#and he fed them from scraps of his own food

[diarunas]

Patroclus petting one of his nine dogs!! It’s just a little doodle, but I figured sharing it since we gotta give some love to Pat’s dogs

[seumyo]

DABI | TODOROKI TOUYA ✰ RESONANCE

SYNOPSIS. Todoroki Touya abandoned the bass years ago, unwilling to chase a passion that had only ever led to disappointment. Now a distant but undeniably skilled third-year, he’s pulled back into music when a persistent second-year recruits him for her struggling band. He tells himself it doesn’t matter—but the stage has a way of unraveling the lies he’s built around himself.

PAIRING. [Third Year] Todoroki Touya and [Second Year] Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT. 13k+

CONTENT. Slowburn, Strangers to Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, College AU, No Quirk!AU, Unhealthy Family (because Ende*vor), Angst with Happy Ending, Music as a Metaphor for Feelings, and so on.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. Haha (hides). This took SEVEN MONTHS, oh em gee. I’m never attempting to write long fics ever again (this was so fun). For my dearest, @seneon. Your long-overdue Bassist!Touya fic is finally here. And also @suksatoru, an absolute icon with who inspired me to write for Touya this way from her Carnations series <33 Special thank you to all my beta readers: Ali, Fio, Rinne, my brother—because without you guys, I would’ve just scrapped this whole idea and never let it see the light. I hope all Touya fans are fed with this !!

“Mr. Todoroki,” the professor began, leaning against his desk with arms crossed. “You’re intelligent. That much is clear from your written work. But intelligence without effort will only get you so far.”

Touya leaned against his chair, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Didn’t realize effort was part of the grading system.”

“It is,” the professor replied. “That, and participation—which you’re both lacking. I suggest joining an organization—something to engage you beyond sitting in the back of a classroom and coasting through your courses.”

Touya let out a humorless laugh as if he just heard the funniest joke of his life, shaking his head.

“I’ll pass.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s just… not my thing, sir,” he muttered finally, his tone clipped. He didn’t need to say anything else to him.

The professor studied him for a moment, then sighed. “You’re only wasting your own potential, Mr. Todoroki. Though I do understand that you’re still adjusting from just having transferred two months ago. One day, you’ll realize that life isn’t going to wait for you to catch up.”

Touya didn’t respond. He just left the room once he was free to do so and didn’t bother letting his professor’s words linger too long with him.

Potential? What would his professor know about his own potential? As if the word hasn’t already been engraved in his mind from the moment he turned six, haunting him like a ghost out for revenge.

“Stupid professor,” he muttered under his breath. But even as he said it, he knew the real frustration wasn’t with the professor—or the thing that’s been holding him back, or anyone else. 

It was with him.

-

Lunchtime was always so chaotic in this university. Touya didn’t understand what the fuss was all about. But the food was good, surprisingly; he’ll give them that.

He settled into a routine. Sit on the farthest free table and have his earphones in, not because he was listening to anything, but because they were a convenient excuse to ignore anyone who tried to talk to him. He liked the solitude and how students here respected each other’s personal space.

So when a shadow fell over his table, he barely glanced up, assuming it was someone asking to join him at the table or grab the extra chair. You know, the usual stuff that happens in college—where everyone’s apparently too busy with their lives to meddle with others.

“Hey. You’re Todoroki, right?”

The voice wasn’t familiar. It was clear, a little raspy, and full of smugness that just screamed that this someone found the person they were looking for. Reluctantly, Touya looked up, locking eyes with the girl standing in front of him.

You weren’t anyone he recognized—definitely not from any of his classes. Your hands were behind your back, your posture casual yet still somewhat polite.

“And if I am?” he replied, his voice as flat and uninviting as he could manage.

You tilted your head slightly, offering him a smile. “Good. Saves me the trouble of asking around.” You bowed slightly in greeting, introducing your name and the department program you’re in. “Second year, I run the school band.”

He didn’t return the gesture, though he did raise an unimpressed eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Congrats? Do you want a medal or something?”

“I heard you’re good at playing bass.”

The words caught him off guard. Touya’s nonchalant expression is replaced by a flicker of something sharper, something guarded. “Who told you that?”

You shrugged, the motion deliberately casual. “Word gets around. Especially when someone is as good as you supposedly are.”

“Well, whoever said that was wrong. I don’t play anymore.”

Touya clenched his jaw, looking past you toward the window. The question scraped against old wounds he thought he’d buried—memories of playing in his room, of pouring everything into the bass that he’s only ever known.

“It’s not my thing anymore,” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. “Sorry, kid. You’re years too late to have met me in my prime.”

“Not a kid—we’re probably around the same age,” you quipped. “And I don’t buy that.”

Your bluntness made him pause. He blinked, his head snapping back toward you. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t quit something like that unless there’s a reason,” you answered simply, your tone light but unrelenting. “And honestly? Professor Hamasaki actually forwarded his concern to me, so I think you really need it.”

Of course his professor had to have come up with an intervention for him. He spoke too soon about this new university letting him mind his own business.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” you said, crossing your arms and straightening up, “you look like someone who’s got way too much going on up here”—you tapped your temple—“and has no idea where to put it. Trust me, I’ve seen it before.”

Your words hit closer than he wanted to admit, and the smug look on your face didn’t help. He shook his head. 

“You’re annoying—putting your nose in other people’s lives.”

“I—”

He scoffed, raising a hand as if to stop you. “I told you, I don’t play anymore. Find someone else.”

“Can’t.”

“You’re the only bassist worth tracking down. And I’m not just looking for anyone—I’m looking for you. You ever heard of this university’s motto?”

“No, and I don’t care. Leave.” His voice was curt, unwelcoming now.

“Ut Optimi Simus.” That we may be the best.

Touya stared at you, his expression unreadable. You just couldn’t take the hint, could you? That much was clear on his end.

And to drop the school motto? What is he getting himself into? 

What kind of self-obsessed students did this university have?

“Look,” you continued, “we’ve got a spot open in the band, and I think you’d kill it. Just come to one practice. One. If it sucks, you can walk out, and I’ll never bother you again. Deal?”

There was a challenge in your tone, one that sparked something dormant in him. He could have shut you down again, could have sent you packing with another snarky comment. But for some reason—maybe it was the way you spoke or the strange mix of stubbornness and sincerity in your expression—he hesitated.

Maybe you would just bother him again if he refused; who knows?

But Todoroki Touya was screwed before he realized it.

“One practice,” he muttered finally.

���Yes!” you cheered, a bit too loud, which had the other students’ heads turning toward your direction. Touya had to rub a hand over his face. Great. More unwanted attention.

“Whoops—but that’s all I need. Music room, next week, after your class. Building GENM. Don’t be late, Todoroki.”

He stared at the empty space where you’d been standing, then at the table in front of him, where his phone lay forgotten.

“What the hell did I just agree to?” he muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that, for the first time in a long while, he might be walking into something worth his time.

Then again, it might be.

-

The week had passed in a blur for Touya. He hadn’t thought about the band—or you—much since your brief, honestly impulsive encounter. He convinced himself it was just another passing distraction, something to shrug off and forget about, like he usually did with things that demanded more of him than he wanted to give.

And yet, there he was, standing in the dimly lit hallway outside the music room, staring at the door like it might open on its own and save him the trouble of deciding whether to walk in.

It wasn’t like he owed you anything. He’d said he’d come to one practice—only one—and even then, he hadn’t really promised he’d participate. If you had any sense, you’d take the hint that he wouldn’t touch the bass.

Still, something made him turn the doorknob and step inside.

The room smelled faintly of old wood and metal, a mix of familiarity and nostalgia that hit him square in the chest. His gaze flicked around, taking in the scattered instruments, the amplifiers, and the slightly worn drum set shoved into a corner.

At the center of it all was you.

You were perched on a stool, your hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder as you leaned forward over a notebook in your lap. Your hand moved in quick, messy strokes as you scribbled notes, humming softly to yourself. A keyboard sat in front of you, the occasional sound of a chord filling the space as you tinkered with the rhymes and chords.

Your voice was soft, pleasing to hear, the kind of voice that could wrap around someone and pull them in without asking. Sort of like a siren, enchanting—bewitching.

“Damn, still doesn’t feel right,” you muttered to yourself, tapping the pen against your lips before crossing out a line. 

Touya stood there for a moment, unnoticed, just… watching. There was an ease to the way you worked. Quiet and focused. He didn’t know if it was weird to just stand there and watch, but it took him a minute to compose himself.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

You jolted, nearly dropping your notebook. You glance around to face him, your eyes meeting him before recognition softens your expression into a joyful one.

“Would it kill you to knock? We should’ve really put a sign to knock first before entering around here,” you joked, closing the notebook and setting it aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Touya shrugged, slipping his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “Guess I had nothing better to do.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Your teasing tone was annoying, but it wasn’t enough to make him leave. Instead, he let his gaze wander to the instruments again.

“Is that for me?” he asked, nodding toward the bass leaning against the wall.

“Yup. Freshly tuned and everything. Had to get new strings because the last idiot who used it was just awful.” You stepped aside, gesturing toward it. “Figured you’d want something decent to work with.”

It had been a long time since he’d touched a bass. Too long. But he forced himself to walk over, crouching down to inspect it. His fingers brushed the strings lightly; it felt like meeting something familiar again.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

But before he could even pick up the bass, the door burst open with a loud thud.

“[Name]!”

The shout startled you both, and Touya turned to see a tall guy—not as tall as he is, probably—standing in the doorway, a guitar case slung over one shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. His face was flushed, and he looked like he’d sprinted all the way there.

“Kaito?” you said, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

This guy, Kaito, ignored your question, his gaze landing on Touya briefly before shifting back to you. “We’ve got a problem.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Of course we do. When have we never? What now?”

“One of the judges for the festival just backed out,” Kaito explained, stepping fully into the room. “And the committee’s freaking out. They want all bands to perform a teaser set tomorrow to convince the others to stay on board.”

You blinked. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head, the guitar case slipping slightly on his shoulder. “I wish I was. They’re saying it’s our only shot at keeping everything on track. Rikiyama said so herself.”

Touya raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. 

“Festival?” he asked, his tone flat.

You let out a long sigh, finally turning back to him. “School music festival. Big deal, lots of bands competing for sponsorships and a chance to compete nationally. We’re signed up, obviously, but now they want us to play tomorrow. Which is insane, by the way.”

Kaito finally seemed to register Touya’s presence, his head tilting to the side. “Is this the Todoroki you were talking about, [Name]?”

“Our new bassist,” you answered breezily, grinning as if the words were the most natural thing in the world.

Touya shot you a glare, his posture stiff. “Not yet. I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Well,” you said, clapping your hands together, “looks like you’re about to. Lucky for us, huh?”

“Hold up,” Kaito said, stepping closer. “This guy’s the bassist? You’re bringing in someone new now? Do the others know?”

“Relax, they know,” you replied, waving him off. “Oh, and he’s good. Better than good.”

Kaito didn’t look convinced, but before he could argue, you turned back to Touya.

“Guess you’re jumping in sooner than expected.” Your statement was something that can’t be denied; even Kaito caught onto it.

Touya stared at you. He could feel the weight of the bass guitar in his hand, the pressure of the situation finally making itself known to him.

And yet, for some reason, he didn’t leave.

-

The day of the teaser set was supposed to be the day you reclaimed your band’s undefeated title. 

The kind of event that set the tone for the upcoming music festival. To keep spectators and sponsors engaged. Not… whatever was happening backstage.

Backstage was tense. You stood near the edge of the curtain, peeking out at the crowd as they settled into their seats. The band was set to go on in less than ten minutes, but your focus wasn’t on the audience—it was on the absence of one particular bass player.

“He’s not coming,” Kaito said from behind you, his voice flat. He leaned against a stack of amplifier cases, arms crossed, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with thinly veiled irritation. “I called it the second he said he hasn’t agreed to anything yet.”

You didn’t answer immediately. You let the curtain fall back into place, turning to face the rest of the team. “We don’t know that yet. He might just be late.”

“True,” Haru sighed dejectedly. He’s the one who handles the keyboard and prefers to keep his opinion to himself most of the time rather than voicing it out loud—a second-year in your class.

Kaito scoffed. “Late is still bad. This isn’t some casual jam session, [Name]. This is our shot at keeping the sponsors happy. If they pull out, it’s over.”

One of the other band members, the usually energetic drummer named Yuuma, chimed in. “Kaito’s got a point. If he hasn’t shown up by now, he’s probably not coming.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “Then we’ll do it without him,” you decided, trying to mask the knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

Kaito shook his head, clearly exasperated. “This is why I said you shouldn’t go scouting random people at the last minute. You can’t trust someone who’s barely committed. Plus, we could’ve offered the slot to someone else.”

“Kaito,” you frowned, your tone sharper than usual. The entire band looked at you in surprise, and you softened slightly, your shoulders relaxing. “Look, I get it, okay? But we don’t have time for this. We’ve played without a bassist before, and we can do it again.”

He muttered something under his breath but didn’t push further.

The stage manager appeared a moment later, signaling that it was time for your set. You took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your guitar as the band moved into position.

As you stepped onto the stage, the audience greeted you with polite applause, and the blinding stage lights made it impossible to see the faces in the crowd clearly. You swore someone from the technical team really wanted to blind you and your team one of these days.

You approached the microphone, your voice steady as you introduced your band and the first song. “Thanks for being here, everyone! This is a little something we’ve been working on for a while now.”

Yuuma gave the count-off, and the music began.

The first song went smoothly. Kaito’s electric guitar filled in the gaps left by the missing bassline, and your vocals were working overtime to keep the audience engaged. The crowd seemed to enjoy it, clapping along during the choruses and cheering loudly by the end.

But something felt off.

The music was fine, technically speaking. You hit all the right notes and kept the rhythm tight, but it lacked the depth that a good bassline could bring. It was like there was a hollow space in the sound, a space that Touya’s presence could’ve filled.

It should’ve felt like a victory. To be able to perform without a bassist.

You also noticed the way the judges whispered among themselves, one even talking to the university’s president.

“Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” Kaito murmured, though his tone was less than enthusiastic as you all returned back to your practice room.

“Could’ve been better,” Yuuma muttered, packing up his drumsticks.

“I guess,” Haru pouted, flicking his wrist back and forth.

You didn’t say anything. You set your guitar down carefully, your movements slow and deliberate, as if everything wasn’t real just yet.

Kaito noticed your silence, obviously, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re not seriously still thinking about him, are you?”

“I’m not thinking about him,” you replied quickly.

He hummed faintly, clearly unconvinced, but he let it drop.

As the rest of the band packed up their gear and got out of the room, you stayed for a minute. You found yourself staring at the bass leaning against the wall, untouched and waiting. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would’ve sounded like if Touya had been there, if his bassline had woven seamlessly into your music and added the missing piece to tie the whole performance together.

But then you shook your head, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered under your breath, the words more for yourself than anyone else.

“He already made his choice.” You did sound a little bummed out about it, though.

With one last glance at the bass, you left the room, making sure to lock it on your way out, determined to push Todoroki Touya out of your mind. This would be the last time you’ll ever think of him.

Or so you told yourself.

-

The aftermath was everything but light. It was merciless.

The following week wasn’t as pleasant as you thought it’d be; you couldn’t walk two steps without hearing the agitating murmurs.

“I thought she said they had a bassist?”

“What happened? Did the guy just dip?”

“Damn, imagine embarrassing yourself in front of the whole school like that.”

You clenched your jaw and kept walking, ignoring the sting that settled deep in your gut. You had been prepared for some backlash, sure, but you hadn’t expected the weight of it—the way the entire school seemed to know, the way the student council president looked at you with thinly veiled disappointment when the secretary and treasurer greeted you down the hall.

You had been so sure. You had told them, had promised them that you finally had a full band, that you were ready to compete. Just like once upon a time. And now, you had nothing to show for it.

Now you seem like a liar.

And Touya just… disappeared completely from your radar.

It was your fault; you knew that now. The man hasn’t even known you for longer than two weeks, and you expect him to do something as big as perform for a teaser set? You must have been so entitled to have thought of that.

So selfish to have only thought about what you want and never thought about what he wanted.

The meeting with the president later that afternoon only made it worse.

You sat stiffly in the office, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. Across from you, the president and a few teachers sat with unreadable expressions, while the event’s organizers and two members of the student council looked far less amused. Haru and Kaito flanked your sides—Yuuma called in sick on the second day of the week.

The president sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Ms. [Last Name], I’ll be honest with you. This situation has put us in a difficult position.”

You forced yourself to stay calm. 

“We do have a band,” you said evenly. “We just had an issue with our bassist showing up. But it’s temporary. We’ll fix it.”

One of the organizers, a woman in a navy blazer, exchanged a look with the student council members. “That may be, but you don’t have a bassist right now,” she pointed out. “And without one, your band does not meet the minimum requirements to represent our school in competition. The sponsors and judges of high authority weren’t too thrilled with your performance last week as well. We had to compromise some of them to stay for the music festival.”

Haru sighed softly. “Then what will happen to us?”

The president hesitated, as if reluctant to say it out loud. “We’re giving you until the end of the month,” he said finally. “If you can’t secure a bassist by then… I’m afraid we’ll have to dissolve your band.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Disband? Just like that?

Kaito shot up from his seat, palms flat on the table. “You can’t be serious. We’ve been working our as— very hard on this since last year, please.”

“We are very serious, Mr. Watanabe.” The president's voice was firm but not unkind. “The school’s music program is already under pressure for funding. With many bands making themselves known each year. If we can’t prove that your band is viable for competition, we can’t continue allocating resources to you.”

Haru exhaled sharply beside you, shifting in his seat.

You could feel the walls closing in, the weight of their situation pressing on your shoulders.

One month. That was all you had.

Your mind raced, going over every possible option, every potential bassist you could reach out to. But the truth was, other bands had already scouted most of the available musicians at school. If there were any other bassists capable of keeping up with you, you would have known.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part?

You already had the right person for the job.

You had found someone who could play at the level you needed—someone so good that even Kaito, with all his attitude, had begrudgingly acknowledged his skill.

But he was also the same person who didn’t want to play anymore. And you can’t force someone to do the things that make them unhappy.

You sucked in a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“We understand,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay calm. “We’ll find someone. Thank you for your kindness.”

The meeting wrapped up shortly after, but the weight of it didn’t leave you, even as you stepped out into the hallway. It felt like your heart was lodged in your throat, rendering you silent.

The moment the office door clicked shut, Kaito exploded.

“This is bullshit,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “All because some spoiled rich kid couldn’t be bothered to show up just for one gig?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.”

You didn’t say anything.

Kaito turned to you, eyes sharp. “Tell me you’re not still thinking about him.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m thinking about where we’ll find a good bassist. That’s all.”

Kaito scoffed. “Right. And who exactly do you think is good enough to replace him on such short notice? The others combed through almost all musicians in school.”

“Easy, Kai,” Haru told his friend.

You had no answer.

Because no matter how much you hated to admit it, there wasn’t anyone else.

Kaito must have caught the hesitation in your silence because his expression finally relented. “No. Let’s not think about it anymore.”

You adjusted the strap of your bag. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you said, sidestepping the subject entirely.

Kaito sighed.

“She’s right,” Haru said. “We don’t have a choice.”

You nodded once, more to yourself than anyone else.

One month.

One month to fix this.

One month to… figure things out for better or worse.

And unfortunately, there was only one person who could.

And you were sure that he no longer wanted to see you.

But you had to talk to him one last time. For closure.

-

It was late. Touya’s classes usually stretched to 7 in the evening on Thursdays.

Touya was halfway down the stairs of the main building, hands shoved in his pockets, his steps unhurried. The night air was crisp, but he barely felt it. He had done what he always did—attended just enough classes to stay off his professors’ radar, killed time, and now, finally, he was going home.

But then he saw you.

You stood near the entrance, arms crossed, your bag slung over one shoulder. You weren’t blocking his way, but you didn’t move when he approached, your stance solid like you had been waiting for him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were the waiting type.”

You didn’t react to the teasing. Not even a glare.

“I get it,” you said instead, your voice unnervingly steady. “You don’t want to play.”

Touya slowed to a stop, tilting his head.

Something about the way you said it made his neutral expression turn to a simple frown—because there was no anger, no frustration, no accusations. Just a simple statement, like you had already accepted it.

Took her long enough.

He shrugged. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, and for the first time, he noticed how exhausted you looked. Not physically—no, you were still standing tall, still looking him in the eye—but there was something in your expression, something worn down at the edges.

“I know.”

Your hands are clenched at your sides, knuckles tight.

“You could’ve just said no. You could’ve told me in the practice room that you weren’t going to do it. That you actually didn’t care. That you were going to let me stand up there and make a fool of myself in front of the entire school—because at least I would’ve been prepared.”

Touya’s smirk twitched but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never promised you anything.”

Your shoulders stiffened.

“Because you didn’t refuse that day, when Kaito asked who you were. You picked up the bass, played a few chords, and stayed an hour or less than you intended to. You let me hope. And maybe that was entirely my fault.”

Touya didn’t respond.

Didn’t shift, didn’t look away, but something in his posture went unnervingly still.

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for half a second before opening them again. “Do you have any idea what it was like?” you asked. “Standing up there, knowing everyone was laughing at us? Knowing the only reason we even got to play was because the judges were being polite?”

He had heard.

He hadn’t gone to the teaser set, but the rumors had found him anyway. Your band had been the first to perform to keep the judges on board—only to be the one band without a bassist.

A missing piece in an otherwise well-practiced performance.

A joke.

The sponsors and judges weren’t happy at all.

Your laugh was quiet, bitter. “We were supposed to set the standard, Todoroki. We were supposed to show them why the school backs us—that’s why we were the first to perform. And instead, we just… gave them every reason to doubt us.”

Touya’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his expression remained neutral. “That’s not my problem.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the city beyond the school gates filled the silence—the distant rumble of a passing car, the buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

Then, finally, you straightened.

“But I was happy,” you admitted. “To have seen you play in person. To have known that I was one of the first to approach you for your talent before anyone could even connect the dots with your name.”

Touya was quiet as you spoke, allowing you to tell him how you truly felt about the situation.

“Thank you for taking your time to visit our music room. And… I’m sorry, really sorry if you felt pressured to play because of my persistence. I know that now.”

Well, that took a turn, Touya thought to himself.

