Smoking Love (Mikoto Suoh x Reader)

Chapter One: Savior

    The smell of smoke was one all too familiar to you...and it seemed to follow you around wherever you went, in your sleep and in your waking hours.

    It was there when you came home from a sleepover, only to be greeted by the sounds of sirens and the reeking stench of scorched wood instead of the usual scent of fresh-cut grass and the ringing of laughter.

    It was there when you escaped the grasp of your friend's mother, ignoring her pleas to come back to her. You rushed over to your blazing home, trying to force open the front door. Your hands were instantly scorched, the skin on your palms procuring second degree burns as you screamed in pain, the remnant scars serving as reminders that there wasn't anything you could've done to save your family.

    Its ever putrid presence emanated from your father's and your little sister's ashes as you had scattered them on the ground where your childhood home once stood a few weeks before.

    It perforated your nose every time you stepped into your abusive foster parents' house; you couldn't take a breath without coughing up a storm. It would be a surprise if you didn't get secondhand smoking from your time there.

    The smell of smoke had never brought you anything other than sleepless nights and unpleasant memories. It was death and misery, destruction and loneliness. Until that fateful day in the middle of July, the height of summer, when you met him, a stoic redhead with violent tendencies and a bad smoking habit, and that scent you hated so much began to represent not only the bad things in life, but also the good...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Ughh, why does the world hate meeee?! Why?!" you asked yourself for the second time that day, banging your head against your bike's handlebars one last time before jerking off of it with a scowl. You pulled down your size too small shorts for what seemed the millionth time that day, then started your two-mile walk through gang infested territory with a bike that had both tires popped. Your day had had such great promise this morning.

    You had been woken up by the sound of your favorite song blasting through your phone and not a nightmare. You had checked your phone and found out that the book you'd been waiting forever to read was finally available at the library. Your air conditioner had even started working, which was the biggest blessing of them all. One more night of kicking off sheets and sweating like a pig, and you were about ready to give the manager of your building the loudest screaming fest ever, even worse than that time where all you could take was cold showers in the winter and you about almost burst his eardrums shouting at him to fix it already.

    That was where the good part of your day ended. For lo and behold, in the excitement of last night's movie marathon, you had forgotten to take your laundry out of the washer. Now all your nice, fitting clothes were still sopping wet, which left you searching through every stupid little hiding spot in your apartment until you found a clean pair. The ones you happened to find, however, were from three years ago and you had since grown into yourself more. So getting the shorts on took you about a solid ten minutes and quite a few groans accompanied by a couple of colorful curse words mumbled under your breath. The shirt barely fit over your hips with your chest almost popping out of it, leaving you feeling a tad bit exposed. At least you wouldn't get hot in your current attire. After all, it was the middle of July. How cold could it get?

    You really wished you'd told yourself to shut up because right after you'd went downstairs and gotten your bike from the bike rack outside, it began to pour. Not sprinkle, not a little drizzle that lasts for about five minutes. No, the clouds decided that today would be a nice day to unload every ounce of water stored in the atmosphere down onto you. Okay, maybe not just on you, but you were currently getting drenched and you still had to bike two miles to the library for your job there, in the stinkin' rain, with clothes that were too small. You felt that you had every right to be a bit dramatic. You could have taken the train, however, you were never too fond of being in close, cramped quarters with strangers nor did you like walking to the station, either. This was Shizume City after all, run by various clans and gangs, some headed up by "Kings." You didn't want to walk about on foot with those kinds of crazy people roaming around. So you resigned yourself to begin biking in the cold, wet rain. That was the first time you asked yourself, "Why me?"