#he’s so 365 so fresh

[jinkoh]

I saw your requests were still open, I was wondering if you could do a 365 fresh au fic for hui? have a good day!

heyy tysm for your message ❤️ I'm a little lost since the 365 fresh lyrics don't really strike me as fic material on first glance can you elaborate a little? did you want an au for the "criminals on the run" aesthetic they have going on in the mv or was there a specific line from the lyrics you had in mind?

I hope you have a good day too<3

#the mv is so bubbly and colorful and uh fresh #and yet my brain is like #ok but if you were on the run and lee 'i am so in love with you i'd do anything for u' hoetaek was ur gateway driver #like the h/c potential tho #u r in a panic and obvsly he is scared af too but he'd just be like don't worry it's alright we'll be fine i'll get us out of here #... i'm sorry h/c is just my genre-- writing sth bubbly fun exciting doesn't come so easy to me #365 fresh anon #ask.kebbi

[this-doesnt-endd]

Europeans who complain abt american candy in an american candy store fuck off

#what am i gonna do abt it im just some girl #this dude comes in looking for truffles and goes right to the box so i assume he knows what he wants but i still explain it to him #and show him a picture of what exactly it will look like and tell him its an assortment of all the truffles we make #hes looking at the best by date thats in like 365 format abd hes like this is confusing why do you do this #and im like oh sorry it makes it easier for us inventory wise and hes like well its harder for me #and im explaining that its best by like peak of freshness that itll still be okay after thata #and he like goes off abd looks at stuff abd im helping someone else out and he goes back to the truffles and is fucking up the display #just took it apart to look at the dates abd i told him theyre all the same theyll be fine through april #and im helping some other lady and he walks to the register and stands there im clearly the only worker here #and i cant tell them like hey line starts here i have to ring up the person im helping at a diff register and say ill be with u soon #then offer a sample as apology that they cant read or stand in lines #and im checking him out and he gets confused when i ask if he would like a sample of candy and hes like i just want truffles #and im like okay yeah i have a sample of one of those its hazelnut is that okay? and hes like no!! just chocolate chocolate i want a truffle #and im like yeah it one and he has like a relaization that he didnt exclsuovely get chocolate truffles #and im like yeah its coffee and chocolate and fruit filling LIKE I SHOWED HIM WHEN I SHOWED HIM THE PICTURE #and i hadnt finished the transaction yet so i was like i can exhnage it and hes like sighing being like no no its FINE i guess #like SORRY MAN BABY im trying to help you #and hes like in eurpoe u get so spoiled u get to eat it right as its made its so nice and not full of preservative #fyi our candy doesnt have preservatives either #and hes like i guess ill have to go w american candy that lasts for years upon years and im like well ours dont do that so #also he walkes directly to the truffle box and said these are truffles right so he had to have lookes this up in some capacity #we've been voted like best in the country its good chocolate #sorry u cant eat it off line

[arieslost]

one night only | cl16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: when the miami grand prix comes around, charles books a hotel room.

word count: 3,263

warnings: 18+ content MDNI!! mentions of cheating (don’t do it), cursing, charles is a player but you’re down bad (who isn’t), this is my first time writing smut so enjoy!

special thank you to @venusacrossthestars for being my beta reader, ily bestie <3

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

unknown number: Our hotel. 10:30. Your keycard is at the front desk.

It was like clockwork. Every weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, you always ended up with a keycard in your hand. When Monday came, you woke up, showered, and took the tiny bottle of shampoo that you used with you when you left. It went in a shoebox under your bed to remind yourself not only of your mistakes, but of each and every night you spent forgetting them in the arms of the biggest mistake himself— Charles Leclerc.

It’s happened twice now. You hardly remembered the first, barring a joke you made about whether or not you needed to sign a NDA. Charles had silenced you by backing you up against the locked door and pressing heated kisses to your jaw, lips moving down your neck as you pulled him closer. He was excited that weekend— he’d taken P2, and it was thanks to the celebration he partook in at the club that he met you.

You were a bartender for the VIP section at a club near the track. It was easy work, if you didn’t mind all the flirting and catcalling. You were never one to be affected by it; you knew they were all either drunk beyond recognition, or would be by the end of the night. You loved your job. You also loved your boyfriend, whose shift you’d picked up that night.

But then Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari’s golden boy, sat down at the bar. Your bar.

After that weekend, you didn’t have a boyfriend. How could you, when every time he kissed you, you saw a certain Monegasque behind your closed eyelids? When every time he touched you, you imagined different hands caressing your skin?

You’ve always prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the Formula One driver, all your inhibitions went out the window, and your pride with them. So you tried not to get attached to him. You were perfectly happy to be the annual hookup, to let yourself go for one night out of the 365 that came in a year. You didn’t need to get to know him, you didn’t need to learn more about the sport; you didn’t even need to kiss him on the mouth.

You didn’t.

So why were the words “our hotel” making your heart race every time you read over the text from his unsaved number?

You thought about responding, but in the end, you settled for liking the message, just like you did the last time he texted you. It had been his idea to keep this up in the first place, anyway.

2021.

“Where’re you going?” He was half awake, sleep fading quickly from his eyes when he took in the sight of you with your hand on the doorknob.

“I was leaving… unless you changed your mind about that NDA?” You quipped.

“That’s as funny as it was last night,” he groaned, stretching out and pushing the blankets off his body.

Ahh, last night. He’d put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially because it was all so fresh in your mind. The way he looked– hair mussed after all the times your hands had run through it, golden skin against the crisp, white hotel sheets, the red scratch marks on his back… Yeah, it was a miracle that you didn’t launch yourself back into the bed right then and there. You still dreamt about it sometimes, the way he looked so ethereal in the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

“Are you going to continue to mock my sense of humor, or can I be on my way?” Your throat was so dry.

“I’ll be back in the area next year.” He didn’t offer any explanation— it was Charles Leclerc. He didn’t have to.

You fished out the piece of paper you’d scrawled your number on earlier before promptly stuffing it into your pocket in a moment of retrospection. Hell bent on leaving the room before you acted on the impulse to get on top of him again, you tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Make sure I can tell it’s you.” It was the last thing you said to him before you finally made it out the door.

Now, you read over his text again as you climbed the steps to the VIP section of the club. Our hotel. You were going to need some liquid courage if you were going to fuck him tonight.

A solid perk of your job was free access to the VIP section when you weren’t working, and in times like these you were most definitely going to take advantage of it. A couple shots were all you needed to take the edge off, and you downed them in quick succession before checking the time- 10:10. You were cutting it close, but the closer it got to 10:30, the antsier you became. You decided to linger for five more minutes, and called for another round.

“You okay?” One of your coworkers asked from behind the bar as he filled the shot glasses in front of you. “You look a little nervous.”

You laughed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy my drinks, will you?”

He flipped you off good naturedly before turning to his other customers.

With another shot down, you took out your phone, the text still front and center on the display. You swiped it away, instead opening up the search engine. Against your better judgment, you typed the sentence you’d been restraining yourself from searching up all day long: miami gp 2024 results.

The first thing you saw was his name. CHARLES LECLERC WINS 2024 MIAMI GRAND PRIX.

You fought the urge to smile, quickly grabbing your fourth and final shot and tipping it back. Ironically, the burn of the whiskey sobered you up a little as you gazed at the picture showcasing his beaming face and dimpled cheeks, both hands lifting the first place trophy high in the air. You made the mistake of bringing up the race (or lack thereof) the last time you saw him, and since then you’d made an effort to try and avoid anything to do with F1.

2022.

“Disqualified? I mean, it’s shit!” You exclaimed heatedly as you wiped down the bar. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, making your stomach squirm with excitement every time you remembered the text.

Same hotel. 10:30. There’s a keycard at the front desk. No NDA. You had giggled at that last bit, and if you’d completely given up on your morals then you might have fallen in love with him for remembering the joke that he didn’t even crack a smile at last year. You’d practiced some French, and you paid attention to news about the Miami Grand Prix, but you hadn’t given up on your morals.​​ You weren’t going to fall for and pursue the guy you only saw once a year.

The French was simply because you wanted to brush up on your rusty high school skills. As for the news… well, you were in the area. Everyone was paying attention to the news.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Your coworker replied, an eyebrow cocked at your reaction to what the reporter was saying on the TV.

“I don’t care, I just think it’s stupid.” You backpedaled, trying to sound more casual than you did a second ago, especially when Charles appeared on the screen looking nothing short of dead inside and your heart began to beat a little faster. “Everyone should be able to race.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the FIA for you.” One of your patrons grumbled, thumbing through his wallet and producing two five dollar bills. “Thanks, guys.”

“You keep that,” you shoved both bills into your coworker’s hand after the customer was out of earshot. “I have to go.”

You changed at the speed of light in the VIP bathroom before going to the hotel. You showed the clerk your ID, collected the keycard, entered the room, and promptly made a fool of yourself.

“I heard about the disqualification on the news…” You trailed off when you were met with a glare, not necessarily towards you but rather the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Was all he said before he practically manhandled you onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as you bounced back on the mattress. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, any other words dying in your throat as he hurriedly pushed your dress up past your stomach and immediately started kissing every inch of newly exposed skin.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you. “The only thing I want to hear you say for the rest of the night is my name, understand?”

He’d grabbed your hands and put them in his hair that night, right as he had you seeing stars courtesy of his head between your legs. You dreamt about that, too. A lot. You always woke up sweating, in desperate need of a certain type of relief that only he could give you.

You were thinking about last year again as you walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby, the shots of whiskey making your veins thrum with excitement.

The way he had whined when you pulled his hair.

The way he smirked at you as he crawled back up your body, so full of himself and so damn sexy.

You found yourself wondering what he’d be like tonight after winning the race as you gave your name to the clerk at the front desk, hoping she wouldn’t comment on how flushed you looked. She asked to see your ID, then handed the keycard over. Room 24. You were there in moments. He always booked a room on the third floor. As you walked down the hallway, you were vaguely aware of the fact that, against your will, this had become something of a routine.

You and Charles Leclerc. One night only.

For three years in a row.

You hadn’t even bothered to dress up this time— your clothes wouldn’t be staying on very long, anyway.

You were glad to see that you’d gotten there first when you opened the door, pocketing the keycard as the door swung shut behind you. There was no point in looking around the room; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Eventually, you drew your attention to the view out of the large window, moving the curtain out of your way to admire the view of the Miami night. You tried imagining what everyone else was doing at that exact moment to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to Charles.

Charles, Charles, Charles. Just thinking about him made your heart knock against your chest, and you were in the middle of mentally berating yourself for it when you heard the door opening and Charles himself walked in, the trophy you saw him holding in the picture still in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him, nerves adding a slight shake to your voice.

He gave you a soft smile in return, setting the trophy down on the nightstand and adjusting it slightly.

You remembered how he reacted the last time you mentioned his job, but this had to be different. Besides, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it when the trophy was literally sitting right there.

“Congrats— or, actually, félicitations on the win,” you said, dropping the curtain back and stepping closer to get a better look at the trophy. “Much better result than last year.”

“You’re not kidding.” He scoffed, taking his hat off and tossing it on the other side of the nightstand. “You know French?”

“A little.”

He had changed out of his race suit, but when you stood next to him you could still smell the champagne.

“Think you’ll be in the running for the championship?” You asked casually, even though you knew that he was in a great position already and was most definitely in the running for the championship.

You tried to avoid Formula One. You just weren’t all that successful.

He gave you a look, like he was trying to get in your head and figure out when you’d started paying attention. “I hope so,” he finally answered. “This could be the year.”

“I hope so too.” A pause. “Would it be overstepping if I said I was proud of you?”

This brought a real smile to his face, his dimples seeming even more prominent than they did in the photo. “Not at all. It’s actually really nice… hearing that from you.”

The usual initial awkwardness had finally faded away, and you knew what was going to happen next. You wished you could sit down with him and listen to him retell every moment of his triumphant race, but you couldn’t.

That’s what girlfriends do. Not hookups. You were perfectly fine with being a hookup, and you would continue to repeat it to yourself until you believed it again.

To mask your disappointment, you reached out and gently took his hand. His palm was warm under your touch as you pulled him close. “How about we celebrate that first place, hmm?”

The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, even after not seeing each other in a year.

He always tried to kiss you. You always turned your head at the last second. If he was disappointed, he never showed it, instead focusing on getting you underneath him. Not that he had to try very hard.

Charles had a way of making you forget. With every brush of his fingers against your bare skin, every press of his lips at your collarbone, you slipped away from reality more and more, until the only things that mattered were you, him, and the hotel room. Nothing existed outside of the four walls you were within, and how could you care right now? You couldn’t, not when he had already gotten you out of your shirt and bra and his hand was gently taking hold of your breast. He was taking his time, studying your every move in response to his own. His thumb brushed across your nipple just enough for your breath to catch in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, ego clearly inflated by the fact that the slightest touch from him still had you reacting this way, and you wished more than anything that you could kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” you managed to say as his thumb continued its back and forth motion.

“This is me celebrating.” He paused, giving you a pointed look. “Is this not good enough for you?”

You bit your tongue, chest rising and falling as you squirmed underneath him due to the sudden lack of stimulation. “I-I just—”

“What? Utilise tes mots, chérie. Je sais que tu peux.” Use your words, dear. I know you can.

You took a breath, then looked directly into his stunning green eyes as you reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand down. “Je te veux ici, Charles.” I want you here.

He cursed lowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he heard you speaking French back to him. “You said you only knew a little.”

“Just the important stuff,” you teased, eyes traveling down from his bare chest to his fingers as he tugged your underwear off.

The rest of his clothes followed, and he didn’t waste any time rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you, a punched breath leaving his lips once he was fully seated inside you. “Thought about this all day,” he said, large hands running over your naked body. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can’t say that kind of shit to me, Charles.” You sighed, your eyes closed as you adjusted to him.

“Why not?”

“Because it messes with my head,” you admitted.

“I mean it, though.”

“Did you mean to say ‘our hotel’ too?” You opened your eyes now, the burning question finally about to be answered.

“It is, don’t you think?” He asked, and then he started to move; slowly, tantalizingly.

“Shit. I can’t think when I’m with you.”

You couldn’t talk after that, not when he was making you feel so good. You could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and marking his neck wherever your lips landed. You shouldn’t have, and he should have stopped you, but neither of you cared. Every lewd noise coming from his mouth made you feel hotter and hotter, and just when you thought you were going to burst into a ball of flames, he started talking.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he instructed breathlessly, maneuvering you so he was now laying on his side behind you… and you were staring right into your own eyes in the shiny surface of his first place trophy. “See how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back, bringing your arm back so your hand could find a home in his hair again. You watched through the trophy as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin and arm tightening around you as he picked up his pace.

“Charles, I—”

“Mhmm,” he moaned in your ear, his hand slipping back between your legs when he felt you tightening around him. “Go on, baby, let go for me.”

You didn’t need to learn more about Formula One, but you had. You didn’t need to know more about Charles Leclerc, but you wanted to. You didn’t need to kiss him on the mouth. But your mind was hazy, and you wanted to know how his lips felt on yours. You wanted it so bad that, when the both of you had come back down to earth, you didn’t fight it when he leaned in and captured your lips with his. He kissed you deeply, rolling you onto your back against the pillows. You felt his hand against your cheek, and as you opened your mouth for him you tangled your fingers with his.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that things wouldn’t change.

And they don’t.

You still wake up before him in the morning. You still shower. You still put your clothes back on. You still trade parting words with each other, and you don’t hear from him for another year. You still take the shampoo bottle and put it in your shoebox when you get home, ignoring the ache between your legs the whole while.

Nothing changes.

Except now, you’ve spent a year knowing what it’s like to kiss him. You know how easily your lips mold together, how you would happily spend your one night with him doing nothing but kissing him.

And when the text lights up your phone, a thrill shoots through you.

CL16: Our hotel. 10:00. You know where to find your keycard. 😉

Maybe, somehow, you can find a way to keep your morals and be in love with Charles Leclerc at the same time.

note: well, here it is— after two+ years, i have made my long awaited return to posting fics on tumblr. i’ve done it in style by posting 18+ content for the first time; i hope it wasn’t too cringy to read. i don’t know what came over me, but here we are. thank you so much for reading.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

also, i’ve been out of high school for almost three years now, so i greatly apologize if the french is bad or incorrect.

beautiful dividers by @saradika !!

