#genuinely has me considering taking up smoking cigarettes

[riotbeankai]

I hate credit cards. I hate hate hate hate hate credit cards, credit cards should never be allowed to be used by staff for business purposes, I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it

[sturnsdarling]

You're much better company, tough girl

fratboy!matt has met his match with smartand'mean'!reader, and he can't get enough of her

vibe check: SMUT, mattthemunch, unprotected cuddle time (I'd tell you to wrap it but i'm not your mother) bigdick!matt, choking, spitting, praise, reader strumming the bean, pet names (angel, tough girl), all that good stuff.

4k words

A/N: This concept was born from and is my take on the wonderful, amazing and ridiculously talented @sturnioz fratboy!matt au, and its also my first fic so, be kind.

love and cigs, merc

The autumn air was cold, and the fishnets on your legs weren’t doing you any favours. you’d snuck out the party to escape the weirdo guy that was basically stalking you since you had arrived. You'd hoped to find your friend, but she was somewhere tangled up with one of the resident frat boys, her shy demeanour acting like catnip to the renowned player Chris Sturniolo. You found yourself outside the front of the house, genuinely considering leaving, but knowing your friend would need company once Chris inevitably got bored of her. From around the corner, you heard  a lighter flick and the deep inhale that normally follows, turning and walking down to the side of the house, you saw a shadowy figure being periodically illuminated by the butt of his cigarette. 

"What're you doin’ out here?" you questioned, walking over to Matt who was leant against the side of the house, trying to escape the "new age, shit rap music" Chris put on.

Matt held up the cig in his fingers and gave you a short smile, before placing the cigarette between his lips and taking a long drag, his jawline becoming even more prominent as his cheeks hollowed slightly. 

"Thought you didn't smoke?" you said, arms folded over your chest as the cold air bit at your nearly bare legs. 

"I don't smoke weed, but, I do love my cigs" He held the open box out to you and you pulled one out, placing it between your lips gently. He brandished his silver lighter in front of your face and lit the cigarette, absentmindedly staring at the way the flame illuminated your features. 

"Chris is the stoner, kid fuckin' loves it" He said as he flicked the lighter closed and placed it back in his pocket. 

"Cigarettes still contain drugs, y'know that right?" You smirked, taking a drag and letting the smoke come out with every word. 

"Yes, smart-ass I know that" He quipped back, "everyone needs a vice, you know?" 

You giggled slightly as his philosophy, "a vice? you need something to help you escape the plaguing reality of being a frat bro?”, smiling as you placed the cig between your teeth and took another drag.

“Ugh, don't call me that" he responded, spitting the foul taste out of his mouth onto the floor, "besides..." He paused to take a drag, "If I was a frat bro, which I'm not, I could have a plaguing sense of reality, frat boys have feelings too you know, kid" he smiled, his perfect teeth almost reflecting the light from the street lamps. 

“oh, do tell, what plagues the infamous Matthew Sturniolo" you grinned at him, rolling your eyes in faux sympathy.

"Infamous? ouch.” He held his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. 

Pausing for a moment, he looked at you and then to the floor, shuffling where he leant slightly and shrugging his shoulders, "I dunno, l've always got somthin' going on up there" He gestured to his temple with the cig in his fingers.

“But, 'nough about me, what're you doin' out here?" he asked, desperately trying to change the topic from himself, pointing his cigarette at you in an accusatory

"Came lookin’ for you" you said, blowing the smoke from your pursed lips. 

His eyebrows raised at your confession, "Me?" He questioned. 

"mhm" You nodded, taking another drag. 

“Why?” his brows furrowed as smoke bellowed out his open mouth. 

“I didn’t actually, jus' thought you’d like the flattery” You chuckled, ashing your cigarette.

“wow, okay, how tough are you?” He smirked, standing up from his leant position and throwing his cigarette to the floor, just before stamping it out. 

“Me? tough? never.” You said sarcastically, placing your cigarette back in your mouth. 

Matt came forward slightly and pulled the tiny stick from your lips, placing it between his own and taking a drag whilst maintaining a firm stare. You watched him intently, your big eyes burning holes into his as he placed the cigarette back into your mouth. 

“You didn’t answer my question, kid” he said, his tone faltering as he blew the smoke from his mouth.

a long huff left your mouth as you rolled your eyes, “I needed to escape this guy, he was fuckin’ relentless and I was not into it”. 

Matt paused for a moment, still baring down into you, “yeah?” half of his teeth coming onto display as a smirk encapsulated his face, “what are you into?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly so he was even closer to you, his breath nearly touching the cold apples of your cheeks. 

As he was speaking you took a long drag, and in response to his clear attempt to rile you up, you blew the smoke into his face with pursed lips and a smile. Matt blinked slowly with raised brows at your bravery, letting the wind carry the smoke from his face. 

“What do you think i’m into, Matthew?” you asked, matching his earlier cadence. 

“I think, you act all tough, but really, you want someone to tell you to sit down, shut up, and to take it like the pretty, pretty girl you are” he said, so non-challant you’d think he was explaining that the sky is blue. 

Your breath hitched in your chest, and your eyes fluttered slightly, not quite fully closing. 

A cheshire cat smile formed on Matts face, he knew exactly what type of girl you were from the moment he laid eyes on you on the first day of the semester. 

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked in a condescending tone, pulling your confidence back, trying to ignore the growing sensation in your stomach. 

Matt simply nodded in response, tucking a messy strand of hair behind your ear and letting his fingers trail down past your neck and over your bare arms. At some point during your back and forth, Matt had edged his face impossibly close to yours, he hooked a finger under your chin and pulled your head up to face him, 

“I think you’re beautiful, tough girl” he whispered, almost into your mouth as it parted with his words. 

With that, you threw your cigarette to the floor and thrust your lips into his, the force pushing him backwards to into the wall he was leant on only moments ago. His hands found your waist, pulling you in tight against him as yours pulled and tugged at the loose brown curls on the back of his head. The kiss was feverish, animalistic and messy, you were positioned snug between his legs as one of his hands found its way to the covered flesh of your ass, he squeezed it with a low growl and slapped it quickly after, rubbing the sting away with a soft hand. The sensation caused you to whimper into his mouth, jolting against him as his hand smacked your ass. He chuckled into the kiss, his hands roaming all the way up your back and into your hair. He pulled you off him with a firm hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you make noises like that” he dipped his head down, capturing your neck in his teeth and soothing the sting with a flat, warm tongue. 

“Matt” you whispered, your head hanging on your shoulders, resting in Matts large palm. “What’s up, angel?” he murmured from the curve where your neck and shoulders meet.

“I’m not—shit— I’m not gonna fuck you round the side of your house” You manage to get out, slightly distracted by the sensation of Matt nipping at sucking at your neck. 

“Let’s go inside then” You even mentioning fucking him was enough permission to take your hand and drag you inside. 

The music boomed against your skull as he pulled you through the party with your hand in his, both of you ignoring everyone that tried to spark up some kind of drunken conversation. He led you up the large staircase in the centre of the main room, his focus on your destination only faltering to glance at Chris who, had your best friend tucked under his arm on the sofa, the pair exchanged a knowing look and Chris shot Matt a wink, quickly returning his attentions to the shy girl perched next to him. As you and Matt reached the top of the staircase, he turned, pulling you into him for the second time that night for a desperate kiss. This time, he leant down, taking the backs of your thighs in his hands with a tap that you knew meant ‘jump’. You obliged and within moments, you were being thrust into his dimly lit bedroom. He kicked the door closed with his foot, never breaking the kiss, and walked the two of you over to his bed, placing you down somewhat gently onto the brown satin sheets. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” he said breathlessly, breaking the kiss to tear off his red sweatshirt. 

“I think you mentioned it once or twice” You replied, desperately clawing at the back of his neck to pull him back into you, your legs loose around his waist. 

“Such a smart-ass” he groaned, his hand suddenly gripping your throat as he pushed you back down onto his sheets, squeezing the sides of your neck. 

You moaned at the sensation, brows furrowing as your hips involuntarily bucked upwards. Matt chucked at your responsiveness, his hand trailing down your chest to toy with the hem of your top. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, softly. 

“mhm” you nodded, desperately. 

“Words, angel, I need words” he halted his movements, his voice stern. 

“Yes, Matt, take it off, please”  The pleading in your tone evident, despite your attempt to be moody. 

“Begging already? I knew I’d like you” with that he pulled your top over your head and left you exposed in your lacy black bra, your hard nipples perking through the sheer fabric. 

“Fuck” Matt uttered under his breath, his large hands roaming around your nearly bare torso. 

He couldn’t help himself, he leant down, pulling the thin fabric from your tit and wrapped his mouth around your hardened nipple, grinding down onto your core as he did, chasing the friction. Your head rolled back at the feeling, and as if on instinct, your hips rolled against his. Matt trailed his kisses down your stomach, each one igniting a hot fire all over your skin. He hooked his fingers round the hem of your skirt, still trailing hot, wet kisses down your heaving torso. He looked up at you, being met with your pleading eyes staring down at him.

“Can I?” he tugged slightly at your skirt. 

“yes, please” you nodded frantically, lifting your hips up to aid him in removing the fabric that separated his mouth from your aching cunt. 

“Such a fast learner, such a good girl” he smiled as he pulled your skirt down over your knees, leaving you in nothing but your bra, fishnets and thin black panties. 

“Jesus christ” he said as he perched on his knees by the edge of the bed, “these are staying on” he said, caressing your legs with firm hands. 

He edged his hands further down towards your core, spreading your thighs apart for him as he lowered himself down, hooking your legs over his shoulders. As his hands reached where you ached for him the most, he pressed firm fingers across your pussy, rubbing upwards and finishing his movement with a short circle of both of his thumbs over your throbbing clit. With one quick motion, he ripped a hole in your fishnets, exposing your dripping cunt to him as your wetness seeped through the thin fabric of your thong. His eyes might as well have sparkled at the sight, 

“Look at that, tough girl, you’re all wet over me taking charge” he said, taking a finger and swiping it up the wetness that had collected  at the entrance to your pussy. 

You whimpered, bucking your hips once again at the stimulation, whining slightly in attempts to coax him into touching you properly. 

“I need to taste you, angel, can I?” he asked, like a boy begging to stay up to see Santa on christmas morning. 

“Yes, Matt, please, fuckin' hurry up already” you whine, desperate and aching for any sense of relief from this agonising feeling. 

He didn’t need any more permission, with a low hum (more like a fucking growl), he pulled your soaked panties to the side with vigour and latched his mouth around your clit. Your back arched off the bed immediately, his tongue sending sweet euphoria up your spine as it toyed with your sensitive bud. The moan that escaped you was pornographic, and it only egged him on further. He slipped his tongue into your entrance, lapping at the juices that seeped from your hole as his thumb found your clit, moving in slow circles over the sensitive bud. He moaned into your pussy, as if he was getting off on eating you out, the vibrations from his groaning only adding to the knot growing in your stomach. Your hands found his hair, tugging at the messy brown curls that covered his beautiful face as he devoured you. 

“Fuck, Matt, that feels so fucking good” you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he moved once more to suck on your clit. 