“I’m not going to bother you anymore,” you continued. “But I do really—genuinely appreciate you giving us your time.”

Touya felt something in his chest shift, but he ignored it.

You bowed for one last time and turned on your heel without another word.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t say anything as you walked away, disappearing into the dimly lit street.

Didn’t watch as you left him alone with the cold and the distant echoes of everything you had just said.

-

The house was silent when he got home.

It always was.

Touya kicked off his shoes in the entryway, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was still—too still.

His siblings wouldn’t be home for another hour.

The scent of old wood and polish lingered in the air, clean and sterile. The housekeeper must have been here earlier, tidying up everything that didn’t need tidying. It felt suffocating, the way nothing ever changed here.

His steps were slow as he made his way up the stairs, fingers dragging along the smooth railing. The portraits lining the walls were familiar, but he didn’t spare them a glance. Family pictures. Moments frozen in time. He knew what they looked like without having to see them—his siblings, perfect and poised; his mother, distant yet present; and his father, always standing in the center like an immovable force.

Touya wasn’t in most of them. 

Who knows what he must’ve been doing—or what he’s done for him to not be included?

His fingers curled against the wood before he withdrew his hand.

At the end of the hall, his bedroom door stood half-open, just as he had left it that morning. He pushed it open fully, stepping inside.

The room was clean, untouched, just like the rest of the house seemed to be every time he came back. Sometimes he questions if a family truly lives in this house. A house, because it never felt like home.

His gaze flickered across the shelves first. Medals hung from carefully arranged hooks, ribbons still tied neatly around them. Gold, silver, bronze—some gleaming, some dulled with time. A display case lined with trophies sat against the wall, their engraved plates catching the little light from his window.

They were proof of what he had once been.

A prodigy. A name whispered among teachers and musicians alike.

Someone who had been going somewhere.

But none of it had mattered.

His eyes landed on the bass guitar in the corner.

It rested against the wall, still in its worn case, the handle covered in faint scratches from when he used to carry it everywhere. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hands again, the familiar press of strings against his fingertips.

But it had been years since he actually played.

Years since he had felt anything when he looked at it.

Touya’s throat felt tight as he stepped further into the room.

At first, he had tried so hard. He had thrown himself into music with everything he had, drowning in it, desperate to carve out a space for himself in a family that never had room for him.

And for a while—just a little while—he had been good enough.

His teachers had praised him. His instructors had fought over who got to mentor him. People had noticed him.

But then his younger siblings had grown up.

And suddenly, his achievements weren’t enough anymore.

His father had never said it outright, but Touya had known. He had felt it in the way the encouragement faded, in the way the compliments grew fewer, in the way Enji barely looked at his trophies anymore.

You should focus on something more practical, his father had said once, as if music had been nothing more than a hobby. As if Touya had wasted all those years for nothing.

So he had stopped playing.

What was the point? What was the point of pouring himself into something that didn’t matter? What was the point of trying when no matter how good he got, it would never be enough?

Touya exhaled slowly, his gaze dragging back to his bass.

Even now, even after years of refusing to touch it, something in his chest twisted at the sight of it.

He told himself he didn’t care anymore. That it didn’t bother him.

But then your words came back to him, quiet but sharp.

You let me hope. And maybe that was entirely my fault.

His jaw clenched.

You looked so—tired. Not just angry, not just frustrated, but done. Like you had spent everything you had trying to reach him. 

To reach something that could never be reached.

And for what?

Because he couldn’t face his own ghosts?

Touya let out a quiet scoff, running a hand down his face.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He turned away from the bass, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You weren’t entitled to his skills.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that it used to mean everything to him. It didn’t matter that he used to love it. It didn’t matter that for a few years, music had been the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely.

None of it mattered.

Not anymore.

And yet—

Touya lingered in the doorway, staring at the bass for one second too long before finally walking away.

-

Dinner was quiet that night. 

Touya sat at the far end of the long table, arms crossed, eyes heavy-lidded with the kind of exhaustion that never seemed to leave him these days. The air in the house was the same as always—too clean, too cold, too silent. 

He propped his elbow against the table and rested his chin on his knuckles, watching his father from across the room. Enji Todoroki, a powerhouse of a businessman, always the center of everything, even here. He ate in silence, posture rigid, movements deliberate.

Touya barely touched his food.

Natsuo sat two seats away, quiet but visibly tense. Fuyumi kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting against her utensils. Shouto sat at his usual place, unmoving, eating mechanically like he wasn’t aware of the thick tension hanging in the air.

Touya let his gaze drop to the table, to his own reflection faintly visible in the polished wood.

It was funny, in a twisted sort of way.

He used to sit here as a kid, hanging onto every word his father said, desperate for even the smallest ounce of approval. He used to listen to Enji talk about Shouto’s lessons, about the weight of responsibility, about greatness.

And for a while, he had been a part of that.

For a while, Touya had been someone his father actually looked at.

The kid who could play with instinct, who picked up the bass and made it sing like he had been born to do it.

And back then, Enji had actually acknowledged it.

Not praise, not exactly, but recognition. His father had seen the way Touya played, the way his sponsors praised his name, the way his name had spread through competitions like wildfire, and for a short while—Touya had mattered.

Until he didn’t.

Until his siblings started excelling at everything else. 

Natsuo was an academic. He soared through school with ease, outpacing everyone in his classes. His teachers raved about his intelligence, his potential.

Fuyumi was diligent and capable, always responsible, always steady, the one who excelled in sports. Swimming, volleyball, badminton—you name it, she could probably learn how to do it within two days maximum.

And Shouto—

Shouto was the golden child. The one their father had molded for years. The one meant for greatness, destined to surpass even Enji himself. He had a fragment of each of his siblings’ greatness.

And Touya?

Touya played music. And suddenly music wasn’t as great as academics, or sports, or arts.

One day, his father had simply stopped asking about his lessons. He had stopped attending his performances. Had stopped looking at the trophies he brought home, the medals he placed on his shelf.

And Touya knew then.

Knew that to Enji, he had already been left behind.

He swallowed down the bitterness clawing at his throat, his fingers curling against the table.

The silence in the room was unbearable.

So he broke it.

“You know,” Touya said suddenly, voice slow and deliberate, “I’ve been thinking.”

Enji didn’t look up. “About what?”

Touya tilted his head, watching him carefully. “About how pointless everything is.”

That got his father’s attention. Of course, it would. Enji finally met his gaze, brow furrowing slightly.

“Watch your tone,” he warned.

“Or what?” His voice was light, careless. “You gonna scold me? Ground me? Tell me that I’m throwing my life away in studying politics?”

Fuyumi’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to interject. Natsuo tensed. Shouto kept eating, but Touya knew he was listening.

Enji exhaled slowly, setting his chopsticks down. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Touya dragged a hand through his hair, breathing in sharply. “Alright. Fine.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I spent years playing the bass. I was good at it. No—scratch that. I was the best at it. You know that. My teachers knew that. Everyone knew that.” His voice hardened. “And you let me. You let me believe that it mattered, that it was worth something. And then one day, just like that, you decided it wasn’t.”

Enji remained impassive. “I never told you to stop playing.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He could still remember it. The shift. The subtle, almost imperceptible way his father’s attention drifted. How the words of encouragement—rare as they were—had faded. How the pride that once flickered in his father’s expression whenever he won had dulled until it was nothing but disdain.

Because music wasn’t important. Because it wasn’t a legacy. Because Touya playing the bass isn’t important. Because music wouldn’t help him become a candidate to rise to the business world.

And that had killed something in him.

“Do you even get it?” Touya’s voice rose slightly, sharp and bitter. “Do you know what it feels like? To pour everything you have into something, to love something so much it becomes a part of you, only to have it tossed aside like it’s nothing?” His fingers clenched against the table. “What was the point? What was the point of me trying? What was the point of all the competitions, the trophies, the lessons? What was the point of any of it if you were just going to decide it wasn’t worth your time?”

Enji was silent.

Of course, he was.

Touya’s laugh was louder this time, almost incredulous. He shook his head, his grip tightening. “I should’ve known, huh?” His voice was quieter now, something bitter curling around the edges. “The moment my siblings started excelling, I should’ve known.”

Enji’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t refute it. Didn’t deny it.

Because it was true.

Because Touya had spent years waiting—waiting for something, anything, that told him he still was important. That he wasn’t just something his father had already discarded.

But Enji was as quiet as ever.

And that told him everything he needed to know.

His fists slowly unclenched. His expression smoothed over into something colder. He exhaled, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape of wood against the tile.

“Forget it.”

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Fuyumi called out his name softly, but he ignored it. Natsuo watched him leave with something tight in his expression. Shouto didn’t move.

And Enji—

Enji didn’t stop him.

Touya didn’t look back.

Because what was the point in arguing with a wall?

But Touya knew the conversation was far from over.

-

“We need to talk.”

Touya let out a slow breath through his nose, already bracing himself. He didn’t stop to acknowledge him right away, just leaned down to untie his boots, drawing out the motion. He knew how this worked. Enji didn’t like raised voices, didn’t like drawn-out arguments, and didn’t like things disrupting his carefully maintained order. If Touya ignored him long enough, maybe he’d just drop it.

But, of course, Enji Todoroki never dropped anything. Especially not after the stunt he pulled earlier.

Touya sighed and finally straightened, rolling his shoulders as he turned. “Yeah?” He blinked lazily, voice laced with dry amusement. “What groundbreaking wisdom do you have for me this time?”

“You need to stop this,” Enji said, tone clipped.

“Stop what, exactly?” He tilted his head. “Speaking my mind?”

“Throwing a tantrum.”

“Ohhh. That’s what we’re calling it?” He let his voice drop into something almost conversational. “No, you see, I thought I was just telling the truth. You did say honesty is the best policy.”

Enji’s expression didn’t change. His silence pressed against Touya’s ribs like an iron weight.

Touya rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Lay it on me. What’s the lecture this time? That I’m being unreasonable?” He snorted. “That I should be grateful?”

Enji exhaled carefully. “I never told you to stop playing music.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?”

“I told you not to rely on it,” Enji clarified, tone flat.

Touya clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Keep it as a hobby. Something to do on the side. Something that wouldn’t distract me.” His voice dipped into something laced with mockery. “Because that’s what you always do, huh?”

Enji narrowed his eyes slightly. “Touya—”

“No, seriously.” Touya let out a sharp, humorless chuckle, stepping closer. “First, you push me into it. You tell me I’ve got talent, that I should hone it, that I should train.” His voice dropped into something razor-sharp. “And I did.”

His gaze burned, unrelenting.

“I played,” he continued. “I trained. I performed. And I was good, wasn’t I?” His voice was laced with something bitter. “I was great.”

Enji didn’t deny it.

“But then one day, you just…” He snapped his fingers. “Checked out. Like it didn’t matter anymore.” His jaw tightened. “As if playing music was the most disappointing thing any of your children could’ve done. Or maybe that case only applied to me?”

Silence.

Touya inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “But, hey, that wasn’t enough, was it?” His lips curled into something sharp, his voice laced with venom. “No, because after making it real clear that music wasn’t worth your time, you decided to shove me into something else instead.”

His eyes burned.

“Business administration.”

Enji’s face hardened.

“You actually thought I’d be like you.” Touya laughed. It was a clear joke to him. “Like I gave a single shit about your business.”

Enji exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You’re intelligent, Touya. If you had stuck with it—”

“If I had stuck with it? Are you kidding me?” His voice rose, heated. “I never wanted that, old man! You wanted that!” He gestured wildly. “And you shoved me into it like you do with everything else because you thought it was better than me playing music!”

He took a slow, measured breath, voice lowering into something cold.

“And the worst part? I still tried.” His lips twisted. “I spent two years in that goddamn conservative, traditional university, forcing myself to study something I hated just because you thought it was acceptable.”

His fingers curled into fists. “And the second I transferred out, you had the audacity to act like it was my decision.”

He dropped his voice into a dead-on mimicry: “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? How could you waste two years?”

“Like you didn’t push me into it in the first place. You do that with everyone—Fuyumi would’ve still been competing today if you hadn’t discouraged her, Natsuo and Shouto as well.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Touya inhaled sharply through his nose. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less bitter.

“I didn’t even want to just play music,” he muttered. “I had a plan. I was gonna study law. Be a lawyer.” He scoffed. “Did you even know that?”

Enji’s brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

Touya scoffed. “Yeah, I didn't think so.” He shook his head. “I wanted to help. I wanted to be something. And I still wanted to play, still wanted to keep music as a part of my life—because it was with me for almost all of my life. But you made me feel like that was stupid. A childish dream that I was bound to let go of.”

His throat tightened.

“You made me feel like it wasn’t worth it.”

“Touya, you needed direction.”

“No,” Touya snapped. “I needed a choice. I needed support. But you never gave me one.”

Silence.

“You forced me into music. Then you forced me into business. And when I walked away from both, you just acted like none of it ever mattered. Like I had humiliated everything that you had built for this family.”

Enji’s expression didn’t change.

“No surprise, though, huh?” He tilted his head, voice dropping into something dangerously quiet. “Because Shouto could finally fill in my shoes.”

Enji’s jaw tightened, just slightly.

“Yeah, that’s what it is, isn’t it? Did I hit a nerve there, Dad?” His voice wavered, barely perceptible. “You didn’t need to focus on me anymore, so you didn’t.”

Touya’s fists clenched.

“I should’ve known better.”

Enji remained silent.

“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping out. “I’m going back to my dorm.”

And so, it did.

-

What used to be a room full of noise was now uncomfortably quiet.

You stood in the middle of it, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over the half-empty space that had once been yours. It didn’t feel real. The shelves where you used to stack your equipment were bare. The walls, once lined with posters and setlists, were empty now—just blank, peeling paint and old tape residue. The air smelled like dust and memories you weren’t ready to let go of.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and forced yourself to keep moving.

Yuuma was coiling up the last of the cables, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. Kaito crouched near the amplifiers, wrapping them up carefully like they weren’t just equipment but something precious. Haru had already taken down the band’s old posters, stacking them in a neat pile like he couldn’t bring himself to crumple them up or throw them away.

It was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that came with the weight of finality, of something ending when you weren’t ready for it to.

You bent down and picked up a box of loose sheet music, flipping through old setlists and unfinished lyrics scrawled in fading ink. Some of these songs had never made it past rehearsals. Some of them had performed on your biggest nights, your loudest wins. And now?

Now they were just scraps of paper.

You exhaled softly and shoved them into the box.

A few feet away, Haru stacked another case onto the pile by the door and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You think the next band’s gonna do anything with this place?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to answer.

Yuuma snorted softly. “They won’t be us.”

No one disagreed.

Because it was true.

You had been the best. The best. Your band was the one that had carried the university through every local competition, every festival for a year straight. You have been known for your energy, your chemistry, and your sound. You were the band that made people stay even after the headliners left. 

The absolute blueprint.

But now?

Now, you were just another band that fell apart because people moved on. Your former bassist chose to focus on his internship, which you respected. The others started quitting as well due to some other conflicts, and only Kaito, Yuuma, and Haru stayed. You were thankful for that.

Kaito let out a slow breath and leaned against the table. “We really thought we could hold out, huh?” He smiled, but he was tired, resigned. “Guess we were all kinda stupid.”

“Not stupid,” you corrected. “We just… we wanted it to last.”

And for a while, it had.

For a while, it had felt invincible.

Until it wasn’t.

Kaito didn’t argue. He just nodded, pushing another box toward the door.

You glanced around, taking in the room one last time. The cracked stool where Kaito used to sit when he got too tired standing. The corner of the room where Haru always left his water bottle. The space near the set of drums where Yuuma used to zone out between rehearsals. The spot where you had spent so many late nights rewriting lyrics, surrounded by the sound of your friends messing around, playing half-finished chords, and making stupid jokes.

It was hard to believe that by next week, another band would be standing in this same space.

That this room—your room—would belong to someone else.

“Alright.” You clapped your hands together, forcing a small smile. “Let’s finish up.”

No one argued.

Because there was nothing left to fight for.

So you worked.

Packing up the remnants of what used to be something grand.

-

Touya wasn’t used to asking for things. Not from other people. Not from institutions. Not even from himself.

But here he was, sitting in the suffocatingly sterile office of the university’s administrative staff, pushing down every instinct that told him to just walk out and let things be. He couldn’t let things be.

The chair was stiff. The air was too still. His leg bounced impatiently under the desk, but he forced himself to keep his voice even.

“I’m here about the band that oversees the music club.”

The staff member—a woman who looked about one budget cut away from quitting her job altogether—barely spared him a glance as she shuffled through a stack of papers. “The band that was dissolved?”

Touya clenched his jaw. Yeah. The one I fucked up.

“…Yeah,” he muttered.

The woman sighed, rubbing her temples. “If you’re here to file a complaint, I’ll stop you right now. The rules are clear—without a complete lineup, the band can’t maintain active status, but the club is still available for students who want to learn to play instruments.”

“No, no. I’m not here to join the club,” Touya exhaled slowly, fingers twitching against the fabric of his jeans. “And I’m not filing a complaint about the band,” he said. “I’m fixing it.”

That got her attention. She gave him a once-over, unimpressed. “You’re fixing it?”

“Yes.” His fingers dug into his palm. “Reinstate the band.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, then let out a dry chuckle. “It’s not that simple, kid.”

Touya hated that. Hated how she dismissed him so easily, like he was just some desperate student throwing a last-minute plea.

But, to be fair, he was desperate. He’s never been this desperate before, but the moment he saw another band in your practice room, he couldn’t leave it as is.

He swallowed back the frustration rising in his throat. “Look, we need a full lineup, right?” He met her gaze evenly. “They’ve got one. I’m playing bass.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You?”

Touya nodded.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, considering. “…And this isn’t just some last-ditch effort to get back on a technicality?”

“No. I was just… a little late due to some… personal conflicts.”

She gave him another long look, then sighed, shaking her head. “If the band can prove they’re competition-ready by the end of the month, we’ll consider reinstatement on a probationary basis.”

Touya exhaled, relief flooding his chest. “I’ll take it.”

The woman slid a stack of papers toward him. “Then fill these out.”

-

The first thing Touya did after leaving the office was find you.

It wasn’t hard—because he asked a few students from your department where you usually stayed. The rooftop, they all said.

“What now, Todoroki?” you asked, not even bothering to look at him.

“I was going to play.”

The words were soft. Too soft for him.

Your hand stilled, pausing from rewriting your notes.

Touya let out a slow breath, stepping forward, leaning against the railing a few feet away from you. He didn’t look at you. Just stared out at the view below, where the campus stretched out in the afternoon light.

“I was ready,” he said. “That night. Before the music fest. I had my bass; I was going,” he admitted, shaking his head. “And then my old man showed up.”

Touya rarely talked about his father. Much less to anyone—especially you. You had heard things, of course—whispers, rumors, the kind of stories that floated around when a family name like his carried a reputation. But you never asked. It wasn’t your place.

And your priorities lie elsewhere.

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“He told me to drop it. Said there was no point. That I was wasting my time.” Touya’s fingers curled slightly against the railing. “And I don’t know why it got to me. I thought I stopped giving a shit a long time ago. But right then, it was like I was a kid again, standing in that room full of trophies that didn’t mean anything to him.”

His voice was quiet. Not bitter, not angry—just honest.

“And I got scared.” His jaw tensed. “Because what if he was right?”

You blinked at him as he turned to face you, though you were quick to avert your gaze.

“What if I was wasting my time?” Touya said more than asked. “What if I walked into that music fest, got on stage, and realized I didn’t have it anymore? What if it wasn’t worth it?”

He got a bit closer to where you sat.

“So I didn’t go.” He glanced up at the sky. “I stayed home. Didn’t answer my phone. Figured it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

You stared at your notes, but the words were starting to blur.

“You were right,” Touya mused after a long pause. “Giving you hope was the worst thing I could’ve done.” He sighed. “You should’ve hit me for that one.”

You finally turned to look at him, and for the first time, he actually met your gaze. His eyes weren’t cold or distant, not laced with sarcasm or carelessness.

They were just… open.

You swallowed and looked back down.

“You used to love it,” you concluded. It wasn’t a question.

Touya gave a slow nod. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”

The wind was the only thing that spoke for a while.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say to that. To him.

But…

You could hear it in his voice. The regret. The way he hated himself for it more than anyone else ever could.

That didn’t change much. Your band was still dissolved either way. And you’ve been drowning yourself in your studies to ignore the ache.

But maybe—

Maybe it meant something.

His hands were still in his pockets, his shoulders tense like he wasn’t used to saying things that actually mattered. Like he had already braced himself for whatever you were going to throw at him—anger, disappointment, indifference.

But instead of waiting for you to say anything else, he spoke first.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His voice was steady, quieter than usual. “And I’m not asking you to.”

You blinked, fingers tightening slightly around the edges of your notebook.

He sighed, shifting his weight. “But I talked to the organizers, professors, and staff. The university president, too.” He glanced at you, searching for a reaction, but you just stared, waiting. “The band’s registered again.”

Your breath hitched, barely noticeable—but he caught it.

“As long as you want to have a band,” he continued, his tone more certain now, “it’s yours. I’ll play.” He tilted his head slightly, something almost pleading flickering in his gaze. “I should’ve played from the start. So if you’ll let me, I’ll do it now.”

He was serious.

There was no sarcasm, no deflection, no half-hearted attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t doing something that mattered. He wasn’t trying to be cool or detached.

For once, Todoroki Touya wasn’t running.

“And if I say no?”

Touya smiled slightly, but there was no arrogance in it—just something quiet, maybe even hopeful.

“Then I guess I’ll have to find a way to convince you.”

You looked at him, your knuckles white where they pressed against your closed notebook. The wind picked up, rustling the pages slightly, but you didn’t move. You barely breathed. Forgot to, maybe.

God, you hated him.

You hated how genuine he was being.

But more than anything—

You hated that you wanted to believe him.

“You really think it’s that simple?” you ask. It’s soft this time around.

“No.” Touya’s voice was level, calm. “But it’s a start.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Then tell me. I’ll listen.”

You couldn’t tell him.

Because the truth was, you believed him.

And that was the worst part. You’re too hopeful again, and what if this time around, the damage would be even more severe?

“You don’t have to do this.” Your voice was steady, but underneath it was something raw. “You don’t have to do all of this because you feel bad. Because you suddenly decided it mattered to you again.”

