejudice against age gap relations, lone wolves, and heavily tattooed people. Made me feel heard.”

📖 You can’t help but chuckle, amazed at this giant’s enthusiasm for your novels. “What’s so funny?”

📖 “Nothing, it’s just… you don’t strike me as the type to like my writing. I’m glad to hear it touched you, though.”

📖 “Well, I am. But yours is the only one in the genre I really like. I’m not a big fan of fairy tales or retellings, but yours,” he glances at his cup, comically small in his big hands, “I… I do… a lot.”

📖 “Glad to hear it.”

📖 “How’s it going with Sugar Hood and Flannel Wolf? Haven’t heard or seen anything about it for a while.”

📖 You snort because ‘for a while’ is a severe understatement considering it’s been three years. The fanbase exploded with supportive messages when you announced you were writing another modern fairytale. This time, it would be about a lumberjack grumpy werewolf and a young woman who runs a bakery after her grandma’s passed away.

📖 And there’s the key phrase.

📖 Would be.

📖 “I’m suffering from writer’s block, which also drives my publisher and agent up the bloody wall. They still earn enough thanks to me to not cancel my contract, but I don’t think I’ll be able to publish soon… if ever again.”

📖 The way you look down into your tea, head bowed low and eyes sad, breaks his heart. “How so?”

📖 “When a hobby turns into a profession, there’s the pressure to perform, to deliver. I used to write for fun, but now it feels like a chore and I feel nothing but guilt for not doing it. Doesn’t help I’m stuck on the plot.”

📖 “You need a rubber duck.”

📖 You look up at him, feeling like you lost the plot. “A rubber duck?”

📖 “Talk through your problems to a rubber duck and you’ll see the solution presents itself. This duck can also be… someone.”

📖 “Are you asking to be my rubber duck?”

📖 “Proofreader, at most. If you’d allow it.”

📖 “A second opinion wouldn’t hurt.” You smile to yourself and shake your head. “A ghost reader.”

📖 Little do you know that that is what gets him going. “Let’s make this a two-man project. You write, I read, and we get through this together. Fuck deadlines and to hell with the people pressuring you to write. This is our plan, our mission. Getting that book out.”

📖 You giggle, a sound he archives for later. “My God, you’re headstrong. It’s nice, though, to hear you speak as passionately about my works like I did once.”

📖 “Being stagnant is useless. It’s also definitely the way to get yourself killed out in the field.” Simon wishes he could kick himself in the face for his words. “Sorry, you can take the man out of the army, but not vice versa.”

📖 “That explains a lot, you being an army man.” You take a sip of tea and nibble on the scone. “Retired or on leave?”

📖 “On leave.”

📖 “Know when you’re deployed again?”

📖 “Not any time soon. Unless Price cooks something up again. No, I’ll be here for a while.” Mumbling under his breath, the words too low for you to make out, he adds, “Plenty time for me to help you.”

📖 “Pardon?”

📖 “Nothing. But,” he clears his throat, “if you don’t mind, would you sign one of my copies?”

📖 “Sure. You have it with you?”

📖 “No, so, uhm, could we meet here tomorrow for that?”

📖 “Are you asking to see me again?”

📖 “If we could have tea again, that’d be nice too.”

📖 “Maybe grab a bite in town instead?”

📖 He perks up. “That’s a yes?”

📖 “It’s bad protocol to go out with a fan, but,” your smile makes him melt, “how can I say no to an interesting man like you, Ghost?”

📖 You pop the last bit of the scone into your mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet here?” He nods. “Thank you for the tea.”

📖 “Anytime.”

📖 Ngl, silly as it is considering you just met, he’s kinda disappointed you don’t give him a kiss on the cheek before you leave.

📖 Though he finds enough satisfaction in the fact you ate the piece of the scone he cut for you.

📖 Enough to carry him through the day.

📖 Afterwards, the two of you stay in regular contact. It’s not always about business and even if it is, the conversation always diverges. To what you’re reading, simple recipes for Simon to try and make (he’s a self-confessed terrible cook), easy stretching exercises for you to do in between writing sprints (he hasn’t had the courage yet to ask you to accompany him to the gym), or possible outings.

📖 Yes, outings.

📖 Because Simon loves driving around the country on his bike with you.

📖 What he’d love even more, though, is not having to book rooms or accommodations with two single beds rather than one king or queen size bed whenever you’re off on a multi-day trip.

📖 Occasionally you do buddy reads. You were the first to propose it and have since expanded your literary horizons together. If only because Simon makes a lot of notes. Honestly, it’s surprising he doesn’t have a literary degree what with how passionate he is about reading.

📖 One day, a few days before he’s off to the gods know where, your ghost reader gives you a book with a copy of his dog tag. Until then, you’ve only known him as Ghost.

📖 But now you finally know his name.

📖 Simon Riley.

📖 “What’s this?” You look from the necklace to him, uncomprehending why he’d gift you his dog tag.

📖 He keeps his eyes trained on you, taking you in as best he can lest this will be the last time he’ll see you. After all, there always remains the chance he won’t return. “In case I don’t come back. I don’t care if they’ll be unable to identify me. I’m a ghost, un fantasma according to a buddy in Mexico. But I want you to have something to remember me by.”

📖 “You’re very real to me.” His heart cracks at your outburst. “How can you say that? You’re a person, Simon!”

📖 There’s no hesitation in the way he cups your cheeks and presses his lips against yours. You melt into his touch, the feel of his hands on your skin, feeling the smirk pressed against your lips when you clutch his shirt.

📖 “Your person, eh?” he asks when he breaks away, breathless and lightly panting. However, he has to stop himself here. Unlike in the field, there’s no time limit with you.

📖 Because despite the novel, he’s come to understand you’re in more than a business relationship.

📖 A relationship which takes time, shouldn’t be rushed.

📖 An opportunity for you both to show yourselves.

📖 For him to learn patience and self-restraint.

📖 For you to learn how to trust and rely on someone.

📖 And grow together.

📖 “Yes, so don’t you bloody dare claim otherwise ever again.” The way you poke his chest, full of conviction, melts his cold heart.

📖 “I’ll try to be a person around you, sweetheart.”

📖 If only because you care.

📖 And he can’t live without your stories.

📖 Especially not when you tell them yourself.

Btw, I might actually write Sugar Hood & Flannel Wolf because I’m going nigh on feral thinking about werewolf!Price. I mean, c’mon, that man screams wolf vibes (aside from the massive daddy… I mean teddy! Teddy vibes).