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @naturallyspontaneous @whatever7justchillin @outerudeth @devlovesbooks @wegaveitago @seagulltacotoaster @acarguello1 @fangirlika @simplyscorpio @nuccibeboo2 @heeygemmilala @toppersjeep @anedpev @vee2004dee @chriss-club @lewisroscoelove @scaramou @aneverythingwriter @bingewatche @candystarfish @bestpart0fmylife @topgunmav1df1 @taytaythirteen @jackiekennedys @tpwk-loml @mangodreamsicle @rafaaoli @bunbun9396 @olicitymckono @weareallsnottygirls @jenm26 @alicecourtier @oliveswiftly @janeholt3 @d3kstar @l-inas @smiithys @spookylilmeep @barcelono @ililali-blog @srhh15 @sainz-leclerc @lilycampbells-blog @cassandra-nerezza-black @nova-rush

#full fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smut #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 smut

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

#the durge timeline makes me want to scream sometimes #the dark urge #durge #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #enver gortash #orin #kressa bonedaughter #balthazar #durgetash

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 6

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: getting some tension here 👀 and yes the opening scene is inspired by How I Met Your Mother. This ends on a sad note for Azzy Baby so a bit angsty

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Masterlist)

Azriel isn’t surprised as his front door opens to find you bursting through it, as you had texted him about fifteen minutes ago if you could come over and tell him something. You quickly lock the door behind yourself, turning to face himself and Rhysand.

“So you guys know how Cassian and I got drunk last night after dinner,” you start before Rhys cuts you off with his hand. “Please don’t tell me Cass made it three weeks with a female roommate before having sex with her.”

You grimace at him, “ew, no.”

A look passes between Azriel and Rhys, one you can’t quite make out, but Azriel stands a bit straighter after your words.

“As I was saying - we got drunk, and after you guys left, we were walking down to go get donuts from the place on the corner when we passed a tattoo parlor and we went in.”

After the dinner with Mor last night, Feyre dropped the four of you off and you all had congregated into yours and Cassian’s apartment. You were tipsy for most of the night, Rhys and Az had the slightest hint of a buzz, and Cassian was bordering on blackout because he “wanted to take advantage of not doing anything the next day”.

Your mention of a tattoo parlor got their attention very quickly. You start giggling then, jumping up and down at what you have to tell them. You can’t contain your excitement as you blurt out, “Cassian got a tramp stamp and I don’t think he remembers it.”

They both look at you in shocked silence then start laughing. They start asking a million questions - “what is it? What color is it?” After a minute you tell them, “he’s awake and I know he’ll be over any minute - we have to remain calm. You need to see it.”

You turn back, unlocking the door for Cassian. The three of you wait in pained silence until you hear the knob turning, prompting you and Rhys to begin two completely different conversations to fill the silence.

“So like I said she was hot-“

“My professor is a jackass who wouldn’t -“

Cassian walks in, too hungover to notice the conflicting dialogues. He walks in shirtless and you start practically buzzing in excitement. You send warning glares to his brothers, trying to communicate, “please please please you need to see it before you say anything”.

Cassian groans a greeting to you three, walking past the three of you to open the fridge door. As he searches for whatever it is he wants, the three of you crowd behind him to look at the little blue candy heart that says “babygirl” in pink script tattooed just above his ass.

Rhys shoves his fingers in his mouth to keep from laughing and Azriel’s about to break when you slap a hand over his mouth. You all try so hard to keep from laughing, which makes it that much harder to restrain yourselves.

Rhys cracks first, unable to stop himself as he asks, “are you lost, babygirl,” referencing that godsawful 365 Days movie Cassian made you all watch a few days ago.

The three of you lose it, and Azriel collapses to the floor in giggles, taking you with him. From the ground you watch Cassian’s confused brain try to make sense of why you all were laughing so hard when Rhys slaps right where the fresh tattoo lied and Cassian yelps in pain.

“Oh gods, why does that hurt so much?” He stills, running straight for Azriel’s bathroom. The three of you follow, standing outside the door listening for Cassian’s moment of realization. He screams in shock, running back out, pointing a finger at you.

“You did this!”

“Me?” You ask, between giggles, “I think it was you, babygirl.”

That sends Azriel over the edge again, and he starts giggling into your hair.

“I’m getting it removed asap,” Cassian grounds out, storming out the apartment, leaving the three of you to giggle and mock him a bit more.

-

The week goes by in a blur of classes and project work. You don’t see much of Azriel, but the two of you text frequently after sending him that first message about Cassian’s tattoo.

The two of you would send photos of valentine’s hearts to each other, clearly mocking Cassian, asking, “would this look good on my chest?”

You had spent most of the week glued to your phone, waiting for his responses. Feyre even got mad at you when you had dinner at her place on Wednesday because you kept glancing at your phone while she was telling you something.

You began apologizing, telling her about you and Az texting, when her own phone buzzed taking away her attention. You had sat back as her gaze moved to her phone, hands itching to respond to Rhysand.

“Go on,” you told her, “pot calling the kettle back, I see.”

Today was Friday, so you didn’t have any classes, however you did spend the day TAing for several Organic Chemistry labs, the first of which had Rhysand in it. He had offered to drive you to campus, and after dinner with Feyre, you’re wondering if it’s just so he can talk to you about your friend.

You walked into their apartment, ready to meet Rhysand when you were met with a beautiful girl on their couch. She had long blonde hair in a nest braid on her head, and her silver eyes pierced you as you entered the apartment.

You look around, checking that you’re in the right apartment, and offer her a small smile, trying not to look as shocked as you feel as you shut the door behind yourself.

Was Rhys seeing someone?

She tells you, “I’m Nesta,” and you nod, offering her your own name back. She quirks a small smile at that, leaning back in the seat. “Interesting,” she says, “you’re just like Azriel described.” Her eyes roam up and down your body, and her face remains neutral, not giving you any hint of what she sees.

You want to know more about how Azriel had described you, when the man in question comes out of his room and stops at the sight of you talking to Nesta.

“Hey,” he tells you, and you’re too focused on watching him to notice Nesta roll her eyes at how much he had deepened his voice. She starts to say something, and he realizes it, strolling over to give her his notebook to keep her quiet.

The teasing words die on her tongue, replaced by words of gratitude. Azriel breaks eye contact with her to see you’ve started to stand, saying, “I’m gonna go wait outside - uh clearly you have company.”

Azriel looks at you, your face riddled with confusion and something else he can’t quite place.

“No, don’t worry. I was just leaving. I’ll see you tonight?” She asks, turning back to Azriel, “7?”

You wince at the date they’ve made, and Azriel definitely notices. He nods, “yeah, I’ll see you.”

He walks her to the door, before turning back to you, an interesting look on your face.

“She’s uh nice,” you stammer out, heart beating wildly once he shuts the door behind her.

Of course someone as pretty as Azriel needs someone as striking as Nesta. Were you a fool this whole time? To consider he might harbor affections for you? Was all the texting just niceties between neighbors?

“Not to new people she isn’t,” he replies, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“She was nice to me,” which makes it ten times harder for you to hate her. Your face flushed with embarrassment at having read this whole situation wrong. You are internally pleading with any force in the universe to make Rhys hurry up so you can bury yourself in shame and embarrassment away from Azriel.

“Well that’s because-“ but the words die on his tongue, as Rhys strolls out of his room, clearly hearing your prayers.

“Oh there you are, come on let’s go,” he tells you, grabbing his bookbag, snapping at you like you’re the problem, “we’re going to be late.”

Azriel’s brows furrow, “where are you two headed off to?”

Rhys smiles, “didn’t you know? She’s my lovely TA for O Chem lab.”

-

Azriel pulled up to the building later that night, hopping off his bike after spending hours with Nesta at the library. She was doing a minor in computer science, so she was taking the same electives as Azriel and they met weekly to do their homework together.

Tonight’s topic for review was all about you and how Nesta is certain that you were jealous of her sitting in his apartment and she was equally certain that any man in a city block would be lining up to ask you out.

“Don’t wait too long, Az,” she had told him as they walked towards the parking lot, mostly empty due to how early it was in the semester and the late hour. “She’s awfully pretty and smart. I’d date her.”

She smirked at Azriel’s disapproving look, thanking him for the notes from yesterday’s lecture.

Nesta’s words ring in his head as he spots you at the door of your building, a little black dress adorning your body. He walks closer, opting to leave his helmet on, eyes glued to how the dress covers your curves, and it takes a moment to realize that you’re with someone.

And not just anyone.

A guy. Some guy. Some guy that wasn’t himself.

Fuck, he thinks.

Did he have it all wrong? Were you seeing someone - responding to his texts because of pity? You had been so nice - were you just this nice to everyone? The subtle touches, the quick glances, did he make them all up?

He hadn’t thought much of your lack of communication today - you had told him previously that Fridays are a busy day for you, but now he knows you likely spent the afternoon getting ready for this date.

He keeps the helmet on as he walks past, not even hearing your conversation with the guy. He tries to keep himself from being noticed as he walks right past you, the scent of vanilla and flowers hitting him. He walks through the lobby, straight into the waiting elevator.

His fingers stay pressed on the button that leads to your floor, moving to stay pressed on the “close doors” button. He can’t stomach the sight of you two, and he certainly can’t stomach sharing an elevator with you two, forced into making small talk with your date.

His thoughts whirl and swirl with the texts you had been exchanging all week since you all had dinner together as he leans his helmeted head against the closed elevator doors. Jokes shared between you two into the odd hours of the night.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had stayed up texting someone, not wanting to go to sleep for fear of ending the conversation. He thought he had even heard you laughing through the wall at his dumb jokes. He had even fallen asleep while waiting for your response last night, his phone unlocked next to his face to your chain of texts the first thing he saw that morning.

The doors to the elevator open and he walks to his apartment, unlocking the door, and trudging into his room. He pulls off his helmet, chucking it somewhere in his room. He replaces it with his headphones, cranking the volume up as loud as it will go, to drown out any noise that could filter in from the apartment next door.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar writing

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter One

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (In future chapters)

WC: 4070

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warning: 18+ Blog; brief description of drug use, rehabilitation/mentions of rehab stay, getting treatment for drug addiction, absent parents, anxiety, sister giving ultimatum, apologetic Dieter, determined to turn life around, cursing, if I’ve missed anything feel free to let me know.

A/N: Firstly, big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me drone on about this! And for also being a champ and beta’ing for me too!!

This chapter has some heavy elements to it, and I hope it comes across as a serious tone considering the topic of drug usage. I wanted Dieter to be deliberate in his attempt to better himself. There might be some reference to this characters contents in the future, but this will be the only one containing any actual drugs. There’s a lot of information packed into this chapter to help get the story going. I’ve been so blown away by the responses to this series and I really hope I do it justice! Any questions/comments/or you just want to chat more about this chapter, my ask box is always open!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Next

A few sharp knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Hello?? Is someone in there?”

No response. 

The slightest twist of the knob. Unlocked. Unoccupied. 

Only the opening of the door reveals quite the opposite. Occupied. 

“Oh! I’m so so sor— Oh my god! Are you fucking serious right now?! You’re getting high at a 6 year old’s birthday party!” 

No response. Just a deadpan look of nothingness from the body propped up next to the toilet. 

“I fucking knew it. I knew you would fucking let her down!! God!!! You’re such a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag— so fucking ridiculous.”

“W-whyy a-rrre y-youuu yellllling? Shhhhh!” His speech laden with a hint of sarcasm. 

“You’re a fucking joke! I can’t believe you would do this to your sister!”

“What are you yelling about in here?? Wren is getting ready to open her presents and wants everyone to watch her. Dieter why are you on the flo— are you fucking high?” 

“Ag-ainnn shhhhhhh!” His pointer finger emphatically raised to his lips, the noise too much for his dazed mind. 

“You promised me Dieter! You fucking promised me no drugs! I should have known better, I should have fucking known you’d do this— you don’t care about how much this hurts me to see you like this, constantly letting me down. I’m done Dieter, I’m so fucking done trying to help you if you’re not going to help yourself. Fuck! Get the fuck out! Go! Now!! I don’t want you near us, I won’t put Wren through this. Get help or stay away!”

The door slams, Dieter left alone to ruminate  over what was said in the small tiled space. 

Even in his stupefied state, the words thrown at him were enough to make an immediate impact. The cognitive part of his brain working over time to push through and make a levelheaded thought. 

“Deadbeat”

“Washed up”

“Get help or Stay away”

Reaching for his phone, he dials his lifeline who drops everything for him, probably due to her reoccurring paycheck, his assistant whom he’s thankful doesn’t hate him enough to ignore his call out of the blue. 

“Heeeey! I n-neeeed y-you to c-ommme g-get meee…”

He knew this was it, he had to get his shit together or suffer the consequences. 

*

He feels different if he’s being honest with himself. 

Lighter. 

Healthier. 

Alive. 

365 days clean. He made a commitment to a year long stay at a drug rehabilitation center, followed by a 3 month residency in a sober living facility conveniently tucked away in the Hollywood hills. 

Yet, he feels more lost than he was before he started treatment. 

He can’t remember what living a normal, healthy life is like— a life not high out of his mind 24/7.

This wasn’t his first time trying to get clean, he’d become a regular of sorts at a few different rehab centers scattered through out the greater Los Angeles area. 

Each stay with the same goal and each one a failed attempt at getting control over his life without the drugs. 

It was never “hope this is the time it really clicks for him”, it was always a question of “how long will he go this time before he’s kicked out and checking into the next one”— might have even been a headline a time or two. 

Many centers refusing to even consider treating him based on his past reputation alone. 

His agent’s patience was wearing thin trying to book roles for Dieter, doing his best to convince directors he wasn’t a liability and he could get the job done with zero risk in hiring him— it was far from the truth. 

Each day on set became a game of Russian Roulette, no one really knowing which side of Dieter they would be dealing with while shooting. That in itself was a metaphorical high he chased with each role he booked, seeing how long before some one caught on to his slurred words, blood shot eyes and sluggish demeanor. 

On numerous occasions Dieter thought he was skillful in his ability to mask his inebriated ego. He was combative with the crew and fellow actors— his temperament calm and mellow one moment, then seething and dripping with rage the next. 

He was getting sloppy. The teetering domino of his life had slowly began to tip and once it did finally fall, his entire life crumbling around him. 

*

The traffic is heavier than expected. Dieter wonders if it’s due to others similarly seeking to leave the city in hopes for a break from the dim aura that Los Angeles is. He can feel the weight of the city’s reputation lift from his shoulders with each passing mile as he maneuvers through the stretch of freeway congestion. 

A few honking horns bring his attention back to the conversation he’s currently semi engaged in. 

“This is a big step Dieter. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.” 

He instantly cringes at the thought of getting back out to sell himself for roles. Facing those who were- and are- tired of his shit. 

The downfall of his career began when he was late for dress rehearsal for a role he some how managed to get— this role having potential to get him in the running for award nominations, propelling his career to new heights. But when he was no where to be found at call time, his assistant went on the search for him and it’s where she found him passed out in his trailer. He was too far gone to even pull himself together, prompting the director to fire him on the spot. 

The rate of speed at which news travels in Hollywood is the equivalent to a fast moving wildfire— once that first bit of gossip hits the ground, it’s spreading through the industry with a sudden surge of ferocity and growing far beyond what is predictable. 

His agent's attempt at damage control was a wasted effort. Directors dumping Dieter’s preproduction roles, actors refusing to work with him and threatening to quit if Dieter stayed on— his list of films beginning to dwindle in a matter of days and by the end of the week, Dieter Bravo was jobless. 

“The next few months will go by quickly, and before you know it you’ll be back out here booking jobs and proving everyone wrong.” 

Vanessa, Dieter’s assistant and full time babysitter, always seemed to have a way to make him feel at ease. And at this point, the only person he knew who believed he could actually turn his life around. 

“I really fucking hope so.” He sighs, this was his attempt at thinking positive. 

“Have you talked to her yet?” Her voice cracking through the car speakers as he continues his drive north on the 101. 

“Briefly. Told her I’d probably be getting in around 6 or so— BEEP!— Watch out asshole!” Throwing a middle finger at said asshole driver who nearly missed clipping his car. 

“She’s proud of you too, ya know. Might not seem like it right now, but she is.”

“Hmm. I’ll just agree to disagree with you on that point. Having a drug addict—“

“Former drug addicted, Dieter.” 

“Right— well, having a deadbeat for an older brother doesn’t really leave a lot to be proud of.”

“You’d be surprised. Hey, I got another call coming in. I’ll be in touch with you soon! Call me if you need anything! Again, Dieter, I'm really proud of you!” 

“Thanks Nessa! I’ll talk to you soon.”

The call ending abruptly, leaving him to sit alone in his thoughts for the next hour and a half—something he hasn’t really taken the chance to experience since, well, a long while. 

The Santa Monica Mountains provide a scenic view as he leaves behind the place he saw as his home for the last 20 years. 

His current destination plugged into his stupidly expensive sports car. 

Home. Where he grew up. 

*

He can’t even remember the last time he visited. Not due to the years as an actor taking him to all areas of the world. The last time he had been home was just over a year ago and he was high out of his mind, barely remembering the trip as a whole. 