His fingers swirled and prodded at your slick entrance, your walls nearly sucking him in as they clenched around nothing. He took your incessant moans as invitation to insert two long fingers all the way inside of you, curling up into that perfect gummy spot as he did. Your thighs clenched around his head, tensing and shaking as he brought you to the edge. He raised himself up slightly, pushing your legs apart with his forearms and pinning you down under his weight, his fingers relentlessly curling into you as he sucked and lapped at your clit, desperate to make you come undone all over his mouth. You tugged at his curls once more, earning a deep groan from him that vibrated around your clit and, that feeling, coupled with the warm pressure of his body weight on your thighs and his intense, animalistic eye contact, sent you over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you, your whole body shaking as you moaned his name over and over again, bucking your hips up into his face as he continued his pace, mercilessly lapping at your sopping pussy. You started to tether on the edge of overstimulation just as he pulled his mouth from you, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. You stared down at him with fluttery eyes, your fingers caressing his scalp as he helped you ride out your orgasm with a tender smile and tiny bites down the inside of your thigh. 

He pulled his fingers from you and got to his feet, the bed shifted under his weight as he brought himself up to hover over you. 

He traced the outline of your plump lips with the tip of his finger, asking for invitation. You obliged and opened your mouth, exposing a flat tongue to him. 

“Taste how sweet you are, angel. fuckin’ delicious” He said, placing his fingers on your tongue before edging them down your throat, watching intently as you gagged around them. 

He chuckled slightly at your submissiveness, pulling his fingers from your throat and trailing them down your chin. He placed a firm palm on the front of your neck and pulled you into a kiss, his face still wet from your cum. You whimpered into the kiss, frantic hands moving down in between you in attempts to unbutton his jeans. He smiled into the kiss and squeezed the sides of your throat with his fingers, bucking his hips into your hands as they freed him of the confines of the thick denim. He assisted you in pushing his jeans down his legs, not once breaking the kiss as he expertly shuffled them off and kicked them across the room. He crawled back on top of you and pushed you further up the bed, with one hand on the back of your thigh and the other round your neck, he hooked your leg over his waist and began to grind down into your sensitive core, the fabric of his black boxers giving just the right amount of friction between you. 

“Matt, I need you inside of me, now.” you whine, the demand sending shivers up Matts spine as he locked eyes with you. 

“What’s the magic word, pretty girl” He smirked, you rolled your eyes in response and brought your other leg to hook around his waist, your feet locking him in. 

“Please, matt” you reluctantly (you loved it) begged. 

“So good for me, angel” he smiled as your hands snaked their way into his boxers, palming his hard cock. 

Your eyes widened slightly at the size and he noticed, a sense of pride washing over him, “Bigger than you thought it would be?” he smirked.

 A wave of nervousness overcame you but you pushed it down, biting your lip and tightening your grip on his throbbing member, “I always knew you’d be huge, the quiet ones always are” you said, pumping him slowly. 

He couldn’t help but rut into your hand, his head falling into the curve of your neck as he palmed your tit, pinching at your hard nipple whilst his other hand left bruises on your thigh. Small whispers left his mouth and fell onto your skin, his warm breath only turning you on even more. You pushed his boxers down completely and he kicked them off, looking down at where you were attempting to line him up with your weeping entrance. 

“So needy, huh? tough girl? lemme help you angel” He pressed his tip against your folds and aided you in guiding himself into your slick walls. 

The feeling of him stretching you out made your back arch off the bed, your hands flying to the sheets for some sort of leverage. He chuckled slightly, slowly thrusting his leaking tip in and out of you, letting you adjust to his size inch by inch as he trailed soft kisses down your jaw and neck, biting every so often only to sooth the sting with his warm tongue. 

The feeling was euphoric, he was somehow keeping you between feeling completely satisfied and overstimulated all at once. 

“fuck, angel” he drew out, “y'so fuckin’ tight and m'not even half way in— Jesus christ- y'gonna be the death of me” he grunted, capturing your open mouth in a wet and tender kiss, his tongue pressed against yours as he thrusted into you completely, bottoming out. 

You both moan at the feeling, your legs tensed around his waist and your arms found home draped over his shoulders, hands tangled in his hair. 

He pulled out of you almost entirely, still kissing you mercilessly before thrusting into you again, this time with a lot more force. You moaned into his mouth, tugging at his hair to counter the sting of your pussy, blissfully stretched out around him and aching for him to move faster. 

Matt broke the kiss, taking your jaw in his hand and squeezing your mouth open, he gathered a ball of spit in his mouth and lowered it towards yours. You caught it on your tongue and swallowed it with a smile as he watched in awe.

“You’re perfect” he uttered, leaning down to kiss your squished lips before releasing your jaw and earning another smile from you. 

With that, he set a relentless pace, fucking you into the bed with each hard thrust. You moaned out his name, pulling him in impossibly close to you with both your grip round his waist and your hands in his hair. His head fell next to yours, hot breath panting in your ear as he moaned and whimpered at the feeling of your slick walls clenching around him. 

“Fuck matt, you're so big, stretching me out s’much, oh my fucking god” you trail off, your words bouncing with every merciless thrust. 

“Take it angel, fuckin’ take it, I know you can” he panted into your ear, sucking on the lobe. 

He slowed his pace but fucked you harder, each thrust inciting a pornographic moan from your lips. 

“you sound s'good when you moan, so fuckin’ sexy” he groaned, pounding into you harder just to earn those beautiful whimpers from you. 

His tip formed a bulge in your lower stomach, poking out of you over and over again as he hit your g-spot, bringing you closer to the edge for the second time that night. You brought a hand up to his mouth, silently asking for permission to collect some spit from the pad of his tongue, he obliged, biting your fingers slightly before you pulled them from his mouth and placed them down between the two of you, rubbing fast circles over your clit. The stimulation made your walls clench around him, milking his painfully hard cock. 

“Fuck, oh my, fuck, keep doing that, pretty girl, keep touching yourself for me” his command comes out in a near whimper. 

“Matt, m'gonna— “ before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your thighs shaking around his waist as white hot tingles covered your entire body, you clenched your eyes shut and all you could see was stars as you came all over his dick. 

“You’re clenching me so hard right now angel, y'gonna make me cum, look at me pretty girl, please, let me see those pretty eyes” Matt rambled as his high was rapidly approaching, his pace quickening as his movements became sloppy, 

“cum inside me, please matt, I need it” you cried out, still reeling in the after shock of your crippling orgasm. 

With your pleading, he realised strings of warm cum inside you, coating your walls as he fucked his seed into you, riding out his orgasm, shaking and trying desperately not to buckle completely on top of you. 

He thrusted in and out a few more times before reluctantly pulling out, the cold air hitting his softening cock as he fell down next to you, immediately bringing you into his side and pulling at your limbs so you were lazily draped over him. 

You laid there, panting in each others arms, both trying to catch your breath as the sound of the party suddenly became more prominent from the other side of his bedroom door. “You” he said, still catching his breath, “are incredible.” He turned his head to look down at you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Matthew” you smiled, bringing your finger to trace along his pink bottom lip. 

He watched as you admired the plump skin for a moment and with a smile, he bit the tip of your finger. You giggled and pulled your hand from his mouth, resting it on his now steady chest. 

“Can I see you again?” he asked, captivated by the way your face lights up when you laugh. 

“If you actually start coming to classes, you’ll see me all the time” you taunted him.

“Oh, I’m gonna have the best fuckin’ attendance in this whole college” he responded, pulling you fully on top of him. 

You squealed at the sudden movement and shifted to straddle his lap. You sat up, looking down at him as he tugged and needed at the flesh around your hips. 

“They’re all probably wondering where you are” you said, referring to the hoard of people in his home. 

“Fuck ‘em, they’re all losers anyway” he leant up closer to you, a sneaky hand came and wrapped itself around your neck, pulling you desperately close to his face.

“You’re much better company, tough girl” he whispered through a smile before capturing your mouth in a tender yet rough kiss.

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out 💡 but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr 😓

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[timmydraker]

Bruce had never been to The Eclipse before.

The club was similar to that of a gentleman’s club from the starting years of America, filled with dozens of tables all curved and ready for a game or feast. The three floors of the place each had a game room, a bar and a section for private rooms for the more seedy type of talks to be had.

It was one of the few non-criminal funded place in Gotham that was still rich. Deals definitely went down, but it was more fitting for gossip that anything else.

Often people went there for catch ups in a refined setting.

Bruce was there for a catch up, or more accurately, a reuniting with his son.

Tim had sent Bruce a time, date and location and said he was only going to meet with him and no one else. Considering Bruce hadn’t seen his beloved son in nearly four years, including his time in the time stream, he accepted without argument.

Tim said he would look different but that if Bruce was as good of a detective as he says, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bruce had no idea what his son meant until a woman let him inside and told him that ‘Drake had asked you to find him yourself’ with a confused bend in her eyebrows.

It took him a little longer than he’d be happy to admit, although still less than forty seconds, to find his son.

Or maybe that was the wrong word now, if the regal young woman staring at her drink was anything to go by.

Like something out of a vintage movie, the woman had curled black hair and dark red lipsticks. Her dark eyeshadow matched her sweetheart collar dress, black with thick straps and tight enough that each breath was visible.

The gloves on her hand were long and black, one putting a stark contrast to the pink coloured cigarette lit in her hand.

Everything about her screamed old money.

Bruce only knew it was Tim because of the sweet blue eyes and shape of his jaw, though there was also some kind of… paternal instinct in play.

Tim only looked up when he put a hand on the rounded couch, Jim’s tearing nervously down at his distinguished looking child.

It was when she smiled, a real thing that was just highlighted by her dark red lips, that Bruce knew he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hi Bruce.”

A lighter voice, not soft so much as smooth, and nothing like the more monotone sound he was used to.

“Ti-… hi.”

She smiles and gestures for him to sit before taking a final drag of her smoke and putting it out.

Bruce stares at for just a second before looking at his child. Despite the shock of the obvious changes, he notices something far more important, “You look healthy.”

Well fed, clean, nourished.

Like she’s gotten sleep.

“I am. I’ve done a lot of work on myself and it’s paid off.”

Bruce smiles, genuine and almost a little painful, “I can see that. What… what do I call you?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Jackson Drake.”

“A beautiful name.”

Charlotte smiles before a serious look comes over her face, “Bruce. I haven’t just changed my lifestyle and body, I’ve changed how I look at the world and I’ve come to understand a lot more in my life now.”

Never has Bruce been so attentive, ears feeling on fire as he does his best to focus on every word spoken to him.

“The main thing I’ve come to understand is you.”

Bruce doesn’t move, scared to make his daughter stop talking to him and so he just does his best to show he’s listening.

Charlotte continues, “I get why you brought all of us in. It wasn’t just to protect us from the world, but from ourselves. I can see now that you are only crazy because you’ve been given the impossible challenge of being a necessity in Gotham and the worlds survival and sanity. It doesn’t change that you’ve made mistakes and fucked up, but I get why now. You didn’t want us to apart of Batman, but we forced you, me most of all.”

Bruce is more than stunned by the honesty and understanding in Charlotte’s words, but the fact that he himself only figured that out after loosing Jason.