Touya didn’t flinch. He just listened.

You wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Something. Because how dare he stand there so calmly while you were unraveling all over again?

“I believed in you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t have. Even when everyone told me not to.” You had to clasp your hands together and take in a steady breath.

Touya was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly—

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice was lower this time, more certain. “I know because I did the same damn thing to myself. To be scared of something inevitable, I chose to run.”

That stopped you cold.

This made you realize—

This wasn’t easy for him, either.

The exhaustion in his posture, the way his hands curled into fists in his pockets—

He wasn’t just standing there expecting you to forgive him.

He was waiting for you to tell him no.

Waiting for you to tell him he had lost his last chance. To tell him to stop bothering you.

To leave you alone.

And you should.

God, you should.

But then there was the way he looked at you—

Not with pity. Not with indifference.

But like you were the only person in the world whose opinion could ruin him.

And you had never seen anyone look at you like that before.

-

Practice ran late. Not that anyone was really complaining—well, except for Kaito, who kept muttering about how his fingers were cramping up, but nobody paid him much attention. You were all riding the high of a solid rehearsal, the kind where everything clicked, and even though Touya would never admit it out loud, it felt good.

Really good.

It had been so long since he played in a group like this, since he let himself enjoy it instead of overanalyzing every note.

And then Yuuma, with his usual lack of impulse control, had to break the comfortable silence.

“Okay, but seriously,” he said, spinning a drumstick between his fingers as he leaned against the wall. “How the hell did we get you?”

Touya, who had just been double-checking the tuning pegs on his bass, glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

Kaito grinned. “He’s got a point, man. You’re Todoroki Touya.”

Touya frowned. “Yeah. I know my own name.”

“No, but seriously,” Yuuma insisted, gesturing vaguely. “You’re like—this mysterious, untouchable figure on campus. The guy who doesn’t show up to class half the time but still somehow passes. The guy who sits in the back of the room and barely talks to anyone. And now, suddenly, you’re our bassist?”

Touya exhaled through his nose. “You make it sound like some divine intervention.”

“It is,” Yuuma said, completely serious. Then, without missing a beat—“Do you have a girlfriend?”

…

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kaito snickered. “That would actually explain so much.”

You, on the other hand, were completely distracted with your phone to even pay the boys any attention.

Haru, who had been silently observing the conversation like he was watching a wildlife documentary, finally chimed in. “Are you implying that Touya was bribed into joining the band?”

Yuuma nodded sagely. “Exactly. Like—imagine he’s secretly dating some hardcore musician chick who was like, ‘Touya, babe, you need to do this for me,’ and he just couldn’t say no.”

Touya gave him the flattest look imaginable. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?” Haru asked, adjusting his glasses.

Touya sighed, already regretting all of his life choices. “No.”

Yuuma snapped his fingers. “Damn. There goes that theory.” Then, after a beat, he turned to you. “By the way, do we have a budget for a talent fee?”

You glanced up. “Huh?”

Yuuma jerked a thumb at Touya. “I mean, we basically landed a celebrity. Should we be paying him or something?”

Touya scoffed. “You can’t afford me.”

Kaito snickered. “Damn, that’s bold.”

“What?” Yuuma grinned. “I’m just saying, we might as well treat him like a high-profile guest artist.”

Touya smirked. “You should be honored.”

“This is dumb,” you laughed.

Yuuma, still grinning, slung his bag over his shoulder. “But for real, you’re actually sticking around this time, right?”

Touya hesitated.

The question felt heavier than it should’ve. Because a few months ago, the answer would’ve been an easy no. Why would I waste my time? This wouldn’t matter.

But now?

He exhaled, shifting his bass case higher on his shoulder.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “All the way.”

Kaito whooped, slapping him on the back. “Hell yeah.”

Yuuma smirked. “Good. Because if you did bail again, I was fully prepared to start charging you a dropout fee.”

Touya snorted. “You wish.”

You, who had been watching him carefully, finally exhaled and gave him a slight nod. “Then don’t be late tomorrow. Same time.”

Touya smirked. “No promises.”

You gave him a knowing look.

Yuuma grinned. “Alright, then—welcome to the band, officially.”

And for the first time in years, standing there with his new bandmates, feeling the weight of his bass strap across his shoulder and the lingering buzz of rehearsal in his fingertips—

Touya actually felt like he was home.

-

With the recent turn of events, jealousy is an apparent feeling for those who aren’t as privileged to have snagged Todoroki Touya.

And it all started as whispers.

Small, snide comments whenever you walked past the other bands in the music hall. Barely-there smirks, little glances, and the occasional scoff from some second-rate bassist who thought they were so much better because they had never once lost a performance slot.

You ignored them.

You had better things to do. Your band was back, and with Touya as your bassist, things were better and stronger than before. You were making up for lost time, running setlists late into the night, writing new songs, fixing old ones. The fire was back in your chest, the thrill of the stage creeping closer.

But the whispers didn’t stop.

And eventually, they weren’t whispers anymore.

You were passing by the courtyard, Touya trailing half a step behind you, when a group of students—members of another well-known band—let their conversation just slip into earshot.

“She’s lucky, isn’t she?”

“Right? If we had a prodigy like Todoroki, we’d be unstoppable.”

“I mean, let’s be real, he’s the only reason they even got reinstated.”

“I wonder if she realizes how much she’s riding on his talent. Kind of embarrassing if you think about it.”

Your steps faltered, just for a second.

But you didn’t stop.

Didn’t give them the satisfaction of giving them your time.

Touya, though—he did stop.

You had taken another step before you realized he wasn’t beside you anymore. You turned, frowning, just as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head at the group, expression unreadable.

“Oh, sorry,” he drawled. “Didn’t realize I had groupies.”

The students stiffened. “What?”

“You’re talking about me like I’m not right here.” His tone was light, almost amused. “That desperate for attention?”

One of them scoffed, recovering quickly. “We’re just saying. It’s obvious [Last Name]’s band wouldn’t stand a chance without you.”

You clenched your fists, but Touya—he laughed.

It wasn’t a friendly laugh.

It was sharp and unimpressed.

“Yeah?” He raised a brow, amusement fading into something colder. “Then why is it that even before I joined, they were the best band on campus?”

The students shifted uncomfortably.

“I mean, that’s what pisses you off, right?” Touya continued, taking a slow step forward. His presence was overwhelming, gaze sharp as he looked them over. “They were already winning before me. [Name] built that band from the ground up, and everyone knew they were the ones to beat.”

No one said anything.

He smirked. “But if it makes you feel better to pretend it’s all me, go ahead. Must be easier than admitting you just suck.”

One of them clenched their jaws. “What’s your deal, man? You don’t even care about bands or competitions.”

Touya rolled his shoulders, casting a glance back at you.

You hadn’t said a word, but he could see it—the way your grip on your bag had tightened, the way your jaw was locked. You weren’t going to defend yourself. 

Which was fine.

Because he would.

“I didn’t care,” he admitted, looking back at them. “Didn’t give a fuck about any of this.” His smirk widened, but his eyes were sharp. 

“But I do now. And you know what I found out?”

The weight of his words sank in, and no one had a response.

“I actually kind of like it,” he hummed. “So try to keep up. Because for the remaining two years, we’ll never lose as long as [Name] and I are onboard.”

With that, he turned back to you, nodding toward the path ahead. “Come on. We’ve got practice.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, then let out a slow breath and walked beside him, leaving the others behind.

They didn’t talk about it and didn't bring it up again.

But as you headed toward the music room, Touya nudged you lightly with his elbow.

“They’re just jealous,” he said, voice quieter now. “You know that, right?”

You exhaled, then, finally, nodded just a little.

“Obviously.”

-

“Alright,” Yuuma had said one afternoon, spinning a drumstick between his fingers, “hypothetically, if you were going to make it up to [Name]—properly, not just half-assed—what would you do?”

Touya, who had been tuning his bass, barely spared him a glance. 

“I already apologized.”

Kaito snorted. “Yeah, and she tolerated it. Barely.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Write her a sonnet?” Touya asked. 

Haru, from where he was perched on top of the amplifier, added, “Not a sonnet. A song.”

“Excuse me?”

Yuuma grinned. “Dude, it’s perfect. She’s all about the band, right? Music’s what she actually gives a damn about. So if you really want her to believe you’re in this for real, show her through music.”

Kaito nodded. “Exactly. Words don’t mean shit to [Name] unless there’s proof behind them.”

Touya frowned, fingers idly running along the strings of his bass.

Writing a song.

It had been years since he’d tried—since he let himself create rather than just play. Back then, his notebooks had been filled with half-finished compositions, lyrics scratched out and rewritten over and over again. He had loved it once.

He was conflicted.

Yuuma clapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You in?”

Touya exhaled sharply. “…Fine.”

Yuuma grinned. “Good answer. It’s sooner or later that you’ll learn that we actually can’t take no for an answer here.”

-

The first problem?

Touya had no idea where to start.

Sure, he knew how to write—he knew chord progressions, rhythms, and structure. But what the hell was he supposed to say?

It wasn’t like he was about to write some sappy, ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole.’

The actual writing process was a disaster in itself.

Yuuma wanted a fast tempo—something that hit hard and kept the energy high.

Kaito argued for something more melodic, something with room to breathe.

Haru, the only one thinking practically, kept reminding them that it had to fit your vocal range.

Touya, meanwhile, wanted to strangle all of them. It’s hard to believe that he and Yuuma were in the same year because the latter acted so childish—so energetic.

It took days of back-and-forth, of testing out different riffs, of scrapping entire verses because they weren’t good enough.

But eventually, they had something.

Something undeniably theirs.

Now all that was left was playing it for her.

-

Practice started like any other day.

You arrived on time, as usual, already flipping through your notebook and mumbling about setlists before anyone could even say a word.

Touya, despite knowing what was about to happen, stayed silent.

It wasn’t his place to introduce this.

It had to be them. All of them.

And, sure enough—

“Actually,” Kaito cut in, casually adjusting his guitar strap, “we’ve got something new to go over today.”

You tilted your head to the side. “What?”

Yuuma grinned. “Surprise.”

“If this is another one of your pranks—”

“It’s not,” Haru assured you. “Just listen.”

You sighed, clearly not in the mood for their antics, but you leaned back against the chair anyway, crossing your arms. “Fine. But if this sucks, we will proceed with the hardest entry as our warmup song.”

Touya smiled. “Noted.”

And then they started playing.

The first few notes were soft, subdued—a simple melody carried by Haru’s keys, the kind of sound that felt like waking up from a long dream. Then the bassline came in, low and steady, grounding everything. Touya’s fingers moved instinctively, muscle memory taking over, like the song had always existed in him, just waiting to be played.

Kaito’s guitar layered over it, bright and sharp, a contrast to the weight of the rhythm section. And then Yuuma’s drums kicked in—fast, insistent, alive.

The song had movement.

Had feeling.

It wasn’t an apology.

It was a promise.

By the time the last chord faded into silence, [Name] was staring.

Not in shock, not in disbelief—

But something Touya couldn’t quite name.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, avoiding your gaze. 

“Well?”

“…You wrote this?” you asked.

Touya nodded, feeling strangely exposed. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause, and for a second, he thought maybe this had been a mistake. That maybe you’d say too little, too late.

But then—

“…It’s good,” you told him, laughing quietly. “Is this our entry for the Music Mayhem Event?”

Yuuma grinned. “Hell yeah, it is.”

Touya smiled, nudging at you a little. “So. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“I… actually forgave you when you sought me out on the rooftop.”

“Wait, really?:

“Yeah, I— really don’t hold grudges for long.”

Yuuma clapped him on the back. “Dude, that’s so romantic.”

Kaito laughed. “Congrats, man. You got to apologize twice and wrote a song for the competition. Killed two birds with one stone.”

Haru just nodded, satisfied. “Saves us the trouble and time, then.”

Yeah.

Looked like it was.

-

The venue was packed. 

Touya rolled his shoulders, gripping his bass a little tighter than necessary. The strap dug into his shoulder, grounding him, reminding him that this was real. No running this time. No excuses.

You were beside him, your fingers tapping against your mic, an old nervous habit you refused to acknowledge. You exhaled through your nose, a slow, measured breath, but Touya could see it—you were excited. No, more than that—you were ready.

Kaito was tuning his guitar, barely holding back a cocky grin. Yuuma stretched his arms, rolling his neck, hyping himself up under his breath. Haru was calm, adjusting his keyboard settings with precise movements, unreadable as always.

“Make sure your voice doesn’t crack, Todoroki,” you commented.

Touya chuckled. “We’ll see.”

Then the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers:

“Next up—give it up for—”

The crowd erupted.

Lights flooded the stage, hot and blinding.

And then, it was just them.

-

If you told Todoroki Touya that he’d be playing the bass again after eight years, he would’ve laughed right in your face.

(Mm, yeah, I know how this goes…

You stand in the light, I fade in the smoke…)

He would’ve told you that he didn’t care how good he used to be. He’s lost interest, to put it into simpler terms.

(Didn’t ask you to chase me down—didn’t need another fight…

But there you were, reckless and loud, saying we could get it right…)

He would’ve told you that he had better things to do. 

But now, he did. Touya was playing the bass.

Touya didn’t just play—he felt it. His fingers moved on instinct against the strings, like they had a mind of their own, like he was carving out something raw, something familiar, something that had been trapped inside him for too long.

Then came the pre-chorus. The tension built.

And that’s when he came in.

(Yeah, I left you hanging, left you cold—swore I’d never play that role…

But damn, you still play me like a note…)

His voice was rougher, rasping with emotion, clashing with your smoother tone in a way that shouldn’t have worked—but it did. You turned toward him, stepping closer, your voices winding together like opposing forces caught in the same storm.

And then—

The chorus hit.

(We’re smoke and starlight, burning too bright—

Falling too fast, getting lost in the night!

Say you don’t need me, say you don’t care—

But we both know I’m still hanging there!)

You and Touya met in the middle of the stage, mic stands forgotten. 

You were fire; he was smoke.

Then came the second verse, and it was yours to claim as his voice faded into the background.

(You don’t beg, you don’t plead—

But I hear it in the way you breathe…

Sick of ghosts and dead-end dreams—

But somehow, you still look at me…)

Your gaze caught his. And Touya—he didn’t look away. He looked at you because you were the only one he could see—that he wanted to see.

The music dipped again, shifting into the bridge. Everything stripped back—just the bass and your voice.

(You don’t get to walk away, not this time…

Not after leaving me behind…

You play ghosts, I play fire…

But even flames need something to burn inside…)

The way you sang it—low, steady, sharp as a blade—it sent a shiver down his spine. It tugged at his heartstrings in a way that didn’t feel like him.

Then—

The build.

Drums creeping back in. Guitar humming under the surface. The energy climbing—

And then everything crashed into the final chorus.

(We’re smoke and starlight, burning too bright—

Falling too fast, getting lost in the night!

Say you don’t need me, say you don’t care—

But we both know I’m still hanging there!)

It was undeniable. It was everything.

As the last note hit, ringing through the venue, the whole place seemed to hold its breath.

And then—

The deafening eruption.

Viewers screamed. Hands shot up. The cheers were deafening. Even the judges looked impressed, their quiet conversation lost under the sheer force of the audience’s reaction.

You stood at the front, chest heaving, sweat beading at your temple, but your eyes—your eyes—burned with something victorious.

Touya, gripping his bass, let out a slow breath.

This was it.

For the first time in a long time, he felt it.

Not just the music. Not just the stage.

But the want.

The need.

The need to keep playing.

You had done it.

Done this to him.

And it was only the beginning.

-

Todoroki Touya never thought he’d come to this point.

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, sweat dripping down his temple, his adrenaline spiking so hard that he could barely stand still. The entire band was high off the energy, voices overlapping as they half-shouted, half-laughed at each other, Yuuma swinging an arm around his shoulders while someone shoved a bottle of water into his hands.

“That was insane!” Your guitarist, Kaito, was saying, practically vibrating with excitement. “Holy shit, did you see how the crowd lost it when we hit that last chorus?”

“Dude, [Name] killed that bridge,” Yuuma added, shaking his head in disbelief. “And Touya? Bro, your bass solo? I felt that in my soul.”

Touya barely registered the words.

Because across the room, you were glowing.

To Touya, you had this look about you, the way you always did after a performance—flushed cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin making you radiate under the dim backstage lights. You were standing just a few feet away, laughing breathlessly, one hand gripping the back of your neck as you spoke with their events coordinator, your body still thrumming with the rush of the performance.

Touya swallowed.

There was something clawing up his ribs, something tight, something desperate, and before he even realized what he was doing—before he could stop himself—he moved.

His fingers curled around your wrist, firm but not rough, and you barely had time to react before he was pulling you with him, slipping past the others and into the dimly lit hallway behind the stage.

“Hey—Touya, what—?”

You didn’t finish.

Because the second you were out of sight, the second you two were alone, Touya turned, one hand still gripping your wrist, the other lifting without hesitation—

And he kissed you.

It was instinct, thoughtless and reckless, but it felt right.

You went rigid.

For a single, heart-stopping second, you didn’t move, didn’t react—so still that Touya almost panicked. Almost pulled away, almost started to stammer some kind of half-assed explanation, almost—

But then you inhaled sharply, and your fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him like you were trying to ground yourself.

And that was all it took.

Touya’s grip tightened, his palm cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing against your cheek. His lips moved against yours with the feeling of overflowing feelings that are just too good to put into words.

The music, the rush, the way your voice had wrapped around his on stage like you had been made for this, for each other.

Whatever this feeling was, it had been simmering beneath the surface, lingering in the way he always found himself seeking you out, the way he stayed just a little longer after practice, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.

And now—now—it was spilling over, like an overfilled cup, impossible to ignore any longer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless; Touya didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours, his hand still cradling your face, fingers brushing along your skin.

You were staring at him, wide-eyed, your lips parted in shock, chest still rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

“Huh..?”

Touya exhaled sharply, trying to steady his pulse, trying to make sense of the mess in his chest.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice rough, strained.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath still mingling with yours, but one thing’s for sure.

“But I think I wanna do it again.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[elysiumsasylum]

What’s it like to date Sebastian Solace? - before and After the Blacksite incident! My headcanons SFW

Before the Incident -

He has definitely drafted some ideas for matching tattoos for both of you. Like there are pages in a sketchbook dedicated to the idea. Is he a little obsessed with the idea? Yes.

He draws you in that same sketchbook, mainly when you aren’t paying attention. He really enjoys drawing your jawline. There are a few pictures that are colored in watercolor or colored pencils.

There are songs written in his notebooks dedicated to you, however, most of them are scrapped and have never seen the light of day again. If you find them, he will burn them. Then deny and say you were making it up.

He probably wears the promise ring to the both of you around his neck with a chain and a lock.

He paints his nails with you if you request it.

He often brings extras of his mother’s cooking to bring to you. (Paying his older sister for those extras at her own expense)

You are his Backpack (on a bike I think he would have, motorbike or not)

He lends you his rings, necklaces, and bracelets too. Even if you don’t follow his grunge aesthetics, he still shares with you. (If his rings don’t fit you that’s fine, he has extras in smaller/bigger sizes just for you)

He has an album on his phone dedicated to photos of you. And of him too of course. There are selfies of you on dates, he covered in your lipstick (if you wear it) photos of you smiling, videos reacting to the gifts he got you, your face bright red from food that was way too spicy for you.

After the incident -

There would be a massive personality shift. If you are an expendable, his sarcasm wouldn’t be to be laughed at, but to shield himself from you.

As an expendable, he would hide his file from your prying eyes. To him, he wouldn't want you seeing the stuff UrbanShade had done to him. You being trapped there was more than enough. To him, at least.

DISCOUNTS!!!! /j (/hj)

After you find out everything, he is immediately colder to you, for a time. But after a while, he really just missed your touch. You cup his face? He is bawling in your hands. Like a fountain of tears has just been released. Years of pain and anguish are allowed to finally be unbottled.

He tells p.AI.nter to leave you alone and even protects you from wall dwellers. You were his everything before the incident and are still his everything now.

He will fight Pande for you. I am not kidding. It is possible, and he will.

He tries his best to keep you well-fed, going days without the usual nourishment so you can keep going.

You are treated like you are made of glass.

He may lay his head on you, but that's really it. Most of the time he is holding you to his chest. It's the best way that he can really ensure that you are safe while he sleeps.

A/N: I love this man. So much. Oh my god. This was very very very self-indulgent. No, I'm not sorry. Yes, the sparkles are necessary. I just love this stupid fuck. Also! I wasn't expecting my first official post to blow up! So thank you for the support!!

[gatorbites-imagines]

Knock knock, whos there?

A reader who's very sad at how empty the Ftm Reader X Jason Todd tag is.

Can we get something sweet between the two of em? Maybe just something depicting a slow morning? Thank you if so, <3 Im longing for more food.

-🐊🪶

Jason Todd x FTM reader

Headcanons

Im basing the readers experiences off of myself, so it may not fit all trans readers and what they’ve gone through. I also gave them pet cats, because I love cats. The reader being trans doesn’t fill much of this, since it doesn’t effect their relationship a lot, but I hope you still like it.

On days where there we no plans, no druglord word, no Red Hood or batfam work, and you had time off from your job or classes, Jason and you liked to take it slow.

The two cats Jason had found on patrol one night laying splayed out on the bed like they owned the place. One was a very large tomcat with big puffy cheeks, even after being neutered, the second cat was smaller, scrawnier but so very long. They had smartly been named Tomcat and Longcat by Jason.

On days where you two liked to sleep in, you could find yourselves being awoken by the beautiful sound of Longcat yowling like was dying, because neither of you had filled their bowls on time. Tomcat was a big baby, but liked you more than Jason, so the moment Jason gets up to feed Longcat his spot is stolen.

Since he’s already up and his spot had been stolen by a cat the size of a medium sized dog, Jason just decides to start going about his day. He ends up finding outfits for you two for the day, and if you wear a binder hell ask if you want to wear one today or not.

Your handsome partner always gives you a kiss before leaving the bedroom, Tomcat tries to get in the way though. It just results in Jason giving Tomcat a bit smooch too, which the cat just wags his tail at.

You’ll keep lying in bed for maybe another 15 minutes, just snuggling with Tomcat and listening to the sound of Jason taking his shower and brushing his teeth, sometimes at the same time. Longcat is meowing the entire time of course, thinking that Jason is drowning.