His sister had asked if he’d be able to make it to his niece’s birthday. She was turning 6 and had been begging for her uncle to be there to celebrate with— he was easily her most favorite person. The specifics of the getting to his sister’s home and the actual party are pretty blurry for Dieter. 

Dieter spent most of the last year trying to produce a coherent flashback of the day that would ultimately be his last time using, the reason for his commitment to getting his life together. 

He never expected the lowest point in his life would be being caught in the bathroom of his sister’s home doing a few quick lines on the toilet seat, as his niece was blowing out 6 candles a few feet outside the tiny bathroom surrounded by friends and family. 

The moments following are a mixture of hazy clips, fragmented bits of information,

he’s tried to piece together to the best of his ability. 

The rush of someone bursting through the bathroom door, the echoes of laughter and music piercing his ears as he’s hunched on the floor against the wall, little specks of a white powdery residue dusting his mustache. 

There’s screaming as he does his best to focus his blurry attention on the distorted enraged figure in front of him, yelling something about being washed up— his eye lids heavy and fighting against them to keep them opened. 

If he had to recall the exact moment he knew he fucked up, it was seeing the hurt and disappointment on his sister's face— her face wet with tears as she poured out her disappointment and pain over the fact that he was strung-out at her daughter’s birthday party. The weight of his consequences bleeding through him as he vividly recalls his sister telling him to leave and not come back unless he was sober. 

The next day he checked himself in, determined to get his life together for good. 

*

He shakes away the subtle tinge of guilt that starts to bubble up in his chest. 

Remembering the ‘54321 Method’ he was taught in treatment to help ground himself when his thoughts start to become overwhelming…

5 things you see: the sun slowly making its way to the horizon, cars moving swiftly by his own, Live Oak trees rooted among the mountains, the slightest twinkling of the first few stars, his reflection in the rear view mirror— lighter, healthier, alive.

4 things things to touch: the leather of the steering wheel, his jeans fabric soft and comfortable, the cool metal of his rings adorning his fingers, the weight of his sobriety chip in his pocket a constant reminder of how far he’s come.

3 things you hear: the familiar beat of a popular song streaming through the car speakers, rhythmic tapping of his thumbs in tune with the song, his off-key voice as he sings along to the words he knows.

2 things you smell: his olfactory nerve triggered at the distinct scent of his woody amber cologne, that new car smell that still lingers throughout the car’s interior. 

1 thing you taste: a minty tingle on his tongue as he chews his last piece of gum. 

His nerves settle, his eyes focused on the road ahead, deciding he’ll right his wrongs when he gets to his stop— his sister’s house. 

*

The trip took longer than he’d originally planned. Weekend traffic to blame for the 2 hour delay in his arrival. 

‘Welcome to Ojai’— the stone sign greets him, dim uplighting barely making it readable as he turns on to the familiar street. 

The town is all but empty at this time of the night, street lights plus the few restaurants and bars that are open give off enough ambient light to drape the streets in a subtle glow. 

He’s instantly taken back to his childhood, so many memories tucked away throughout the picturesque landscape. 

Growing up with famous parents wasn’t all that glamorous in Dieter’s eyes. 

Dieter’s parents, Dean and Mary Bravo, were both well known in the tv and movie world. 

Dean had been known for his roles in James Bond-esque action films through his career, notably his best work among other smaller productions he worked on. Mary was the queen of daytime television with her numerous roles in soap opera’s biggest shows, a socialite getting invited to glamorous events and elite celebrity parties. 

Together they were Hollywood’s “It” couple, jet-setting to all parts of the world when schedules allowed for it. 

Dieter and his younger sister, while born into this movie star family, were raised far from it. Dean and Mary deciding to buy a home in the mountains outside of the headlines and prying eyes, a place where their kids could live a some what normal life. 

Normal was anything but normal. Dean and Mary didn’t let children hold back their lives and desires of more fame. Leaving them with nannies so they could keep up with the demands of working and living their best lives. 

Ojai, a small village-like town nestled in the valley of the Topanga Mountains, became a literal playground for Dieter growing up. 

Little reminders of his childhood still remain as he ventures further into town. He finds himself slowing the car a bit as he takes it all in, rolling the window down to let the evening air hit his face— it’s crisp as it trickles across his skin. 

The private school he attended all through his schooling years sits on top of a hill that over looks the valley. The school’s reputation was highly regarded and offered a plethora of academic courses and electives. Dieter found the  art and theater programs to be where he excelled most, painting and acting fueled his passion for the arts, propelling him into pursuing one as a full time career. 

He spots Bart’s Books as he drives on, an outdoor bookstore, that had become a daily hangout as a kid. The red wooden shelves still filled with adventures and history to get lost in. He discovered his love for storytelling sitting on the covered patio, nose deep in fictional worlds he dreamed of visiting. 

Across the way, a ‘no vacancy’ neon sign flickers on. Capri Hotel, a newly renovated hotel that still looks like it could have come straight from the 1960s with its mid-century design and modern style. He recalls the summer when him and his buddies regularly jumped the fence to swim in the pool, the cool water under the stars was refreshing during the California heat waves. They managed to only get caught once but worked out a barter with the then owners, they clean the pool and in turn can use the pool at their leisure. The hotel seems to be under new ownership now, but it seems to be doing well. 

On every corner there’s an art gallery. Some still looking as if no time had passed, others adorn new names and a fresh coat of paint. Several galleries offered summer painting classes, where Dieter found he had more creative freedom than in school to explore all mediums and really honing in on his style. He’s always imagined he’d have his own showing of his paintings, friends and family gathering to see his work— a dream he never lived out. 

His car parked and engine killed, he still hasn’t found the courage to get out. He can see a few lights on from the front windows of his sister’s quaint Spanish style home. Trying to not let the vague memories of his last visit deter him from going inside. He sends Vanessa a text, letting her know he’d made it safely and that he’d text her if he needed anything. 

Bags in tow, he makes his way to the front door. Nerves and emotions swirling around, reminding himself to breathe, letting go of the fear and expectations he’d had for this reunion. 

He opts for knocking, assuming Wren would be sleeping at this hour. 

The clicking of locks being turned, twisting of the door knob, the black wooden door swings open to the space that’s haunted him for the last year. 

“Hey, Diem. Sorry I’m so—“ He starts to explain his lateness before he’s cut off. 

“Dieter! Oh my god! I thought something happened to you! What the fuck?!” Her body launches at him, arms wrapping around him securely. He accepts the impromptu hug, dropping his bags to return the gesture. 

“No, no I’m good. Traffic was a nightmare and by the time I thought to call, service was fucked. Sorry for making you worry.” 

“You’re here and you’re safe— that’s all that matters.” 

This greeting is going far better than he had expected, but he hasn’t made over the threshold, still plenty of time for Diem to drop the hammer on him. 

“Come in! Let’s get you all settled in.” She ushers him in, closing the door and adjusting the locks again. 

He takes the space in, noting not much has changed from what he can tell in the diffused lighting, but he feels warm and welcoming even for him. 

“I got the spare room all cleaned and ready for you. New sheets on the bed and a few extra pillows just in case.” She seems skittish moving about the living room, picking up the few toys laying around the room and placing them back in their designated baskets. “If you want to sit, make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Eat?” 

She seems just as nervous as he is and that makes him feel less anxious for some reason. 

“I grabbed some food on the way, I’m good.” Setting his bags down, he makes his way to the couch and sits down, deciding to rip the bandage off so to speak. 

Diem taking his lead, sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her and hands resting on her lap. A lull hangs over them for a few moments, neither really know what to say or do. He notices her fingers fidgeting and decides to break the silence. 

“I know we haven’t talked much since the last time I was here,” He sees the brief wince on her face at the mention of it, as if she’d been actively trying to avoid talking about it. “But I want to tell you how sorry I am for—“

“Dieter, you don’t have to.” 

“No, actually I do. And I’m going to. Not only because it’s part of my steps in recovery, but because you deserve it— Wren deserves it.”

“She doesn’t know— about the drugs or you going to rehab.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it. 

“I won’t mention it to her then.”

“I just told her you were busy and that you’d be coming to spend time with us 'cause you missed her.”

“Why did you agree? After all the shit I’ve done and put you through, why are you letting me stay here?”

That gets her attention, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looks at him with nothing but love and forgiveness. “Because you’re my brother and I want you here, despite all the shit you put me through.” 

He shifts closer to where she’s sitting, wiping the few tears that had decided to fall. He doesn’t think he deserves her kindness, but is grateful he has this opportunity to do what he’s been wanting to do. 

“I’m sorry for the pain and hurt that I caused you. Not only at Wren’s party, but all the other times I’d said I was clean and wasn’t. For putting you both second to my addiction. I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me most. I promise I’m going to do my best to earn your trust and prove to you that I am committed to my sobriety.”

Leaning back, his hand digs into his pocket pulling out his proof, grabbing Diem’s hand and turns it over placing the chip in her palm. She looks at it then back at him, the most genuine smile graces her face before she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. 

“I love you Dieter! Thank you for not only doing this for us, but for yourself as well. I’m really proud of you.” 

“I love you too Diem.”

Releasing Dieter from the hug, she adjusts herself back to her previous position, now more relaxed with her elbow resting on the back of the couch propping her head up as she looks at Dieter, really taking in how healthy he looks since she’d last seen him. 

“Thank you for also letting me stay here. I needed to get out of the city for a bit, clear my head and shit. Should only be a few months or less, until I can get a few things lined up— have a few potential projects I requested scripts for.”

The thought of returning to his old ways terrified him, he had all the tools and support to continue working on himself outside of treatment, but he didn’t want to chance it. He instantly knew exactly where he wanted to spend the next few months re-acclimating back into this new way of living, away from temptation. Knowing their last conversation was anything but great, he'd decided an e-mail felt less grievous and hoped she’d find it in her heart to accept him back in her home again. 

“Of course. Stay as long as you need to.”

“And I can help how ever you need me to, figured it would keep me busy doing stuff, help out with Wren.”

“Oh my gosh, please! It’s peak tourist season the next few weeks at the Hotel and I’ve got a handful of events we’re hosting too. School runs would be a big help for me.”

“Hotel?” He’s sure he heard her right but doesn’t remember any mention of a hotel that he can recall. 

“Funny story actually-- I bought the Capri last year. Did some renovations and it’s been great really. Keeps me busy most of the time, but I love it.”

Diem was never one for the spotlight, especially with movie star family members, actively avoiding anything to do with Hollywood and its ostentatious air. She always had a knack for making drab things look enticing, so Dieter isn’t surprised one bit by the mention of her being the new owner of the Capri Hotel. 

“And now that I’m the owner, you can swim for free— pool cleaning is encouraged too.” He laughs at that. 

“Congrats on owning a hotel I guess. I’ll definitely be taking advantage of swimming privileges then.”

“Alright. I’m going to head to bed, got an early morning dropping Wren off before I meet with the planner for our next event.”

“I can take her tomorrow.”

“You sure? You don’t want to settle in a bit first?”

“Nah, it’ll be nice spending some time with her.”

“Okay. Prepare yourself for a wild time then.”

She kisses the top of his head before heading in the direction of her room. Stopping before turning down the hall, she looks back at Dieter who hasn’t moved from the couch, one of his hands rubbing at the opposite shoulder and leaning his head to the side to stretch it out a bit— the longer car rides really doing a number on him. 

“Dieter—“ 

His head turns towards the direction of his name being called. 

"Hmm?"

“I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Next

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #sweet creature series #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello lovely! I'm back with another request 😰 I was just wondering if you could do the handsome bros with an s/o with tattoos? Thank you! And as always I hope you have a great rest of your night/day🫶

ooooo yes of course!!! I loved doing this w quackity so doing this w them is gonna be fun :) ; and have a good day/night to you too 🫶

HANDSOME BROS ; tattoos for days

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu

warnings ; language, talk about needles

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro the sleeves you got? holy shiet he's so swooned

always complimenting your tats & trying to get you to show them off

if you have any neck or back tattoos... good lord it's over, he can't not stare at them 24/7/365

he also likes coloring the hollow/non colored ones in with washable markers

you're a walking coloring book for him, he's gotta be moving all the time there is no break, even if he's chilled out

always taking sneaky pics of your tats up close LMAO

you take him to one (1) appt for a new tattoo and he's literally cringing in fear for you

like fuck you mean that's what you gotta deal with for the next six hours?? that needle is huge wth

he'll gladly help you with caring for it after though, but not without complaining about it all feeling weird on his fingers

"you better never suggest matching tattoos, there's no way I'm ever doing that"

TUBBO

sending you tattoo inspo from pinterest if you're talking about getting another one 💀

"ohmygodwhatthefuckisthat??"

"the tattoo gun?"

likes smelling all the different lotions and numbing cream and trying to name them or identify the scents 💀

thinks that tats around the wrists/thighs are super cool, esp if it's supposed to look like you're sewn together or dripping ink from them yk?

if you have any quotes or names, he's always asking about them because he can't remember and you don't mind when he asks at all

loves staring at your ink and just zoning out, he's like a proud father cause like you're expressing yourself how you want and shit

likes taking a sharpie and drawing around your fingers, mostly like little squiggles and vines

"you should get a tattoo for sunny, like some sunglasses or something"

"done"

"huh?"

cue you pointing to a pair of vine/meme sunglasses on your forearm

"how long have you had that???"

RANBOO

again, you're a walking coloring book to them

definitely colors the same tattoos a million times and has a washcloth nearby for erasing lmao

also loves showing your tattoos off online and stuff

need a hand to squeeze when you're getting another? he's there, squeeze as hard as you need too lmao

relatively calm about the needles but are they getting one? hell no

theyre absolutely obsessed with any tats on your arms or neck, always zoning out looking at them lol

he tends to send you those tik tok reddit stories, mostly the tattoo fails ones 💀

"Jesus fucking christ how can you make a blowout that bad?"

"the tattoo wasn't even good in the first place either. cut it all off, start over"

they also like to hear you rant about tattoo stuff and recommendations, soft spots etc, not that they're getting any tattoos soon, they just like to learn shit

FREDDIE BADLINU

absolutely loves showing them off online because he's so proud, like this is such a fucking cool way to express yourself??? he's jealous bc no way he's getting a tattoo anytime soon

he's normal about the needles as long as it's not near him

he likes coming along w you when you get new tats because the place you go to has a little art station and you know the person who owns it and is totally fine with him using their art stuff

so while you're getting some fresh ink, Freddie's drawing with professional level utensils and having fun lmao

also the type to color your tattoos in when he's bored. he seems like he has the random urge to color but doesn't own coloring books because he'd never use them

also makes a playlist that reminds him of all your tattoos, one for each specific one and another for the fact you have tattoos and look badass

always showing you tattoos from pinterest like "omg that's so cool" and "dude color is insane"

also uses a sharpie to draw on your fingers when he's bored or a little anxious

and there's so many pictures of you/you together where you can see the sharpie as well 💔🫶

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt x gn reader #mcyt oneshot #mcyt preferences #tommyinnit oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #tubbo oneshot #ranboo oneshot #ranboo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #badlinu x reader

[teenwolf-theoriginals]

Sitting on top of the kitchen counter, Carmen drummed his fingertips along his palm to the rhythm of constant thoughts. His pace quickened at the thought of the restaurant being four weeks away from opening, and yet, they still weren’t fucking ready. It slowed when he thought of last night with you, the first time in months he had gotten a decent sleep. Then it quickened once more when his mind circled back to the never-ending list of shit that needed to be done throughout the week. Before finally, slowing down to a steady tempo when he exhaled, bringing his thoughts back around to you. It calmed him. You calmed him. Yet, everything about that terrified the hell out of him. Simply because anything considered good, Carmen tended to self-sabotage. He did it at the family barbecue, getting an ear full from Suga when you had explained why you were leaving early. He said some shit, you said some shit back until Carmen played the "You deserve better than me" card. You listened and vented to Suga who then proceeded to tell Carmen how much of an asshole he was, leading him to sulk throughout the barbecue debating with himself whether he should call and apologize. He called that night, silence greeting him on the other line. He left a voicemail apologizing, and one year later he finally saw you again, standing in his shamble of a restaurant. The first word out of his mouth had been a low whisper of “Fuck”. But the good kind. The kind where the surprise was pleasant and a welcome breath of fresh, calming air after the mind fuck of the day.

Now, one month later, it felt as if the barbecue fallout never occurred and the two of you hadn't lost those 365 days. He had come home to you standing by the stove, the very place Carmen’s eyes had been staring at for the past 10 minutes. Remembering you in one of his white shirts after accidentally spilling wine on your black sweater top. He smiled when the memory of a faint blush radiated off your cheeks in the middle of you rambling on and on about how you weren’t sure if he would be okay with you borrowing his shirt. He kissed you mid-sentence, mixing the taste of white wine and cigarettes, leading to dinner being forgotten.

"Carm?". He looked up, softly smiling when he saw you walk around the corner. His white shirt looking so much better on you. "You okay?". 