She smiles at him like she could read his mind, “It took me a long time and I still have anger towards you, yet I want you in my life all the same.”

A gloved hand comes to hold onto his own, delicate and gentle in a way that reminds him of his mother all those years ago.

Charlottes smiles is far too sad to be hers though, “I’m not the boy you once knew, not just because of the woman I want to be now. I don’t want to help you, to save you and parent you, I want to know you. As my father. If-if you’ll allow it?”

Bruce has cried in public before, several times in fact, but normally it’s to play up his over emotional persona.

This time it’s pure relief.

“Of course. Anything you want, at any pace you want, I- what ever you need.”

Charlotte smiles and squeezes his hand, “Thank you.”

Bruce eventually huffs a laugh and wipes his eyes, “god, you really are good at catching me off guard.”

She laughs, a honey like noise that makes him realises he’s never heard Tim smile and that maybe his daughter could only do that once she be same ‘her’.

The two order drinks and Bruce is given the tale of how Charlotte came to be, of how sometimes she misses being Tim but never wants to go back. He learns that she chose her name based on what she would ah e been if she was born a girl so she wouldn’t feel like she was betraying her parents.

Bruce learns that she is still a hero, operating as Red Robin, but that she focuses on prolonged crimes like trafficking rings and makes sure to take them down in on go instead of busting a few and giving the rest a chance to escape.

He’s not so happy to hear that she isn’t ready to talk to the others and that she only really talks to Cass and Duke as both of them have always been on her side and are truely her siblings.

Yet he respects it, if only to keep her close and show her the love he failed to give.

Respecting his daughter’s privacy, he doesn’t tell his other kids anything about what happened and acts ignorant when there’s a few articles about the mysterious Charlotte Drake and her distant relation to the private Tim Drake.

He meets with his little girl, his Lottie, once a week at The Eclipse and talks with her about their businesses both in the literal sense and more broadly.

He meets Bernard and can’t quite see what it is about the strange boy that makes his daughter so happy, but all he needs is to see her big smile and know it doesn’t matter.

That and the several background checks he did.

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Just want to remind everyone that according to the EC the first time Neil is reduced to full on barely consolable tears and sobs in front of Andrew will be when he gets the phone call saying that Coach Wymack dies.

That's how much Dadmack means to Neil.

When Bee has a health scare, Andrew rushes to her side and los3s his shit at her to take care of her health.

From the EC

DOES NEIL EVER CRY?

Q: Does Neil ever cry? Be it alone or in front of Andrew or possibly Wymack?

A: If you mean for a reason other than the torture Lola & Riko put him through, then yes:

He cries when they get the call: he’s gone, he’s gone, Coach is gone

It’s almost safer to say “ten times out of ten”. Comfort isn’t in Andrew’s vocabulary and as far as he’s considered it’s a waste of time and energy. He’s more likely to walk away or tell Neil to get over it or look right past whatever existential/psychological crisis Neil is having. Neil’s grumpiness after a loss are brushed aside unimportant, and his aggravation over uncooperative teammates is nothing to pity him for.

But once in a long while Neil will hit a ledge he has to be pulled back from, and that’s what Andrew does. Like in Baltimore, when Neil is trying to say Do you want me to go, and Andrew catches hold and tells him Stay. This is how Andrew comforts: by being a stabilizing force, an anchor to keep Neil at home, a place to rest his weight and his secrets. Honestly, that’s what Neil needs.

But if you would really like a moment of genuine “comfort”, Andrew-style, then it would be the day Neil gets the call that Wymack is dead. It is the first time Andrew sees Neil cry, and he does not know what to do with this heartbroken grief. So he sits with Neil instead, back-to-back, with a cigarette burning in his hand ((because he has lived with Neil’s cigarette-smoke obsession for far too many years)). He says nothing, but he is a weight and a presence to keep Neil upright.

Bee also has the dubious honor of being the only person Andrew ever yells at.

The year after the events of The Raven King she has what looks like a heart attack at Reddin. Doctors have to give her stints to open up the blockages in her arteries, and Andrew spends the day sitting silent and still at her bedside. This isn’t something he can fight off for her; this isn’t something he can protect her from. It’s a lesson in helplessness he wasn’t expecting and never wanted. When Bee wakes up from the procedure and Neil asks her how she’s doing she dopily says she is fine. Mistake.

“You are not fine and this is not fine and if you ever eat another fucking piece of chocolate again so long as you live I will fucking kill you.”

Needless to say he ransacks both her office and her home and confiscates every scrap of junk food he can get his hands on. He also enlists Abby to write out a food and exercise regimen for Bee. Andrew accompanies Bee to the gym now and then, and he lets her sign him up for a 5K fun run with her."

Mama Bee and Andrew

Dadmack and Neil

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Olly Wang for the First Time: Influence

G/N. Sort of soft. I did it anon!! Masterlists

In hindsight you could have been considered a bad influence except you felt bad for him. You like to think that you showed Olly Wang there was more to life than studying, there are some things that can't be taught through textbooks.

You taught him how to live, you gave him room to breathe.

But sometimes, when the nights are too silent and your brain is too loud, when you miss him so much it hurts, you would think that it was all your fault. You set him on this path.

It's stupid, of course. Your minor risk-taking and vices are nothing compared to what has happened since.

Still, it eats away at you.

.

.

It's entirely by chance that you meet.

You're not particularly studious, but empty pockets and a meagre allowance accompanied with bad weather means your options are limited.

In the library, tucked away in the corner is a boy.

Trying his best to read and study yet annoying teenagers continue to heckle him. Throwing balled up pieces of paper and calling out derisive comments.

"Fuck off," you snap, feeling kind hearted today and storming over. You drag one of them away by the hair.

"Hey! Get off-" He tries to wiggle out of your grasp.

"Leave him alone, assholes," you snarl, shoving him away.

The commotion is finally enough to draw the attention of the staff.

The teens are shooed out, throwing angry daggers your way.

"You're welcome by the way," You tell the boy in the corner and you think he mutters something about being able to take them on himself.

Narrowing your eyes, you yank his ear, "What did you just say?"

When he doesn't react, you let go. Huh?

He doesn't feel pain, he tells you, or to be honest, anything. And then when you continue glaring at him thinking that that's bullshit, he introduces himself as Olly Wang.

.

.

The first time he ditches class, as a middle-schooler, is with you. Just two kids wandering the streets of Gangdong. You, used to skipping the occasional days and class, and embracing freedom, while Olly fidgets next you.

His mouth, usually stretched too wide in a grin, is pulled down at the corners. Tense eyes behind glasses anxiously flickers from side to side.

"You think your parents are going to catch you?" You tease, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"No." Olly doesn't sound convinced and you sigh.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Me?" he asks, blinking owlishly as if that's the first time someone has ever asked him that question.

You shrug off his weird response. "We can go the park. Shopping. Not that I have any money. Arcade-"

"Arcade!" he pipes up, then cowering and furtively glancing around him in case his parents are actually around.

Nevertheless, he spends hours and hours by your side; fighting each other, killing zombies, and racing cars. The sound of 8-bit music and bright flashing lights soon drown out his fears.

That day, Olly smiles genuinely along with you.

.

.

You first hear about Eli Jang a few weeks later.

Apparently he's fallen in with a new group of friends and this guy is the coolest person he has ever seen.

He's an orphan, he does whatever he want.

"Ok," you deadpan to each fact about this Eli Jang, growing more bored by the second.

Olly, oblivious to your reaction, continues fawning over him.

.

.

"Here, try it,"

You only offered the cigarette to stop him talking about Eli Jang. You've lost count of the times you've rolled your eyes.

Olly pauses, torn between wanting to impress you and not wanting to inhale the nasty smoke.

He gives in when he sees the playful glint in your eyes. His finger brushes yours as you pass it to him, and he places his lips where yours were just mere seconds ago.

"ACK!"

You giggle to yourself watching Olly hacking and sputtering.

You reach out to ruffle his hair once he calms and he peeks at you feeling his throat and cheeks burn.

.

.

"Why do you want to be like Eli?" you side-eye Olly, interrupting his ranting.

"I-" Olly starts, and then finds he can't say the words in your presence. He thinks Eli is the only one that makes him feel something but-

Deep down, when he's with you, he's not sure that's entirely true.

You misread his pause for something else.

You shrug, "I like you as you are."

.

.

"Want some?" you ask, shaking the bottle of soju at him.

Olly bites his lip, "Eli wouldn't-"

"Ugh!" You cut in rudely. "I've never met the guy and I feel like I know everything about him. Will you shut up about Eli?"

"But Eli-"

"I said shut up," you pull him by his stupid collar and yank his stupid lips to yours.

You consider blaming your actions on the alcohol even though you've barely taken a sip.

Olly stares at you, dazed, but there's a fire in his eyes.

"Ok." He agrees, then adds as he adjusts his glasses. "Only if you'll do that again."

You raise your eyebrows at his audacity. At this strange boy who was tucked away in the corner of the library.

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything?"

Olly gives you a grin, different from his trademark open-mouthed one. It's almost a smirk. His gaze meets yours, determined and unwavering.

"I think I might have felt something then."

You lean in, at the same time as he does, meeting him halfway and kissing him again.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debts.

prompts. | Ari Levinson + Mob Boss + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” (credits to @celestianstars for inspiring this prompt) + Innocence, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, mob stuff, age gap, abuse of power, power imbalance, pet names, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking (ari), drinking (ari), debts, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

The weight of the debt sits heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. You find it hard to breathe as one of Ari’s associates leads you to the leader’s office. You note that the man doesn’t keep a hand on his gun as usual. You clearly aren’t a threat—what could a little thing like you do to the big, bad mob boss?

Ari welcomes you in and ushers you to sit wherever you’d like, and you relieve your shaky legs when you sit in front of his oak desk.

“Do you need anything to eat or drink? I can make some coffee or tea,” he offers. “N– no, thank you, sir,” you nearly whisper, scared and, therefore, quiet. Ari gives you a smile as he rubs his beard, flashing the tattoos, scars, and rings that decorate his hand.

“Shy, aren’t ya? Don’t worry. I don’t bite unless you ask me to,” he chuckles, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. You can spy smoke swirling from an ashtray, a cigarette freshly put out sitting inside. 

“So, what did you need to talk about?” Ari starts for you, and for a second, you forget why you’ve come here. The debt. A few beats of silence pass as you try to formulate your thoughts, and Ari watches you intently the entire time.  “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he eventually adds. 

“S– Sir, I never knew my family owed you money,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “Of course you wouldn’t, baby. That was many years ago, and I doubt an innocent thing like you knows what goes on around here,” he grins.

“Yes, well, I was hoping I could have some more time to pay it off. I don’t make much at my job, but I promise I’ll get you your money back,” you explain, hands flying out of nerves. Ari hums as if considering your offer. 

“The interest is a bit much, but I can handle it. Please, I just need some more time,” you plead, and you wonder if you’ve spoken too much. Or perhaps your request is too outlandish. Either way, you worry that you’re doomed. 

There is more silence and then a deep sigh from the burly man before you.