You let Jason finish up before getting up, tucking Tomcat in after getting up as you should, before going about your own routine. After your shower you stand and airdry for a while if you have to put on a binder, since you can’t pull those on with damp skin.

This is where youll stand half asleep and brush your teeth, Tomcat and Longcat both watching you, one from the tub and one from on top of the toilet. Its also where Jason likes to come up behind you and just hug you as he buries his face into your neck for a bit.

The morning hug and kiss is needed for his day to go well, that’s what Jason says anyways. If he doesn’t get a kiss from you then his whole day is doomed to go badly in one way or another.

He makes sure to hug you before you apply your T gel if you use that, since he knows he isn’t allowed to touch you after applying it. Hes also an expert at helping you inject T if you need it, and you do it from home. Or if your injection point is still aching from your last injection, then Jason is your guy in making it feel better.

If you’re a breakfast person you two will go into the kitchen to make something. On days like this, Jason can be tempted to make a bigger for complicated breakfast. Most days breakfast is an easy and quick affair though.

Longcat is of course still meowing for treats, acting like he hasn’t been fed and like hes still a streetcat living on scraps. Tomcat is just your big hovering shadow, watching from the doorway into the kitchen with his tail neatly curled around his front paws.

You two end up just eating breakfast on the couch as you watch whatever you two can find, though its most likely a comfort show or movie, something you two have watched many times before.

Jason takes the empty bowls or plates into the kitchen before coming back, so you two can cuddle some more as you’re both still quite tired after Longcats very loud awakening.

Jason never minds what you wear or how you wear it, as long as youre comfortable, so you being trans doesn’t really make any difference in your guy’s mornings together. Just what Jason finds for you to wear, and if your hormone treatment makes any differences.

It’s very hard not to fall back asleep on the couch, especially as Jason pulls you to his chest and wraps a blanket around you both.

Tomcat and Longcat obviously quickly join you, both of the cats curling up in whatever nook and cranny they can find and purring up a storm, making both you and Jason more and more sleepy.

You both don’t mind that you fall back asleep on the couch together, since there’s nothing planned for the day, and what’s playing on the tv is something you both know front to back. It just feels nice to be able to let go and drift off again together, even if it’s not in bed.

[6feathered6siren6]

ok but like hear me out any of the KC LIs x Doctor reader (idk why this came into my head at like 3 am)

Doctor, Doctor

Notes: I didn't know which one to choose, and couldn't make a full on story(Working on time loop reader rn, about half way done for the next update), so I wrote some hcs and a small snip bits of each one. But I hope it's enjoyable!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Trigger warning

Death/killing

Slight gore?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ

Misaki

Your number 1 clutz, she works often to pay bills, so you always can expect her to get injured somehow. You always make sure they have a first aid kit in her house. 

You always have cartoon band aids for her, you always see her with a smile seeing them on her. When she scraped her hand from jumping off a height, you were there with the most stupid cartoon band aid you guys were laughing at. 

Misaki, at first, tried to hide injuries and scrapes after learning you were a doctor. They didn’t want to worry you or bother you. Especially, when you are dealing with other patients who need you more. Well, until you sat them down and had a very important conversation

Misaki supports your job, but on days where you lose a patient, the dark days, they pull you onto the couch and watch shows or movies until you feel better. 

▄︻デ══━一

You were on vacation visiting your partner, you stayed at her place while she was at their job. You picked up some fast food for dinner tonight, an easy night for the both of you. To cuddle up on their bed and eat it while being together. You were at her table, just playing on your phone, when she came home. She was scraped up. 

“Misaki? What happened?” Immediately rushing to her side. Nothing but scraps and bruises. Scratching the back of her head with a goofy smile, you know she was fine, just slightly injured. 

You sighed as you shoved them onto a chair, pulling your first aid from your bag. “So… I kinda jumped from a height that I knew I wasn’t gonna die from but… still scraped myself… So I'm good, still?” 

You laughed softly as they rambled, you were making sure she was bandaged correctly and that they wouldn’t scar. After you kissed her forehead. “Please be careful, I don’t want you as a full patient, then I wouldn’t be able to slip kisses on you.” 

She gasped, “Then, I’ll make sure! I need those kiss taxes for each bandaid.”

❤︎

V

He thinks you're honorable for being able to help others, even ones who do not need it. You work long and hard for your job for the people who need to be fed to his animals. 

When he does get injured, he either does it himself, at least not to worry you, or get you. You do talk as you patch him for simple injuries. He learns a lot about the health care you do. And he is very appreciative about this. 

Sure, you are a doctor for only humans, but you do patch up the animals(At least, the ones who are calm around you). And if you don’t know something and he does, he will teach you. Afterall, you do like helping people. 

After losing a patient or an animal from V’s care, V will make sure you are resting and taking your time to grief. You know you can’t always save them and he will say it as well. He makes sure you are eating and brings a hot drink for you(either tea or hot cocoa). If you need a day away from everything and just rest in bed, he would make sure you have some breakfast with juice next to it. 

▬ι═ﺤ

You opened the door to V’s home, you got off of work, and V invited you into his home for dinner. After having a stressful day, you just wanted to relax, but V wasn’t home. It was quiet and dark, turning on the lights, you see some animals hungry and the plants need their water. 

Grabbing the assorted food for each animal and giving the plants their water as well. You sit on his desk chair, stretching while you yawn. It seems V would be late to his own dinner invite, leaving you a smile, knowing this is a rare occurrence. Well, for a moment before seeing your lover walk in. He was holding his arm tightly.

Getting up and running towards him, immediately accessing his injuries. “Where did you put the first aid?” 

Him, now noticing you were in his place, “Near my computer.” He sat on his bed when you were climbing his steps, removing his hand for you to fix it up for him. “Didn’t expect you here. I would have done it myself.” 

“Well, a certain someone asked me to join him for dinner. I just didn’t expect to see you sliced up. Bad fight.” He nods. Placing that smile as you continue to patch him up. “Well, since I do not want to cook tonight, and I am gonna ban you from using your arm for a bit, let’s get takeout tonight. I’ll pay.” 

He was gonna reject the offer but knowing how much you care about people, he just agrees. Allowing you to finish up and buy food that you both like. Enjoy a somewhat relaxed dinner date with your boyfriend. 

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

Angel 

Even though both of you have very demanding jobs, you both share a calendar on each of your phones to track when you guys hang out. Before both of you moved in together, you guys would sleep call about each other's jobs. 

When you notice she isn't taking care of herself, you try to make sure she does. Didn’t eat? You took your break early to make sure she eats. Tired? You pop up with a coffee with a note saying, ‘Sleep when you can love’. When she notices when you are also not taking care of yourself, she makes sure to take the next few days off with you to make sure you are on top health. She doesn’t want her favorite doctor to fall ill. 

When you find out that she is a cannibal, you often sneak out human bits for her, sure it’s a joke. But you always notice they disappear sooner or later. 

After losing a patient at your job, you would always take the next day off. And she would be at the ready. Holding you close as you cry into her arms, playing music in a playlist you both made. Just spending time with you until you feel better. 

▄︻═════

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, you had a patient pass away from their illness. They were a nice kid who had dreams of becoming a doctor like you. Someone like… you. You felt like you disappointed the child and their parents. Everyone except the child knew they weren’t able to live as long, and kept this from everyone. It devastated you. 

You heard your bedroom door open, looking over to see Angel with a steaming cup. She offered a small, comforting smile towards you. She sat closer to you as she shifted your head onto her lap. 

“I’m here for you.” She plays with your hair as she places the cup on your nightstand with her other hand. She hums softly to fill the quiet air around the both of you. 

She does make sure you eat and drink something, as you would do for her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Ronin

Ronin wants to be able to see you often, either calling during your job or just showing up for a ‘check up’. Just to annoy you(But it always leaves you a smile everytime he does.). 

If you are a surgeon, he drags you out to his murders, you have to show him how to remove something. And he can, he wants you to, seeing you covered in blood reminds him that you aren’t some saving grace. 

If he’s injured, he just shows up to your place, bloody and bruised. Leaving you to patch him up, after all you are the doctor. Luckily, you always carry first aid. Though, you do reprimand him while you do, heck when he gets sassy, you knock the back of his head. But he will laugh at you when you do, knowing he pissed you off. 

On the unlucky days, losing a patient, Ronin was there. His twisted words always make you feel better somehow. Pulling you into his arms as he talked about his own job, distracting you from your own horrible reality at the moment. Or brings up the server, talking about how V isn’t getting any closer while pulling in jokes to see you smile. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ronin dragged you out of your place, you just finished a 11 hour shift, so of course being tired was a understandment. Luckily, he brought you your favorite caffeine drink, a compromise in his eyes. Taking sips as he dragged you into his alleyway. He was out dragging poor souls that he would slaughter. 

He always brought you to so he can also learn about your job, using the dead boys to explain. Surgeon? You have to cut open the body to show how you do it at work. Check ups? You would have to use scraps nearby that could get the job done. If the victim was unknown to both of you, you would evaluate the body. The dead man was an alcoholic, and abused his lover for little details. You knew him as well. He treated you poorly. Maybe, Ronin did poison your brain for smiling at the male being dead. 

You were unbothered by the scene now, sipping your drink as you see Ronin stepping closer. “You have time tomorrow?” You shook your head. “Good, I need my favorite health care person tomorrow. I need to see how knowledgeable you are.” 

Rolling your eyes at his words, but you know you would be there with your boyfriend. No matter the mess you would see. 

“Now let's go, you seem like you are about to drop dead.” 

“Says the man who dragged me out of bed to see them kill someone.”

“What can I say, I need my partner to see the bad man dead.”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Hope you enjoyed it again! Anyway, happy holidays!

[cecilysobsessions]

THIEF (m.) | zuko

↬ word count: 8k

↬ fem!reader, enemies to lovers except zuko is insanely attracted to reader (so lowkey its not enemies to lovers lol) from the start and makes it really fucking obvious, zuko writes reader letters, some parts are from zuko’s pov

↬ summary: born into poverty with practically nothing, you managed to get through most of your life as a petty thief. turns out, you were pretty good at stealing and getting away with it. one night, you decide to target the great fire lord zuko of the fire nation. and it turns out, he’s kind of into it, and kind of into you.

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ warnings: slight knife play (is that a thing???), violence, blood, zuko attempting to stab you, zuko actually has rizz (unfortunately no canon awk zuko here 😓 but my fic DESTINY has that), pussy eating, hair pulling, swearing probably, typos

↬ a/n: when he threatens you with a knife in order to get you to kiss him and throws you in jail then burns your house down 😍

m.list

•••

“It’s you again,” he began, his hands at his side as if there wasn’t a whole ass dagger against his throat. “I was beginning to wonder where you had been. I missed you breaking into my room.”

“You look like you enjoy being threatened with a knife.” you spat out with a sly smirk.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it.” he teases, making no effort to resist you.

•••

There was a thief. A thief who could only be described as some low-life peasant that was terrorizing the kitchens in the middle of the night, never to be seen. But of course, the palace staff were always exaggerating the smallest things. As far as Zuko knew, it was only food that the thief ever stole. He didn’t mind much, after all, he used to do the same. However, clearly the thief thought they could do more than just steal kitchen scraps because that’s exactly what started happening. 

First, it was food scraps. Leftover lunch Zuko would throw away. 

Then it was the fruits and bread laying out on the counters in the kitchen.

The thief felt a little bold, so they began stealing trinkets here and there in the palace, some worth merely a meal, others worth the monthly salaries of the palace staff. 

Finally, the thief had found Zuko’s room.

Zuko was fed up. First, it was his food, but now it was his personal items? The newly crowned Fire Lord was sitting in his closet, golden eyes peeking through the cracks of the closet door. He was waiting—he had been for the past two hours—for the thief to enter his room. Perhaps there was a better way to catch the thug, but Zuko wanted to see them for himself, and capture the criminal with his own hands. He had been waiting and watching and he was growing more exhausted as it was later in the night, when he saw you.

Covered in head to toe black, he watched you silently climb to pick the lock on his window, and enter. Your face was covered in black, too, and all he could make out was the stunning gaze from your eyes. He watches you silently roam around his bedroom familiarly. You had clearly been here before. It was as if you were looking for something specific. Maybe something you had your eye on already. Zuko watched your figure search the room, and it was dead silent in the room except for the sound of his heartbeat. He watched—no, observed your movements. You had moved around stealthily and expertly; you were experienced. You knew what you were doing.

•••

You noticed the Fire Lord the moment you stepped into his room. How could you not? He wasn’t in his bed when you entered and judging by the way it was still made, you knew he had probably been planning something. You didn’t even try to make an effort to hide your presence; you knew there weren’t going to be consequences. For months you had been overhearing Zuko brush off the palace staff when they brought their complaints about you to him, so of course he wasn’t going to do anything. 

Tonight, you were going to look for some sort of jewelry his mother owned. When spying on the servants, you heard he kept her most precious necklace somewhere in his room. It was made of some rare stone that was only found on the palace grounds and nowhere else. Luckily for you, you were a good thief and just so happened to be short on money. That necklace was going to be yours, and all you had to do was figure out where it was. 

When you’re searching through his nightstand, you hear an inhale. It wasn’t yours. Your eyes dart to the closet where you heard it, and that’s when you see a pair of amber eyes staring back at you through the cracks of the closet door. His gaze stays on your figure, watching your every movement while he tries to decide what to do in that half-second you make eye contact.

But you’re faster.

You’ve already sprinted to the closet door, practically ripping it off its hinges. You fist up the robe he’s wearing, dragging him out in a single and swift movement. One hand automatically covers his mouth to suppress any noise, while you tackle him to the ground. You pull out a small dagger from beneath your clothes, quickly pressing the sharp blade to his throat. You stare at him from up above his body as you trap him between you, your legs and weight holding him down.

•••

Zuko hadn't had a woman on top of him in God knows how long.

Your hand was forcefully pressing down on his face so hard he could barely make a sound. You were sitting on top of him, a small knife pressed against his throat with harmful intent. Your breathing was steady and controlled, all while he was practically panting from the panic–no, the excitement. Nothing about this situation was sexy, so why was a part of him excited that the mysterious thief was sitting on him threatening him with a knife?

It’s you, he tried to mumble against your hand, but you only pressed the blade into him more forcefully. He held his hands up to make peace; he wasn’t trying to die. Not now, not after he had just discovered that your piercing gaze had him giggling on the inside. 

“Not gonna put up a fight?” you sounded like an angel from heaven. He makes an X with his arms, and you remove the knife from his throat. “I only want one thing, Prince Zuko.”

I’m the Fire Lord, was what he tried to mumble against your gloved hand. He wondered if it was soft and nice to hold. 

“You scream, and I’ll kill you. Got it?” you promised.

He was still focused on your hand. It was smaller than his; it would for sure be lovely to hold. 

But he nodded, and in return, you hesitantly lifted your hand from his mouth. 

“GUARDS—”

You had already knocked him out with the opposite end of your dagger. 

“What a fucking turd,” you mumbled to yourself as you dragged the royal piece of shit back into the closet. You had gagged and tied up Zuko after knocking him out, and now that would let you carry out your mission in peace. Luckily the guards outside his chambers either didn’t hear him, or he wasn’t loud enough, because they didn’t make a move to enter or check up on him. You were going to find that necklace and sell it off the market, and probably do the same thing a couple of months from now when you run out of money again. Only with a different piece of jewelry. 

After searching the room, practically ransacking the entire thing, you were still unable to find it. Every drawer, every surface, every nook and cranny of his stupidly large room was uselessly empty. Although you had stumbled upon other pieces of jewelry, they weren’t nearly as much as his mother’s necklace. Settling with that, you left Zuko in the closet and took off.

The next time Zuko awakened he was parched and tied up. After struggling to escape the tied rope around his wrists, he searched his room for you. Most of the jewelry he had owned was gone, except for his mother’s necklace. Something precious and rare like that had to be hidden. If hidden counts as Zuko just wearing the necklace himself and hiding it under his clothes, then it was hidden. 

•••

Zuko hates that you haven’t shown up in weeks.

He also hates that he has noticed your absent presence. 

He knows he should be happy about not seeing you. After all, you are a thief and all you were doing was stealing precious valuables from him and the palace. Yet somehow he was beginning to find himself watching his windows at night, and at some point, he had become desperate enough to leave them unlocked throughout the night in hopes you’d visit.

You still didn’t. 

Although he hadn’t known you that long or that well, he had understood why you were doing what you were doing. After having to be on his own for a bit in his teenage years, he was able to realize the reality of what you were doing. He had assumed you felt the same way as him in his youth: lost and angry and desperate. Perhaps you had a family to feed. Perhaps it was just you. Perhaps you were just trying to survive, and this was the only way you knew how to do it.

Fortunately for him, his questionable rising feelings for you were ripped from his heart when he heard the news of why you had been gone for so long.

“She was seen harassing some girls by the river.” he had been told.

“She was jailed for a couple of nights for assaulting a group of men in a bar.”

“Not only was she stealing from you, but she has begun stealing from our citizens.”

“The people are scared, Zuko. She is a terror to our towns.”

Zuko knew you weren’t the greatest person to ever exist, but he didn’t expect you to go around assaulting people.

Harassing a group of girls? Stealing from innocent citizens? You were far from kind, and now that it was affecting people besides himself, he knew he had to do something. His people were in danger, and he wasn’t going to let some petty thief get away with assault and battery. He had to do something. His hand automatically came up to touch his mother’s necklace around his neck, knowing the fastest way to get you to come back would be to use that necklace. To sacrifice it.

•••

Sitting quietly on a tree branch as you munch on stolen bread, your gaze follows Zuko, who is pacing back and forth in his room. You knew you hadn’t been on your best game lately. More people were seeing you and there were growing numbers of your wanted posters each day. But you were growing desperate for money. You were aware that Zuko knew; how could he not? But he wouldn’t understand why you were doing all of this. While you’re busy watching his moves, you notice a shiny glint of a certain stone sitting on his chest. 

His mother’s necklace. 

Of course! You couldn’t find it anywhere in his room because he had been wearing it this entire time. You quickly decide tonight would be the night you’d sneak in to steal his necklace. But how? If he was wearing it the entire time, he would for sure wake up in the midst of you removing it from his body. You could probably knock him out first. Given that he was easy to knock out the first time, the second time shouldn’t be too hard. You bested him before; you could do it again.

After dropping down from the trees, climbing some bushes, and making your way up through walls and vines, you had managed to get to his window. 

It was unlocked.

Odd, since it was usually shut tight and locked. But it was unlocked and open and so easy to climb through. Zuko looks asleep, but he could be pretending to be. Was he trying to bait you? Get you to come in because guards were hiding and ready to ambush you? You hadn’t heard or seen anything, and since you had been watching him for a couple of hours, you hadn’t noticed anything. Shrugging, you decide to climb through anyway. You’d be able to fight back. Probably.

You silently land on his rug, walking over to him and standing over his body. His mother’s necklace sat around his neck, the moonlight shining on the precious stone and highlighting it in a beautiful glint. You watch him for a second, and this is the first time you get to look at him up close. 

His skin is practically flawless—perfect, even. The soft locks so perfectly frame his face shape and his jawline is so chiseled it could probably cut through ice and—

“Admiring my beauty?” his eyes slightly open, staring up at you.

You panic, rushing to grab your dagger from your side and practically climbing on top of him on his bed. In a split second he’s beneath you, your dagger to his throat once again.

“It’s you again,” he began, his hands at his side as if there wasn’t a whole ass dagger against his throat. “I was beginning to wonder where you had been. I missed you breaking into my room.”

“You look like you enjoy being threatened with a knife.” you spat out with a sly smirk.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it.” he teases, making no effort to resist you.

You press the blade to his throat once more, this time with much more force, and you hear his breath hitch. You weren’t actually planning on killing him; the cleanup would be far too messy. You just wanted to scare him, but he was looking more turned on than he was afraid.

“Do it again,” he tells you. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Making jokes when you’re the one in danger? That’s not very smart of you.” 

“I’m in danger? Oh, please. Don’t be ridiculous.” he grabs your leg from under, quickly turning the tables as he forces your body to his bed. You find yourself in his position, looking at him. He watches you from above, his long hair barely covering his face. His hands effortlessly pin yours above your head as you struggle against him. He’s pushed aside your legs so he’s fit snug between you and you can’t help but look down. God, what would the guards think if they walked in right now? You toss and turn against his silk sheets as he continues to stare you down, his gaze arrogant and inviting. Stealing your dagger, he tips your chin upwards with the end of it. He leans in closer, his body heat radiating off of him and his chest is practically pressed up against yours.

“So you could overpower me this whole time and only choose to do it now?” you question him. What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

“It joys me to be looking at you on top of me. But the view of you beneath me isn’t too bad either.” his voice is dangerously sweet and if you weren’t trying to steal from him you’d probably try to fuck him instead. With his body on top of yours and with his hips pressed against your own, your mind was beginning to cloud with the thought of taking his pants off instead of that dumb necklace.

“Is that so?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow.

“Turns me on.” he still has your knife on your chin.

“I figured you’d be a freak. Makes me wonder what other weird shit you’re into.”

“You could come and find out.”

“For a price I could.”

“I thought you were a thief; not a prostitute.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be good at fighting. Why have I bested you?”

“That’s simply because I let you.” 

You scoff. What the hell was up with this guy? “I bet you don’t even know how to use that. Put it down before you cut my precious face.”

“Oh, I would never do anything to hurt your beautiful face.” he lightly drags the knife against your skin, slowly and teasingly. 

“Having fun?” you tease, but you feel yourself swallow anxiously.

“Very much so. I know what you’re here for.” you watch Zuko as he continues to trace your skin with your own dagger. His eyes aren’t looking into yours, but are taking in your body.

“Alright, let’s make this easy then. Give me your necklace and I’ll leave,” you tell him. You were starting to grow more nervous the more he traced your skin with your dagger. Strangely though, you almost liked it. The sensation of the cold sharp metal against your skin was sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

“Have you seen your wanted posters? They’re all over the place.” he ignores your demand with a question.

“They could have drawn me better, but they’ll do.”

“It would appear no piece of art could capture your beauty so well. Looking at you up close and personal, those posters don’t do you any justice.” Zuko leans down, his mouth almost against yours, eyes droopy as he stares at your lips. 