He nodded, frowning his brow soon after. "I'm-I'm not entirely sure. Last night was...it was amazing, you know?".

"I do, I was there". You cheekily replied, smiling at him.

Carmen smiled back, starching his cheek before playing with your hand. Rubbing it, tracing up and down your fingers, just feeling your soft skin against his callous hands. "But I-I woke up this morning and I, I don't know, I had this thought that scared the shit out of me. And my mind, it er...it kept going back to the barbecue".

"That wasn't our best moment". You whispered, remembering that afternoon as if it happened yesterday. Richie had just started on the grill, the others enjoying the sunshine and drinks while you and Carmen were in Suga's kitchen. In two minutes it went from smiling and stealing kisses to watching Carmen's face drop as he chopped the tomatoes. Yelling followed shortly after as the two of you debated in circles about the relationship. Out of the blue, no warning, that was Carmen. A winter blizzard or the warm sun gliding across your skin, there was no in-between with him. It was either no emotion or an overload of emotion.

"It wasn't my best moment. And I'm sorry that I was such an asshole".

"You don't need to apologize again, Carmy. I heard your voicemail".

"You did?"

Stepping a little closer, you nodded. "I should have called you back, or at least texted, but I-".

"You didn't owe me anything, alright. I was the one who messed up. That is why I'm so fucking nervous about messing it up this time".

Brushing his hair away, Carmen closed his eyes for half-second to relax in your touch. "What if I'm the one who fucks it up?". You whispered.

"Not possible. It'll be me. And I don't want to, you know? I, um, I'm trying very hard to be present. To focus on you when you need me. But sometimes I feel-".

"Overwhelmed?".

"So overwhelmed". He exhaled as he rubbed his thumb across your palm.

"We're both going to mess up. Make mistakes, say the wrong thing. Get frustrated at the other for not listening, for not paying attention. But I won't give up trying to make this work. Because I really want this to work".

"I want this to work too".

"Then we'll find ways to make it work, Carm". You reassured him.

"Even when I'm being a piece of shit?".

"Especially when you're being a piece of shit".

Smiling at each other, Carmen ran his thumb gently across your cheek. "I really like that you're here".

"Me too". You replied, adding. "Is there anything else you're thinking about?"

"I'm thinking you're very, very beautiful". He confessed, leaning in to kiss you. Like dinner, breakfast was forgotten. And for worse or for better, you and Carmen were determined to take this second chance and build it all back up again.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #it's short but i'm not going to over think it and just post

[meowzfordayz]

cast iron

Author’s Note: inspiration truly is everywhere — even elbows deep in a sink washing dishes. 🫧

cast iron

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: none

~faqs~ 

You know Bakugo’s fallen in love with you the day he lets you wash his cast iron pan. He’s meticulous about the thing; a handed down, family “secret” that he only revealed after a year of dating to cook your anniversary dinner…

… not including the months it’d taken for him to randomly exclaim So are we together together or are we friends?! his face red and puffy as you’d blinked slowly, taking a moment to process his outburst. What do you want? you’d deflected, heart nearly beating out of its cage, to which he indignantly replied Nope. I asked first! Your achingly familiar laughter ringing in his pinkened ears as your assured answer brightened his gaze We’re together together… I hope? He’d rolled his eyes, that overwhelming sensation of longing tucked neatly away, his chest broad and exuberant as he scoffed Well obviously.

You hadn’t actually gotten to watch him cook—he’d surprised you by taking over your apartment while you were at work, perfecting the meal for your return—but you’d taken note of the soaking pan (all other cleaning already completed, of course) when you’d peeked into the kitchen.

“I can’t thank you enough,” you gush, salivating as the scent of the broth in your spoon wafts to your nose, “My entire place smells amazing!” “Yes you can,” he grunts You already do, the softest of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, “Eat.” Nose scrunching, you happily acquiesce, a tangle of lime, fresh chili, and coconut milk (plus a hint of fish sauce) melting warm on your tongue. You dip your spoon again, this time capturing a cute button mushroom, its fleshy underside soaked in flavor and heat as you take a contented nip. “How is it?” He tries to sound nonchalant, eyes hardly meeting yours, right hand clutching his own spoon with calculated casualness, but you know better. You’ve loved him for 365 days, after all. Bakugo doesn’t give a damn what people think, because Bakugo knows what he is and what he doesn’t aspire to be. But Katsuki? Katsuki cares, perhaps a little too much. “Delicious!” you declare, “Definitely spicy, but not unbearable. And there are so many subtleties… I swear it tastes different yet better with every bite.” “You’re so dramatic,” Katsuki snorts, grinning proudly nonetheless, eyes raising to feel your praise, acutely aware of how you might’ve just described him. — You spring up when you’re finished, determined to get to the remaining pan before he can, but you’re stopped almost as soon as the thought occurs. “Sit.” His voice is quiet, stress not veiled in the slightest. “But the-” “I’ve got it.” You pout for a second, arms crossing as you sit down, head shaking fondly at his protectiveness. “I know how to wash cast iron.” “So tell me why you don’t own a single cast iron pan,” he retorts. “High maintenance,” you quip, eyebrow raising pointedly. Grumbling to himself, Katsuki stands and clears the table, pressing a chastising kiss to your forehead before walking toward the kitchen. “Takes one to know one.” “Heeeyyy!!!!!”

The pan goes home with him in the morning—sometimes in the afternoon on a lazy Sunday—an unassuming tool of tenderness and self reliance. Katsuki, selflessly devoted. Bakugo, foreign to the touch of affection. You don’t feel half loved, nor do you feel that you love half a man (Bakugo Katsuki, for all of his faults, is a wonderful partner and admirable person), but you often wonder how he feels. As he scrubs at the buildup of grease and grime, clear water gradually turning murky, his reflection still visible as scraps of onion and garlic float to the surface… rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. How do you get a man who loves so deeply to see that same love shining back at him? A man so attentive and observant to the quirks and whims of his lover… and afraid to share his own, lest they be unwanted or unfulfilled.

“Can you wash the pan tonight?”

You gawk. Not your finest reaction, but certain instincts can’t be avoided.

“I thought you knew how to wash cast iron?” Katsuki teases, pulse in his throat, “Or did you say that to impress me?”

“I…” you falter, unsure whether to continue tiptoeing or reach for him outright. He starts toward the kitchen, stare more guarded than you remember, and you blurt, “I figured you’d never ask.”

He freezes, indiscernible emotion clenching in his jaw. And then he chuckles. He chuckles and swivels to look at you, ruby eyes twinkling with uncharacteristic yet so beautiful shyness, tone rough like the homey crackle of a winter fire, soothed by the languid drip of honey into chamomile tea.

“Silly,” he rasps, your fingers curling around his waist, plates and silverware caught between your almost embrace, “I love you.”

—

He watches you scrub at breadcrumbs and spring onion, water practically scalding, and not a soap sud in sight. You work methodical and efficient, the pan hardly banging against the sink when you change angles and sections, each glance you direct his way brimming with amusement and adoration.

“I feel like I should pay you,” you hum, giving the pan its final rinse, “You’re basically my personal chef at this point.”

“Absolutely not,” Bakugo scowls playfully, poking your side before gently taking the cleaned pan from your hands, “This is more than enough.”

#katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #one shot #modern au #boko no hero academia #my hero academia

[snake-cabin]

"Till Death, What's Left"

CHAPTER 1

Tomura & Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 23,000+

part 1 * part 2 * ...

(A quirkless AU where after fleeing a treacherous incident, you find yourself caught up in the company of two strangers who also seem to have just narrowly escaped their own horrors. Unexpected events keep the three of you crossing paths. Maybe it’s twisted coincidence. Maybe it’s fate. And maybe, just maybe, the three of you could make the perfect trio to perform a string of robberies with payouts high enough to change your lives forever.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! concept inspired by the music video for “365 Fresh” by triple h, title taken from the lyrics, drug mention, drinking, sexual harassment/assault, violence, blood/gore, suicidal thoughts/actions, angst and trauma, jealousy, love triangle.

*i'm reposting this fic in hopes that it reaches a wider audience this time given it originally went up back when i was sh*dowb*nned. also because chapter two will be coming out soon and i'll be putting in a lot more consistent work into it throughout this year.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The alleyway was narrow, cluttered with stray trash cans and empty produce crates and abandoned pieces of furniture that were littered with holes, serving as a metropolis for the vermin that scampered through the dirty, downtown streets.

The clouds covered the moon, another storm likely on its way based on the warnings grumbling from the distant, low rumble of thunder, the air thick with the humidity of the summer season. Suffocating, almost. Each breath taken was labored, the acrid tastes emanating from the city laying heavy on one’s tongue.

And, as painful as it was to draw in air under normal circumstances amidst this kind of weather, Dabi was running, his lungs burning every time he forced them to suck down more oxygen. His spiky black hair stuck to his forehead and back of his neck with a layer of building sweat, his old black boots nearly falling apart at the soles, brittle laces threatening to snap every time he got lucky enough to tie them up again.

He moved quickly through the obstacles of the alley, swiftly— like the stray cats that were spooked back into hiding with the sound of his fast falling footsteps coming near— but not nearly quick enough.

From behind him, the shouts were always right on his tail.

At the most, their angry voices were only ever the turn of a single corner away, at the least, close enough to grab his beat up old black denim jacket and yank him to the ground by the tattered collar.

If he could get to the abandoned apartment complexes further into the slums, he could lose his pursuers, weave his way through the crumbling buildings, his long, thin limbs slithering smoothly like snakes through the maze of gaps and holes that he knew so well— almost as if they were merely the halls of his childhood home.

Dabi wasn’t accustomed to getting caught. In fact, he’d only ever been sighted twice before, back when he’d first taken to this life after running away at the age of sixteen from the city that now loomed in the foggy distance. The beatings he’d sustained from the rival gangs back then, the near death experience of having his head kicked in by men twice his size and strength paired with the metallic taste of blood running down his throat had taught him to abide by one simple rule.

Don’t steal from someone you can’t outrun.

And Dabi was fast. Always had been, whether it be by wit or physical speed. But tonight, after enduring the beginnings of withdrawal from his beloved painkillers, his vision starting to sway, setting his balance off just enough, he wasn’t on his usual game.

The real kicker of it all is that he could see them come into view— the silhouette of the rundown, deserted apartments only a block or two away— just before his next step found a deep puddle and his feet slid out from under him, body slamming into the brick wall of the connecting alley before the back of his head smacked down on the grimy, cracked asphalt with a sickening thud.

It took his chasers four more strides to catch up, jumping on him immediately and snatching back the cash he’d swiped before beginning the third— and possibly final— beating that Dabi had ever experienced on these harsh streets.

His pale, tattoo covered skin was split with streaks of red, bruises blossoming in deep blue and violet shades across his face and body with every punch, every kick, every deadly impact from the gang as they told him— promised him— that they were going to kill him for this. The blood mixed with the sweat and ran in rivulets down his face, his teeth grit so hard with the pain that he feared they might crack.

But Dabi didn’t beg for mercy, didn’t even ask them to stop once.

He hadn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, or the second time, and now, he almost couldn’t help but laugh after his enemies left him to die lying in that alley.

They should’ve killed me, he thought through his sinister hysteria. They should’ve fucking killed me.

Because pain wasn’t something that Dabi feared.

Pain was like an old friend.

When he knew it was coming— and even when the visit was unexpected— Dabi welcomed the pain.

Because the pain meant he was still alive, even if just out of spite.

But he needed to get more of his pills. 

The pills weren’t the farewell to his old friend, pain.

The pills were an “I’ll see you soon.”

He liked the painkillers at night, when he was trying to sleep. Couldn’t sleep without them these days. But after a big break a few weeks back, Dabi had found himself with some extra time on his hands. More time to kill. More time to sleep.

So his nighttime hobby bled into the day, accompanied him through his afternoons and mingled with his lonely evenings.

Before he knew it, he’d found himself in a full blown love affair with the little white pills. His cruel, addictive mistress.

And he needed more.

He desperately needed more.

He’d do anything— had risked his life once already that night— and showed no signs of stopping.

After a while, he sat up with a groan of suffering, clutching his side where he was sure at least two of his ribs were broken, and braced himself against the cold brick wall of the alley to get back on his own two feet.

He had a bloody nose, a split lip, several other cuts and bruises marking his person, one of the more notable ones being a black welt under one of his eyes, the sclera dyed with red where a blood vessel had burst, contrasting starkly against his cobalt blue irises.

Dabi had already looked like hell on a good day and now…

Well, at least he still had his boots, even if they were falling apart.

So he kept moving, preparing to chase the next opportunity for cash.

Because he needed this tonight.

He’d lose his goodman mind if he saw the sun come up and his limbs were still shaking and his blood felt icy hot in his veins.

He was only a few blocks away from the nightlife district. Could practically see the red neon and blinking lights from where he staggered in the darkness.

So he started walking— limping, more accurately— trying not to scrape one aching foot on the pavement behind him where one of the bastards had tried to snap his ankle, and slipped into a shitty looking bar where the light was low enough that the other patrons hopefully couldn’t see his severe state of appearance.

“Hello, ladies,” Dabi began smoothly after clearing some thick, blood infused salvia from his throat, slinking towards the main bar where he saw two lone women drinking with one empty seat between them. He slipped onto the vacant stool and draped his arms over both their shoulders, limbs heavy with fatigue and radiating heat from the fading adrenaline.

They gave him varying glares of disinterest and disgust, but Dabi didn’t mind that.

It wasn’t the girls he was after tonight, anyway.

It was the set of shiny car keys that were placed oh so naively on the counter next to one of the women, the black and silver of the key fob taunting him, begging to be swung around his long, boney, tattoo covered fingers, tossed up into the air, caught, and pocketed as he strolled out of the bar and towards his new ride.

That oughta sell for enough cash to fund his drugs.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you both seem to be alone tonight…” Dabi’s lithe grasp inched closer towards the keys, slow and steady so as to not raise suspicions, yet it was killing him inside not to just snatch them and run. If not for the recent beating, he would’ve. “Might I interest you in my company?”

“We’re good, thanks,” one of the women shot back as she aggressively shrugged Dabi’s arm off her shoulders.

“Awww, c’moooon…” Dabi cooed condescendingly, eyebrows pulled together and lifted with faked disappointment. “Don’t be like that.” His fingers were nearly at the keys now. Just a few more inches and then…

“Dude, are you deaf?” the other asked rhetorically, also irritated at the unwelcome advances. “We’re not interested. Now get lost.”

And…

Just a little closer…

A liiiiiiittle closer…

Bingo.

“Alright, alright…” Dabi stood from the barstool, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets and beginning to step away. “Just tryna be a gentleman, jeez…” And then, just as he’d played out in his fantasy, as he exited the bar and stepped back into the city streets, he twirled the keys around one finger, tossed them into the air, caught them, and headed towards the car whose headlights blinked from down the block as the unlock button from the keys was sensed.

“Dumb bitch,” he chuckled under his breath as he turned the keys in the ignition, hearing the engine start up as the radio turned on, pulling out of the poor excuse for a parallel parking job and speeding off back towards his part of town.

As the high of his success coursed through his veins, he caught onto what song was playing and cranked up the volume, the windows shaking with the bass as “Audi A4” by MISSIO blared through his stolen car.

“I know you’re watchin’!” he called out with the loud song, approaching an intersection where the light had just turned yellow, pressing down harder on the gas pedal. “My A-Team’s rockin’!” There was another vehicle approaching from the adjacent lane, their light soon to turn green. “And I’m not stoppin’!” He ran the red light as he sung along, laughing to himself when the other car slammed on their brakes and held down their horn at him. “One! Two! Three! Four!”

And with that, Dabi had officially crossed back into his part of town.

***

You were just closing up for the night, working the late shift at the privately owned salon and barber shop that you’d gotten a job at by a friend of a friend.

You fucking hated this place.

It always smelled like mold, especially after it rained, and the owner always gave you the jobs no one else wanted to do on top of the job you’d been hired to do, which had originally been to cut hair.

No, your misogynistic, ugly bastard of a boss didn’t even try to hide it. He made it plain as day what his real intentions were in hiring you.

You gotta get into all the cracks and crevices, he’d remind you with a sleazy smirk, watching you with hungry eyes as you got down on your hands and knees to scrub the floor. If you don’t do it this way, it’ll never get clean.

He complained about having to come in to “check on you” all the time, yet always found it in his “busy schedule” to watch you do something as degrading as scrubbing in between the mildew ridden linoleum with a toothbrush. Always had something to say about what you wore to work, no matter what it was, and had even slapped you on the ass a few times before as a “joke”.

Too bad you needed this job. Wouldn’t survive without it. Not unless you wanted to go work at the cheapest strip club in the red light district just to pay for some microwavable meals and barely scrape by on rent.