“You make a good case for yourself, pumpkin,” he tells you. You look at him, raising your gaze from your lap, where your thumbs twiddle. “But now that I think about it, I really don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own, anyway,” Ari snickers.

You force a smile. He mirrors it, but the mob boss’s seems genuine.

“I– I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand,” you admit to him sheepishly. Ari coos at you. “That’s alright, bunny. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay the loan back,” he says, and you’re filled with elation.

You could nearly jump for joy, but you know you should restrain yourself in front of the city’s most dangerous man. Instead, you settle for grinning until your cheeks hurt and giggling. “Oh, my. Thank you so much, sir! That means the world to me—you don’t understand,” you cheer.

Ari chuckles at your happiness before the smile on his face fades. “But that doesn’t mean you can just walk away freely, baby,” he tells you, and you can feel your bubble bursting. “Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be anything bad. In fact, you’ll probably end up loving it as much as me,” Ari continues, and he stands up.

He walks towards you and kneels in front of you. “You’ll be my perfect little plaything for the rest of the year. No ifs, ands, or buts. Unless you want me to add to your debts… Increase your interest?” Ari threatens, and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Good girl,” the older man coos. “I’ve been dying to have you on my arm, angel.” 

[luveline]

hey babe, i was wondering if you’d write something with grumpy!sirius platonic or romantic (your choice) where the readers normally sunshine and all happy but everyone forgot her birthday so he does everything he can to cheer her up

not projecting at all 🤭

if you don’t want to that’s so okay i understand diolch cariad 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi, thank you for your request! I hope you can make the very best of your day, anon, I’m sorry the people close to you forgot it :( please have a happy birthday! grumpy!sirius x sunshine fem!reader

Sirius is guilty of pretending you irk him. You're always smiling, always complimenting him, and always touching him. He knows you wouldn't touch him if he asked you not to —you checked with him a couple of times when you first met if it was okay, and he said, Yeah, it's okay, with no further explanation or objection. 

He pretends your sunny disposition doesn't make him happy, too, but it does. It's selfish, then, when he notices you aren't feeling good today and decides he has to correct it immediately, lest the ray of sunshine that is your presence diminish. 

He sits down beside you on the bench, propping his face in his hand, elbow on his knee, a picture of nonchalance. "Hey." 

"Hi, Siri." 

He takes his pack of Lamberts from his jacket pocket and offers you one. You never take one, but he offers anyway. He doesn't want you to start smoking, he just figures that it's a nice gesture. 

He puts them away without lighting any when you say no. 

"Don't not have one on my account," you say. 

It's exactly why you deserve to have someone checking on you, no matter how cold it is, and no matter how much fun everyone's having at the bar. You put everyone else first.

"I didn't want any." He was trying to cheer you up. He should've known a cigarette wouldn't do it. Best go in with guns blazing. 

Sirius rifles through the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out the white box inside. He hadn't wrapped it. There's a confidence that comes with sincerity, and it's the kind of confidence he lacks. He's embarrassed enough to have bought you something in the first place. 

"Happy birthday," he says. "Don't tell me if you don't like it, please." 

You sit up a little straighter, inch by inch, accepting the small box into your hands. They wrap around the lid, your fingers moving with a deliberate gentleness, until your thumbs clamp over the top of it hard enough to make the lid bend. You smile at him, and it is perhaps the most heartbreaking smile he's ever seen. Disappointment and gratefulness all wrapped into one. 

"I didn't think anyone remembered," you say. Your voice is hoarse, and you cough rather than let it crack. 

He thought maybe you'd been upset because it was your birthday —Sirius himself has a weird relationship with his. He hadn't considered that no one else thought to celebrate with you. And despite his general unhappiness, his permanent headache and all the constraints of being as introverted as he is, Sirius sort of snaps.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, his elbow resting against your back, and pulls you toward him. "I'm so sorry." 

You're clearly surprised by his touch, but you don't shy away. "No, it's okay. I realise that it's my fault, you know, we're all adults and I should've mentioned it again, I can't expect people to know if I don't say." 

"I think…" He licks his lips. "Okay, I think that people genuinely do forget things, but it's a special day, and you expected special things. I really don't see how it's your fault." 

"Maybe not," you concede. You sniffle, and Sirius is horrified to realise you've a tear traversing down the soft slope of your cheek. "I don't know, I just wish people remembered." 

"I'm sorry," he says again. 

You wipe your cheek with a cruel hand. He can't stop himself from taking it, wanting to prevent any further self-meanness. Your eyes widen as you look him in the face, tears dewy at the waterline. 

"But you remembered," you say, tone happy even while thick with tears. 

"I wrote it down," he confesses. "I wanted to get it right." 

"That's so nice," you say, another tear cresting your cheek. You wrap your arms around his waist and tuck your cheek against his in a hug. "That's really thoughtful, Siri. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. You… make so much time for me. Whenever you see me. I don't know if you know how much you affect people, you can make anybody smile. I wanted to make sure I could do the same, even if it's only once." 

"You make me smile all the time." You squeeze him and then pull away, wiping your cheeks and straightening your jacket. 

He'd usually roll his eyes, but not right now. He just smiles at you, hoping you understand it for all the silent appreciation that it is. 

You huff a little breath in and drop your gaze to your hands in your lap, where you're untying the bow that's been wrapped around the jewellery box. You lift the lid, the sides emitting a shushing sound near enough lost to the sound of the street and the people laughing in the pub behind you. 

It's a bracelet. The beads are simple but not something you'd see everyday, silver backed hearts, flat on the silver side and a milky white that seems to glow on the bevelled fronts. There's four hearts, connected to smaller milky white beads. 

He was terrified buying it and he's scared now. 

"I really like you," he says. "I'm sorry about your birthday. You deserve a lot more." 

Your cheeks apple as you turn to him, your eyelashes kissing with the force of your smile. You pull your knees to touch his and offer him the bracelet on two fingers. "Can you hook it on, please?" 

"You don't have to wear it," he says, because he didn't think this far. 

"I want to wear it, please. It's beautiful. It's the nicest gift anyone's ever given me." 

He blinks hard and dips his head slightly to one side as he murmurs, "If you're sure," hands coming up to take the bracelet from you. 

You're both quiet as he unlatches it and lays it across your wrist. He's gentle to the point of aching, and he's putting every bit of effort that he can to stop his hands from trembling, he's so nervous.

"There," he says. "Anything else you need?" 

It's meant to be sarcastic, as if to say, you're working me like a dog, here. 

You shake your head hurriedly. "Nothing else. Thank you, Sirius." 

He takes his cigarettes out, knowing he won't be able to calm down, not when you're looking at him like he just hung the moon. "It's okay," he says, putting a cigarette between his lips. "Don't mention it. Please, don't." 

[lizaluvsthis]

Do you have anyidea of a fic for marware instead of art? I am genuinely asking since theres not much fluffy fics for them both

...

There is one- Tho it does feel a bit embarrassing to show but I guess- it's time.

This fic idea I have on mind is a bit complicated per say when it comes to "understanding your enemy" type of thing.

But then again I don't have the motivation to write a fic for them but just a silly idea-

☆★☆★

Title- ~Strawberries and Cigarettes~

(A song inspired by Troye Sivan)

This is a kind of story where Mario has a 'crush' on PV because- (he's a tv- and we all know how Mario acted when he's with his beloved tv-)

So wherever the tall man goes, Mario is there to follow him around. Tho this did bother PuzzleVision. He tried many times by ignoring/pushing/shoving Mario away.

But instead of him backing away, he gets even closer to him.

Pv didnt understand at first to why Mario kept following him until- he decided to ask the fat italian himself. Mario responded with a shout saying "go out on a date with me!" Pv gives him strange looks as to why Mario is asking him out on a date.

Yet he didn't understand the man so much that he thought it was a joke, thought it was an act played for a film. Mario got a bit angry and told him it wasnt an act- and that he's telling the truth of taking him out.

Pv did try to tell Mario that he wasnt interested to his 'kind of liking' since they're both different with each other.

Mario said he "didn't care" no matter what pv did even back there when he gave smg4's crew a hard time. Pv mentioned about being the antagonist from smg4, as where Mario just says he's forgiven.

Pv laughed as a result (since he didn't need forgiveness) Mario slowly admittted that- he did some things-

(like how you portray a character doing something bad by accident and not mean to do it on purpose to which they thought it was a good thing)

Mario didnt understand why pv didn't have interests between love or having a type- as pv briefly mentioned part of his past that

"no one seemed to be interested in me" or "no one finds me interesting" to the way Mario felt bad.

Mario too also opened up a part of his past, the mentions of "abandonment" and "being left out by friends" is what Pv heard by the fat italian himself.

Pv finally understood- that maybe they're both not so different as he think they are. (That doesnt mean he's still going out with him tho-)

By now, Puzzles and Mario are both standing there just waiting for a minute by to be met with an awkward silence.

Pv mustve understand now that maybe Mario isnt as bad as he think he is, even with how much they're in a different type of situation on dealing one thing. It matched them.

Mario breaks the silence asking puzzles if he'll go out with him. Pv didnt say yes, but did consider on thinking about it.

(Maybe get to know him a bit more? Maybe avoid the fact that he'd use him for something to get whats earned?)

He puts his face closer to Mario's telling him bout the stuff they both opened (about the past-) keeping things a secret- Mario couldnt help but stare at his face feeling admiration.

And on the second thought- his secret was safe. Mario gave him a thumbs up and Pv backed away standing straight. He proceeded with a bye bye and so as Mario too.

Mario waved him a goodbye and thinks through all of the thoughts inside his head.

Both walked opposite directions but thought of the same things that happened, being open, sharing glances, awkward silence and even- with that "asking-out-for-a-date" is hard to think of.

They will think about it- and plus-

To add more of that fluff- lets put up the scent.

To puzzles he thought about Mario of how he had strawberry scent, even if its supposed to be one of those pasta sauce. But it didnt.

To Mario, the thoughts about Puzzles made him think. How he smelled that type of smoke that has always been familiar of him. Cigarettes.

AND TO WHY - HOW THEY BOTH THOUGHT ABOUT THAT ITS JUST SO FUNNY BECAUSE IT SEEMS OFF CHARACTER THAT TOTALLY IS- SO PLEASE IGNORE ME BECAUSE I FEEL THIS IS A BIT EMBARASSING FOR ME TO PUT-

[maeri-ell]

Bungou stray dogs || hcs - They caught you smoking || BSD x SMOKER READER

Yosano, Ranpo, Fyodor, Dazai, and Chuuya 

ENJOY!!   (✯◡✯)  

Fem!reader

Akiko Yosano

She is a skilled doctor with a unique ability to heal wounds and inflict pain. 

When it comes to her interactions with others, she can be both caring and blunt, always prioritizing the well-being of those around her.

If Yosano were to catch the Reader smoking, her initial reaction would likely be a mix of surprise and disapproval. 

She would approach the situation with her characteristic straightforwardness, not hesitating to voice her concerns.

Firstly, Yosano would express her worry about the health risks associated with smoking. 

Being a medical professional, she is well aware of the detrimental effects that smoking can have on one's body. 