You swallow nervously. Being trapped beneath him had you feeling anxious, but somewhere deep down excited. The way he was looking at you right now was definitely not the way you’d be looking at some criminal. He was staring at you like he was about to kiss you. 

You shakily exhale against his cheek, and he laughs lightly. Did you have asthma or something? Why were you breathing so heavily? You dare to look into his eyes, and it looks like a fire has been ignited in them. He moves his head so that his mouth is practically on your neck. You tense and shudder at the feeling of his hot breath against your bare skin.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers and his other hand moves to dangle his necklace in front of your face.

“Isn’t that what I just asked for?” you answer sarcastically. Being in close proximity to him was messing with your mind and body.

His robe is lazily draped around his body and his necklace dangles teasingly from his neck. Looking further down his body, you watch his broad chest heave as he teases you.

“It’s going to cost you.”

“You know I don’t have money.”

“It’s not money that I want.”

“What is it, then?”

Zuko smirks, and watching him has you feeling suspicious. Where was he going with this? Shouldn’t he be calling his guards in? You were wanted, and here he was sitting on top of you teasing you with your own knife? 

“Kiss me.” he finally tells you. His voice contrasts his expression; he speaks softly, gently.

“Are you fucking crazy? No.”

“I’m the one with the knife.”

“That all you got? Use it then.” you scoff.

Zuko hesitates, considering your statement. “Wouldn’t it be so sad to get stabbed with your own knife?” he smiles sadistically, and before you know it, he’s no longer on top of you. Your eyes widen in surprise as he grabs your hand and pins it to the wall above his bed, your dagger coming down about to stab your hand to the wall. 

You react quickly, dodging the stab and tackling him to the bed. Knocking the weapon from his hands, it falls to the floor louder than you thought it would. The heavy metal is obnoxiously loud in the silence of his room, and you both pause when you hear a guard from outside his room. 

“Are you alright, your majesty?” it’s one of the guards.

You panic once again, leaning down and pressing your lips against his to shut him up. If Zuko yelled that you were in here, you’d be thrown in jail again. You could handle fighting Zuko, but you probably couldn’t handle it if all his guards came in to fight you. 

He stills for a second against your lips, surprised you’re kissing him when just a few seconds ago he was aiming to stab your hand and pin it to the wall like a poster. But he knows you’re just doing it to shut him up, so he pulls away. Or at least, he tries to. But you’re pinning his hands above his head and holding his legs down with yours. 

Zuko struggles against your lips, trying to ignore the fact that you’re a good kisser and it’s distracting him from trying to get away from you. He should be pulling away from you; not pushing into you. When he comes to his senses, he manages to break free and scream.

“She’s here! The thief is here!”

•••

When you awaken, you see that you’ve been placed in a dark and dirty wet jail cell. You look up to see Zuko, standing on the other side of the bars, his hands holding on to the cell door as he stares down at you. You notice a glint of metal peaking out from the pocket of his pants. The keys.

“You’re a good kisser, I’ll give you that.” 

You ignore him. “What am I doing here?” Looking up at him makes you feel inferior, so you stand up, walking to where he is on the other side.

“Did you forget you’re a criminal? You’ve harassed two young girls by the river, assaulted four men at a bar, and stole from six houses in the area.” he lectures you. “You’re a menace to the town and you’re frightening my people. At first, I didn’t mind you stealing from me, but you’re going after innocent people now, and I will not stand by and let that happen,” he tells you, his voice high and authoritative. 

You scoff, did this guy even bother to investigate? “I was telling those girls by the river to fuck off or jump in because they were bullying a girl their age earlier in an alleyway and I saw. I beat the shit out of those men at the bar because they were trying to drug someone’s drink and nobody saw but me. Those six houses I stole from were just their homes. I may be a thief, but I’m not some crazy criminal that goes after innocent people.”

He looks taken aback, his knuckles turning white from gripping the cell bars too tightly. He stares at you, dumbfounded. 

“Even so,” he starts. “You can’t take matters into your own hands. We have law enforcement for that. You should’ve reported it. Why did you get involved?”

“Your police officers are trash. That shit show of a place is my home neighborhood, and your uptight officers don’t want to bother policing around because it’s poor. No one else is going to do something, so I did.” you tell him. Not that Zuko needed to know much about your shitty and poor upbringing. He wouldn’t understand anyways; he grew up in a fucking palace. 

“I’m working on that.”

“Not fast enough, clearly. If you’re not going to fix the problem of crime, then I will.”

“You can’t fight fire with fire.”

“Well I did and it worked. You wouldn’t know; you’re just a spoiled prince born into the royal family. You don’t know shit about struggle.”

It was like a slap to his face. “You don’t know me,” he snaps, his jaw tightening.

Looks like you've hit a nerve. If Zuko wasn’t pissed earlier, he was definitely pissed off now. You couldn’t understand him at all. First, he stares at you like he wants to fuck you, then he tries to drive a dagger through your hand, then he’s complimenting the way you kiss him, and now he’s looking at you like he’s going to keep you locked up forever. 

This man was attracted to you. 

And he had no idea how to deal with it.

A smile dances on your lips, feeling cocky and confident you’ve figured him out. He wants you, but he hates you. He hates what you’ve done, but he can’t help but be attracted to you. 

“You want me,” you begin, your hand forcefully grabbing the collar of his shirt. You eye his chest; his mother’s necklace is gone. “And you hate it.” you figured maybe you could use the fact that he wanted you to get out of jail. Maybe, just maybe, if you seduced him successfully, he’ll let you go. It was either that or violence.

“What the hell are you doing?” he rasps. His eyes search for yours in the dark in a panic. He is unsure of what to do, unsure of how to react, unsure of what to say. “Why the hell would I want you? You’re a criminal,” he says in disgust. “A thief,” he continues. 

“I just told you why I did those things. Can’t you let it go just this once?” you peer up at him, tilting your chin towards him. Your lips hover over his, and if it weren’t for the stupid metal bars between the two of you, you’d have hugged him. You hoped your shit way of seducing him was working at least a little.

Zuko’s eyes draw together in irritation. He was struggling to breathe, the close proximity throwing him off. It was dark, moody, and he could barely make out your face but even so, he was unable to tear his gaze from yours. He wasn’t sure if you were actually feeling him, and his gut told him you were just some filthy liar, but he couldn’t help but begin to feel bad for you. After hearing your explanation for your questionable actions, he was starting to feel that maybe you weren’t just some menacing thief the town made you out to be.

He ignores your question. “You can’t take my necklace this way,” he tells you, wondering if you were pulling this close to try and snatch it from his neck.

“I noticed you’re not wearing it,” you reply, wondering what more you might need to do to get him to slightly lean into you a bit more. “Please, Zuko.” you plead. “I have a younger brother to feed.” a total fucking lie.

His face leans closer to yours between the bars, and when you see in his eyes he’s let his guard down, you make your move. The keys are in one of your hands and the other punches him straight in his face, knocking him down. His body unconsciously slides down the bars as you quickly move to unlock the jail cell door. When you step out, your eye catches the shimmering glint of a stone on the ground. His mother’s necklace had fallen out of his other pocket.

“Fucking idiot.”

•••

She’s a filthy liar.

She’s a filthy liar.

She’s a filthy liar.

Zuko told himself that over and over like it was some sort of mantra. He thought that if he said it enough times, he’d eventually believe it. He had been absolutely humiliated by you. He was in utter shock that he let you seduce him, feel guilty for jailing you, feel bad for your supposed horrible life, and knock him out to escape jail. 

While he had to begrudgingly admit that you outsmarted him, at least he got you to stop your crimes. It was almost as if you didn’t exist at all. You had disappeared from the Fire Nation completely, nowhere to be seen in nearby towns or cities. When he sent out a search party, they had come back to him with news of your where your home was. 

“Burn it down,” he had told his men. “Burn it all down. That’ll get her to come out and give me my necklace back.”

“Are you sure? What about the people?” they were unsure.

“Stage it as an accident. And make sure there is nobody nearby. She took the most valuable thing from me, so I will simply do the same.” he could have totally gone after your brother, but he wasn’t a murderer.

God, Zuko was such a genius for that! You would for sure come marching back into his chambers demanding answers if he showed you that he meant business. And maybe you’d threaten him with a knife again.

God, Zuko was such an idiot for that.

He wondered if you were causing chaos in other places, but if you were, he would have been informed of it. He was unsure how you were living your life until he went back to his chambers that night.

Now that you had stolen his mother’s necklace, Zuko guessed you probably broke it up to sell it in pieces and were probably living quietly off of that money. But if that were true, then it was only a matter of time before you ran out of the money and were going to strike again. He debated if he wanted to send out a search party of his own to capture you, but he didn’t want his citizens to fear you again.

Instead, he merely sent out a search party to figure out your location. You were currently residing with a couple of farmers in the countryside, living quietly as you worked for them in the fields. He thought it was odd that you were working; after all, his mother’s necklace was worth thousands, so you could definitely live off of that for a while. It had only been half a year since he’s last seen you, so realistically maybe you did run out of money. 

He wanted to know what you did with his mother’s necklace. Where you sold it, who you sold it to, and when. That was one of the few items he had left of his mother, so he had held onto it like a child holding onto their favorite stuffed toy. And you had ripped it out of his hands like an angry parent. Zuko wanted to keep the whole situation under wraps, so instead of visiting you in person, he figured he’d do it some other way.

•••

“Lin, you have a letter.” one of the farmers handed you an envelope. You had taken a job under a fake name for some random people in the countryside after stealing Zuko’s necklace and running away. After coming back to your house burned down, you had no other choice but to leave. Sitting on some hay bales in the sheds, you tear open the envelope.

I want my mother’s necklace back. Send back with messenger.

Zuko

You scoff. Was Zuko that much of a coward he couldn’t show up in person and demand things with his own voice? He really had to send a whole letter and waste paper? When you didn’t respond, another letter came two weeks later.

I know you didn’t sell it. If you did, you wouldn’t be working for these farmers.

Zuko

and I know you don’t have a younger brother.

So Zuko was watching you, or at least he was having someone do the watching for him. But he was right about you not selling his mother’s necklace. You had stolen it in hopes of making some money off it by selling it on the black market, but after inspecting it further you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

It was something small and insignificant, but you could tell it meant everything to him. There was an engraving on the back of the stone, possibly hand carved by his mother. For My Zuko. You didn’t know much about the royal family, but you did know Zuko very much cared for her. Inspecting the necklace in detail reminded you of your own mother who had disappeared when you were younger. You hadn’t seen her since she disappeared without a trace, as Zuko’s mother did. Although she had left you, prior to that she was loving and caring and did her best to raise you as a single mother. 

You hated how his mother’s necklace made you think of your own. It opened a floodgate of emotions you didn’t have time to deal with. As weak as it made you, you didn’t have the heart to sell it. If anything, you were just going to give it back and move on with your life. But when Zuko sent word asking for it back, you knew what would happen if you did.

You’d give him back the necklace and in return, ask to be pardoned for your crimes. He’d probably oblige, and that would be the end of it. You would go back to being a petty thief and he would go back to ruling the Fire Nation. And the two of you would never interact again.

Something about the thought of Zuko no longer chasing after you had you hesitating to give the necklace back. Something about Zuko not being completely afraid of you had you hesitating. Something about Zuko being more intrigued than terrified of you had you hesitating. 

You hated it. You hated how he tugged at your heart strings and had you stopping in your tracks and thinking of ways to get him to keep reaching out to you. To keep chasing you. 

When you replied to his first two letters with silence, he sent another one a week later.

I apologize for the inconvenience I might have caused you by burning down your house. I didn’t realize that shed made of rotten wood was actually a home to you. Please accept the gold coins included to get you by.

Zuko

Shed? That shed?! Zuko was the one who burned your home down when you thought there was some sort of accident? If Zuko was trying to piss you off, it was working. Your blood was boiling and you felt your rage rising in your blood and all you wanted to do in the moment was hunt him down and punch him square in the nose for doing that to you. Although it wasn’t much, it gave you shelter and kept you dry and warm. You were grateful for it; besides, some people had it worse.

You continued to stay on the farm under a fake name, trying to get by as you planned your next move (you did not have another move) when you received another letter.

The gold coins were for you, not my messenger. Feel free to use them. There is no catch, in case that is what you are thinking. And you do not owe me anything in return except my mother’s necklace. 

Zuko

“Got a lover?” the farmer asked as he watched you read the letter.

“No,” the word escaped your mouth too quickly than it should have.

“Friend?”

“Not really.”

“Family member?”

“Nope.”

“Then?”

You paused. You weren’t sure what Zuko was. A lover? Not quite. Besides being on top of him an odd number of times in a short period of time and kissing him, the two of you weren’t in love. Enemies? You did knock him out and he tried to stab a hole through your hand and he did threaten you with a knife and throw you in jail and burn down your house, but—

“Ah, I see it’s complicated,” he told you, his eyes on yours.

Over a couple of weeks, you began to receive more letters from Zuko. Each one grew more desperate than the previous.

It gets quiet here around the palace now that you are gone. It is far too peaceful and I am beginning to crave the chaos you previously brought to my life. I wouldn’t mind if you reintroduced that chaos again.

Forget the necklace for now. Write me back.

Zuko

•••

In case you did not receive my previous letter, I am writing a new one. Your wanted posters have been taken down from the city, and like I told you, they do not do you justice. Perhaps a visit from you and we can redo the posters. Not to hang up again, but only so that I do not begin to think you are a horrendous hag as they make you out to be. You are completely the opposite.

Zuko

•••

I apologize if my previous letter offended you. I do not have a way with words. I only meant to compliment your beauty. Unfortunately, I am unable to describe it with words, so I apologize for not being a poet. The only thing I can think of is how you make me feel when you are trying to kill me with that dagger of yours. My heart stops and my gaze can only follow your actions. It is dangerous. You are dangerous. But I like it. And I miss it.

Zuko

•••

I do not know how many letters I have sent you. Normally I write them during the day because writing them at night makes me feel unnecessary emotions related to my longing for you. Please respond to at least one. I am getting desperate. So desperate I woke up in the middle of the night to write this one. The moonlight is shining through the window as I write this, and the only thing I can think of is how the moonlight highlights your beauty and how your sharp gaze pierces through my soul every time I gaze into the warm universe that is your eyes.

Please forget about the necklace entirely. I do not need its return. I only need yours.

Zuko

•••

Zuko is a light sleeper. Any sort of noise, whether it is a footstep or a gust of wind, he can and will wake up. It’s a footstep. His eyes twitch open in annoyance. Why are they opening his window? He had specifically told the servants to stay out of his chambers when he goes to bed, so why are they opening his windows? It’s far too cold and he didn’t need any fresh air–

There are no servants.

Zuko’s body jerks to life, abruptly sitting up and rubbing his eyes to clear his vision. Across from his bed is his window being forced open, a loud gust of wind interrupting him. There is a figure at the window, barely crawling in. Struggling to make it through the entrance, he watches the practically lifeless body stumble through onto his floor before he steps out of bed in a panic.

It’s you.

You’re hunched over on the floor, hand gripping your stomach as blood seeps through your fingers.

“What–” he barely has time to talk as he’s rushing over to you, lifting you into his arms effortlessly as he brings you over to his bed and lies you down. Hurriedly, he shrugs off his robe and presses it down over your stomach. He’s shirtless now, basically naked, but that doesn’t matter. But he did see you look him up and down. “What are you doing here?” he presses down on your wound to apply pressure.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go.” you managed to let out through clenched teeth.

“Who did this to you?” Zuko demanded, his tone of voice high and authoritative. 

“I’m fucking bleeding out and you’re asking me that?”

“Put pressure on this. I’ll call my doctor–stay here.”

After rushing out of his personal chambers to wake his doctor up in the middle of the night, he waited outside as they worked on you. It was a fresh stab wound. It wasn’t too deep and didn’t hit any vital organs, but you’d still be in pain when you woke up.

When you wake up, you instantly feel the pain from your stab wound. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach only to feel you’ve been wrapped up in bandages. Blinking, you sit up. A fire is going across the room, it is warm and cozy as opposed to the other nights you’ve spent in here. The other times you’ve been here have been cold and empty, but now it is the opposite. 

“Tea?” Zuko suddenly speaks up from the other side of the room. He crosses the floor and hands you a mug. “It’s jasmine.”

Taking a sip, you feel the hot liquid soothe your dry throat. “It’s nice to wake up in a bed rather than a wet jail cell.”

“You wouldn’t have been in that jail cell had you not assaulted me,” he slightly jokes, sitting across from you on the edge of the bed. 

He looks rugged, and tired, almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping. He gazes at you, his eyes softened as he watches your movements. He almost looks worried.

“So I suppose I’ll be going back to jail after you let me rest up a bit?”

He ignores your question, only choosing to tug his blanket further up your body in an attempt to warm you up. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“I did.”

“You didn’t reply to any of them.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” A moment of silence fills the room, and you feel the need to fill it by continuing to speak. “I didn’t sell your mother’s necklace. I still have it.”

“You do?” his eyes light up, hopeful.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Why’s that?” he ponders as you reach into your pocket to hand the precious jewelry back to its rightful owner.

“Reminded me of my own mother.” you don’t elaborate further. 

Zuko seems to sense this because he sets the matter aside with a small and quick nod, opting to watch you instead.

“Here,” you pull the necklace out from your pockets with a trembling hand and reach to hand it to him.

He notices your trembling hand, choosing to close his own hands around yours instead of taking the necklace. His hands feel like a warm embrace that engulf you in safety and warmth.

“Thank you,” he says as he sets the necklace down beside him. “But I’m more worried about you now.”

“After I stole from you and assaulted you?”

“It would seem I’m into women who can kill me.”

He looks up at you through his curled lashes, the soft locks of his hair caressing his face as he stares into your eyes, holding your gaze. “What happened to you?” he whispers gently, leaning closer to you.

It’s intimate, really. He’s in such close proximity it makes your heart beat with anxiety the closer he gets. You’d never noticed this before, but Zuko truly holds such a soft beauty to him it’s hard to look away. 

“One of those guys at the bar I beat up. Found me walking on the street alone.” you explain.

“You shouldn’t be out on the streets alone at night.”

You scoff. “Please, you should’ve seen what I did to him.”

“He stabbed you.”

“I stabbed him back. And at least all my bones are nice and intact. His, however, are not.”

A crooked smile spreads across his face. “Impressive.”

There’s an awkward silence and suddenly your mind goes back to the letters that he sent you. Each one grew more desperate the more time that passed and the more you ignored him. You recall each one practically confessing his feelings for you. 

Why though? How could Zuko even fall for you? After all you did to him: the stealing and thieving, the assaulting, everything. Yet he confessed through his letters, and you were sure he was about to confess again right now.

“Those letters,” you begin before he can even say anything. “Did you mean what you said in them?” 

“Every word.” he confirms. “You don’t believe me?”

“After all I’ve done to you, it’s hard to.”

“You can consider yourself pardoned for your crimes. Happy?” he offers.

“That’s perfect, actually. I was going to dangle your mother’s necklace in front of you and demand to be pardoned.”

“It’s too bad you got stabbed before having the chance to do so.”

“Still hard to believe your feelings though, I’ll admit.” you tell him.

A pause. Then, “Why don’t I show you then?”

The question hangs in the air. The air that’s slowly been filling with the unspoken sexual tension building between you both since you woke up. 

“Alright, prove it to me then.”

Zuko simply smiles in response before his lips are on yours. Despite what you thought, his kiss is gentle and you find yourself melting into it. You relax into his touch, into the fingers that find your hair to gently stroke the back of your head with such tender love and care. 

You’re out of breath quickly as he pulls away, his lips meeting the hot skin of your neck. You lean back slowly, trying to be mindful of your fresh stab wound. 

“Careful now,” he whispers against your neck and you shudder. “Lie down.” 

He guides your body so that you are comfortably laying on your back and his lips are at your neck again, leaving hot kisses across your skin. His hands firmly stroke your thighs, squeezing assuredly as he continues sucking and kissing at your skin. You arch into him, wincing at the pain in your stomach before he pulls away.

“Didn’t think a couple of kisses would have you arching your back.”

“Shut up and go down on me.” you demand as you begin to wriggle out of your pants.

“A former criminal telling the Fire Lord what to do? My my, think of the gossip that would go around if word of this got out.” he teases, propping your legs up and setting his hands on your knees. 

Zuko playfully spreads your legs open with his hands, stroking the exposed skin. He leans down, leaving a kiss on your thigh. His mouth continues on your skin, leaving kisses and bite marks and you feel yourself softly moaning from his kisses. Your hips slightly jerk up, and in response he gently holds you down with his hands. 

Pulling away from your thighs, he runs an experimental lick into your slit, and you feel yourself tremble in arousal. He holds your thighs open as you tense around him, yanking his hair to pull him further into you. You feel him softly laugh in response before he opens his mouth. He slowly and teasingly drags his tongue up your pussy, eliciting a moan from your lips. You gasp when you feel him sucking on your clit, expertly working on it as he gently sucks on it. 

You yank on his hair again, and you both moan at the sensation of pleasure running through your veins. You feel yourself heating up as your hips hump his face and his tongue drags up and down your pussy. You feel yourself throbbing, sweat beading at your forehead as he allows you to practically ride his face and pull on his hair. 

Something about Zuko letting you have your way with him has you throbbing and tightening around nothing. You whimper breathlessly and you feel him smile in response. He pulls away only for a second to blow cold air against your throbbing pussy, and you feel yourself shudder at the sensitivity. 

“Pull away again and I’ll give you a matching stab wound.” you threaten, yanking his hair again to drag him to where he belongs. 

“You’re lucky I’m into this.” he chuckles as he gives into your demand, tongue going back to your clit. 

You feel his fingers creep up to your slit, teasingly rubbing at your entrance before he slips a finger in. It slips in instantly, your slick wetness coating his finger as he moves it further into you. Your legs wrap around his neck and while he may or may not be able to breathe, you’re not worried about that. He’ll find a way. You enjoy his finger working you with his tongue in your clit, but you need more.

“More.” you demand.

“More of what?” he pulls away and stares at you from between your legs. 

“Your fingers.”

“So greedy you are.” he complains, but obliges anyway. 