Yeah, you fucking hated this place. You often spent your time daydreaming about burning it down as you snipped the dead ends off of people’s hair, fantasizing about slitting your boss’s throat with a pair of scissors or straight razor as he hovered nearby and watched you blow dry and style your clients’ new looks.

But tonight, just about ready to walk out of this shithole that you still couldn’t believe anyone came back to, let alone could find in its hole in the wall location, you let out an exasperated sigh when you heard the cheap, rust-rotted bells— one of which was broken— jingle above the front door.

“We’re closed!” you called as you folded the last cloth poncho up and tossed it over one of the chairs. Then just to yourself you mumbled, “God, can’t anyone read the sign…”

But then you sucked in a gasp at the sight of the large, lumpy silhouette that belonged to your boss standing in the entrance to the salon, clutching your heart as he startled you.

“I’m just closing up,” you began as you caught your breath, wanting to get out of here even more now. “What? You forget something?”

“No,” your boss stated sternly as he stepped further into the salon and closer to you, you instinctively taking a step back towards the sinks. “You have one final customer.” He sat down in one of the three chairs and you felt your stomach sink.

This motherfucker.

“Well, are you gonna do your job or are you only good for sweeping and scrubbing floors?!” he snapped, shaking you from your creeping dread.

You grabbed your scissors and comb, trying to steady your shaking hands as you draped the poncho over him.

He was watching you from the mirror, beady eyes glued to the little bit of cleavage that showed from your button up shirt, only ever drifting to find your thighs that were exposed below your jean skirt.

Fucking pervert, you cursed him with distain, snipping away at his greasy, thinning hair as your rage began to boil.

“Oh, and I want a shave too, alright, sweetheart?” he added, mocking tone proving that he knew he was getting under your skin and enjoying every second of it.

Once you were done with his hair you grabbed the straight razor and shaving cream, trying to remain expressionless as you slathered his face with the white foam, refusing to meet the predatory gaze that he kept trained on you while you worked.

“You better not cut me,” he threatened with a leer, flashing the gaps in between his crooked, discolored teeth, some of which were missing entirely. You opened the straight razor, the metal gleaming sinisterly under the fluorescent lights. “If you do…” His hand found your thigh, sliding up to squeeze your ass over your skirt, making you flinch and grit your teeth, jaw flexing in venomous vexation. “You’re not gonna like the consequences.”

Yeah, well you’re not the one with a razor to my neck, motherfucker, you thought with burning malice.

You could see it so clearly, practically feel it as you sliced the blade across his fat neck, skin parting like a hot knife through butter as dark, dangerous red spilled out and drenched his pit-stained polo with gore.

You were sure that no one would miss him.

In the very least, you and your co-workers— the few of them that you had— would be free from his fucked up definition of flirting.

But what would you do with the body?

Surely you couldn’t lift him on your own and you’d probably expend more energy than you currently had available to drag him into the alley out back.

And what about the blood?

You could try to mop it up but…

“What’s the problem, hon?” he asked in that patronizing way you fucking hated when he noticed you hesitating. His hand began to worm its way up under your skirt, a few of his rough, thick fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties at your hip. “I hope you don’t take this long with regular customers.”

Your grip tightened around the straight razor, face scrunching up in disgust and discomfort.

“Hey!” he snapped when you didn’t give a reply, his grip tightening on you as well, making you hiss through clenched teeth and finally shoot your gaze down to meet his. His sharpness softened then, as if he’d won something, another revolting smirk spreading across his thin lips. “Do a good job and I’ll make sure and give you an extra good tip, ok?”

You let out a slow, only slightly shaky exhale, and then, with the blade pressed to his neck, you began to drag the razor along his stubbly skin, careful not to nick him.

He took his hand off you— for now, at least— but that did nothing to ease the fury that was expanding in your chest.

It’d be so easy, the idea whispered ominously. He’s in no position to run, no position to fight back. You have him exactly where you want him. Exactly where you need him.

Like a hot knife through butter.

Once you were done, using a warm towel to dab off the remaining shaving cream, your boss rolled himself from the chair with a grunt and went to inspect your work up close in one of the many mirrors.

“Not baaaaaad…” he praised in a rough, sing-songy tone, again making a lump of anxiety settle in your throat. You tried to swallow it down before you’d have to speak to him again, if he found a way to get another response out of you.

He turned to face you as you refolded the poncho and tossed it back over the chair, huffing out a breath of annoyance.

But just before you could turn around to hurry past him down the short hallway and exit the shop, one of his big hands found your shoulder, startling you yet again. “Now…” Your eyes went wide with terror as his expression morphed into something violent, something that spelled more than just unwarranted touching or sexist remarks. “How about I give you that tip I promised, hm?”

He was pressing you against the sink counter before you got the first syllable of your protest out, your hips digging painfully into the edge while his growing erection rubbed up against the back of you.

“Stop!” you shouted, fighting to break free. “Stop! Let go!”

The straight razor sat open next to the sink.

“C’mon now…” he growled, pushing into you harder as he tried to hold you still, pressing your chest flat to the counter as you twisted and writhed under his grip. “Don’t be difficult. That’ll just make things harder for the both of us.”

Your blood ran cold, causing you to struggle harder, screaming out loud and shrill.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and you bit into his skin, making him curse and then rake his fingers roughly through your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcefully slamming your head down onto the sink counter, making you body shudder with the pain and then still momentarily from the daze of the impact.

The straight razor still sat open next to the sink, the glint of light off the blade blurring in and out of your spinning vision.

“You think I keep you around here ‘cause you’re actually good at cutting hair?” your boss taunted through a short, curt chuckle, undoing his belt as he kept you pinned against the counter. “Yeah, guess you’re as dumb as you are pretty, hon.”

You reached out, movements sluggish at first, and grabbed the razor, sliding it towards you.

“Maybe you should work late more often,” he had the audacity to say next, tugging your panties down, the sounds of threads tearing making your heart hammer in your chest with panic and your stomach turn with nausea. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll give you a raise…”

You began to push up from the counter, spine trying to straighten, the razor gripped tight in your trembling first.

But it wasn’t fear that was making you shake right now.

No.

Now it was nothing but pure, white hot, blinding rage.

“Little slut. Always coming to work dressed like a whore. You can’t exactly blame me for—” But the next insult was cut short as the deadly end of the straight razor buried itself into the disgusting man’s throat, his sputtering gags filling the space where his words used to be as liquid red ribbons spurted from his jugular.

You yanked the blade from his neck, a spray of red speckling your face and front of your button up shirt as you winced and closed your eyes, more of the gore spilling from his neck from between his fingers as he stumbled back and tried to apply pressure to the wound.

You watched as he tripped over his own feet and almost fell back into the chair he’d just had you shave him in, but missed by a couple feet and instead smacked the back of his head against the metal arm rest before dropping like a bag of rocks to the linoleum floor.

The razor was still in your hand, blood dripping off the end of the blade that reflected the bastard’s final dying breaths.

He gaped at you with wide eyes, reaching out with his free hand and seeming to be attempting to plead, to beg for help or mercy or any of the other things he would never have shown you.

But you weren’t a monster like him.

You weren’t going to leave your prey to writhe and squirm in agony.

Because you weren’t a coward either.

No.

For better or for worse, you were going to finish the job.

Like a hot knife through butter, huh?

Let’s find out.

You approached him slowly, careful to stay out of reach from his grabbing hands that would likely pull you down to the floor by your ankle and try to get the one up on you again in his final moments. When you realized just how weak he was growing from the bloodloss, you straddled his fat body, probably giving him one last hard on before it all came to an end. Because the next thing you did was drive the razor into the base of his neck, right where there would’ve been a dip in his collar bones if they’d been visible, repeating the vicious motion until his struggling had finally stilled and he lay there unmoving, his blood covering you both, the light having left his squinting, rodent-like stare.

You stepped off of him then, watching the blood pool around him for a minute or two before the weight of it all came crashing down on you. The straight razor slipped out of your hands, which were trembling in fear now, all prior rage-fueled vengeance gone. And it was the metallic clang of the weapon hitting the floor that finally pulled you back down to earth.

“Fuck…” you exhaled through a shaky breath, looking down at the blood that covered your hands, hasilty wiping them on your jean skirt with splotches of red before rushing over to grab all the ponchos you’d just folded, throwing them down and trying to soak up all the blood that was continuing to pour from his person.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuck!”

Thank god it was closing, but still. The night would only last so many hours. Would you have enough of them to get rid of the body and hide the evidence before tomorrow morning’s clients came knocking?

***

There was so much blood. Way more than you thought there’d be, that was for sure. All the ponchos were ruined with a dark, rusty red. Discarded thoughtlessly in the dumpster out back where you’d painstakingly dragged the body to slump alongside all the trash it belonged with.

Someone would find him. There was no doubt about that.

But by then, you’d be gone. The shop would be clean. Or clean enough to buy you a little more time, at the very least. And you’d most likely have packed the few belongings you had back at your dingy, cramped apartment and skipped town.

You didn’t know where you were going but the one thing you did know was that you couldn’t stay here.

It had to be nearly two in the morning when you finally stumbled out of the shop, not remembering if you locked up behind you but not giving a shit at this point, hurrying down the short span of alley that would lead you back out onto the hopefully abandoned main streets, when the blinding glare of oncoming headlights stopped you in your tracks, causing you to freeze in the middle of the narrow road where a car was barreling towards you.

If it killed you, at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the cops hunting you down.

But it stopped with a jolt and a screech only a few feet before colliding with you, the driver inside slamming back against the headrest with the force before you both just stared at each other through the windshield with wide-eyed, surprised and terrified expressions.

Dabi noticed the blotches of red that were freckled across your white shirt, the smudges of rust on the faded denim of your skirt, saw the bits of blood that had dried in your hair and on your face where you thought you’d wiped the evidence away.

He turned down the blaring music and opened the driver’s side door, stepping out and looking at you for a moment as the headlights continued to cause you to squint and shield your vision with one hand, only able to see the stranger’s silhouette— a tall, lanky shadow with spiky, wild hair.

What he’d meant to say was get out of the road, but instead what came out was, “Need a ride?”

You nodded, trying to gulp down the remnants of the trauma you’d just been through over the past couple of hours.

“Then get in.”

So you did, having no problem listening to this man without hesitation— well, you had minor hesitation, but still— though you supposed that this man hadn’t tried to assault and rape you.

If he did, you wouldn’t have your straight razor, but now that you’d done it once, you supposed you wouldn’t be afraid to kill again.

But he didn’t try to put his pale, tattoo covered hands on you. Just glanced down at the blood that stained your hands and asked with a sarcastically curious, “What happened?”

“Nothing…” you shook your head, trying to hide your hands by sitting on them, feeling the still drying blood sticking to the underside of your thighs, staring out the window and hoping that he would become more distracted by the road than your crime. “You can just drop me off near the train station.”

The man, who you now noticed had tattoos not just on his hands but pretty much everywhere— the ink trailing up his wrists and arms, his neck, even some migrating under his eyes— along with cuts and bruises of his own, and bright, clear, damn near entrancing blue eyes simply put the car into drive and continued down the narrow side street towards where you’d directed him.

***

Tomura Shigaraki had tried to kill himself numerous times before.

He’d tried suffocation, drowning, pills, leaning off the edge of a bridge and peering down at the drop that was sure to end him the moment his body hit the concrete.

He’d tried— and succeeded— at taking his own life numerous times before in the safety of his own mind. Took comfort in imagining his lifeless body lying still, undisturbed on a sidewalk somewhere or, better yet, in the comfort and familiarity of his own home.

And, a few times, he’d tied a plastic bag tight around his head and breathed until all the air was sucked out only to then panic and then tear it open, taking in big gulps of air and coughing out his impulsive stupidity.

He’d gotten into an overflowing bathtub completely clothed and submerged himself beneath the surface, tried to hold himself at the bottom until his body began to convulse and his chest tightened in pain, only to then break through the surface and yield the same result as when he’d failed previously.

But tonight, Tomura had found a fool proof plan.

There was always traffic downtown, especially on the weekend when the bars and clubs and general nightlife scene was at its most concentrated.

So as he walked along the sidewalk in his beat up old red converse, one of the laces untied and threatening to trip him with every step, he tried to imagine which one would take his life.

Would it be a standard yellow taxi cab? A family SUV?

Or maybe it would be a nice, expensive, spotless sports car.

Maybe it would be red or black or— better yet— white. That way his blood would show up bright against the hood.

Yeah, a white ferrari might be nice, Tomura thought with morbid glee.

But as he stood at the crosswalk, the glowing street sign above his head blinking with the WALK symbol of the little minimalistic figure taking a step forward, he found the one that he really wanted.

It wasn’t a ferrari, but it was white. A Mercedes-Maybach S Class with silver detailing.

And it was going fast.

Even after the light turned to yellow, the speeding car showed no signs of slowing.

Perfect, Tomura thought, bracing himself to step out in front of it at just the right moment.

The street was empty, aside from him and the car, the late hours of the night proving to be a little less optimal for his death than he would’ve originally liked, but if this was it then so be it. Tomura was ready to die. 

He was ready to not have anything around to stop him this time.

So he did it.

He jumped in front of the speeding car, his body slamming into the hood just as Dabi slammed on the brakes and skid to a halt for the second time that night— the second time that hour— nearly killing another complete stranger.

Tomura’s body flung back and rolled out into the middle of the street, laying motionless under the glow of the red light.

“What the fuck?!” Dabi shouted as he stepped out of the car, trying to assess the damage but not stray too far as he was still seriously considering just driving off. But he’d already stolen a car. He didn’t exactly want to add hit and run to his list of crimes for the night, though it’s not like it would’ve been the first time. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Should we help him?!” You were getting out of the car now, unsure of whether you should approach, seeming to be pulled towards the body and the car back and forth by an invisible line as you nervously shuffled on your feet. “God, what do we do?!”

“He threw himself in front of me!” Dabi snapped defensively, as if you hadn’t been sitting right next to him and seen the whole thing. “Fucking idiot! God…”

“Well, is he dead or…?” You now started towards the body as Dabi scanned the area, pulling on his hair with stress and frustration. No one was around but that didn’t mean the accident hadn’t been seen.

The scrawny stranger who lay in a heap of black clothing and shaggy, silvery hair wasn’t moving, but still, you couldn’t help but hold out hope.

“H-hello?” you asked once you were close enough that, if he was alive, he might be able to hear you. You knelt down to his level, leaning over him now, trembling hands hovering above his body like you were afraid even the gentlest of touches would shatter him, cause him to disintegrate to dust.

But then the young man groaned and flopped over onto his back, blinking bleary, scarlet eyes up at you. He had tired eyes, dark circles etched in deep, and a scar that ran over one side of his chapped lips.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as the silver-haired stranger mumbled quiet, incoherent things under his breath. “Hey! Hey, he’s alive!” you called back towards the tattooed man who’d nearly killed you not long ago. “He’s alive!”

Dabi remained by the car, his body leaning against the inside of the open driver’s door with one foot perched on the floor mat, halfway to just abandoning the both of you here and saving his own ass. “Are you fucking kidding me…?” he asked again, though this time mainly to himself.

“Hey, can you hear me?” you asked the person laying on the road in front of you. “Are you ok?”

As Tomura’s vision began to refocus, his voice began to return to him too. As far as he could tell, he was mostly uninjured. His entire body felt like it was just run over by a truck— or, well, actually, it was a Mercedes-Mayback S Class— but other than the constant aching soreness that made it hard for him to move, he was otherwise alive.

Unless…

“Are you…” Tomura began. You leaned in closer to hear him better, his voice a raspy ghost of a whisper. “Are you an angel?”

When you smiled at him then, just a tiny, slightly amused yet relieved grin, Tomura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he let out an exhausted sigh. Or, well, perhaps he too should be holding out hope. Because if you really were an angel that meant that he’d finally succeeded in killing himself.

“Can you stand?” you asked him next. In response, Tomura tried to roll back over onto his side and push himself off the ground. Your hands tried to guide him, to steady his body until he was on his own two feet and had an arm slung over your shoulders while you helped him limp towards the car.

“Hey!” Dabi shouted angrily as the two of you approached. “No! Leave him on the fucking curb! I ain’t chauffeuring another person around!”

“He’s hurt!” you called back in protest, staring up at Dabi with a plea for mercy. “We can’t just leave him!”

“Listen. I said I’d drop you off,” Dabi sneered, glancing at the staggering stranger with revulsion. “Not you and some random guy who was dumb enough to step out into oncoming traffic!”

“Hey, where do you live?” you asked Tomura, who still seemed to be caught in a daze, his weight becoming a little heavier on you as his body began to slump. When he didn’t respond, you just looked back to Dabi and said, “Just drop him off with me. I’ll figure the rest out.”