She would emphasize the importance of taking care of one's health and urge the Reader to consider quitting.

Yosano's disapproval would stem not only from the health aspect but also from her belief in personal discipline. 

She values self-control and would see smoking as a form of weakness or dependency. 

She would likely question the Reader's reasons for starting and encourage them to find healthier alternatives to cope with stress or other triggers.

However, Yosano's reaction wouldn't be solely scolding and lecturing. 

Beneath her stern exterior, she genuinely cares about the well-being of others and would offer her support in helping the Reader quit smoking. 

She would share her knowledge of the harmful effects of smoking and possibly even suggest various resources or strategies to aid in the process of quitting.

Yosano would be there as a steadfast source of encouragement and accountability. 

She would check in on the Reader's progress, celebrating each milestone and reminding them of the positive impact their decision to quit has on their health.

Overall, Yosano's reaction to catching the Reader smoking would showcase her concern for their well-being and her determination to help them make healthier choices. 

Her headcanon portrayal would highlight her role not only as a skilled doctor but also as a caring and supportive friend, guiding the Reader toward a healthier lifestyle.

Ranpo Edogawa

The brilliant detective of the Armed Detective Agency, possesses an uncanny ability to solve mysteries with his unparalleled deductive skills. 

Despite his childish and carefree demeanor, Ranpo is incredibly perceptive and observant, always seeking the truth behind every situation.

If Ranpo were to catch Reader smoking, his initial reaction would likely be a mix of curiosity and nonchalance. 

He would approach the situation with a nonchalant attitude as if he had expected such behavior from them.

Ranpo: casually leaning against a nearby wall "Well, well, what do we have here? Caught in the act, huh?"

Reader: surprised and flustered, quickly putting out the cigarette "Ranpo-san! I... I can explain."

Ranpo: raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smile forming on his lips "Oh, no need to explain. I'm not really interested in your reasons. Smoking is a personal choice, after all.”

Reader: relieved but still feeling a hint of guilt "I didn't expect you to react this way, Ranpo-san."

Ranpo: shrugs nonchalantly "Why would I? As long as it doesn't affect my mysteries or the agency's cases, you're free to do as you please."

Although Ranpo may appear dismissive at first, his inquisitive nature would likely kick in soon enough. 

He would be curious to understand the reasons behind Reader's smoking habit, purely out of a desire to comprehend human behavior and motivations.

Ranpo: tilting his head, a spark of curiosity in his eyes "So, what led you to pick up this habit? Is it the thrill of rebellion or something else entirely?"

Reader: opening up, feeling a sense of comfort in Ranpo's presence "It's mostly stress relief, I guess. Helps me relax in challenging times."

Ranpo: nodding, his expression thoughtful "Interesting. I suppose everyone has their own way of coping. Just remember, there are healthier alternatives out there."

While Ranpo may not actively push Reader to quit smoking, he would subtly plant the seed of considering alternative stress-relief methods. He may even suggest engaging in activities that stimulate their mind or spark their curiosity, redirecting their focus to more constructive outlets.

In the end, Ranpo's headcanon portrayal would reveal his acceptance of personal choices while still subtly encouraging self-improvement. He would maintain his carefree demeanor, leaving it up to Reader to make their own decisions, but with a subtle reminder that there are always better options available.

Fyodor Dostoevsky  

He is known for his cunning intellect and manipulation skills, always strategizing and planning ahead.

If Fyodor were to catch Reader smoking, his initial reaction would be one of mild interest rather than surprise. He would observe them with his piercing gaze, analyzing their behavior and motives.

Fyodor: a subtle smirk playing on his lips "Ah, indulging in the vices of life, are we?"

Reader: taken aback, hastily putting out the cigarette "Fyodor-san... I didn't expect you to be here."

Fyodor: calmly stepping closer, his eyes fixated on Reader "There is a certain allure in watching someone partake in self-destructive habits. Do enlighten me, why do you choose to poison yourself in such a manner?"

Reader: feeling a mix of unease and curiosity "I suppose it's a way for me to escape, even if temporarily. A moment of comfort."

Fyodor: nodding slowly, his expression thoughtful "Escaping reality, I see. An understandable desire, but is smoking truly the most effective means?"

Fyodor would approach the situation with a philosophical perspective, engaging Reader in a discussion about their motivations and the potential consequences of their actions. He would delve into the psychological aspects of smoking, exploring the underlying desires and emotions that drive such behavior.

Fyodor: his voice carrying a hint of intrigue "Tell me, does smoking provide you with the solace you seek? Or is it merely a fleeting illusion, a temporary distraction from the inevitable?"

Reader: reflecting on Fyodor's words, a hint of contemplation in their eyes "Perhaps you're right. There may be healthier ways to find comfort without compromising my well-being."

Fyodor: a ghost of a smile crossing his face "Indeed, there are always alternatives. Embracing the darkness within oneself can be both liberating and destructive. The choice, my dear, is yours to make."

While Fyodor may not actively discourage Reader from smoking, his philosophical insights would leave a lasting impact, planting the seeds of introspection and self-reflection. He would challenge Reader to question their motives and seek healthier means of finding solace and escape.

In the end, Fyodor's headcanon portrayal would embody his complex and contemplative nature, leaving Reader to ponder their choices while subtly guiding them toward self-discovery and personal growth.

Dazai Osamu

Known for his carefree and unpredictable nature. He possesses a dark past and a twisted sense of humor.

If Dazai were to catch Reader smoking, his initial reaction would likely be a mischievous grin, amusement dancing in his eyes. He would approach the situation with a nonchalant demeanor, as if he had stumbled upon a source of entertainment.

Dazai: leaning casually against a nearby wall "Well, well, what do we have here? Our dear Reader indulging in the forbidden pleasures of smoking, I see."

Reader: caught off guard, hastily hiding the cigarette "Dazai-san, I didn't expect to run into you."

Dazai: chuckling softly, his gaze lingering on the hidden cigarette "Why, my dear Reader, are you drawn to such a? The temptation of rebellion, perhaps? The taste of freedom in each puff?"

Reader: feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity "Sometimes, it helps me calm my nerves or unwind after a long day. But I know it's not the healthiest habit."

Dazai: raising an eyebrow playfully "Ah, seeking comfort in the moment. I can empathize with that. Life is undoubtedly chaotic. However, have you pondered the consequences?"

Dazai's reaction would be characterized by a combination of teasing and genuine concern. He would playfully prod Reader, using his dark sense of humor to highlight the risks and potential dangers of smoking.

Dazai: smirking mischievously "You know, my dear Reader, smoking may not be the most effective way to confront the chaos. But who am I to judge? After all, we all have our vices, don't we?"

Reader: a mix of amusement and resignation "I suppose you're right, Dazai-san. Maybe I should find healthier ways to cope with stress."

Dazai: feigning surprise, placing a hand on his chest dramatically "My, my, Reader, you're suggesting we abandon our sinful delights? How scandalous! But perhaps it wouldn't hurt to explore new approach of self-care."

While Dazai wouldn't explicitly discourage Reader from smoking, his lighthearted banter and subtle guidance would encourage them to consider healthier alternatives. He would emphasize the importance of self-care and finding constructive ways to cope with stress and chaos.

In the end, Dazai's headcanon portrayal would reflect his complex persona, blending humor and concern to nudge Reader towards self-improvement while reminding them that life's struggles can be faced with a touch of irreverence.

Chuuya Nakahara

Known for his short temper and quick wit. When it comes to his reaction if he were to catch the Reader smoking, it would be no different.

Upon catching sight of the Reader with a cigarette in hand, Chuuya's eyes would narrow and his expression would harden. He would approach them with a mixture of irritation and concern evident in his voice.

Chuuya: "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Reader: startled, quickly extinguishing the cigarette "Chuuya-san, I..."

Chuuya: cutting them off, voice filled with annoyance "Smoking? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how bad that is for you?"

Reader: feeling guilty, stammering for an explanation "I... I'm sorry. It's just... I needed something to help me relax."

Chuuya: scoffs, crossing his arms "And you think smoking is the answer? You're only making things worse for yourself."

Chuuya's initial reaction would be fueled by his strong dislike for unhealthy habits and self-destructive behaviors. He would be genuinely concerned about the Reader's well-being, though his way of expressing it might come off as harsh.

Chuuya: softer tone, but still firm "Look, I get it. Life can be tough. But there are better ways to cope with stress. Smoking will only ruin your health and make things worse in the long run."

Reader: nodding, remorseful "I understand, Chuuya-san. I'll try to quit."

Chuuya: sighs, his expression softening slightly "Good. It's for your own sake. If you need support or someone to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out."

Chuuya's headcanon portrayal would show that beneath his tough exterior, he genuinely cares about the well-being of those around him, including the Reader. He may not always express it in the most gentle way, but his intentions are rooted in wanting the best for them.

Chuuya would keep an eye on the Reader's progress, offering occasional reminders and words of encouragement. He would be there as a source of support, showing that he believes in their ability to overcome their smoking habit and make healthier choices.

In the end, Chuuya's headcanon reaction to catching the Reader smoking would reflect his concern and determination to help them break free from harmful habits, even if it means being blunt and demanding in his approach.

[itsjaywalkers]

hi laurie <3 i, too, am all aboard the bartylily train. that said, would you possibly spare some of your bartylily hcs?

hi han beloved <333 I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM SO I'D LOVE TO SHARE SOME HCS i already posted some of them a while ago and u can read them here !! but that being said . here are some more

lily's friends completely despise barty and they never manage to get along with him, while barty's friends accept lily and hang out with her quite often !!

bc of this, i really think that there would exist some distance between lily and the marauders once she starts dating barty.. i feel like she's still very close to mary and marlene despite them not being fond of barty but . it'd be more difficult with james and the rest . for obvious reasons (until james starts dating reg and he also has to suffer barty on a regular basis)

barty is fucking obsessed with her.. he teases her and they bicker a lot but his cool act is just that: an act. he's screaming inside his head the whole time

they fuck a lot and they're real nasty about it. lily lovessss to let go and allow barty to take control, she becomes vvvv submissive and needy when she's horny and barty lives to make her feel good and fucking worship her

barty drives with one hand, cigarette twisted between his fingers, while the other stays on lily's thigh, always way too high to be considered respectable

he tries to be Better just for her bc barty believes lily deserves the very best and he's not That he's never been but lily loves him in all his trashy lame dirty glory

they have study dates and make out sloppy style during their smoke breaks

barty's mum absolutely adores lily and nothing brings barty more joy than seeing them getting along and spending time with each other

barty loves seeing lily get angry or be mean

and lily loves when barty is violent (especially if it's for her) and gets into fights

she always patches him up afterwards and kisses every single one of his injuries

they look like they don't belong together bc she's so princess-like, with her cardigans and her skirts and her gloss and her long red hair, and he's the guy your parents always warned you about, with his band shirts and his ripped jeans and his dirty untied converse and his piercings

and yet . they're Perfect . they balance each other out, and i genuinely feel that this is the relationship in which barty is his Sanest

don't get me wrong he's still a fucking weirdo and kind of unhinged but i feel like lily calms him down in the sense that he feels safe and seen enough to be able to drop some of his devil may care + nothing can touch me attitude

i've talked about this a hundred times but the whole point of their dynamic is that . they can leave their respective masks behind around each other . they're not Lily Evans The Saint or Barty Crouch Jr The Failure . they're just lily and barty!!! you know??

they always smoke after sex

barty bakes with his mum and brings every new thing they make to lily when he goes to pick her up from work

holding hands at all times!!! and she always sits on his lap when they're out!!!!