You feel him insert two more fingers and you find yourself riding both his face and his fingers. You let out a moan of pleasure, your chest heaving as you ride closer to your high. You can feel Zuko squirming in his pants and you’re sure he might be uncomfortable, but in this moment you’re only worried about your own pleasure and it would seem he feels the same way. 

“F-Fuck,” you stutter, your hands fisting his bed sheets. 

“Careful, that’s silk.” he warns you against your pussy.

“Shut up and keep sucking.” you yank him back and he continues.

You continue to rock your hips up into his face as he fingers your slick pussy, fucking you harder and faster as your moans grow more desperate and your hips begin to clumsily rock against his face. He sucks at your clit and adds another finger and that’s when you feel yourself spill over the edge, shuttering and shaking against him as he helps you through your orgasm, fingers slowly helping you through it.

When you’ve come down from your high, he sits up, a visible boner against his robes. “Did you think we were done?” he smirks, wiping his face with the back of his hand and leaning in for another kiss.

•••

a/n: it’s my one year anniversary of writing on this blog! my next zuko story will not be him as fire lord i’ve written too many fics w him as fire lord, so i’ll switch it up in my next one <3

also nanami from jjk is next if anyone cares (ik i said i’d post levi after but he can wait lmao)

m.list

[the-raindeer-king]

Brb sobbing over Nikolai [[REDACTED]] (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

He's such a sweetie though! Big N soft, n fat that covers his muscles an' (not me projecting) probably has food listed as his love language. He LOVES knowing his partner is well fed. Probably goes a bit overboard trying to feed them tbh, and if there's ever any self doubt he's so soft bc wdym? Wdym your body's not good? The body of his person who he loves so entirely?? He'll absolutely have 'words' with anyone who's made you feel that way before spending extra time cuddling and just holding onto you, focusing on the points where you're chubbier bc it's nothing to shy away from. It's cold where he lives, far better to be soft and warm, and more to hold for him so he'll never see it as bad. Just more to love

Maybe this is me projecting a little, but I wholeheartedly believe that all of them love a chubby woman. Like you got thick thighs and a tummy? Down on one knee, begging for an minute of your time. A crumb of affection. Can't you see that you've got these men wrapped around your finger, just for the chance to cuddle with you.

Nikolai is a big man, and I agree that his love language is food (maybe he grew up fighting for scraps and likes knowing that not only is he well fed but so are the people he loves). Knowing he's taking care of you is good, but seeing it is even better.

The softness of your tummy, the roundness of your cheeks - you're like an angel to Nikolai, and he wants nothing more than to worship you as you deserve.

What... what do you mean you don't like how you look?

Finding you in tears over your body confuses our sweet Russian man. He thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, like a sculpture come to life. All the while, you're distraught because the world is so focused on being thin and frail, and you're neither of those things.

If there's one thing Nikolai won't stand for, it's hearing anyone talk badly about his darling, and that includes you too.

He's pulling you aside, big hands cradling your face as he gently hushes you when you try to explain your tears. Even though he doesn't agree with the thoughts, he understands where they're coming from. He's spent years building his own confidence, spending his own childhood feeling less than adequate.

And he'll be damned if he lets you feel that way about yourself. Who cares if the media is obsessed with size 0 waists and picturesque woman? Nikolai doesn't look like the men in the media either, and you like him, yeah?

He'll spend a good while talking you out of your tears, whispering how beautiful and wonderful you are, until you're blushing and giggling. And then he'll scoop you up, grinning when you squeal with laughter.

"Light as a feather, milaya," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head as he carries you to the couch.

He puts on your favorite movie, and keeps you in his lap the whole time. It makes your face heat up, feeling his hands gently stroke your stomach and thighs. But Nikolai just wants you to know that he loves you. All of you.

[complete-clownery]

my new OCs (both of them nameless)

This is actually how they look like

Hahaha yeah so now that I can finally talk about them (since they're still nameless I'm just going to call them Tarsier and Pygmy)

Here's little backstory for them and how they got to know eachother:

Both of them a street rats with no families,

Pygmy's been a wanderer since their childhood, they were found by a wanderer human woman who was traveling with her small troop, they took them in for a while but eventually left them in a random village the troop was passing trough, when Pygmy was around 10, they got fucked up over that obviously but adapted to the situation pretty easily. Now they're 26 and never really feeling the need to settle down anywhere, they just have to keep on moving for some reason. Oh yeah also Pygmy is born mute (maybe that's why they were left behind by their biological parents) they never learned sign language cuz there was no one to teach it to them, they got their own version of it tho,,, manedged to get them this faar, so that's good enough. They also like to keep a low profile

Tarsier is a bit different, he had a family. He lived together with his mother, but they were poor and after a particularly cold winter his mother died from an illness, he was around 6 years old at the time and now on the streets alone. He somehow survived living on scraps and learning the art of theft. Actually later on when he was 12 and a decent pickpocket some demon gang took him in, but due to complications (that he definitely did not brought up on himself) he had to leave the troop (more like flea). Now he's 24 and goes from village to village now being an excellent pickpocket and a snarky bitch gets in a lot of fucking trouble wherever he goes. he also doesn't know when to shut up, and has made a lot of enemies throughout his years (his extremely annoying too)

His first encounter with Pygmy was pretty funny too.

Tarsier took their wallet, tho not so long after Pygmy being just as streetsamrt as Tarsier is, noticed the missing purce and chased down Tarsier.

Tho Pygmy isn't really a fighter, they learned some tricks while constantly on the road, beat up Tarsier who is an even worse fighter (and massive coward), or more like was about to beat up Tarsier but he promised he would make up for Pygmys troubles by navigating them thought the particularly big village and getting them a place to sleep.

Pygmy was sceptical at first, but been dying for a real bed so they took the offer, tho they were rightfully sceptical cuz that night they got in trouble for breaking in an inn and stealing food, Tarsier obviously tried to put the blame on Pygmy, with no luck tho, cuz others have recognized him as a thief, so they had to run for their lifes

They ended up getting out alive of the village eventually. Pygmy was extremely fed up with Tarsiers shenanigans, but they ended up going in the same direction, also for some reason Tarsier decided that Pygmy is his new favorite person and stuck to them like a leech (much to Pygmys displeasure)

And I have no idea how did they manadge to warm up to eachother, but that happend and now they're sworn broths/siblings, partners in crime, trouble makers, fuck yeah

That's about all the info I can give to you about them

[neminomnom]

Pets I think arcane characters would have

Includes- Mel, Caitlyn, Viktor, Jinx, Vi, Sevika, Ekko and Silco

this is set in season one, sorry if I got anything wrong, I hope you enjoyyyy!!!!

Mel

- Mel would have a tabby maine coon cat named Diantha.

- Daintha would be a very cuddly cat, quite lazy and spends most its time sleeping in the most random places, but loves outdoors and gets spoiled ROTTEN.

-That cat gets everything she meows for, Mel gives her those cat vitamins what makes her coat nice and soft, she also has a specific time each night when Mel gets home from work and she brushed Diantha.

Caitlyn

- It’s not a household pet, but Caitlyn would own a horse, a fresian named Domino, her father named it.

- Domino was a dressage horse, Caitlyn got him as a birthday present when she was younger, her parents would make her go to the stables every weekend to muck him out and take riding lessons

- Once Caitlyn was riding domino and kicked her off, after that Cassandra wasn’t so sure about keeping him.

Viktor

- I don’t know if this counts, but in his bedroom viktor has a huge fishtank, in said fishtank, he has a bunch of star fish, specifically the Patiria miniata type, he finds the colours of them cool.

- Viktor finds them somewhat easy to look after, of course you have to clean the tank out every now and again, but when he’s in really bad pain due to his illness, viktor will just sit and watch them, even though they don’t do much. His favourite is called Robert.

Jinx

- She found two ferrets on the street in a bin, one she named bubbles and the other jinx named bandit, they just roam around her hideout and follow her around.

-bubbles has a cinnamon coloured coat, and is the more playful and social one out of the two, meanwhile Bandit has a chocolate brown coat and is more cuddly and affectionate, yet they are both have the same level of mischief, of course.

Violet

- Violet owns a big friendly giant as a pet, a German Shepard named stevie to be exact, she’s just like Vi, energetic, fights a lot and is extremely loyal, but with Vi she’s a big softie.

- Vi takes stevie everywhere with her, they are attached by the hip, Violet would make sure stevie is decently trained, knowing the basic stuff like sit and to go to the toilet outside, but vi lets her eat from her plates and things like that.

- When vi met Caitlyn, Stevie tried to bite her on multiple occasions

Sevika

-Sevika has two Russian tortoises, one named Shelley and the other called Sheldon, basic but cute, since they can be left alone a lot and only need cleaning out once a week, but she finds them pathetic since how they just kinda walk around and go back into there shells.

-Sevika has a great set up for them, a nice basking area for them but overall a really good set up, and she lets them roam around wherever she lives when she is home.

Ekko

- Ekko has a bunch of birds, all different types of them, they all just roam around the firelight tree thing, they are all mostly owls and pigeons.

- His favourite bird out of the group is called Freya, she’s a fantail pigeon, mostly because she’s the only one what doesn’t try to snatch peoples food out of their hands.

- At night he adores staying up, watching the tree from a distance and loves staring at all the owls.

Silco

-If you go into his office at the right time, you’ll see a ratty looking sphinx cat probably sitting on his desk.

- he named it Fiona, he didn’t even buy/ adopt it, the hairless thing just roamed around the last drop long enough for him to feel a bit sorry for it,

- Fiona is a skinny thing, always scraping around for scraps even if she’s just been fed, so lo finds her annoying but loves the cat really.

—————————————————————————

I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Two: Six Point Cabin

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hello again! Chapter two is a lot longer and we are kinda getting into it. I know Arthur and reader hate each other but you can't rush enemies to lovers!

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Days had gone by and Y/n hadn’t eaten a proper meal. In fact, she wouldn’t have had anything if it wasn’t for Mary-Beth feeding both her and Kieran scraps of food when the other gang members weren’t looking. Y/n always made sure to thank her, repaying her kindness with respect. She doesn’t have to do that, but she’s got a good heart.

Arthur and Dutch had tried asking about Colm a few more times but without being fed, the two O’Driscoll’s were too tired to respond (that and Y/n was too suborn. She hated this gang as much as the other one). Today however, seemed much different.

It was sunny, a light breeze and the birds were chirping, it would’ve been a calming day if it wasn’t for the predicament. Arthur strode towards the two of them and stood in between the two trees. When she was tied up, the gang made sure Kieran and Y/n couldn’t reach one another, their feet being only a foot apart from each other.

“When is this going to end…” Kieran whined as Arthur got to them, not ready for another day of questioning and torture.

“You both got some speaking to do of your own, about that old gang of yours.” He folded his arms like he always did, which Y/n rolled her eyes at. Here we go again.

Kieran was standing again, whereas she couldn’t, her thigh slightly better but due to her condition, it was healing slower than it should. Kieran groaned, “I said I told you. I don’t know nothing.”

Arthur shook his head, the tiny rope on his hat swung with it, “That’s what I thought.”

Dutch came striding over, his voice cheerful and booming, causing the woman to jump.

“Hold your horses there! It seems the cat has got our friend’s tongue’s.” He stood with Arthur, with a bigger guy before continuing, “I was thinking Mr Williamson could have a word.”

Y/n eyed him carefully; she had been trying to get as much information on everyone, being sat doing nothing makes you people watch. She was sure this guy was called Bill. He had a creepy grin on his face and pointed at Kieran.

“We can start with you. You ready to talk, boy?”

“I told you mister, I told all of you. I don’t know nothing, ok?” He sighed, “Th-They ain’t no friends of mine. I just been ridin’ with them for a while.”

Bill interrupted him, his spit flying out his mouth, “Bullshit! You’re close with this O’Driscoll, and you told us you weren’t close with any of them! So how about you tell us the truth.” He turned to the gang’s leader, “Dutch, what do you want me to do?”

Y/n’s heart dropped. This interrogation session was different than the others, it was much more sinister.

“Hurt him. So the next time he opens his mouth, it is to tell us what is going on.” Dutch’s mouth was twisted into a sly smile, his voice dripping with ill intent.

“Who am I kidding? One of the O’Driscoll’s boys couldn’t open his mouth, but he’d tell a lie.” He got in Kieran’s face before turning to Bill, “Screw it. Let’s just have some fun,” He made a cutting motion with his fingers, “geld him.”

Bill cheered as Y/n pulled at her restraints, “No! You get away from him!” She screamed as Dutch laughed down at her.

“Maybe you’ll talk for him!”

“What’s he doing? Where’s he going?” Her friend panicked, watching Bill bring a pair of long tongs from the fire.

Arthur hadn’t said anything, only stood watching the scene unfold before him, waiting to see who would crack first.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re only balls boy! Just gonna cause you trouble.” Dutch began to ramble about Rome but the two hostages weren’t listening, instead watching Bill cheerfully make his way over. Kieran’s trousers and pants were then pulled down, and Y/n made sure to look up, in attempts to save the poor boy’s dignity.

“No, no, no, no! You’re kidding right?” Kieran cried, trying to back away but the tree blocked him.

“You disgusting pigs!” Y/n snapped, still wriggling and kicking, her thigh screaming at her to stop.

“You sick bastards! What do you want from me!” Even Kieran was swearing now, fear causing him to sweat profusely.

“Well, you are going to talk. The only question is now, or after we get these little fellas off?” The three men were surrounding Kieran. The pair of tongs getting closer, yet he still wasn’t cracking.

“Ok! I’ll tell you!” Y/n shouted; she couldn’t sacrifice her friend getting hurt over a gang who didn’t even realise they were missing. All the men turned to her, the weapon getting a bit further away from him.

“Six point cabin.” She stated, and when they looked at her she sighed, “That’s where the O’Driscoll’s are. That’s where Colm is lying low.”

The men seemed satisfied, as Bill shouted at Kieran, “Why didn’t you tell us that first, boy?”

“I didn’t know the location!” He whimpered, still keeping an eye of Bill’s hand, and trying to cross his legs.

“But I know where that is! I can take you there. I don’t like him. I mean, I like him even less than I like you. No offence.”

“Oh, none taken.” Dutch cackled. Arthur finally joined in on the conversation. He leant down to Kieran and said, “Ok then, partner. Why don’t you and your friend take a few of us up there. Right now.” He untied Kieran who quickly pulled his trousers up, and Arthur approached Y/n.

“I ain’t helping you!” She spat, her not shot leg kicking out in protest. She could hear him grumbling as he untied her, and when she refused to stand, he grabbed her bicep and forced her up. His grip was purposefully strong, but she couldn’t focus on that, instead, she focused on the fact that she couldn’t stand or walk properly. Being sat for days on top of her wound made her useless.

“I got this, Dutch. Should be fun.” He reassured his leader before turning his attention back to her, “Alright you, come on. Can you walk?”

“What does it look like?” She gritted her teeth, limping slowly to what she assumed was his horse after watching him ride to camp on it. She could feel him chuckling behind her, “Well at least I ain’t gotta worry about you running away.”

Another snide remark from this man and I’ll kill him on pure adrenaline and a pocketknife.

Kieran jogged over to the best of his ability to help her, but she held her hand up to stop him. She didn’t want to appear weaker than what she already did, and if the two kept acting close, the gang would use that against them like how they already did.

“Let’s hope you both ain’t trying to trick us, O’Driscolls.” Arthur warned.

“We ain’t no O’driscoll.” Kieran corrected which only caused the older man to snap back, “But you sure as shit was.” After that, he called for John and Bill to tag along, and Kieran gave them the directions.

“John, you take this little rattlesnake with you. Any nonsense, kill him.”

John nodded, pointing to his horse so Kieran could hop on.

“Don’t do anything rash.” Y/n called out to him as John sat on the front of his horse. Kieran nodded at her as if to say ‘same to you’.

“You’re with me, woman.” Arthur got on his horse, and looked down at her. She looked up and from this angle, she could see how his stubble was neatly kept and his moustache was slightly longer. His eyes were light and the were small scars dotted across his cheek.

I can’t wait to put a bullet through his head.

She grabbed the saddle but winced when she shifted her weight to her bad leg. With a grunt, Arthur extended his hand which only caused her to raise her chin at him.

“You can put your filthy hand away, I don’t need your help.”

“Well, it sure looks like you do. Stop being so stubborn, girl.”

“I hope you drop dead on this mission.” She spat, pulling herself up in an awkward manner, seating behind him with as much distance as she could get. Why does he have to have the biggest horse known to mankind?

“Are they taking us to Colm?” John asked as the three horses galloped out the camp and through the trees that gave comforting shade to the summer’s sun.

“Look, I-I-I’ll give you more directions when we’re close, but if I know where we are, it’s up past Valentine.” Kieran strutted as John moved further up for the rest of them to follow. Y/n tuned out the men the entire ride there, all she heard was talk about throwing knives, O’Driscolls, and horse shit. Instead, she watched the dust kick up from the hooves of the horses, the leaves blowing in the wind, and the occasional people passing by.

Arthur asked Bill if he still had the tongs, to which he replied with the fact he had a knife.

“Keep that in mind, young fella.” He yelled at Kieran, “Right in the forefront of it.”

“What about the woman?” Bill asked; Y/n saw him shrug.

“I’ll just shoot her other leg. I doubt she’ll get far.” His voice found humour in this, and she could only grit her teeth at how helpless she was. She was stronger than this, much stronger, and these idiots didn’t even know it.

“It’s passed these hills. Better get there before I get your gun.” She threatened and couldn’t help her smirk as she saw him instinctively reach for his holster. They stopped their horses at the clearing and planned to reach the cabin from foot. Arthur got off first and looked at her, wondering if she was going to ask for help. Of course she didn’t. Instead, she swung her leg over and jumped down, falling to her knees from the sudden impact. She kept her pained cries inside, only earning a small grunt. Kieran made his way over and helped her back on her feet, which this time she didn’t push him away. When she was steady, Kieran began to walk towards the cabin’s location.

“There’ll be a bunch of fellers hiding out there too.” Kieran stated as the group were crouched behind a log, peering into the woods. A couple of men were further than the rest, taking a toilet break against a tree.

“Are these fellas armed?” Arthur asked.

“Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers.” Kieran nodded.

“And Colm O’Driscoll?”

“Most likely.” Y/n intervened, “Probably passed out sleeping soundly. After a day of bossing people to their deaths.”

The three O’Driscoll’s continued to talk to one another as Dutch's group tried to conduct a plan. The O’Driscoll’s got close, so John grabbed Kieran and covered his mouth with a gun to his head. Arthur did the same. His giant, calloused hands roughly gripped Y/n face to silence her, the other hand on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her ear, but she didn’t move a muscle. Not because she was scared, but because doing so would be pointless. If she screamed, either John would shoot her, or her former gang mates would.

“I’m gonna let go of you now, if you so much as move an inch, I’m shooting you in the head this time.” He whispered in her ear, as she stifled a grunt, her eyebrows knitted together. He slowly let go, making sure she didn’t move, and began making his way over to the enemy with his throwing knife, stabbing all three with Bill. John turned to Kieran and Y/n, his eyes narrowed.

“I need to help them. You two stay here, if you try to escape we will hunt you down. Understood?” Kieran nodded while she only rolled her eyes; she was getting tired of all the empty threats. They watched as John descended down the hill.

“We can’t keep doing this, man.” She spoke up after a quick breather, her leg aching. He only hummed in response, too busy trying to get a better look of what was going on. As she scoped the scene, a familiar shine in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

“Is that..” It was. It was a sniper rifle. It was the first time she had a genuine smile. Oh, what a beautiful sight, a beautiful sight that is now mine.

She hopped down the hill, carefully as to not alert either gang, and picked up the gun. Its cold metal only warmed her heart, as she looked through the scope and nodded her head; it wasn’t the best, but it’d do. She heard her friend scramble after her, not wanting to be left alone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He scolded, the both of them a bit startled at the sudden loud bangs of guns at the cabin.

“What do you think? I’m going to scope that big grunt and get us the hell out of here. We can wait till they kill all the O’Driscolls, then I aim from a distance an-“

“No! Being alone is too risky! We would get hunted down! Our best bet is to warm up to the Van Der Linde gang and-“

It was her turn to interrupt him, she looked like she had been shot a second time, “What? Are you insane! Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m trying not to lose my head!” He snapped back, much to her surprise. He rubbed his eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Just… hear me out ok?”

“They will kill us after today you know? We gave them what they needed, Bang. Bye bye us.”

A twig snapped, the two of them now on high alert. An old O’Driscoll had a gun pointed at Kieran, but Y/n quickly head shot him within milliseconds. He thanked her, a hand to his chest.

“Come on, we are sitting ducks here.” She began to limp to the cabin, the gunshots had died down significantly. When they got there, the place was littered with dead bodies.

She made her way to the wooden shed and saw the rest of them there. Arthur had his back turned; it would be so easy. She aimed her rifle at him, just as he got knocked down by a frenzied O’Driscoll with a gun pointing down at him. Saves me a job, she first thought, but Kieran’s previous words nagged her. Nagged and nagged, before she huffed in annoyance. Damn you, horse boy.

She shot the man on top of Arthur between his brows, he went limp, and Arthur pushed the now dead body off of him; blood had splattered on his coat and face. He laid there for a moment, not even acknowledging her, before getting up and peering his head inside the cabin and was suddenly filled with rage. He stormed towards her, his face red.

“You set us up! Come here!” He was towering over her now, their anger mutual.

“No she didn’t!” Kieran tried to defuse the situation which only made Arthur angrier.

“You both did, Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here!”

“If I wanted to set you up, I would’ve used this very rifle in my hand to shoot you dead!” She seethed, raising the rifle as proof she did just in fact save his life.

“She has a good point, Arthur.” Bill butted in, sort of on her side. Arthur paused for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation before shooing her away and saying, “Alright then, go on, get out of here.”

“Eh?” Kieran puzzled, stepping closer to Y/n who only furrowed her brows at him. A trap? Get our back turned to shoot us?

“I’m letting you run away, now go on. Get out of here.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, come on Kieran.” She was about to walk off, or hobble away, when he grabbed her wrist.

“That’s as good as killing us. Out there, without you, Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this.”

She groaned, sick of this argument, and Arthur didn’t seem too pleased either, only asking, “So?”

“So, we’re one of you now.” He stated, earning a scoff from Y/n.

“Oh please.”