Dabi stared at you both then, battling with himself on whether you were worth the trouble or not— as if you’d ever been worth the trouble— then gave a begrudging sigh, telling you to hurry up and get back in the car.

You opened the door to the backseat and helped Tomura slide in before running around and reclaiming your seat on the passenger’s side, Dabi taking off before you’d even finished closing your door and speeding recklessly down the darkened night streets once again, clearly not having learned his lesson the first time— or the second, for that matter.

You kept watch on the man in the backseat from the rearview mirror, who just had his head lazily rested against the seat, slouching down and not bothering to put a seatbelt on as he stared out the window with utter defeat. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, there were a few times you would’ve thought him to be dead with how still he was sitting.

“Hey…” you addressed him. He just shifted his crimson gaze to meet yours in the mirror. “What’s your name?”

He averted his eyes again, staring back out the window at the ghost town rushing by outside. “It’s Tomura…” he finally answered after a long, labored breath.

You introduced yourself in return, only getting a simple, barely detectable nod in response.

“And what about you?” you then asked the driver whose jaw was still clenched, back teeth grinding in agitation from the recent events.

“Who gives a shit…” he answered rudely, narrowing his gaze at the road before him, running another red light.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t particularly care either, you supposed.

“Ah, shit…” Dabi then said as he noticed the gas meter running empty. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he continued with, “Who the fuck goes out with their tank this low?” 

While he was throwing a fit over the dwindling fuel, you were starting to recognize the area, only a few more blocks till your apartment complex, but you didn’t say anything as you could feel the driver’s stress filling the atmosphere of the car. And, with this guy, you felt like a simple statement of “hey, my turn is coming up” would be more than enough to set him off right now.

Dabi cut down another side street where he knew a gas station wasn’t far. It was just outside the city, which you’d already been on the outskirts of, but Dabi wouldn’t be able to pawn the thing off if it stopped rolling the moment he parked it in the shady, underground garage of the illegal stolen car salesman he knew, so he had no choice.

And god he needed his pills.

He needed the cash first though, and to get the cash he needed the car.

Fucking million step process just to get some fucking painkillers, he thought bitterly.

But he could complain and grumble all he wanted.

In the end, he’d do whatever it took, just like always.

“Stay in the car,” he’d said in a way that sounded nonchalant, but you knew was an order, slamming the door shut before you could answer and going over to fill the tank.

You looked back at Tomura, who was still gazing out the window in a daze. You couldn’t help but stare at him, tracing the lines of his scars with your eyes, following the way his wavy hair framed his face and the cool light of the street lamps illuminated his pale skin, making his scarlette eyes glow even brighter. A vibrant contrast against all the monochromatic shades that otherwise painted his person.

“Hey…” you began, speaking softer that time, as if trying to soothe him. “Why did you do that?”

He didn’t respond at first, the only indication that he’d heard you being the slight widening of his eyes, the expression reading as if something dire had just occurred to him before dissipating back to exhaustion. 

“Do what?” he asked with a bored, tired drone.

“Try to kill yourself?”

Tomura looked at you now, only his eyes moving as if the rest of his body couldn’t be bothered. But he couldn’t hold your gaze for very long, the intensity of your sincerity killing him in a way he’d never considered.

“Dunno…” he lied, giving an awkward half shrug, wincing in pain halfway through and gripping his shoulder with one hand.

“Well it was a stupid thing to do,” you scolded him lightly, causing him to shoot you another one of those feral, wide-eyed glares, head turning a little more this time.

“Yeah, and what would you know about it?” he challenged with a scowl, raspy voice a little more sharp now. A little more dangerous.

“I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t try to drag someone else into it. Especially not complete strangers,” you answered, now wearing a scowl of your own.

But you weren’t actually mad at him, per se.

The way you saw it, even though you hadn’t been the one driving, you still would’ve felt responsible if you’d just left him there alone in the street. 

Besides, you’d already taken a life that night and one was more than enough for you.

So you weren’t mad at him. Just concerned.

Because, maybe, at one point or another you’d been just like Tomura. And, possibly sometime in the very near future, you’d be more than willing to throw yourself into oncoming traffic or off a building or bridge or, in the very least, swallow a bunch of pills just to make it all stop.

Because the sight of all that blood— the smell of it, acidic copper mixed with the chemical burning of the bleach stinging your nose— and the sheer fact that, despite the circumstances, you were indeed a murderer as of a few hours ago, well…

The full weight of that was sure to settle over you eventually and, when it did, it just might be too much to bear.

“Whatever…” Tomura puffed out through an exhale of annoyance, looking away from you and back out the window.

Only, Tomura actually did want to answer you. He just didn’t have the right words at the moment to explain it all— that sinking, empty emotion that comes with feeling like you’re completely alone in the world, of having nothing and no one. 

Though, a few seconds later, he perked up in the backseat, noticing something amiss as his skittish crimson gaze scanned the scene outside the window.

“Hey…” he said, causing you to glance over your shoulder. “Where’d that guy go?”

***

Dabi walked into the gas station’s convenience store with his hood up, his head down, and his hands shoved into his pockets.

First, he pretended to browse the chip aisle, strolling slowly as he read over all the brand names. Out of the corner of his gaze, he noticed a security camera. He wondered if it was actually on.

The cashier leaned over the counter and scrolled mindlessly on his phone, used to only a few sporadic customers coming in during the graveyard shift. He hadn’t even glanced towards Dabi when he’d entered, probably wouldn’t have cared even if he’d seen all the tattoos that covered his pale skin, that ran down his arms and up his chest and neck and face.

Maybe he wouldn’t care if Dabi tried to rob the place, if he took all the cash in the register and ran off either.

Because Dabi was even more shit out of luck than he had been at the start of the night.

He’d lost that bundle of cash he’d stolen when those guys had caught and beaten him in the alley and the gas station console wouldn’t let him fill his car until he had proof of payment first.

Well, here goes nothing, Dabi thought as he sighed and marched up to the register.

The kid was still scrolling through his phone and it was only when Dabi aggressively cleared his throat did he glance up, face going white when he registered the man standing before him.

“Uh… Can I—” the kid began, but was cut off as Dabi began one of his most ambitious bluffs in a long time.

“Open the register,” he ordered with a growl, voice quiet but stern, pushing one of the fists that were shoved in his pocket closer to the kid, pretending to conceal a gun. “And hurry it up.”

The cashier didn’t hesitate. He fumbled with the drawer and laid its entire contents out on the counter for Dabi to take, backing up and knocking down some of the cigarettes from where they were placed behind the counter while the tattooed thief stuffed the cash into his pockets.

When Dabi was done, he just nodded at the kid and said, “Oh, and gimme one a those,” eying one of the packs of marlboros that now lay scattered behind the counter. The cashier tossed him a pack with a shaky hand and then Dabi left, rushing towards the gas console, feeding in the bills, filling the tank, and then yanking the pump out the moment he heard it click, not bothering to place it back in its holder before jumping in the car and speeding away with a screech, both you and Tomura staring at him with wide-eyes, hands gripping the safety bars above the window as your bodies were jostled around with every veering turn.

“Uh… What ha—” you tried to ask.

“Don’t…” Dabi snapped, making both you and Tomura flinch. “Ask.”

So you didn’t. You remained silent for the rest of the drive aside from directing Dabi where to turn once you reentered the part of town you recognized. When you told him here was fine, he pulled over to the curb. “Um… Thank y—”

“Get out.” Dabi cut you off. He wouldn’t even look at you. You hesitated for a moment, once again wishing that you at least knew this mysterious man’s name despite how he’d treated you, then opened the door to exit. “And you,” Dabi glared at Tomura from the backseat, the silver-haired suicidal a little more alert now. “I ain’t drivin’ you around anymore either. Get out.”

Once Tomura was standing beside you on the sidewalk, Dabi just turned the music back up until it was so loud you could hear “Johnny Wants To Fight” by Badflower in a muffled blast from inside of the car and sped off again, feeling more on edge by the minute and needing to get the stolen car to his contact before the police had a chance to find him first.

And then it was just you and Tomura left in a perplexed daze in the middle of the night a few blocks from your apartment, everything that had happened up until this point feeling like some strange fever dream that you still hadn’t fully woken up from.

“So… uh…” you began, awkwardly eyeing Tomura who was staring at you like an inquisitive animal. “Do you live around here too or…?”

“I don’t live anywhere,” Tomura replied. “Not anymore, at least.”

It had to be three, maybe even close to four AM by now. Tomura looked tired. You were exhausted. You’d both had the same strange experience and just letting him walk away felt wrong, like you really would wake up tomorrow and forget everything, all the blood and black ink and silver-hair mixing together before fading away entirely.

“Do you… want to come in?” you hesitantly invited.

Tomura then seemed to snap out of his dead stare, blinking a few times before answering, “Sure.”

***

“This is it…” you said as you flipped up the switch by the door, the lights flickering a few times before illuminating the cramped studio. Tomura just stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning what little there was to look at before stepping inside. Neither of you really knew what to say now. What to do. When an awkward silence began to fill the space, you asked, “So, um… Can I get you a glass of water or…?”

Tomura then seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was currently in, flinching as he registered that someone was speaking to him and responding with, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

As you took a hastily washed glass out of the sink where you’d left it this morning and filled it from the lukewarm tap, you kept an eye on your guest out of the corner of your vision and rinsed the dried blood from your hands.

He was standing in the middle of the room, honing in on specific details like what books you had scattered across the tiny, uneven coffee table you’d picked up for free from the curbside when you’d first moved here. He studied the dying houseplants that drooped by the fingerprint smudged windows, their leaves and vines having given up on reaching towards the sun long ago. But, one thing he noticed above all else was the single photo you kept on your scuffed up bedside table.

“Who are they?” he asked when you came over to hand him his drink. He took the glass carefully in his hands, as if he feared he might break it.

You took a seat on the end of your bed with your own glass of water, sipping at it as you glanced at the photo. “My family,” you admitted, though wore a sad expression where he would’ve expected one that was a little more, well…

Actually, he didn’t exactly have the fondest memories of his family either.

You thought he might ask you what happened to them, if they lived nearby or if you guys were close, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded like he understood and then sipped at his drink while standing a few feet across from you, both of you looking at each other and waiting for the other person to say something else.

You wondered just how long he’d been alone. How long he’d had to endure silence before almost getting killed— then saved, if you could call it that— by you and that tattooed guy in the middle of the street tonight. You almost asked. Would’ve, if not for him speaking first.

“Why did you let me in?” he asked, intentions unreadable in both his face and tone.

“Should I not have?” you inquired. Instinctively you reminded yourself where you’d hidden weapons throughout your apartment— a letter opener in the nightstand drawer, pocket knife underneath one of the couch cushions, multi-tool behind the vase near the front door— just in case things took a turn. Tomura just continued to stare at you, his gaze curious, as if he found you just as odd yet enticing as you found him. “I mean…” you then recovered, “You said you had nowhere to go, right?”

He nodded, bringing the glass to his lips but pausing before taking the next sip, saying, “Did you know the guy in the car?”

“Not until just before we ran into you,” you admitted.

Then Tomura asked “Did he do that to you?” nodding at all the blood on your clothes. You realized that maybe it wasn’t necessarily you he kept staring at with wild eyes, but all the evidence instead.

You’d already nearly forgotten about it.

“Oh…” you exhaled, plucking at your button up shirt and noticing that the bright red had gone rusty now. There was no way those stains were coming out. You’d have to throw your clothes away or, probably a better idea, burn them. “No, he didn’t. That was…”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence. Not even with an insult at your former boss. You just wanted to forget any of it had ever happened.

Tomura then sat on the end of your bed next to you, staring at where the beat up old sofa was pushed up against the wall and gulping down the rest of his water. It was then your turn to study him, decode his appearance as if that would answer all your unasked questions. But, unlike you, his situation was a lot harder to read. He kept it carefully concealed under long black sleeves and faded black jeans, shaggy tufts of hair falling in front of his eyes and hiding parts of his face from you.

Though, there was one thing you hadn’t noticed before, when the only light you’d had to view him by was the dim glow of passing streetlamps or traffic lights. His skin wasn’t just scarred, it was scratched, dry and patchy around his eyes and forehead, eyebrows sparse and chunks of his eyelashes missing as if he’d rubbed them off.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to touch him, wanting to care for whatever condition he had— wanting to understand it better so you could help— but when he saw it coming towards him in his peripheral vision he flinched back, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

You both stared at each other with gaping expressions, scared for different reasons.

“I’m sorry—” you went to say, the words caught in a gasp. But Tomura didn’t look angry. He didn’t look like he was going to hurt you. Instead, he looked at you as if he thought he’d just narrowly protected you from something horrible, like touching him was some kind of curse you might catch. “I didn’t mean—”

But then he let you go, giving you back your wrist, which you cradled in your other hand, and looked away from you. “Sorry…” he mumbled, vermillion stare stuck to the multicolored shag rug hiding the partially rotting hardwood floors. “It’s just… I’m not used to being touched and I…”

Similar to you, Tomura also had a hard time speaking the things he’d much rather forget.

Then, without thinking you blurted out, as if you had just suddenly decided it needed to be freed from the cage of your body, “I killed someone tonight.” Tomura didn’t flinch at that. Just looked back at you with a gaze that either said, “I’m sorry” or “I understand”. Maybe both.

And suddenly you had this fear of rejection, like you expected him to lash out and call you crazy, deride you for committing such a heinous act. But instead he just asked you, “Did they deserve it?”

You cracked a nervous smirk, the fever dream you felt like you were floating in becoming all that more unbelievable. “Yeah…” you said, a stifled, choking sound that was perhaps the dying embers of a sob catching in your throat. “Yeah, he did.”

“What are you gonna do?” he asked next. You felt like the scenery around you was beginning to blur, the walls closing in tighter and tighter until they’d press flat against you and trap you in a cube of claustrophobia. 

Your eyes began to tear up. “I don’t know…” The heat that was building in the room was beginning to feel suffocating. You buried your face in one of your hands, the other one holding the half empty glass of water starting to tremble. “I don’t know…” The air conditioner had never worked and even your cheap convenience store fan had broken recently. “I really don’t know…”

Tomura was unsure what to say to you, but he was trying to find the words. Any words. Any words at all to convey to you that you’d figure it out. That you’d be alright but—

But why did he care?

Why did Tomura— someone who’d tried time and time again to end his own life because he was so convinced that nothing was ever going to be alright for him ever again— care whether you sorted out your problems or dug your own grave?

Because she doesn’t deserve that, he figured. She has far more to live for than someone like me.

You were just crying now, your glass of water sitting abandoned on the floor by your feet as you hid your sorrows in both of your palms, body shaking even more as another wave of tremors wracked through your bones, sharp inhales peppered throughout your otherwise silent sadness.

Tomura wished he hadn’t stopped you from touching him earlier. He wished he’d allowed you to reach over and run your careful fingertips over his skin, the scars and the dry patches that cracked and split in thin slashes across his face.

Though, maybe, perhaps, if he could reach out and touch you, you’d allow him to try and care for you the way you’d wanted to care for him. As much as one hollow stranger could care for another, that is.

“They’re gonna find me,” you muttered, words garbled by the thick coating of saliva clogging the back of your throat. “They’re gonna find me and then they’re gonna—”

You froze when you felt a hand— Tomura’s hand— resting on the small of your back, peeking out from your palms as if to confirm that it was actually him that was touching you and you weren’t just imagining it. And he was tense at first. Not gentle and comforting like he had a feeling you could be.

But he was trying.

You were making him want to try.

“What…?” you eventually asked, Tomura’s startled stare becoming too intense for you to hold.

He then mumbled something, his voice so quiet you didn’t catch it at first. So again, you asked him, “What?” and when he repeated himself you realized he’d said, “I want to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the thin film of tears that still glossed over your eyes, lashes spiked and cheeks streaked with drying salt. Your ears were ringing, and suddenly all you could hear was the buzzing in your head. But you felt your mouth moving, felt the gentle vibration of your vocal chords when you said, “So kiss me then.”

Tomura leaned in halfway, the hand on your back clutching your shirt in his fist, trying to conceal just how terrified he was of his own desire— for you and this newfound realization that maybe he did actually want to live, even if only just a little bit. It was overwhelming.

And it was kind of nice, the fact that he wasn’t trying to feel you up right from the get go and pin you underneath him like most of your previous one night stands tended to do. So you kissed him, and he kissed you back, but it wasn’t romantic or sweet. It was rough and desperate, both of you trying to leave proof on each other that the other person existed, that you’d met, that you’d both almost died that night yet had somehow ended up alive at the end of it all, even if one of you hadn’t wanted to.

Tomura had shaky hands. And they were cold, like they had no blood in them, like he really had died back there on the street and was just a walking corpse. They sent a shiver through your body as his fingers brushed against your ribs under your shirt, pushing up until they found the clasp of your bra, fumbling with it absentmindedly as if he wasn’t aware of what his fingers were tangled up in.