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

“When She Loved Me.”

A/N: Tryna empty out my drafts, I got around 70 drafts- So much writing, but not a lot of posting. So expect a couple of stories coming y’all’s way!

Might be typos!

Bold and Italics are singing!

Setting: Alexandria

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

——————🫶🏽——————

Daryl and I were assigned to go off and search for supplies for Alexandria and that prick, Negan.

I hopped on the back of Daryl’s bike and he drove off to an abandoned part of town, with surprisingly, little to no walkers. Someone either cleaned this place out or they’re being held in one of these buildings.

Regardless of what happened to them it felt the world had shifted somewhat.

Normally it’s chaotic and loud, but here it’s quiet and calm. So quiet you can finally hear someone else think, with how silent it was.

I followed Daryl into one on of the buildings, his knife raised high, taking slow and care-filled steps. I followed his movements waiting for him to give the word that it was safe to explore and once he did, I immediately went to searching.

I looked around in one of the rooms didn’t find much, unless you consider dust bunnies and table scraps useful then by all means, have at it.

I continue to search the drawers, cabinet and cupboards. And found a couple cans of food that were still in date, the rest were already old before we got here.

Knowing that Daryl and I were going to spend the night and travel back to Alexandria as soon as the sun rose, I was quick to get comfortable and make up our beds, in the room that I had already searched.

As I was doing it, I was singing lowly to myself. It was a very calming thing for me. And it keeps me focused and kept me from going insane, at the start of all this.

I usually sing one song then move onto another, but sometimes, that first song will keep repeating cause it’s just so good.

‘When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful.’

‘Every hour we spent together, lives within my heart.’

“I didn’t know you sang.” Daryl stated, once I stopped to focus on putting together the bed rolls. I turn just in time to see him leaned up against a window, and light the end of a cigarette.

“You never asked.” I blurted out it trying to be funny, but Daryl huffed and turned away briefly.

“I do, I just can’t do it all that often with all the walkers, roaming the streets, and all. Don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.” I reply, and swiftly stand up once the beds were made.

I said, and we went back to dead silence, as he smoked and I put finished putting the beds together. So I decided to heat up, what we had brought with us.

I’d heat up what we found, but I’d rather save that for Alexandria even if it was just a couple cans.

I set up the little burner and I open and set the can on top of it before turning it on low heat.

“Keep singing.”

“I’m sorry what?” I ask, in genuine confusion.

“Y’heard me. Keep goin.’” Daryl repeated, taking a drag of the cigarette, before pulling it from in between his lips.

I shrugged and agreed, wordlessly. Considering it’s going to take time for the can of beans to cook, why not sing to pass the time?

‘And when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears.’

‘And when she was happy, so was I, when she loved me.’

I continued to sing as I constantly stirred the can of beans as to make sure it wasn’t sticking to the can itself. Daryl watched my movements, like a member of an audience watching the opera.

‘Through the summer and the fall, had each other that was all.’

‘Just she and I together, like it was meant to be.’

In his eyes it was quite soothing, the way I was stirring my spoon around in the metal can. But doing it all while singing, it was beautiful.

Daryl has never seen or even thought about attending any sort of ballet performance ever. But with how slow my movements were, he could’ve sworn I was apart of the opera in my past life.

‘And when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her.’

‘And I knew, the she loved me.’

I stopped singing as I turned the burner off and took an oven mitt and carefully poor out the beans into two separate bowls.

‘So the years went by and I stayed the same, but she began to drift away.’

‘I was left alone, still I waited for the day. When she’d say, “I will always love you.”’

‘Lonely and forgotten, never thought she’d look my way.’

‘And she smiled at me and held me, just like she used to do.’

‘Like she loved me, when she loved me.’

I smiled and called Daryl over and he didn’t come, so I looked up and motioned for him. He physically had to shake himself out of it, and burnt his finger with the cigarette.

“Shit!” He exclaimed dropping the cigarette to the floor and looked at his finger. He also made sure to stomped out the cigarette before I stood up.

“How bad is it?” I asked, and gently took his hand in my own and checked it out myself.

“‘Is fine. Just a burn, ain’t that big a deal.” He said, and I grabbed my water canister and took him to the sink. I held his hand over it and poured water on top of it.

“Ain’t gotta do that, I’m fine.” He said and I didn’t listen to him and continued to cool down the burn. He sighed and let me do my thing. “Hey, you didn’t finish the thing.”

“What thing? The song?” I asked and he let out a grunt in response. “I didn’t know you wanted me too, hold on.” I cleared my throat before singing the last part of the song.

‘When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful.’

‘Every hour spent together lives, within my heart.’

‘When she loved me.’

[thecutestlittlebunbunfairy]

I think I recalled you saying this was your fave on his latest album 👀 so this one please! 🥰

Hey so I have NO idea where this came from but here it is!

pairing. Irish Mobster!Andy x Reader

wc. ~1400

warnings. Talks of violence, mention of abuse toward reader (not from Andy, abusive ex!Ransom, guns

Thank you so much miss @cocoamoonmalfoy I hope you like it!

The bar was certainly old. The wood paneling had a lifetime of lover’s initials carved in its wood. The red leather padding on the seats cushioned you as you settled in the corner booth, making sure you could keep an eye on the door. Cigarette smoke left a heavy haze over the place, clouding your vision and making you cough at the smell. Probably the last bar in Massachusetts you could smoke in. But the man you were looking for was here, at The Black Rose.

Andrew Barber.  

A waitress came over asking if you wanted a drink. Normally when you drank, it had been fun fruity cocktails with your girl friends. At least until you started dating Ransom. Then you didn’t go much of anywhere. He’s why you were here tonight.

You ordered a rum and coke, figuring that was a standard anywhere, and settled in as much as you could. Not that you had long to wait.

“Well well well… who might you be?” A low voice purred with the hint of an Irish brogue to it. You turned and swallowed as you took him in. Tall, was the glaringly obvious term. So tall you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes and found there were an intense shade of stormy grey. Not many were brave or dumb enough to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure which category you fell into. 

He wore a black peacoat over a navy-blue button up; the top buttons open to reveal the Celtic knot tattoo on his collar bone. You were sure there was even more drawings and designs all over, judging by the designs on his hands, highlighting the silver rings he wore. Including a Claddagh ring. It was similar to the one on your right hand, pointed inward to show you were taken.

Ransom had ripped it off your hand himself to turn it around. Nearly dislocating 3 fingers.

You finally found your voice to tell him your name and he repeated it, making you shiver. It had been a long time since you’d heard your name said so thoughtfully.  

How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears As such an awful sound

“Are you…Mr. Barber?” you asked as he settled across from you.

“Please love, call me Andy. Now, what I can do for a little thing like yourself?” The waitress set down your rum and a coke and a whiskey in front of Andy. Even though he’d never ordered one.

“Well, uhm.  I need...” You held the drink tightly in your hands as you considered what you were genuinely about to ask him for. “I need you to take care of someone.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Is it the same person who gave you that shiner?” You touched your hand to your face gently.

That was 2 weeks ago. You’d accidentally burnt dinner. You’d thought it was healed enough that you thought you could cover it up with make up but you in Andy’s line of work, he saw enough of them to know when someone was covering it up.

“Yes.”

You took the photo of Ransom out of your purse. It had been your 3rd date; he’d taken you to a local carnival and won you a teddy bear. 3 months later he trashed the bear and called you stupid for holding on to it. “His name is Ransom Drysdale. I can give you his schedule, whatever you need. I just. I need him gone.” Andy took a long sip of his drink and leaned in close to you.

“You don’t seem like the type to want someone dead, sweetheart.”

“I’ve tried to leave him. I’ve talked to the police. But his family has money. He has connections. So, I thought. If I came to you…” You bit your lip “I don’t have a lot of money. But I have some jewelry I could pawn.” You clenched the golden locket around your neck.

“Your ma give you that?” You nodded, thinking of the woman who’d raised you by herself for 15 years. Andy smiled. “Ain’t that like them? Gifting life to us again.” His voice was low, as if you weren’t meant to here it.

He took the photo and studied it for a minute, then looked back you. There was something about his eyes. There was a burning fire behind them but a concerned sadness weighed down his face.

“He did something bad. Really bad, didn’t he?” You paused. He looked at you as if he had all the time in the world to wait for you to answer. You knew you had nothing left to lose, so you took a long sip off your drink to muster your courage.

 “A few days ago, I tried to take care of him myself. I bought a gun, figuring the next time he came at me, I could threaten him or it would be self defense. Instead, I came home and it was sitting on the table. He told me if I did something like that again.  He’d use it on me.”

Andy was silent for quite a long time and you couldn’t quite read him.

“You can keep the locket, sweetheart. Consider this a pro-bono job.” Your jaw dropped.

“But why would you do that?”  Andy looked away from you, then reached over to take your hand and you were shocked to find how warm his was.

“I’ve helped a lot of women over the years. Usually, I help them get away from assholes, get them set up in a new place with a whole new life. And I’d always take care of the ex as a bonus. But you. You went the direct route. Asked me to kill the bastard myself. You were even willing to do it yourself. You have a sense of self perseverance. and that makes you so brave and beautiful.”

To share the space with simple living things Infinitely suffering But fighting off like all creation The absence of itself

The way Andy spoke to you made your heart feel lighter than it had in such a long time. Not chained down. Not to mention the way he stared at you as if he wanted to cherish every moment with you.

“Plus, there is something I want.” Andy said. You clenched your hands, apprehensive at words but he smirked, playfully. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I know the owner and chef of a fantastic place in the North End.”

This life lived mostly underground Unknowing either sight nor sound ‘Til reaching up for sunlight.

 You felt like Andy was holding out his hand to pull you up out of the dark place Ransom was keeping you in for so long. You couldn’t put your finger on it but Andy made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. Even if this was only the first time you’d met him.

“Deal.” Andy lifted his drink and you tapped it against his, both finishing off your drinks.

“Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight? Do you need a ride?” Andy asked, his voice full of concern. “Might I suggest you stay at my place until after tomorrow night? Then I can help arrange a safe place to stay.” Or convince you to stay longer, Andy thought to himself.

“Stay, at your place? Isn’t’ that a little bold?” your face heated up at the implications.

“Not at all, love. I’ve got plenty of bedrooms. Though mine is the comfiest.” Your voice caught in your throat And you felt the need to go splash some cold water on your face.

While you excused yourself to the restroom Andy pulled out his phone, calling Ari. His right hand.

“Hey Levinson, I need you to take Rogers and Barnes on a special assignment. I finally found that shitstain Drysdale who’s been creeping in on our area. And he put his hands on my girl.” He smiled as he thought back to how you’d made him feel when he’d seen you for the first time. Like a beautiful ray of sunshine had come into his life, but not without some thunder.