He shot her a warning glance and for once she obeyed. Arthur rubbed his eyes before murmuring, “Give me a break.” He looked at them both, thinking hard about his next decision.

“Alright then. But I’m warning you both…”

“We get it!” Y/n groaned, throwing the rifle on the ground to his feet so he didn’t keep going on.

“You fellas get to camp, quick. Hey Bill, you tell Dutch, old Kieran and little Y/n ain’t worth killing. Just yet.” He stated, already making his way inside the cabin to find the money stashed in the chimney.

Y/n got on John’s horse this time with said man, deciding the man with the giant scar on his face was still better than Bill, who only this morning was excited to burn a man’s balls off.

“Don’t think for second you’re one of us.” John barked as they began their journey back to camp.

“Trust me. I’ll never have the desire to be accepted by any of you.” She scoffed, all of them going silent as the sun began to set, and the cold air giving her goosebumps.

[ladytesla]

Cowboy Halsin

I saw @aerynwrites musing about how Halsin would be as a cowboy or rancher. I thought I'd throw in my two cents, since I live on a farm myself.

There's more to it than just seeing Halsin speaking softly to horses, as awesome a sight as that would be. There's more to living out in the country than horses, believe me. This kind of morphed into Country Halsin and not Cowboy Halsin, but I hope y'all like it anyway. Let's go through a day in the life, shall we?

Halsin would probably be up before dawn, kissing your cheek before getting out of bed as carefully as possible, trying not to wake you. You have your own goals to accomplish today, he wants to let you wake up on your own.

Besides, he loves the stillness just before the sun rises. The nocturnal creatures are seeking their nests and burrows, the diurnal ones have yet to wake. This solitary commune with nature is one of the highlights of his day, listening to the wind in the leaves, the crickets and the frogs. It is a very referent time of morning that seems to stretch for ages and at the same time end far too soon.

As he reaches the barn, the day officially begins. Animals need to be fed. Mostly they graze in the pasture, but some need special treatment. An old swaybacked mare needs a little something extra to keep her weight up. Maybe there's a colt who managed to hurt himself somehow, and the wound needs to be tended to. Maybe it's cold outside, so he throws out alfalfa with the hay. Alfalfa is also called 'hot hay' because it raises an animal's body temperature, which is a great trick for winter.

He speaks to the horses as he works, maybe fondly berating the colt for being so clumsy in his excitement, or encouraging the mare to eat everything he's set out for her, smoothing a large hand down her side and smiling to himself when he feels her ribs much more faintly than he used to. One of the horses who is usually waiting in the mornings isn't there... that's a bit odd. He'll turn up eventually. The chickens milling around outside have heard his voice and know The One Who Feeds Them has arrived, so they peek around and wander into the barn themselves, waiting very impatiently. The goats in another small paddock nearby are just as impatient. They start yelling and bleating as if they're starving to death and He Is A Cruel And Unjust Father And They Are Going To Scream.

He likes hearing the chickens chatter as he scatters out feed for them. They don't have anything of real importance to say, but they never stop talking. Mostly it's "Food! Food! Food! Bug? Food! Scratch. Peck. Scratch. Bug!" in a dozen warbling little voices. He brought a bag of veggie scraps from last night's dinner with him to throw to the goats, which stops them yelling. "I don't think the neighbors heard you yet," he would say dryly as he throws hay to them as well. Sometimes they headbutt each other for access to the best morsels, and while he wants to prevent this to keep anyone from getting injured, he knows it's in their nature. He keeps an eye on the smallest and oldest, however, making sure they get their fair share. The twin kids born last week toddle after their mother like baby ducks. It seems like she has enough milk for both of them, though he still has powdered formula and bottles from the last kidding season, just in case they're needed once more.

Now that everyone's been fed, it's time to walk the fences, looking for that missing horse in the process. A lesser known but very important job when it comes to country life. Any breaks could not only let animals out, but predators in. He'd keep an eye out for signs of predators nearby. He hasn't seen any today, but he heard coyotes crying out in the darkness the night before. By this time of morning, though, he has company. You've made your appearance, bleary-eyed and handing him an insulated cup of coffee. You're already on your second.

The fog from earlier hasn't been burned off completely by the sun yet. It's a quiet time for the two of you to walk the property lines together. Halsin is a bit concerned about that horse. He hasn't shown up yet. Soon, though, he sees a silhouette in the last bits of fog, and sighs with relief. The horse isn't lying down from illness, he's just... trapped. The two of you look at this big strong chestnut gelding, eyes rolling and sides heaving, barricaded in the corner of the pasture because... there's a rabbit in the way. A fat little gray-brown bunny, nibbling delicately at the grass without a care in the world. Truly a terrifying sight to behold.

"Arthur we've spoken about this," Halsin sighs as he walks closer to the horse. "Rabbits can't hurt you. They eat plants, and they're tiny. Look!"

Still, Arthur isn't convinced. Halsin soothes him, stroking his nose and smiling to himself at the absurdity of it.

"My heart," he glances to you, "please convince our visitor to release Arthur."

You smile as you shuffle closer to the rabbit, gently shooing it back through the fence. Now that Arthur is out of mortal peril, he happily walks off towards the barn.

"They're majestic creatures," Halsin admits, "but sometimes..." He shakes his head, then keeps walking the fence. "Come on, my love... we're only halfway."

~~~

A round bale is delivered around lunchtime. The thing is as tall as you and just as wide and weighs an ungodly amount. But it needs to go out into the pasture somehow. Moving a round bale is a two-person job. Your job is to hold the gate open and keep the curious horses at bay... and to watch as Halsin, sleeves rolled up and muscles bulging, easily rolls it into the paddock as though it weighs nothing. He barely has time to set the feeder ring around it before the horses are nosing greedily at the fresh hay.

"I wish I could help more," you say as you close the gate.

"You help plenty," he replies, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Besides..." There's a faint glint of mischief in his eyes. "I've flattered myself into thinking you like to watch."

You grin and say he's being ridiculous, but you both know the truth.