You reached behind you and undid it for him, both of you breaking the kiss and pausing for a moment, lips still almost touching as you panted into each other’s mouths and wondered if this was really happening. If you wanted it to happen.

I killed someone, you remembered again. And then I almost watched him get killed.

It was fucked up.

All of it.

Your life.

His.

And definitely the guy who’d driven you two and then sped off without a word.

All of it was just so fucked up.

Has been for a long time, you thought, going back to kiss Tomura again, this time trying to be a little softer, letting him know that you needed things to slow down a bit. But when your tongues met this time, you realized something odd.

Tomura tasted like nothing.

Now that you thought about it, he didn’t smell like anything either.

Maybe he really is a ghost, you thought to yourself with much less concern than you probably should’ve. Either way, you wanted to feel his lips on yours again, kissing him over and over until you felt like some of his rigidness had melted away.

“Wait… Do you really wanna do this?” Tomura asked then, seeming to be second guessing himself now that his thoughts had actually caught up to his actions.

“Do you?” was all you answered in return. You think you wanted to, though, you weren’t exactly sure why.

Does there need to be a reason, you asked yourself. Does there need to be a reason when nothing makes any fucking sense anyway?

When Tomura’s hands started trailing up your body again, you took that as a maybe. When he kissed you again, also being a little softer this time, you took that as a yes.

So you let him have you, taking no issue when he squeezed at your ass or pulled your panties down. Because you could see it in his eyes— this void, empty space where maybe, at one point, his true self had been.

You had also lost your true self.

You couldn’t remember exactly when or how, but you often felt like you were nothing more than an empty vessel, just a body wandering aimlessly without a soul to occupy it.

And at one point, you too had wished for it all to end, having run out of options for escape, tired of scraping at the bottom of the barrel just to earn another day in the pathetic game of survival you supposed you called your life.

But here, now, with this silver-haired stranger who’s name you’d barely learned, you felt like the embers of your dwindling soul were being reignited in its hearth, the flames that maybe would grow into a steady fire coursing warm through your blood.

Tomura didn’t bother with much foreplay. Didn’t need to. You were wet enough already just from some simple touching and kissing. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been like this in a long time— lying underneath someone who you actually wanted to give yourself to, not just shutting out the sensations as you went through the motions when you were late on paying your rent. But Tomura still prepped you the best he could, slipping two of his slender fingers into your fluttering hole and pumping them in and out a few times, scissoring them inside to stretch you.

When you told him you were ready— that you wanted him now— Tomura sunk into you slowly, feeling you clench around him right away and letting out a groan as his crimson eyes rolled back in his head. As he rocked his hips rhythmically, your neck craned and your back arched, breathy little moans escaping your lips.

“Tomura…” you whined as he brought his chapped lips down to suck at your neck, leaving behind his own personal constellation of bruises, biting in sometimes and pulling a gasp or another moan from you.

His hips picked up the pace soon, thrusting into you and making your whimpers come out louder, sounds of pain and pleasure filling the formerly silent, small space of the apartment. You didn’t care if your neighbours heard you. It’s not like you knew your neighbours anyway. Besides, you were still planning on skipping town soon anyway.

“T-Tomura!” you were begging, but for what?

For more?

For him to slow down? To speed up?

Even you weren’t sure anymore.

You just let yourself get lost in the touch of the man you’d only known for a couple of hours yet felt you understood better than some people you’d known your entire life.

It was almost like you needed to prove to yourself that this was still ok after what had happened with your boss. You needed to know that you weren’t broken, that any scars you’d gained from that incident would heal and fade away. Maybe he could be the bandaid on the bullet hole that was the amalgamation of every horrible thing that had ever happened to you. With how good he felt inside you, it sure seemed that way.

And Tomura, well, he’d almost forgotten the last time he’d felt anything, let alone this much of a will to live.

Because every time his hips snapped against the inside of your thighs and your silky, pulsing walls clenched around his cock, or he pulled another one of those sweet little sounds from you, whenever your lips met his or his lips nipped at your neck, the strangest thought occurred to him.

Maybe I don’t want to die.

He wouldn’t trust that statement in the long run but for now, even if just one very strange, very ominous night, he’d allow himself to believe it.

And as the two of you curled up under the covers, soaking in each other’s body heat, Tomura’s long, thin arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing he’d ever had worth holding onto, he thought to himself…

Maybe with someone like her, life is worth living.

***

“Why do you want to die so bad?” you’d asked Tomura after you’d both woken up that morning, both your hair tousled with sex and sleep.

The two of you stayed in bed until nearly noon, the summer sunlight that poured in through the spotted windows giving you both a warm glow, sun dust visibly floating through the beams.

“I don’t know,” Tomura had answered, though that time he hadn’t just used the excuse as a filler for a question he didn’t feel like explaining. “I just… It’s been like that for a long time.”

You’d kissed him— a tender, soft kiss that made Tomura feel loved for the first time in, well, in forever— and he’d tried to kiss you back in the same way, hoping that you could understand through the gesture that you’d saved him— were still saving him— from the black abyss of his death wish one touch at a time.

“I was like you once,” you admitted then, wearing a sadness that Tomura was used to seeing in his own reflection, one that lived deep in someone’s eyes. And then it was his turn to ask you why. “Because,” you gave a short shrug. “I’m never getting out of here— out of this…” You then looked around your apartment as if that summed up the entire history of your life’s problems. You didn’t necessarily believe in heaven, though, if there really was an afterlife of some sort, you just hoped it really was a better place like people always said. Even if it were merely a plane of existence where you wouldn’t have to feel any more pain.

Tomura wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that someone as beautiful and kind and caring as you deserved so much more than this, deserved to live more than most people. Definitely more than someone like him and definitely more than someone like that guy who’d driven you both around so recklessly last night.

“I’m sorry,” was all Tomura could think to say as he held you closer to him, afraid to let you go, like if he did you’d turn to sun dust and disappear on the breeze that was seeping through the cracked window overhead.

“Don’t be,” you replied evenly, sounding tired. “Besides, I’m still alive.” You looked up at him, admiring the way the light hit his scarlet gaze. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Before either of you could say anything else, your phone began to buzz from the nightstand. You wriggled from Tomura’s grasp to see who it was, your blood freezing in your veins when you read one of your co-workers name’s pop up on the caller ID.

“What is it?” Tomura asked when he felt you tense.

A million different possibilities rushed through your brain at once.

Did they find the body?

Of course they did.

Do they know I did it?

Are the police already on their way?

No, they would’ve already gotten here.

Shit, where did I leave my shirt? It’s still got blood on it.

“Uh…” Your voice shook and you cleared your throat. “One second.”

You threw your legs over the side of the bed, reached down to pick up the nearest article of clothing, which just so happened to be Tomura’s black crewneck, and slipped it over your head, the oversized garment covering enough of you to feel decent as you picked up the phone and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, as if the walls were thick enough to keep even your low muttering from being overheard.

Just play dumb, you reminded yourself before accepting the call. You went home last, but not too late. Only a little bit after the hairdresser who finished up before you. You didn’t see your boss. Just went home.

“H-hello—?”

“Oh my god!” your co-worker boomed from the other side of the call, making you wince and pull the phone back from your ear for a moment. “Are you ok?! Did you hear?! I can’t believe this—!”

Yep. They’d definitely found the body. But, luckily for you, it didn’t sound like you were a suspect yet.

You tried to swallow down any evidence of your so-called “crime”, attempting to sound surprised and confused, but not so much so as to expose that it was all an act.

“Someone stabbed him and left him in the alley behind the shop!” your co-worked continued in disbelief after you asked what happened. “Thank god you got home before running into whoever it was. I can’t imagine!”

There would be a more thorough investigation soon enough, you knew. The police would search the shop and find traces of his blood and probably the straight razor with your fingerprints on it. You could just argue that you’d had a customer earlier that day who’d booked a shave, or better yet, someone else at the salon would use it and mark it with their touch too.

But you would become a suspect. It wasn’t a matter of if, only of when.

“Are you on the schedule for today?” she then asked, and you could hear the flipping of pages in the background, your co-worker already working on answering her own question.

You knew you were, but there was no way in hell you were planning on going in. Cops were probably crawling all over the alley. If they stopped you for questioning, you weren’t sure how well you could hide the dread that was sure to show on your face and shake in your voice.

“I’m not feeling well today,” you lied. “Can you do me a huge favor? Take me off the schedule, cancel my appointments. I didn’t have many…”

Your co-worker said she would. She was a good friend, if you’d considered her as such before. She was always willing to check in on you, help you out when you needed it, but you knew she definitely wouldn’t be willing to sink with you on the whole killing your horrible, misogynistic, rapist of a boss situation, even if she hated him too.

“I wonder if this means our next paychecks will be late…” she sighed after agreeing to help you, wishing for you to feel better.

You both told each other to stay safe, keep in touch, and as soon as you hung up you let out a quivering exhale, a weight of getting through that conversation free of suspicion lifting from your shoulders momentarily.

You’d almost forgotten about Tomura until you exited the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge of your bed, half dressed— aside from his shirt that you were wearing, of course— and beginning to lace up one of his beat up red converse.

“Hey…” You blinked at him as you stopped in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. “Feel like breakfast?”

***

“That’s why I was covered in blood last night…” You recounted drearily as you picked at a stack of pancakes, twirling your fork and watching the spongy food tear apart easily. Then one of your thoughts from the previous night returned to you.

Like a hot knife through butter.

You were losing your appetite.

“Well, sounds like the fucker deserved it,” Tomura commented with a lazy shrug, taking a bite of his own stack of pancakes, his loaded with blueberries and chocolate chips. For a guy who’d tried to kill himself so often, he sure seemed to enjoy the simple things in life.

You glared down at your plate, silverware clenched in your fists. “Yeah, well, it won’t matter what he deserved once the cops find out…”

“Hey…” Tomura’s hand cautiously found yours, fingertips barely brushing against you and causing your gaze to snap back to him. “They won’t find out.” But you assured him that they would, sooner or later, if you stayed here. “Then let’s leave. Run away from here.”

Let’s leave?

Run away?

As in together?

You didn’t think strangers who were this easily willing to skip town with someone they’d just met existed outside of fables and fairy tales. And you were still working on figuring out if last night was fact or fiction.

“I don’t know…” You sighed. “I just—” But as you looked back to the front windows of the diner, you caught a face you recognized slinking by, the tall, lanky, tattooed figure pulling the door open and entering the establishment.

Dabi stopped as he looked up and saw you and Tomura sitting in the furthest corner, huddled close together in the otherwise empty restaurant.

He pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he wore under his black denim jacket down to expose his spiky black hair. “No shit,” he scoffed, heading straight towards you then, sitting in one of the empty chairs and laying both elbows on the table comfortably like he’d been invited and was simply running late.

“What are you two doing here?” he questioned in a bored drone, then glanced at your torn up, soggy pancakes with that cerulean half-lidded stare and asked, “You gonna eat that?” You slid your plate towards him without a word and he began to dig in, ravenous, silverware trembling slightly in his hands.

Neither you nor Tomura really knew what to say. After everything that had happened last night between the three of you, what more was there to say?

“Why the fuck did you put so much syrup on this?” Dabi complained through his next bite, though he didn’t seem to mind too much with the rate he was shoveling the food into his mouth. His bright, azure gaze hopped back and forth between you and Tomura, waiting for one of you to answer his first question.

“What?” Dabi then snapped, a scowl forming on his brow.

“Nothing,” Tomura answered then, trying to act natural as he took another bite of his own breakfast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired next, a bad mood beginning to creep over you.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi shook his head as he pointed his fork— your fork— towards you accusingly. “I asked you first. And what are you still doing with him?” He shot a quick glare at Tomura, seeming to harbor some ill will towards the man who’d thrown himself in front of a speeding car.

Or perhaps it was more the jealousy that the scrawny, silver-haired, scarlet-eyed stranger had gotten to go home with you and, even more, that he’d made a good enough impression to be invited out for breakfast the next morning.

“Well we were having breakfast before you showed up,” you replied with disdain, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh, were you now?” Dabi said with another sarcastic chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “Tell me, do you always prefer to dissect your food into a million pieces before you consume it, or is that just for special occasions?”

“What’s your problem, man?” Tomura then jumped in with a sneer, causing both you and Dabi to look at him with varying degrees of surprise. Dabi almost looked intrigued, like there was a challenge he knew he could win somewhere in Tomura’s question. And you, well…

You just weren’t used to people sticking up for you.

“Was I talking to you?” Dabi shot back through a low growl, his hand tightening into a white knuckled fist around the fork to try and hide his growing withdrawal symptoms, feeling his body temperature rise even higher, and not just from rage.

“Stop it!” you scolded, not wanting a scene to unfold. Now it was your turn to be on the receiving end of Dabi’s glare. “Just stop. What do you want anyway? If I’m remembering correctly, you told us to get out and then sped off. If you want money I’m not giving it to you.”

“Cute,” Dabi flashed his teeth at you in a mocking smile, shoving the plate, now nearly devoid of all its previous contents, into the center of the table. “But I don’t want your money.” He pushed his chair back and stood aggressively, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “But it’s your loss,” he baited with calculated indifference. “I was actually about to invite you both to make some with me.”

Dabi began to stalk off then, but just before he could exit the diner, he spotted some faces that he recognized through the building’s front windows.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he swore under his breath, whipping back around and pulling his hood up, returning to his seat at your table hastily, back facing the window. You and Tomura both just continued to watch him with an uncomfortable perplexity. “Tell me when they’re gone,” Dabi ordered in a hushed voice, but neither you nor Tomura knew what he was talking about.

That was, until two cops entered the diner, eyes scanning the empty room, sticking on the trio of you three for a moment and causing a dagger of panic to spike in your chest, before they moved on to take a seat at the main counter, calling to the waitress who was just coming out from the back and ordering two coffees.

“Of fucking course…” Dabi sighed, raising his eyebrows in lazy defeat as if to say, “this might as well happen to me today.”

“What did you do now?” you accused with a scowl, eyes darting from the cops back to the tattooed stranger. Though, again, after last night, it was sort of odd to think of him in those terms.

“Shut up!” Dabi ordered with a hiss, lowering his head a little more and trying to angle his face away from the cops. “Just shut up.”

“Whatever,” you murmured with irritation, now taking your fork back up and going to pick at what little remained of Tomura’s pancakes, your annoyance making some of your appetite return to you.

But the cops didn’t stay long. Just ordered their coffees, drank them while talking about bullshit, paid, and left. You and Dabi both let out a breath of relief once you found yourself alone in the diner again. Tomura had just watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes and wavering interest.

“What did you do?” you pressed harder once it was just the three of again.

“Look, I’m in some trouble with the cops and some of the local gangs, alright!” Dabi shot back with simmering fury, though still kept his voice hushed to a hissed whisper. “And I need money fast or else, the next time they see me, I’m dead!”

“The next time who sees you?” Tomura asked, not sounding the least bit worried as he sipped at the orange juice you’d ordered and barely touched.

“Either of ‘em, dumbass,” Dabi retorted with a roll of his eyes, causing you to kick him in the shin from under the table which earned you the most feral look he’d flashed either of you yet. His hand was curling into a fist again and, for a moment, you really thought he was going to swing at you, but he just heaved out another exasperated sigh and said, “Y’know what, forget it,” before standing from the table, the metal legs of the chair scraping harshly against the splotchy floors. He grumbled to himself as he shoved his hands back in his pockets and prepared to turn and leave, “Should’a never stopped for you anyway…”

“Why don’t you just sell that stupid car?” you called to him when he was halfway to the door. He stopped and glanced at you over his shoulder, staring at you as if he was giving you a chance to continue. “If you need money that bad,” you clarified, nervously taking Tomura’s hand under the table. “Just sell your car.”

Dabi marched right back up to you, perching himself to lean forward with both hands lying flat on the tabletop. “You think I haven’t thought of that already?”

“Well?” you raised, squeezing Tomura’s hand a little harder and making him give you a slightly anxious side glance. “Why don’t you then?”

You and Dabi just stared at each other, searching each other’s eyes with matching scowls as if hoping to fish out some kind of weakness, see who would break first.

Finally, Dabi slumped back down in his seat again and sighed, tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor. “Because…” he admitted, partially with defeat. “I stole it. And my normal guy skipped town so now I’m shit outta luck with finding someone I can sell it to without alerting the cops.”

You were just about to say something like, “Well that sounds like a you problem then,” when all of a sudden Tomura cut in with, “I know someone who will buy it.”

Both you and Dabi gave him incredulous looks.

“It’s kinda far away…” he elaborated, leaning in a little closer to the huddle, “But I’ve done deals with the guy before and…” his words drifted off as if he was forgetting his sentence at the same time he was speaking it.

“And?” Dabi snapped.