 But you spoke some quick new music That went so far to soothe this soul As it was and ever shall be

“Get back to me when you have him. But I got some special plans, so he needs to at least be breathing. Even if it’s laboriously. In the meantime, I gotta call Vincenzo and make a reservation.”  

[bibibbon]

Hey, it's the Yuuta critical Anon.

I was angry when I first saw partial glimpses of the leaks (they were a nasty shock when I first woke up yesterday so sorry if the first ask came out kind of nonsensical.)

However I have since learnt more and I do have to give Yuuta credit for him (and Yuuji) being the only ones alive to consider Gojo's personhood in the series and what he had to deal with as 'the strongest.'

Even Shoko, who is meant to be Gojo's bestie right alongside Geto, has no issues using Kenjaku's technique on Gojo so the sorcerers can continue using Gojo's body as a weapon.

I had thought that Gojo, Geto and Shoko were meant to mirror the Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara friend group but this throws that into doubt and makes her look awful. As I could see Megumi and Nobara vehemently objecting if Yuuji was in Gojo's place here.

Narratively? What does this creative choice add? Nothing. But it detracts everything.

Look at the fandom.

No one is talking of Yuuji's progress anymore or his fight against Sukuna. But not even the story is giving it focus anymore so I cant blame them.

Additionally, it just makes 99% of the cast (really everyone bar Yuuji who wasn't there or Yuuta who objected initially) look cold, bad and or in Gojo's case plain sad. Gojo apparently knowing he would lose / die all along is so OOC considering his previous arrogance and a retcon considering how Mahoraga carried Sukuna in thier fight. But that reasoning is there so the rest the cast do not look worse by adding consent issues into the moral mess of the body snatching because 'Gojo agreed to this if he died.'

TLDR - Tell me if I have my tin foil hat on here, but this feels like Gege dunking on the Gojo fans in the cruelest way while Yuuji gets robbed of the focus he deserves (as the MC!) Especially considering all the progress he has made fighting against Sukuna.

Hi again yuta anon 👋

I found your ask really interesting to be honest because I somewhat agreed with it.

I like the fact yuta consistently acknowledges Gojo and what society has put him through but I really don't like the whole him taking over gojos body after gojos death type of thing. I just hated it. I can see what gege was trying to do but it was horrible wiring decision and I will stick by that opinion especially when he could of done many more things like have kenjaku come back in gojos body and have yuta take Getos CT which I think would of been two very interesting ways to enrich the parallels and contrasts within the series.

To be honest I find it really interesting how gege chooses to portray shoko and her character. I wouldn't call her flimsy but I definitely think that her and Gojo have a horribly strained relationship that fell apart slowly after geto left Jujutsu tech. She does care for him as seen in the chapter before his unsealing and heck even during Gojo Vs sukuna battle she was shown to be smoking a ton of cigarettes and seriously panicking over him. However, shoko like everyone else does seem to see gojos strength more than the real person. Her not saying anything makes sense but just because she didn't say anything doesn't mean that she doesn't care for him. She also at the beginning didn't believe he would die and I don't think we should forget that has been dealing with dead bodies for a long time and since a young age. Shoko just never got to show grief in a traditional sense and is also currently surrounded by other comrades dead and injured bodies. I do however see your point and honestly wish that akutami gave us more of shoko before having moments like this.

Gojo, geto and shoko are indeed supposed to be a parallel of yuji, megumi and nobara. I see and honestly can't help but agree with it considering that megumi and nobara would never agree to yujis body being used like that. Heck I don't think any of them would agree to eachothers bodies being used like that. However, the trio is supposed to contrast the other. Shoko, Gojo and geto genuinely fell apart and gege did highlight some of shokos insecurities of her feeling left out in that trio. This could be interpreted as a gege trying to contrast the two trios🤷‍♀️. Honestly I can't say much about our current trio considering that I want nobara back and that she should of came back but oh well gege.

In all respects I hate the current narrative choice that gege took by bringing back Gojo in such a way and I stand by the fact that he should of stayed dead next to Getos body or that he is possessed by kenjaku and ends up dead next to kenjaku. Also this narrative choice really took away from the true focus of things which I supposed to be MEGUMI AND ITADORI. I swear we didn't get the yuji revelation not too long ago but everyone has seemingly forgotten about it and it's disappointing. I would of liked more focus on yuji and build up considering that I had some trouble with the way his power was revealed and I would of enjoyed some little build ups and hints (I do admit that the series did have some of them but I would of still enjoyed more of them). Then there is megumi, we haven't seen the poor quy since 251 (I think) where he was genuinely crying and telling yuji to give up on him or that he doesn't care anymore. Well we know that now megumi has gone through a lot more and I honestly don't know what gege is going to do with him because it's not looking like he is going to have a good ending. (Megumi deserves better, the hate he gets for simply crying is insane)

I wouldn't call it a RETCON in all honesty I feel like Gojo could of beaten sukuna if sukuna wasn't using mahoraga but him using mahoraga does change a lot of things and considering how easily (well not easily) Gojo was taken down in shibuya by kenjaku that would of put a lot of the cast (whom initially put all of their faith and trust into what they believed to be an unbreakable beacon of power) have some concerns about what they should do if Gojo was to be taken down and killed. Its an unfortunate circumstance but it makes sense. Also this is my opinion but I believe that Gojo wasn't that willing to agree but simply agreed for the sake of his students and giving them a proper chance considering that he was expecting shoko to decline the suggestion.

Tldr: I really don't think you have a tin hat on anon and this could be seen as gege genuinely dunking on Gojo in a horrible way. In all honesty Iam not a huge hater for authors who hate on their characters as long as they do it properly aka properly make the character suffer in a narrative way instead of pulling some bs like this. Also I used to enjoy how gege wrote yujis character at the beginning but Iam honestly developing doubts considering geges writing choices.

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 15

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 15: only love could hurt like this

Summary: The Shelby women torment Alfie and secrets are revealed ...

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, a touch of angst

Word count: 3273

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a super quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 14 again!)

Alfie found out Livy was missing, then beat the crap out of Tommy. A few hours later, Polly and Esme show up at his hotel room ...

This chapter picks up right where we left off. 

“Well, go on then,” Alfie demands. “We haven’t got all fucking night. Where is she?”

Polly chuckles darkly, looking far too amused for his liking. She takes a moment to light a cigarette, raising it to her painted lips before replying. “And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over that information?”

Fucking hell.

The room goes deathly silent, save for the ominous tick of the clock, reminiscent of a bomb just waiting to explode.

… much like Alfie's stormy expression.

He’s exhausted, and his patience has officially run out. A volatile mix at the best of times, but with Livy gone, the look on his face is more than a threat. It’s a promise of violence.

But Polly doesn’t notice or, more likely, doesn’t care. Instead of backing down, like any sensible being, she stands with one hand on her hip and the other in the air, smoke dancing from her fingers, chin raised like the Queen of fucking England.

“‘Cause that’s what you said, ain’t it?” He glares at her through narrowed eyes. “You asked if I wanted to find Livy.”

“Exactly,” she smirks. “I asked if you wanted to find her. I didn’t say I would tell you where she is.”

Alfie considers snatching her cigarette and shoving it down her slender throat. Polly’s asking for trouble, pushing his buttons at the worst possible time, and they all know it. It’s almost like she wants to see him lose his temper, or at least expects it.

But he is nothing, if not unpredictable.

Despite the displeasure written across his features, Alfie remains seated. He doesn’t speak, barely even blinks as he raises his fist and cracks his knuckles, slowly and methodically, one by one.

The women watch on, seemingly unfazed, but the longer Alfie sits and stares, face like a predator stalking his prey, the more their facade begins to crumble. They are bold, not stupid, or so it seems. The minutes pass, and Polly takes a hesitant step backwards, Esme following suit, dropping her boots to the floor as they brace for an explosion.

Alfie surprises them all. He should be fucking furious, but his blood cools when he recognises this for what it is: a negotiation. And despite the high stakes, the familiarity of it all is comforting.

This is one game he knows how to play.

“Right, then.” Alfie grins as he leans back and spreads his arms wide. Everything is still fucked, Livy is still fucking missing, but at least he has something to work with. “Let’s talk, love. Why don’t you tell me what you want, yeah?”

“For you to fuck off,” Esme mutters, confidence restored now that the danger has passed.

Polly shoots her a stern look before returning to Alfie. “What makes you think I want anything, Mr Solomons?” she asks, cool and composed behind a cloud of smoke.

Alfie laughs; in another time, another place, he might genuinely enjoy their banter.

“Don’t play coy, sweetie. It’s three in the fucking morning. Now she”—Alfie waves in Esme’s general direction—“she might be here for Livy. But you?” he huffs. “You’ve got too much Shelby in you.”

Polly’s mouth falls open, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Alfie cuts her off with a raised palm.

“I don’t want to hear it, yeah. Normally I’m happy to go along with these little games you fucking gypsies love so fucking much. But tonight, I’m going to need you to get to the point, ya hear?”

Alfie watches as Polly visibly bristles, her lips pressed in a firm line, her spine impossibly straighter. But the Shelby matriarch quickly recovers.

“Of course, Mr Solomons,” she replies, her voice and smile sickly sweet. “You’re obviously a very intelligent man.”

Polly waits for a reaction, but unfortunately for her, Alfie is a very intelligent man. So he ignores the trite tactic and gives her 30 fucking seconds to explain herself. The clock continues to tick, and he resumes cracking his knuckles; it’s a veritable symphony of unspoken aggression.

“Fine,” Polly huffs, rolling her dark eyes when it becomes clear they're doing this on his terms. “I need your help,” she reluctantly admits. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have a son….”

Livy wiggles her toes, delighting in the morning dew against her bare skin. The sun is low on the horizon, but it’s already promising to be a beautiful day. The air is crisp, the birds are singing, and she half expects rainbows to fall from the sky. She breathes deeply and, for a few minutes, finds peace.

Almost.

Because then she remembers what brought her here.

With a groan, Livy flops on the grass, not caring about her state of dress—or her hair, for that matter, her scarlet locks tangled, free from adornments save for a few twigs and burrs. She’s feeling quite sorry for herself as she drapes her arm across her eyes, the weight pressing her into the damp earth. If only it would open and swallow her whole.

“Well, Holy Lord God, it’s Livy Lou, queen of the fairies. What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

Livy smiles at the familiar voice, lips curling despite her melancholy.

“That we should bury our sorrows and rise like the sun,” she recites.

“Rise like the sun,” Aberama repeats as he drops into the grass beside her, stretching his long legs and propping himself on an elbow. “A mighty wise man, your William.”

She hums in agreement, grateful for the company, and together they sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Minutes pass until it blinds—not the light but the unfettered hope that for once feels so fucking foreign—and Livy turns away, tracing the ground, wishing she could take her father’s advice.

But her sorrows refuse to stay buried.

As she inspects the dirt beneath her brightly painted nails, Livy can’t help but wonder if she made the right decision. Which is strange in and of itself; usually, she’s so confident, trusting her gut and following it faithfully, eyes on the horizon, never looking back. It’s her life’s motto and often the only thing keeping her sane.