~~~

As active a man as he is, Halsin isn't content to spend the heat of the day indoors. There are still so many things to be done. Bird feeders to fill. Eggs to collect from the chickens. The vegetable garden to water and weed. Water troughs to top up. Finally, there's a little time to take a break. Sometimes you have other things on your schedule, but today you decide to join him. The two of you find a shady spot under a tree and settle in with a book, some whittling, perhaps a snack, and you let yourselves get lost in nature. The afternoon sounds are different from the early morning ones. There are no crickets or frogs, no reverent stillness. Now there are raucous little songbirds fighting over birdseed, the chatter of a squirrel, the crow of the rooster, maybe even the far-off braying of a neighbor's donkey a quarter mile away. The windchimes you hung from the back porch. And underneath it all, the wind humming in the trees. Halsin leans back against the rough bark of the tree, closes his eyes, and feels the undercurrent of life running through all things. You can't help but admire the sheer expression of peace and happiness on his face, and set your little diversions aside to lean your head on his shoulder. His arm instictively wraps around you to pull you closer against him, and you enjoy simply existing as part of nature for a while.

~~~

The sun is about to set, casting mile-long shadows and lighting up the fields like gold. It's nearing time to go inside and help make dinner. But first the old mare and the colt need to be tended to once more. Another helping of special feed for the mare, sequestering her in her stall so that she can eat in peace without a certain someone (whose name may or may not be Arthur} attempting to share. The colt's wound is healing nicely, and Halsin digs in his pocket for a cookie in exchange for the colt standing still enough to be treated. He tosses another cookie to Arthur who protests that he too needs special food because he is a special boy.

He comes inside to clean up and help with dinner. He'll need to go back out in an hour or so to let the mare out of her stall, but in the meantime he's happy to be in your company as you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. If you're cooking, it may be a bit difficult with those big arms around you from behind. The two of you have been busy all day, and now that you're done with your work, he has decided to make things a little difficult.

"Love, please, I need to get to the spice cabinet." "I can reach it just fine. Tell me what you need."

"Halsin, I can't work with you right behind me like this!" "I fail to see how this is a problem, my heart. I'm having a wonderful time."

Halsin is normally a mild-mannered type, but his sense of humor sneaks out in sly ways from time to time. At least he hasn't broken out the horrible puns yet. And you have to admit, it's nice to be able to feel his deep voice resonate against your back.

Halsin is ready to sleep when it's time for bed (as long as you are too, of course. He's always up for 'extracurricular activities' if the mood is right). "We did well today, my heart," he says quietly in the darkness, pulling you close. "Pleasant dreams." He can hear the faint sounds of frogs and crickets outside your window, and that coupled with your soft breathing is enough to lull him into a deep sleep.

Was it a long day full of hard work? Yes.

Would he trade away any of it? Never.

[danieyells]

You've come to help out at Jabberwock again. Haru always appreciates the backup considering the nature of his fellows is, at best, unpredictable, and he would never refuse your company(even if 'company' in this case was more often 'being within the boundaries of the same dorm.')

You rarely see Haru unless you're working directly with him as he spends most of the day zipping to and fro, only stopping to work with one animal or another. Now and then he appears, virtually soundless thanks to the way gravity doesn't affect his body with his stigma active, popping in out of breath to thank you again for your help, to ask you to work with another animal next, to give you some pointers on what you're doing. And then he's gone again, disturbing barely any dust as he zooms off to his next task.

While distributing feed for some of the friendly herbivores, you felt something warm press against your cheek for a split second. Touching your face revealed nothing. You looked around for a while for any clues before you chalked it up to some anomaly flying around and resumed your work, shooting Haru a quick message to ask if there were any small, flying anomalies around that you might need to worry about.

Next you dropped by the caves to check on the amphibians. Finding them well(and fortunately fed), you chatted with Towa and Zenji for a little while when it happened again. You asked Towa if he had been blowing bubbles recently, touching your cheek. Perhaps one had simply popped against you, although that wouldn't explain the warmth. Towa tilted his head and made an inquisitive noise, before he seemed to realize something and smiled fondly, giggling. Zenji was just as confused as you, begging Towa to let you both in on the joke, but Towa simply cheered something you couldn't understand, pulled out a bubble wand(fortunately not his artifact,) and began to blow glimmering bubbles in many fantastic shapes. Zenji gasped in understanding and declared his inspiration. You decided to take your leave as he pulled out his biwa.

Your full day of work ending, you washed your hands, changed into your clean clothes, and located Haru within the dorm kitchen as he consulted the book of weaning recipes he'd bought and poured over the food scraps you'd previously brought him from Highway to Home.

"Oh! Hey! Thanks again for your help today." Haru beamed at you despite how obvious it was he was starting to wear down. "I might even get a couple more minutes of sleep tonight with everything you managed to take care of! Gyahaha!"

Although it was worded sarcastically, you understood that he was being sincere. You told him you were happy to help and offered more of your time before you headed back to the Cathedral. Maybe while you made food for and fed Peekaboo he could get a meal of his own going? Or you could cook for him? He considered this and started to decline before his stomach growled audibly and he laughed at himself in defeat.

You spent the next half an hour or so circling each other in the kitchen, chatting about food apps and the conveniences of the world outside Darkwick. Aside from lacking the budget for it, Haru didn't order from Sho's food truck and simply have him deliver it for fear that the sound of his motorcycle would upset the animals. It was more economical to cook at the dorm--the problem being the lack of time. Sometimes Towa cooked for him, but the flower-heavy vegetarian dishes didn't keep Haru fed for long when he ran around like he did.

But thanks to your help, Haru was able to have a decent light dinner, one you shared. Haru felt no shame about feeding you with your hands occupied feeding Peekaboo. Admittedly you weren't the most romantic pair in the world with how busy Haru was, but you valued the little moments like this that you could get. When dinner was over, Haru asked you to put Peekaboo in his pen while he cleaned up, thanked you again, and wished you good night as he had some late work to take care of with the nocturnal anomalies before he could go to bed.

You were nearly at the gate when you heard Haru call your name. "I almost forgot!!!" You heard him cry out from behind. When you turned you couldn't see him--and the contact against your cheek happened again. You turned in that direction, before another met your opposite cheek.

When you spun in that direction, you heard Haru laugh, felt him throw his arms around you, and tilt you back to kiss you on the lips.

"Forgot your goodnight kiss!" He chimed before cackling, giving you a squeeze. Realization dawned on you--Haru moved so quickly and unburned by the effects of gravity that he'd just been kissing you and running back to work so quickly that you wouldn't have had any hope of seeing him. He grinned down at you as you caught on, then gave you one more quick peck on the nose. He righted you, and then he was gone again, stopping a ways away to call out,

"I love you!!! Nighty-night!"

[odinsblog]

More than 9,000 Palestinians living in the West Bank have been arrested since the start of the Israel-Hamas War, a 100% increase over the same time last year. More than a third of them are being held in administrative detention, says Abdullah Al-Zaghari, who works with the Palestinian Prisoner Society, a Ramallah-based association that monitors arrests: “Yeah, without trial, without anything.”

Israeli officials maintain the arrests are in large part tied to curbing an increase in, quote, “suspected terrorist activity since the October 7 attacks,” in which Hamas militants killed around 1,200 people in Israel. But Al-Zaghari says the Israeli government is motivated by something else.

“They just put you in prison because they have a mentality of revenge against what happened in Gaza in the beginning of the war.”

Some analysts have suggested that Israel is arresting so many people, so it has thousands of less threatening prisoners to exchange in a swap with Hamas. Al-Zaghari also says recently released detainees from the West Bank and Gaza have testified that they've been beaten, deprived of food and water, and forced to sit in overcrowded cells with no electricity. Earlier this week, the Israeli military released a statement saying it was investigating allegations of mistreatment of detainees and which shares details in a forthcoming report.

As more prisoners are arrested, anger has been growing across the West Bank, while morale about the possibility of their release has gone down.

Take this weekly rally in support of Palestinian prisoners being held in central Ramallah. Just a few dozen people have shown up. Some people we speak to in nearby shops say they're fed up with the current Palestinian Authority government and see these protests as ineffective.

Others say they're afraid joining these rallies could lead to their own arrests. One man in attendance here every week is 57-year-old Muqbal Barghouti.

He tells me his son has been under administrative detention for six months, and he has no idea what his condition is. He hasn't been allowed to visit him. Then there's Muqbal's brother, Marwan Barghouti, who is perhaps the most famous Palestinian sitting in an Israeli jail.

Thirty years ago, Marwan Barghouti was poised to succeed Yasser Arafat as the new head of the Palestinian Authority. But that was scrapped when he was arrested in the early 2000s on terrorism charges. But Muqbal believes that now, more than ever, is actually a moment of hope for Marwan and the thousands of other Palestinian prisoners living in Israeli jails.

I want them to know that their freedom is very close, Barghouti tells me. He and others believe that their release could be made under a ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas in exchange for the remaining hostages being held in Gaza.

—Israel is taking hostages in Ramallah, West Bank

[spookymultimedia]

Do you have any headcanons 4 cartman's pets? :3

Oh I absolutely do!! :D (very very long)

(CW mentions of pet death/loss)

Cartman got Mr.Kitty as a pet when he saw her outside at 4 years old. He chased the cat and physically dragged her inside, which prompted her to freak out in the house. Then Cartman fed her cake and begged pretty please with a cherry on top to keep the kitty. Liane has no choice in the matter really so of course they kept the cat. They didn't give her shots or neuter her, they just gave her a bath and fed her cat food and called it a day.

Cartman got Fluffy from the County Fair from winning a pie eating contest. Liane was shocked to see Cartman with yet another animal he wanted to keep. And she can't say no, so Fluffy came home with them. Funny enough she was actually easier to take care of than the cat. They usually fed her scraps. She had a pretty good diet of food that Cartman was supposed to eat but he gave it to her and pretended to eat his veggies so he could have dessert please. He taught Fluffy a couple of tricks like spinning and sitting on command. He even claimed he was gonna take her to the fair just like Wilbur in that Charlottes Web movie. Fun fact for years Cartman was convinced Wilbur was a girl and hated when people corrected him because he's used to thinking about the character a certain way and didn't feel like changing how he watched it.

He loved fluffy to bits but she died due to hereditary health problems. Instead of telling Cartman the piggy was dead she just fell in love with a daddy pig and ran away with him to have sex and babies. Cartman resents Fluffy for being such a whore and leaving him behind. He still cried in bed about it for a couple nights though.

Once Cartman tried to keep a pet frog. On wet mornings when frogs huddled around all the puddles, he and the other 3 tried to catch frogs. All of the frogs they caught always went missing every time they tried, so eventually they just gave up and moved onto something else.

Once Gerald snatched up Mr.Kitty and took her away by force while Cartman was screaming and crying at him to let her go. Later he claimed she wasn't vaccinated so she was dangerous to be around Cartman, but he was also using her for cheesing. Later Kyle helped Cartman steal his cat back and Liane promised they would give the cats shots and gave her neutered. After that Gerald left their cat alone.

When they got Mr.Kitty neutered they discovered that she's is actually intersex. Cartman was extremely extremely happy to have a pet who's just like him. Well not exactly like him but still.

For years he depended on Mr.Kitty to get him through his audio hallucinations and grounding himself. If she didn't wake up then no one is at the door trying to harm him and it's just his head being weird. Petting her is very therapeutic for him and calms him down when he's experiencing big scary emotions. He also liked letting her in his bed so she can be there if he gets a nightmare.

During middle school his cat went missing and he was extremely upset about it. He kept accusing that his girlfriend Heidi is responsible for the cat going missing. The longer she was missing the more he accused Heidi of lying to him, hurting his cat because she resents him and she's an awful person. For two whole weeks Butters helped Cartman search for his cat. His friends also helped but Butters helped the most. One night while he was driving home without Mr.Kitty yet again and realized he's never going to see his cat ever again. He broke into tears while Butters and Stan comforted him. Later Heidi finds him grieving his cat and she tells him he forgives him for getting upset at her and understands he was just stressed and didn't mean it. Cartman didn't apologize at all and let her hug and console him.

After that Cartman didn't own a pet for several several years. When he was in his late 40s and the most depressed he had ever been in his life, his therapist suggested owning a cat to give him a routine to have and help him cope with loneliness. So he adopted a cat and it worked. After awhile he ended up with 9 cats in his house, but then he got his shit together and gave away the ones that had bad relationships with the other cats or didn't enjoy being in his house. Then he was left with four cats. Which was a pretty big improvement but still makes normal people gawk at him. And he kept those cats for a long long time. I haven't thought much about the other three, but I know one of the cats is a three legged cat named Zipper. He was born like that. He's the fastest of the four cats and the most friendly one.

After Cartman passed away from cancer in his early 60s Kyle and Stan the two cats Cartman still had. The cats where very comforting for Kyle since he had a harder time coping with his the loss.

And not a pet headcannon technically but Kyle had a habit of putting cat food and cat nip near Cartman's gave to "keep him company." People give Kyle weird looks when he brings cat food to a graveyard but it makes him happy so he doesn't care.

[deathbyclown]

My Good Boy Pairing: Buggy x Alvida Rating: Explicit Words: 4800

AO3 Link 

Summary:

What?? A BONUS Buggy Love Fest fic?? That's right!! I wrote this as an extra gift for @sillylilili and it is pure coincidence that her birthday was just a few days ago. SO Happy Belated Birthday, Silly!

This is from Alvida's perspective and she reflects on the first time she realized Buggy had a praise kink. It escalates from there :)

It started by accident, really. Not long after she had rescued him, after she was rescued, that it happened for the first time. She sat in a quiet corner of Buggy’s tent, drinking, observing as another celebration (for unknown reasons) occurred. It was loud, full of talking, singing, dancing, and the one that always struck her, laughter. Genuine and full of mirth. It came so easily to this crew, to their captain. She watched as Buggy slung his arm around different crew members, smiling with them, telling jokes, laughing with them. He flitted around, as if he was checking in. Perhaps he just wanted attention or praise. But this part of him, the talking and bonding, that came so naturally him made something bittersweet twist in Alvida’s chest. To have the loyalty of a crew, without fear alone to inspire them? She envied that Buggy was so different than herself, but she knew she could never be like that. 

Buggy flopped down next to her, looking sweaty but grinning from ear to ear. “Enjoying the party?” He wrapped his arm around her, warm and solid, not shying away. He treated her just like one of his own and the realization of that made it feel like someone wrapped their thick hand around her throat, squeezing away her breath. She looked over at him. His eyes were so blue, bright and shining. Kind. He was kind. Even if he pretended otherwise, she could see it emanating from him like a gleaming coal, despite his attempts to bury it. She took a sip from her wine glass to shove down that lump in her throat. 

“You’re a good Captain.” She whispered, the words spilling out on their own, brought to the surface by alcohol and her thoughts. 

Buggy shifted in his seat, clearly surprised, his arm sliding away from her shoulders. 

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that out loud, he'd probably think it patronizing. She looked over to see him watching her with large eyes, like puppy eyes, eager and pleased. 

“Yeah? You really think so?” He clearly wanted more praise. She didn’t realize he was so starved for it. His crew praised him endlessly. Maybe he just couldn’t get enough. Wasn’t that the nature of pirates? Food, treasure, adventure; it could never be enough to satisfy. 

“Yes. I really think so. I’ve never met someone like you.” She answered honestly, this time watching Buggy’s reaction. His eyes lit up, his cheeks pinked, his lips parted then stretched into a grin that was becoming very familiar. She could practically see his tail wagging. He really was like a dog, eager for any scraps despite being well fed. It should annoy her, the obvious pride he felt, the way he puffed out his chest. He hardly needed the ego boost. But... she found it...cute. 

After that incident, Buggy brought her into his inner circle, telling her things he hadn’t shared with any other crew members, not even Mohji or Cabaji. He often confided in her and she let him do it, despite his neediness, his whining, his complaining...it should bother her, but all the little things he did in return made up for it. He sat with her during meals, giving her some of his dessert or sweets just because he knew she liked them. He gave her a trinket or jewelry, brushing her hair out of her face or over her shoulder so he could help her put it on. He managed to give her space while never making her feel left out. He was so kind. Tender, like he genuinely cared for her. Giving him praise and attention was easy. He loved it, would stand closer to her, would cling to her, hold her tighter with every compliment and sweet word. And Alvida found she liked the attention too. 

... 

Another party, this one was deserved though. They were on an island and found quite a bit of treasure. Of course there was a huge bonfire bash on the beach, louder and rowdier than ever, everyone deep in their cups. Buggy eventually came back around to her, a bottle of wine in one hand, several jeweled necklaces hanging on his arm, and a slice of cake in the other.  Alvida sat in a singular seat, a throne they found on their treasure hunt. It seemed Buggy didn’t want to sit too far away from her, resting on the arm of the chair as he handed her the goodies he brought. 

“Thank you, Buggy. You’re such a good boy, bringing me all these gifts.” Alvida said with a grin, teasing him, grabbing the wine bottle to set it down in the sand. When she looked up at him to grab the other jewelry and cake, he was watching her, eyes intense, his face surprisingly expressionless. Did he not like her calling him a good boy? Normally he was fine with all kinds of praise. He didn’t say a word, just handed her the cake and set the jewels on the ground next to the wine. They sat in silence, watching the bonfire as Alvida ate. This was unusual. Normally he’d be chatting up a storm. She relied on Buggy to set the conversation, to get started on a topic so they could chat about something together, something they both liked. But the air between them was weird, making her shift in discomfort, waiting for Buggy to pipe up. She couldn't think of a single thing to talk about. 

She finished her cake and as soon as she set her plate on the ground, Buggy moved from the arm of the throne and onto her lap. She stayed still, unsure what to do, what this meant. He’d never done this before, sit on her lap with no other warning. He didn’t look at her, just leaned into her and watched the party, watched the fire. Buggy seemed to be in a strange mood, so she’d wait it out. More than anything she was curious, so she’d be patient. She slid her arms around Buggy’s waist and held onto him; She didn’t even think much about it before she did it, it just felt natural. 

“I liked that.” Buggy whispered, quiet enough that she nearly missed it, that a long moment passed while she processed what he said.  

“Liked what? This?” She squeezed him a little tighter in her embrace. 

He shook his head. “This is nice, but...I liked...” He paused for a long time, enough that Alvida thought he dropped the conversation. He played with one of the rings on her finger, tracing over the large jewel. Curiosity burned her, but she didn’t want to push. Why was he so shy? They continued to sit in silence, and she could feel him getting warmer, could feel his skin getting stickier with sweat. 

Finally he spoke. “I liked... that you called me a good boy.” His fidgeting became worse, tugging at the ring on her finger. 

“You like it... in a different way than the other things I say?” She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she wanted him clarify, to explain because now she was the one starting to feel warmer. 

He nodded, whispering a quiet ‘yeah’, still refusing to look at her. 

She suddenly pulled him flush against her chest and he squawked, twisting in her hold to see what was happening. 

“You’re a good boy, Buggy.” She said simply, watching his face. 

He let out a gasp, his eyebrows shooting up, pupils dilating, his face heating to a darker pink. One of her favorite colors. 

“Do you want to be my good boy?” She brought her hand up to his cheek, her thumb tracing his skin. “Do you want to be good, just for me ?” 

Buggy’s eyes slid closed and he pressed his lips together, making a soft involuntary sound in the back of his throat. He pressed his face against her palm and nodded. 

Desire. Need. Want. She didn’t often feel it like this. Didn’t want to kiss someone so desperately, to kiss someone so badly it made her lips tingle, made it feel like she was resisting a magnetic pull. But Buggy seemed to be the exception to a lot of things in her life. She tilted her face, looking over Buggy’s lips. His eyes were still closed, like he couldn’t bear to open them, but he held onto her, the bulge in his pants obviously showing how he felt. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. His lips parted in surprise, jolting at the sudden contact, but as soon as he realized what was happening he kissed her back. Soft at first, like he wasn’t sure, and then as he realized she wasn’t moving away, he became hungrier, desperate. 

That night was the first time they had sex. It was different, in that it was new, a unique moment shared. She can’t recall a time ever fucking someone she could call an ally. She can’t remember smiling more during sex. He was fun to watch; nervous and blushing, eager to please, giving. He made cute sounds, whining and moaning as she told him what a good boy he was. He held her tight to him, his face pressed into her neck, worrying her tender skin with his teeth and lips. 

After that night, she and Buggy would sleep together on a casual basis, but it was obvious that Buggy didn’t see it as casual. He gave her space, but it was clear that he wanted to be included in that empty space, to be part of her life. And slowly she let him in. She was too wary to have them share a bed, only sleeping with him if the sex was exhausting. She made them sleep in their own beds, usually to Buggy’s disappointment, but it was something she couldn’t do. Not yet. She’d been guarding her heart this long, she had to make sure whatever was growing between them was real. Sharing a bed every night, sleeping next to someone with no other intention; it was vulnerable, intimate. She saw it as the true sign of a relationship, something akin to a marriage. No pirate she knew shared their bed with just anyone. To make that kind of declaration with Buggy, to sleep night after night with another person, to wake up next to them morning after morning, it wasn’t a step she could take just yet. 

… 

Another Buggy Bash on the ship had the two of them sneaking away not even an hour into the party. Surely the crew knew about their ‘relationship’ by now, but neither of them really cared. Buggy held her hand, pulling her down the narrow halls of the ship to bring them back to Alvida’s room. He always preferred coming to her room, insisting that it smelled nicer, but she was sure it was because it was cleaner… and she had all the toys. She wanted to come here anyway, because tonight she had a surprise for him. 

He sat her down on the bed and crawled onto her lap, cupping her cheeks with both hands to cover her face in red kisses. She huffed a laugh, unable to stop her growing smile as he kissed her forehead, over her eyelids, over her nose, across her cheeks, and down to her lips. He smiled into the kiss, his tongue flicking out against her lips, and she let him in, the taste of him so familiar now. 

She broke off the kiss and grabbed Buggy around his waist with both arms, twisting them so she could drop him onto the bed. 

“I have a surprise for you~” She teased, watching his face as she hovered above him. 

He perked up, glancing around the room as if he could find it. “Really? For me?” 

“Mmmhmm. But I think you’ll have to earn it. Do you want to be good for me to earn your treat?” 

He nodded vigorously, patiently waiting for her to give the orders, to prove himself. 

“Get undressed, I want to see your beautiful body.” She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, removing her boots and jewelry while Buggy stripped down so quickly he was already sitting politely on his knees with his hands in his lap waiting for her next order. 

“So fast, you’re getting so good at that. And look at how perfectly you’re sitting. Good boy.” She pet his head, her hand dipping down to cup his chin. He shivered at the praise, getting noticeably harder, but staying still. 

“Undress me and make me feel good while you do it. I love when you use your mouth.” She dipped down and pressed a kiss to his lips, noticing his breathing was becoming heavier. She sat back and he followed, his hands started sliding off her jacket while he attacked her neck, kissing and sucking and biting. Those disembodied hands pulled her jacket away while his arms wrapped around her, keeping her close. He moved downward, dragging his lips, licking her clavicle, trailing soft kisses down her chest, to the tops of her breasts. His hands untied the strings of her bikini top and he split his arms so he could continue to hold her while his hands pulled her top away from her body. He moved down her body, pressing her down onto the bed as his mouth found her nipple. She let out a soft sound of approval as his tongue ran over her nipple. His hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, one hand teasing as he sucked and licked the other. 

“Mmnn, feels good. You like my tits, don’t you, Bugs?” She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He moaned with a mouth full of her breast, pulling off with a wet suck so he could breathlessly answer ‘yes’ while nodding quickly. She gave him an indulgent smile and he dipped his head back down, dragging his tongue over her other nipple. Her eyes slid closed as she let him taste and tease her, each swipe of that hot tongue sent heat straight down, making her gush. She let him have his fill, until it felt like too much, until her need became too overwhelming. 

She tugged at his hair, until he pulled away from her, his pupils dilated and mouth red. 

“Finish undressing me. You’re making me so wet, I need my good boy’s tongue.” 

He groaned, dragging his hands down her sides as he pressed wet sloppy kisses over her belly and murmured her name. He worked off her pants, pulling them down and off, kissing up along her legs as he returned. He sucked at her thighs, pushing open her legs to suck at the sensitive skin at the creases. He mouthed at her panties, cursing under his breath as he felt her wetness seeping through the thin fabric. She sat on her elbows, worrying her lip with her teeth as she watched him kiss her over her panties, licking a long stripe before he started to remove her underwear. 

As he pulled them down, he kissed over her hips and thighs, pressing small kisses to the neatly trimmed triangle of her pubic hair. He removed her underwear and this time when he spread her legs he looked up at her, waiting for approval. 

“Go on, make me feel good.” She breathed out, anticipation making her blood hot. 

He gently kissed over her cunt, moving down to dip his tongue into her gushing entrance. She shivered, letting out a gasp as he pushed his tongue into her, lapping at her hole. His tongue writhed and curled inside of her, her legs trembling with every soft thrust. He pushed his face flush into her cunt, his stubble scratching pleasantly against her sensitive skin. Eating her out was something he enjoyed and it was a pleasant surprise for her the first time she experienced it. Despite his shyness, he was open to guidance and he was quick to learn. Now he knew how to keep her pleasure going without overstimulating her. It was something he learned over time, something he practiced like an art form. Bringing her pleasure again and again, until she was shivering and dripping down her thighs, soaking Buggy’s face. 

Buggy dragged his tongue upward, kissing the lips of her pussy, kissing over her. He spread her open with his tongue and licked her clit. Alvida moaned aloud, heat curling in her guts with every swipe of his tongue. He moaned in return, tongue working over her, licking her vigorously, pushing her closer and closer as he licked shapes over her clit.  

“Just like that, my good boy’s gonna make me cum.” Alvida panted out, running her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching over his scalp. 

He pushed a finger inside of her, curling, prodding, pushing. She gripped Buggy’s hair harder than she meant to, the mounting pleasure started to overwhelm her. He whined against her cunt, his finger moving faster. He focused on her clit, sucking and licking, soft sounds coming from his throat as if encouraging her to let go. 

A hot burst in her gut, her toes curled, her back arched as her climax crashed into her. Heat surged through her from head to toe, her cunt pulsed with each little electric wave, leaving her moaning out Buggy’s name. He moaned in return as he pushed her through, pulling away from her, leaving her twitching and gushing, wet and messy. He wiped his mouth with his arm, leaving a red smear off to one side of his cheek. He crawled over her and kissed her, pressing his body to hers, his dick hard and leaking. He tucked his face into her neck, softly kissing her, letting her catch her breath. She pet his head, hugging him close. 

“You did such a good job, made me cum so hard.” She praised, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

He shivered, his breath hitching, his hips moving on their own, his hard cock rutting into her hip. “You taste so good, I want you, need you.” 

She held him close, smiling into his the top of his head. He was so cute when he was horny like this. 

“You deserve a treat.”  

He lifted his head, eyes dark but excited. “Please, anything, I want anything you give me.” He kissed along her cheek and up to her ear, his teeth lightly pulling at her earlobe. 

Alvida made him move off of her and had him sit on the bed with his eyes closed while she grabbed her surprise. She and Buggy had…experimented before, fingers and mouths exploring each other’s bodies until they figured out exactly what the other one liked. And that led to her discovering how much Buggy liked anal. She would push her fingers into him and swallow down his cock or finger him open and fill him with a dildo, but tonight, she had something a little different. 

“Go ahead, open your eyes.” 

She stood in front of him with a harness tightly fitted to her body, Buggy’s favorite dildo jutting out from the front. Buggy’s mouth hung open, eyes locked onto the purple toy. She took a step forward and lifted his chin with a few fingers. 

“Does my good boy want me to fuck him?” She asked, smiling softly at him. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, lips parting just enough to hiss a ‘yes.’ She grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening, leaving them both breathless when they pulled away. 

She laid him back on the bed and grabbed the lubricant. He watched her with eager eyes, his hard cock laying heavy on his hip. She tapped on his thighs and he spread them for her, his cheeks pink, mouth parted, panting lightly as he watched her slick up three fingers. One of those slick fingers pushed against his rim, tracing him, circling him, teasing him before she pushed in the tip, watching his face as she sank in a little further. He continued watching her, letting out light breathy moans as she pushed further and further into him, until she reached her knuckles. 

“Look at you, swallowing me. I love to see my good boy so eager for me.” She crooked her finger, finding his prostate with little trouble. He inhaled sharply, the muscles in his abdomen flexing, his cock twitching and leaking as she lightly circled over his prostate. She brought her other hand up to play with his chest, pinching and pulling his nipples as she continued to tease him, her slick finger tapping and circling, her touches becoming firmer, making Buggy into a twitching, moaning mess. 

Watching him fall apart like this was always so satisfying. Slowly teasing him, driving him crazy with her touch, pushing him to point of begging for release with tears in his eyes. It made the end result that much more satisfying. Something about watching him work for it, watching his orgasm build in the little signs from his body, watching him cum, feeling it; all of it was addicting. Her insides squirmed pleasantly watching him like that, heightening her own arousal. 

They were still a little away from that. Soon. But not yet. Alvida pulled out her finger and pushed in with two slick ones, moving slowly. Buggy whined loudly, his hands moving to his chest to play with himself. She slowly pushed into Buggy with two fingers and bent forward to press a kiss to his leaking tip. He swore under his breath, watching with rapt attention as she held his cock and kissed his shaft down to the base then dragged her tongue back up. 

She crooked her fingers again, and wrapped her lips around his slick salty tip, swirling her tongue. 

“Vida!” Buggy cried out, his cock hardening further, weeping, his thighs tensing. He was getting close, but she didn’t want him to cum just yet. She pulled away from him, opting to kiss over his belly as she scissored him open. Buggy let out a strangled moan, his hand going to her head, sliding under her hair to grab a handful near the base of her skull. He nudged her upward and she followed, fingers still deep inside of him. He met her partway, capturing her lips in a kiss, his breathing coming out in heavy puffs, each press of his lips, swipe of his tongue was desperate, needy. He didn’t know what to do with himself, eager to be filled with her cock, but desperate to cum. 

She pulled away, nipping his lip. “You’re being so patient, so good for me. You’re nearly there, just a little more, ok?” 

Buggy nodded and pecked her on the lips again, laying back and taking a deep breath. He really was a sweetheart, she couldn’t wait to make him cum on her cock. She pushed three fingers into him and he tensed at first, resisting for a moment, and then his body opened to her. She squeezed more lube over her fingers and his rim, ensuring that everything was nice and wet. 

“Fuck, Alvida, please I need you to fuck me.” He panted out, his face and chest pink with exertion, clearly holding back. 

Her cunt pulsed, feeling warm and molten. He sounded so pretty when he begged. 

“On your hands and knees, pretty boy.” She pulled her fingers from him, her other hand tapping his thigh to encourage him to move. 

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat and shifted onto his hands and knees with his ass facing her. 

“So good at listening to me. Good boy.” She encouraged as she slicked up her dick and pressed the head of it to Buggy’s hole. 

“I want hear you tell me you want it. You beg so pretty, Bug.” She gripped his hip with one hand and held her dick to his entrance with the other. 

Buggy dropped his head and moaned, his hands balling into fists. “Please, Alvida, I need it. Need your dick. I wanna be a good boy for you, want you to make me cum.” 

Alvida clenched around nothing, feeling wet enough to make the inside of her thighs sticky. He had no idea how sexy he could be. She pushed in, wishing she could feel it. Buggy moaned aloud, his front half dropping down to the bed with every inch she sunk into him, until he was resting on his forearms with his forehead pressed to the bed and her hips were flush with his ass. Slowly she pulled out, pushing back in, spreading him open to watch. 

“Look at that, taking me so well.” She moved at an even pace, gripping his hips. 

Buggy let out a choked moan, his hands curled tightly into the bedsheets, bouncing back slightly to meet her thrusts. 

“My good boy was built to take my dick. You look so good like this, Buggy.” Alvida panted, hips moving faster, harder. 

“Yeah,” he whined loudly, “feels so good.” 

“You deserve it. You’re such a good boy.” She reached under him to stroke his dick. His muscles rippled with tension, his head pressing harder into the bed as he moaned throatily.  

She rubbed her thumb over the weeping tip and started stroking his cock, making a firm ring with her fingers, focusing on his head, dipping down every so often to rub the thick vein on the underside. Buggy grew louder, each short thrust into him bringing him closer. He twisted his head against the sheets, fists clenching tightly, his body shivering, hips bucking, not sure which way to go. She didn’t let up, thrusting faster, jerking him in time with her thrusts. 

He swore continuously, his curses interspersed with whines and moans. “Please, fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, fuck, Alvida, I’m-” 

“Be a good boy and cum for me.” She panted heavily, cutting him off. He froze for a moment and groaned loudly, rolling his hips as he came, cumming hard enough that she could feel his dick twitching in her hand. His whole body shook as he finished, wracked with pleasure, spurt after spurt of semen falling onto the bed. 

Slowly she pulled out of him and guided him to lay on his back, out of the pool of cum. He lay there looking sweaty, pink, and satisfied, a dopey smile on his face. Alvida pressed a kiss to his damp forehead and told him to stay there while she got cleaned up. She removed the strap, wiped herself down, and returned to Buggy with a warm wet towel. Slowly she wiped him down from head to toe, cleaning away his sweat, makeup residue, lube and semen. He sighed in pleasure with every long swipe, his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of being cared for. She kissed his clean forehead when she was done and had him move so she could change the sheets. Begrudgingly he did, clinging onto her back as she took away the dirty sheets and put on new ones. These sheets had seen quite a bit of their sexual escapades. She stopped using fancy new sheet sets since Buggy started coming over. Alvida learned her lesson after the first time together when Buggy came all over her new pink sheet set. 

She tossed the dirty sheets in her hamper and laid down with Buggy. She leaned against the pillows and headboard, letting Buggy lay his head against her shoulder while he laid on his side, his arm and leg slung over her body. He pulled the blankets over them and settled into her. 

“You did a really good job tonight, Buggy.” Alvida murmured, running her fingers through his hair. Buggy smiled into her skin and kissed her shoulder. 

“So did you. We should do it again sometime.” He suggested, tracing shapes over her side with his finger. 

“Yeah? You liked me fucking you?” She teased, unable to resist. He huffed and pushed his face into her skin, trying to hide his blush. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as he nodded. She laughed lightly and held him close.

They lay there, Alvida tracing shapes over Buggy’s back, his full weight sinking into her as he fell asleep. She moved to slip away from Buggy but he pulled her tighter. 

“Can we sleep together tonight?” He whispered. She was planning on carrying Buggy back to his bed, but he looked so sweet, his face innocent, pleading. It was just one night. No harm in just a single night sleeping together. 

She settled back down and wrapped her arms around him. “Sure.” She kissed his lips and he leaned into her, returning the kiss, sinking into it. He breathed a sigh of relief into her cheek, holding her tight in a hug. 

“Good night, Vida.” He murmured, tucking his face into her neck. 

“Good night, Buggy.”  

[citruswriter]

Food For The Soul

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Tcest (you have been warned!), Tcest x Character, The Bale AU, Fluffy Goodness, Polyamory.

Tcestween Prompt: Food

Pairings: Mikey x The Bale

If there was anything that Mikey enjoyed more than eating food it was making food, especially for his loved ones. It was a sort of love language for him. He adored making foods for people that held special places in his heart, keeping them well fed with good, home-cooked food that he made. Scratched the turtle instincts just right.

And that's exactly what he was doing right now. Waking up early and cooking food for his bale. Mikey didn't used to be such an early riser but as years got on he found himself enjoying the quiet of the mornings more and more, his only company being the sizzling of whatever food he was cooking and the soft lofi beats that gently played through his bluetooth speaker.

This morning he was making scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit salad, and fresh morning batches of tea and coffee. The spatula scraped against the pan as he made the large batch of scrambled eggs, throwing in different kinds of cheeses and spices. The bacon sizzled until it was perfect and crispy before he gently dished it up on the paper towel clad plate. Regular and chocolate chip pancakes were made and set on a platter. The sound of his cutting knife on the board as he made the fruit salad filled the air next as he tossed watermelon, strawberries, kiwi, banana, and blackberries together.

Everybody would be waking up soon, time to make beverages. Raph liked green tea with honey, Donnie would want his expensive coffee with french vanilla creamer and whipped cream, Leo would want his caramel latte with double espresso, Casey simply enjoyed cheap black coffee, and April would take a shot of espresso and a glass of orange juice.

Speaking of April... He could hear her pad in with Raph as he made his own oolong tea. "Morning, my loves." Mikey said cheerily and he was rewarded with a soft good morning from April and a kiss from Raph. Mikey handed them their drinks, Raph sipping his tea with an approving hum before he loaded his plate with pancakes and bacon.

Mikey giggled as April downed her espresso shot with a scrunch of her nose before chasing it down with a gulp of orange juice before snagging some scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit. "Thanks so much, baby." She said sleepily, kissing his cheek.

Shuffling could be heard before Leo and Casey were seen, talking softly to each other as they got food and their drinks. "This looks so good." Casey said, digging into his food. "Smells just as good." Leo mumbled, popping some bacon and fruit in his mouth.

"Where's Donnie?" Mikey questioned and Leo looked up and blinked. "Asleep in his lab, I think. He was up pretty late." Leo said and Mikey sighed, making his way up to Donnie's lab to drag the purple banded terrapin down for breakfast.

"Donnie?" Mikey called out, walking into the lab until he found his mate. He could help but chuckle softly as he found his older brother hunched over and asleep on his lap table. Gentle fingers reached up to pry his battle shell off, tracing his sensitive shell and messaging it gently, causing him to stir.

"Morning, dearest." Donnie groaned out and Mikey bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, babes. I made breakfast. Lets get some food and coffee in you." He said softly. Donnie groaned softly and stretched before standing up, allowing Mikey to drag him to the kitchen.

"He lives!" Leo said as Donnie sat at the table, earning a snap from Donnie before he nuzzled into his twin, earning him a kiss. Mikey piled up Donnie's plate before handing his food and coffee to him. "Here you go, baby." Mikey said softly before getting up to get his own food and drink.

As the bale sat around the table, waking up and murmuring softly to each other, Mikey couldn't help but feel his heart warm. Everybody ate and drank, scrapping their plates clean and slurping down the last of their drinks, thanking Mikey before loading their dishes in the dishwasher.

As they walked away with bellies full of good food, Mikey couldn't help but sigh lovingly. What a good morning it was today...

Mikey is such a little chef so I found it only fitting that I would center this prompt around Mikey. Ik it's kind of bad but I still think it's uber cute.

Taglist: @cherrytreatsart @yallshantfindme