Except now she’s in love with Alfie—and doesn’t that just change everything?

She wipes her hands on her dress and closes her eyes to avoid Aberama’s curious gaze. Being here with him reminds Livy of those first months after escaping Bernard. It was all new then; the kind faces and open fires that chased away the darkness, smoke and songs accompanying them into the night. As joy and laughter replaced fear and pain, she was, in many ways, reborn.

How fitting that she should find herself here again.

Last night was a turning point, and Livy knows it, although she’s not ready to face the truth. Instead, it would be easier to ignore altogether, to fall into the comfortable rhythm of life on the road and let it consume her as she rides out this chapter.

With enough time and enough whiskey (or perhaps that broody Shelby gin), she might come to see this nightmare as a blessing in disguise. Livy was truthful with Esme; she missed the life, the freedom, even the creaky wheels beneath her bed.

One door closes, another opens—right?

Livy snorts before she can stop herself, drawing another look from Aberama, who she continues to ignore. Her usual optimism has bolted, much like Cyril, who is off in the bushes chasing a rabbit. This is no blessing, of that she’s sure. More like a lesson—the universe punishing her for holding too tightly onto something that was never hers to begin with.

Of course, Livy knew this day would come, but she wasn’t expecting this.

Only love could hurt like this.

His scent still lingers on her skin—warm and slightly spiced, like rum and sweat and home—and despite everything, a part of her wants him back. She misses Alfie dreadfully; those beautiful lips, maddeningly distracting as they trace the valley of her breasts, his whiskers teasing her flesh, leaving his mark behind.

Just like the mark he left on her soul, and he should be hers, even though logic and reason tell her to run and run and run.

And she will because as much as Livy hates to admit it, the truth is she’s terrified.

Not of Bernard McCall or Thomas Shelby, as one would reasonably expect…

No, Livy is afraid of Alfie.

Because if he knew about Bernard and still chose to do business with him, he couldn’t possibly love her back.

And how on earth is she supposed to survive that kind of heartbreak?

Livy shakes her head.

She’s always been impulsive, but she’s never been in love, and sometimes it’s easier to give everything up than to have it all taken from you.

She picks a blade of grass and pretends to be fascinated by the vibrant shade of green when Aberama reaches over and plucks it from her fingers.

“You know…” He pauses, eyeing Livy from beneath his low-slung hat. “I didn’t expect to see you again. At least, not anytime soon.”

Livy blushes at the unspoken question, her thick lashes kissing her cheeks as she averts her eyes. How can she explain when she barely understands herself? Everything is jumbled, and she’s never felt so confused.

“Yes, well, you see …”

She bites her lip and considers how much to share with Aberama. He’s fiercely protective of those he considers family, and Livy’s fortunate to count herself among the few not related by blood. But she doesn’t want to see a bullet with Alfie’s name on it. At least not yet.

“I’m taking precautions,” she finally replies. “Keeping a low profile for a bit.”

“Precautions?” Aberama repeats. He stares for a long minute before wiping his palm on his thigh and extending his hand. “Well, come on then. You know the promise I made to your father.”

Livy nods in relief and accepts his hand as he pulls her to her feet. She’s grateful for the help—and the lack of questions—but it’s still too much. The weight of everything is drowning her, and she needs a distraction, something familiar to ease her troubled mind.

“Aberama, darling, do you still keep that blade inside your boot?”

He flashes a brilliant smile.

“What the fuck does Michael have to do with anything?” sputters Esme, the shock written across her tired face.

Polly ignores her, keeping her chin raised and eyes hard, refusing to wilt beneath Alfie’s probing stare.

“Michael has recently shown an interest in joining the family business,” she continues. “But Thomas has … ambitions that come with unnecessary risk. Risks I cannot allow my son to be exposed to.”

“Right…,” mutters Alfie, stroking his beard as he contemplates her words. It’s just as he suspected: a fucking mess. “And what the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to terminate the deal with Bernard McCall. Ensure Thomas no longer has access to Liverpool.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Does it matter?” she snaps. “Help me, and I’ll help you find Livy.”

His heart clenches at the sound of her name, and in that moment, he’d sign away his fortune, his bakery, anything to get her back.

But then he has a better idea.

“Tell me more about your business in Liverpool,” Alfie demands.

Her eyes flash darkly. “Our business is not your concern.” Polly exchanges a look with Esme, and her face softens. “But I’ll make you a deal, Mr Solomons. Agree to help me, and I’ll tell you more about Bernard McCall. And trust me, there are things you need to know.”

“Trust you,” Alfie repeats, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Right, well that’s just it, Mrs Gray. Trust is a fragile thing.” He strokes his jaw. “And what about your boy? Is he … fragile?”

Polly leaps forward. “Are you threatening—“

Alfie stands, towering over her with his broad frame. “I don’t make threats,” he warns, advancing slowly until she has to crane her neck to face him. “Now, you’re going to tell me about Liverpool, you’re going to tell me about Bernard, and you’re going to help me find Livy. If she’s safe, nothing will happen to your precious son, and in exchange, I will end things in Liverpool.”

She glares at him, and Alfie can only imagine the gypsy curse she’s placing on his black soul. But he’s already damned, so he returns her cold stare. Livy is all that matters now, and he’d deal with the devil—or worse, a Shelby—to get her back.

“Fine,” Polly finally agrees, spitting on her palm and extending it to him. Alfie responds in kind, and she nods, inhaling deeply from her cigarette.

“Thomas is working with a group of Americans who support the Bolsheviks,” she begins, taking a seat. “He’s importing weapons from them under the protection of Shelby Company Limited. But security is tight in London, which is why he needs Liverpool.”

Alfie briefly closes his eyes. “Fucking hell. Meddling with the Russians, that silly boy.”

She snorts. “Exactly. It’s going to blow up in his face, and I don’t want Micheal around when it does.”

“And what about Livy?” he asks sharply. “Don’t fucking tell me she has anything to do with—“

“No, not the Russians,” she reassures him. But something in her tone has him on edge.

“But what?” he demands.

Polly gives him a sad smile. “Alfie.” It's the first time she’s used his given name, and a chill runs down his spine. “I’m assuming you know that Livy had a … difficult past?”

A growl escapes from his chest, a feral sound, raw and violent. “Yeah, I fucking know. And when I find the fucker responsible….”

Alfie trails off at the look on the women’s faces.

No.

Oh, fuck no.

The table goes flying, splintering into pieces, just like his heart.

“Bernard?”

“Yes.” Polly and Esme reply in unison.

He wants to vomit.

Alfie has a strong stomach—after France, not much offends him—but when he thinks about Livy, he nearly drops to his knees.

And he will soon, to beg her forgiveness.

But for now, violence will have to do.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.” He stalks forward, reaching for Polly, unable to stop himself. “Does he have her?” he roars, yanking her to her feet. “Does he fucking have her?”

Polly remains oddly calm. “No,” she assures him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Alfie lets go, visibly relieved. “Right, then where the fuck is she?”

Polly and Esme exchange another look, and he glances around for something else to throw.

“Stop with the fucking faces and tell me where to find Livy before I cut off your—”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” interrupts Polly.

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants—“

“Maybe that’s the problem,” snaps Esme, arms folded defiantly across her chest. “You men are all the same. How do we know you’re not working with Bernard?”

“Esme, shut up,” retorts Polly.

“No, you shut it. Neither of you care about her, it’s all about Michael with you, and fuck knows what he wants—“

“Enough,” roars Alfie, his temper at breaking point. “Fucking, enough. I love her, yeah, and that’s all you need to fucking know. So gather your shit, and let’s go get her.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Polly nods, looking relieved as she collects her bag and makes for the door. But Esme stares at him, eyes dark like the window to her soul.

“I don’t give a fuck what they say about you,” she announces, stalking forward until she’s toe to toe with him. The top of her head barely grazes his chin, but Esme speaks with a confidence that betrays her small frame. “If anything happens to her, it’s you that will be afraid of me. Do you understand? I’ll be watching you, Mr Solomons.”

She takes a few steps backwards. “Always watching,” she repeats before turning on her heel, leaving Alfie no choice but to follow.

Bloody Shelby women.

“Fuck off, no. Categorical.” Alfie pokes the side of the wagon with his cane. “That there, right, is a coffin on wheels. If you want to travel like the living dead, knock yourself out. But you see, for my people, it’s a matter of principle, ain’t it?”

Polly sighs. “Do you want to find Livy or not? We can’t go any further by car, and it’s too far to travel by foot. So unless you want to ride a horse, this is your only option.”

“Ride a fucking horse,” Alfie mutters as he steps forward and nearly loses a shoe in the mud. “This is just fucking perfect, innit? Drag me out in the middle of nowhere, in one of your curious gypo wagons, yeah? Then you put a bullet in my fucking skull, and when my poor Jewish soul is liberated from my body—“

“I can’t fucking do this,” mutters Polly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath and gathers her strength. “Mr Solomons, please, I implore you. Get in the fucking wagon. If there’s any hope of finding Livy, we need to move quickly.”

Alfie nods and, for once, does as he’s told.

The mud and wagon had provided temporary distraction, but now his nausea returns with a vengeance. His head is spinning, his mind frantic, desperate to pinpoint the moment where everything went so horribly wrong. How the fuck did this happen? All his men—a network of spies, a fortune in bribes—and not one goddamn whisper about that bastard McCall.

Because they’re all bad men, but there are just some lines you don’t fucking cross.

Alfie grits his teeth and settles into the vardo (which is surprisingly comfortable, although he’ll never admit it) when the truth hits him squarely in the face.

Thomas fucking Shelby.

It’s the only explanation. Somehow he knew the truth about Bernard and Livy, and purposely kept it from him to protect the Liverpool deal.

Because of the fucking Russians.

Alfie groans and runs a hand down his face, recalling the conversation in Tommy’s office. It’s all coming together now, and it’s not fucking good. Livy is gone, and he’d bet his left nut both Bernard and Thomas are searching for her, making this whole fiasco a race against time.

And here he is—creeping across the countryside in a fucking box.

To make things worse, his fate lies in the hands of not one but two Shelby women and for all he knows, he’s riding headfirst into a trap. But what choice does he have? He’s armed and angry, a dangerous mix, fueled by emotions that are entirely new, fucking raw, and he will find Livy because right now nothing else matters.

Of course, what happens after he finds her is another story.

Fucking hell.

Just 24 hours ago, he was working up the courage to share his feelings. Now he’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cut his fucking balls off.

And that’s if Livy agrees to see him.

Alfie shakes his head and sits taller in his seat. He’s negotiated ‘deal or die’ offers with some of Britain’s most dangerous men, and this is Livy. His Livy. When he finds her, he won’t give her a choice. After all, it was God himself who delivered her to his doorstep.

Some things are meant to be, and once he has her in his arms, he won’t let her go again.

A/N: So ... let me know what you think! I really wanted this chapter to be longer, but honestly, I’ve been sitting on this for months. It got to a point where I think I just needed to publish it, so I could get creatively unstuck! 🙈

Or at least, let’s hope! 

Thanks to everyone still reading this story. I appreciate all of you xx

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