“And he’s good with that kind of stuff,” Tomura continued. “Like, buying and selling illegal shit.”

You blinked twice, your hand still clutched in Tomura’s, who was holding onto you now more than you were to him.

Just who was this guy?

“If you’re bullshitting me,” Dabi warned, pointing a long, bony finger at Tomura, who’s crimson gaze widened even more, “then you’re gonna be the one who’s dead at the end of all this? Got it?”

Dabi should’ve known better. Should’ve known that, at least before coming home with you last night, Tomura would’ve wanted nothing more than for the tattooed criminal to follow through with that threat.

But Tomura was telling the truth.

Sure, he’d never bought or sold a stolen car to his contact, but he had obtained all kinds of drugs in the past, experimenting with what would bring him the closest to death without actually killing him before he’d made his mind up about actually wanting to die.

So Dabi agreed, all three of you leaving the diner— without paying, mind you— and piling back into the white and silver Mercedes-Maybach S Class, Dabi speeding outside of town towards the direction Tomura pointed him in, windows rolled down and music blasting all the way on account of him not wanting to have to hear either of you talk.

***

“Over there,” Tomura pointed out once a graffitied billboard of a crying woman warning against the dangers of drug addiction came into view. “Turn left at the next intersection.”

Dabi grumbled something under his breath before veering left and causing both you and Tomura to lean in the same direction with the sudden force. He then drove down a long, abandoned stretch of empty road for what felt like a long time. His agitation was growing, fingers tapping relentlessly on the wheel until finally he demanded, “Where the hell is this place?”

“Right up ahead,” Tomura kept promising. Your hand had inched closer to his in the backseat every time Dabi voiced one of his annoyances, feeling safer than before when you’d been in the passenger seat beside Dabi but still nervous since you were never sure what was gonna set the guy off. Finally, your hand found Tomura’s, his fingers intertwining with yours as he came to seek safety in your touch just the same. You gave his hand a little squeeze, the gesture becoming your unspoken sign for rising anxiety. To try and ease the tension that was building in the car, as he lightly stroked his thumb over the top of your hand, Tomura added, “Next turn that comes up. You can’t miss it.”

The next turn wasn’t for twenty more minutes, so you rested your head against Tomura’s shoulder in the meantime, his rigidness melting away after a little while, even allowing himself to rest his head against yours, his fluffy silvery hair tickling your cheek.

But finally, once the turn came up, you were able to calm down a little bit. Mostly because Dabi started to calm down a little bit. Though, as he pulled up to the place, it looked more like an old gas station than a place where someone would trade a stolen car.

“This really the place?” Dabi asked, glancing at you nuzzling up to Tomura in the backseat with…

What?

Jealousy?

He forced himself to glare back out the windshield as his grip on the wheel tightened.

“Yeah, pull in here. There’s a warehouse in the back,” Tomura instructed, lifting his head from yours and becoming more alert. “I’ll go and see if he’s here.”

“Right… you’ll see if he’s here…” Dabi rolled his eyes, veering off to the side and putting the car in park. “For how far we just fuckin’ drove, he better be here.”

“I’m coming with you,” you announced as you exited the car after Tomura, not wanting to be left alone with Dabi any longer than you had to. Tomura tried to tell you that it would be better if he went alone, that his contact could be a little skittish when it came to meeting unfamiliar faces, but you promised you’d be good. That you’d stay quiet and close to his side. You took his hand in yours again and then he agreed, informing you that it would be best if you didn’t touch anything, no matter how tempting.

“I mean, what does this guy deal?” you asked with a playful raise of your eyebrows and lilt in your tone. “Like, rare gems or something?”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes widening a fraction as he stared down at you. Then he looked away, giving a lazy half shrug and lightly scratching at his neck as he replied, “Sometimes. Depends…”

Before you could even think of a response, you were being pulled along by Tomura, who stepped up to the entrance of the warehouse and knocked on the metal door. “Hey! It’s me!” he called, waiting a moment before going to knock again, shouting louder that time, “Spinner! It’s Tomura! Got somethin’ for ya! Open up!”

Seconds later, a shady looking man answered the door with a disgruntled, “Jesus, Shigaraki, keep it down! You’ll upset the new arrivals… Already bad enough that all the semi-trucks come down these roads all the time.” The man, who you assumed was Spinner, looked you up and down and then back to Tomura with a slightly skeptical, “Uh… This isn’t what you brought me… is it?”

Tomura pulled you closer to him protectively before replying, “The car,” pointing a thumb behind him at where Dabi still sat behind the wheel.

Spinner glanced at you— well, the two of you, really— a little surprised to see Tomura so protective over anything, let alone a person, and one that he was touching so easily at that. Then he stared out at the Mercedes and nodded once, saying, “Tell ‘im to drive it ‘round back. I’ll open the garage and he can park it there. In the meantime…” He hesitated, then sighed to himself, the faintest smile detectable as he told his old friend, “I guess you guys can come in.”

“Thanks…” Tomura nodded, guiding you further into the warehouse which was…

Well…

The place was like a rat maze, each turn beholding another narrow hallway with an exhibit of luxury furs or designer handbags or power tools, all kinds of multi-colored pills stored in old gumball machines or clear plastic storage containers. There was one wall covered in vintage gameboys, playstations, old arcade units, some electronics that you couldn’t even place. But the part of the warehouse that you found the most strange yet intriguing was the room that Spinner led you to.

It was lit mostly in red on account of the many heat lamps placed in each of the several glass tanks which contained different exotic reptiles— snakes and geckos, poisonous frogs and iguanas. You were even pretty sure one of the animals was a baby crocodile.

“Still selling exotic animals, huh?” Tomura teased with an odd kind of fondness as he scanned the room, noting to himself the newest additions to Spinner’s collection from the last time he’d paid him a visit. “What? Tigers and Lions take up too much space?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spinner shot back, as if offended. “I wouldn’t trade these no matter what the price. They were all lab animals. Test subjects for this and that. But recently another friend of mine caught wind that they were gonna be confiscated by some kind of animal control, so I took ‘em instead.” Spinner reached in and grabbed up one of the lizards, which rested calmly along his wrist as he gently stroked the top of its head. “Poor little guys have been through a lot…”

“Right, so, the car?” Tomura redirected. “Will you buy it?”

The dealer’s affection for his reptiles faded back into an attitude of business as he placed his hand back into the tank, allowing the lizard to crawl down and scurry back into its little cave as he said, “Gotta check a few things and then I’ll let you know. Your friend should be around back by now. Guess I should go meet ‘im.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tomura finally admitted, pulling you a little closer to his side as you continued to gaze around the reptile room in awe.

“Who is ‘e then? Someone we can trust at least, right?”

Tomura bit his tongue to try and suppress a nervous smirk, one of his hands clenching into a fist as it threatened to dig into his skin as he lied, “Somethin’ like that…”

“It’s complicated,” you chimed in, both Tomura and Spinner’s gazes snapping towards you. Neither of them said anything so you went on a little more nervously with, “W-well… The three of us sort of just… ran into each other the other night and—”

“Ah, c’mon, Shigaraki…” Spinner sighed with irritation. “How many times have I told you to only bring people you know here. Need I remind you what happened that one time with that guy who ended up being an undercover cop?”

“Trust me, this guy’s definitely not a cop,” Tomura assured his friend, removing his touch from you and migrating closer to Spinner, pleading his case. “If anything, he’s a first rate asshole, but other than that…” Tomura shrugged. “Guy has his own reasons for needing the cash.”

“So you’re splitting it?” Spinner asked, seeming to warn Tomura with the raise of his eyebrows that that was a bad idea. Tomura gave a hand gesture that said something along the lines of sort of, not really, who knows and a wincing expression. “Does he know that?”

The two of them began to leave the room, and you were staring at Tomura as if he’d look back and tell you to sit tight until he returned, that everything was ok, but he just kept on walking, chatting away with his friend while you sought refuge on the tiny sofa in the center of the room and basked in the red glow and many slithering silhouettes of the snakes in the tanks.

It felt like a long time until you finally heard footsteps approaching down the way that Tomura and Spinner had gone off in. Though, instead of silvery tufts and crimson eyes rounding the corner, you were met with inky black and smoldering sapphire.

Dabi was smoking a cigarette. Must’ve just lit it with how he was fidgeting with the silver lighter, a soft metallic clang tapping out irregularly. “Well, it’s just one fuckin’ surprise after another in this place, ain’t it?” he remarked with a sarcastic scoff, plopping down on the couch next to you, stretching his arms out over the back and looking around at all the scaled creatures with carefully concealed awe. He blew out a cloud of thick smoke, the smell making your nose wrinkle as you scooted away a few inches. You wanted to tell him he probably shouldn’t smoke in here on account of all the animals but, who were you kidding, it’s not like he would’ve cared.

“Where’s Tomura?” you asked, a slight twinge of worry laced into your voice.

“Your Romeo’s out with that other guy inspecting the car,” he replied dismissively through a yawn. “They better hurry it up. I want my money…”

“I think you mean our money.” You’d meant it to come out sounding much stronger than it really had— more of a declaration than a timid reminder— and your confidence dwindled even more when Dabi shot you a narrowing glare.

“What are you talking about? I’m the one who stole it. Hell, I drove you two around in it all night. You guys owe me.” He scoffed to himself again, wearing a cold smirk and slightly adjusting his position on the couch. Under his breath he muttered, “Our money… Please.”

Perhaps it was the fact that you’d killed someone or just that you were getting really fed up with this guy, but something had suddenly possessed you to argue back, “Yeah, and without Tomura you never would’ve had somewhere to sell the car. Remember that?”

Dabi shifted his position to face you better now, rage lighting up being his eyes while his tone remained low and even, a volcano always on the verge of erupting. “And tell me, how do you come into all this? ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, you’re just some bitch I found covered in blood wandering the streets in the middle of the night. What’d you do? Slash some guy who got a little too rough with you? Or, wait, maybe your story is that he tried to attack you first and somehow you got the upper hand.”

You felt an unpleasant burning in the back of your nose. The tightening of your throat. Tears prickling at the edges of your vision. But you weren’t about to cry because you were offended. You were about to cry because you were furious.

Because this guy didn’t know a goddamn thing.

And, even if he did— even if you told him the truth— he still wouldn’t care.

As long as he got his drugs at the end of all of this, why should he?

“You don’t know anything,” you growled, rage cutting through your trembling fear that yes, you were a indeed a murderer. And one soon to be at large once the cops did a little more investigating.

Dabi leaned in, pupils mere pinpricks as all that bright cerulean threatened to swallow you whole. “Then just fuckin’ tell me already.”

But you were leaning in too, you now realized, your shared trait of living hard, unfortunate lives pulling you together like two mistreated magnets, however resistant you tried to be.

And as Dabi stared you down that time, you realized that something had changed— or rather, was changing— behind that piercing cobalt stare of his. It made you reconsider that maybe, if you just filled in the gaps, he would understand. He would care.

Or maybe he’d just turn you over to the authorities for ransom and call it a day.

“My boss…” you swallowed, mouth coated in thick, sticky spit. “He tried to— He almost…” You let out a frustrated sigh, a shiver skittering through your bones as you replayed the events of less than twenty-four hours ago in your head. If you focused hard enough, you could still smell that pungent metallic tang of all the blood, feel his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t kill him, he would’ve killed me, sooner or later.”

Dabi was slowly nodding his head. And, for a moment, you thought maybe he did understand. But when he opened his mouth and asked, “So, you are a whore or…?” you rolled your eyes and let out a frustrated groan.

“I’m a hairdresser!” You snapped, wiping more tears away as you sniffled, scowl deepening. “Or at least…” your gaze became far off, staring into the tank of a komodo dragon in a daze as you concluded, “I used to be.”

And then Dabi actually laughed.

He was trying to stifle a series of cruel, amused chuckles as you shot him a look of fiery resentment, about to say something horrible to him before he piped up with a teasing, “And to think, you had the worst crime out of all of us the entire time!”

“It’s not funny!” you scolded, both your raised voice and Dabi’s incessant cackling stirring the reptiles. “I was just defending myself! But now I’m probably going to jail! How do you think that feels, huh? How do you think it feels to not have anywhere to go or anyone to rely on right now?”

Dabi’s laughter suddenly ceased, as fast as a flame blown out by a quick, strong breath. His face became blanker than you’d ever seen it, completely serious as he replied, “Probably pretty fuckin’ shitty. But y’know what. That’s life, ain’t it? No one’s ever really there to save you.” He leaned in closer, looming over you, his shadow casting across your form and making you disappear into the darkness that filled the red room. “All you ever really have is yourself,” he went on, his simmering anger boiling hotter and hotter with each new sentence. “And that’s what happens to the weak ones. They can’t protect themselves when worse comes to worst. Because there’s never gonna be any grand hero to swoop in to your rescue. And the sooner we all realize that, the better. So quit your fuckin’ crying—” He was pointing a finger at you now, tears having started streaming down your face again without you even realizing it. “Grow the fuck up, and figure out what you’re gonna do about it. ‘Cause you’re all you got. Understand?”

Your entire body was shaking and, staring up at him in the eerie red light, a dangerous glint shining in his eyes, Dabi really looked like a monster. But you’d slayed one of those before. If you had a straight razor, you could do it again. Though, you didn’t really want to be a killer. Or rather, you didn’t want to get used to killing. Because you still believed that you were a good person, that you maybe even deserved good things.

You’d crossed a line, sure. One that, in the eyes of society, would spell irreversible damage.

But wasn’t that always the way these kinds of things played out? By showing you one atrocity only to prepare you for another, much more traumatizing one? Constantly reminding you, it could all be much worse?

“But don’t worry…” Dabi side eyed you as he said, “I won’t rat you out. People like you and me, we gotta do what we need to in order to survive.” He leaned forward to place his silver lighter on the coffee table, taking another long drag to calm his nerves.

“Thanks…” but there is no you and me, you wanted to say. Instead, you just scooted a few inches away from him, hoping Tomura would come back soon.

Until he and Spinner returned, however, you and Dabi opted for awkward silence. You were just trying not to think about the blood on your hands, even if the bastard had deserved it. Dabi though…

Dabi’s mind was in a much different place.

Because as he’d peered down at you in the redlight, the dim patch of fluorescent illumination directly above the couch that the room allowed shimmering in your big, terrified eyes…

He’d realized that what he’d felt spike in his chest when he’d glanced at you and Tomura cuddling in the backseat was indeed jealousy, the emotion slowly seething into his skin only to inevitably radiate from him if he didn’t find a way to cure it soon.

And the other night when he’d kicked you and Tomura out of the car and sped off. That had been a mistake, hadn’t it? What he should’ve done was dumped that silver-haired suicidal off on the curb and insisted on driving you home. Maybe then it could’ve been him sharing pancakes with you at the diner instead. Maybe then it would’ve just been the two of you splitting the money and not this useless third party who was going to spend it on who knows what useless shit.

Dabi clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from sneaking another glance at you but, just like when it came to his addiction, he didn’t have much self control.

Whatever, he tried to convince himself. Once this deal is done, we’ll all go our separate ways and never have to see each other again.

Only, what if that wasn’t true. What if that was only true for him, and you and Tomura went back to your apartment or some motel or, fuck it, you’d have money, you could get a room somewhere nice, and fucked again.

Just the thought of that grungy loser’s hands all over you was making Dabi start to lose his cool. And you’d let Tomura kiss you too? Let him run his tongue all over the inside of your mouth and down your neck and inside your tight little pussy? Disgusting.

Bet I could make you feel better than he did, Dabi thought to himself as his leg began to bounce anxiously. Bet I could fuck you so good you’d forget you’d ever met him.

But then, before Dabi could start to really spin out of control from the jealousy and withdrawal, Spinner and Tomura reenerted the reptile room, both you and Dabi looking over and awaiting that fateful number.

“So, I took a look and…” Spinner began, pretending to hold you and Dabi in suspense while the smirk on Tomura’s face said he already knew the price you’d be splitting three ways. “It’s in pretty good condition. Whoever you stole it from must’ve just bought it and, based on the paper plates, it had to have been within the last thirty days. I’ll give you twenty thousand. Three ways that’s—”

“Over six thousand each…” you breathed out in sheer disbelief. That was more cash than you’d ever had in your bank account, let alone all at once.

You couldn’t fathom it. The thought of what you could do with that much money. The thought of getting out of that shitty apartment and moving to a better part of the city, one where you could get hired at a salon that was much more high end than the back alley one you’d been previously employed at…

If you hadn’t killed someone, that is.

If you weren’t soon to be a wanted criminal.

“That’s right,” Spinner confirmed, taking out a thick envelope and handing it off to Tomura who looked pretty proud of himself.

Dabi, however, was not as pleased…

“Twenty thousand?” he asked, standing and tossing his half finished cigarette down onto the concrete floor of the warehouse, stomping it out with his first stride towards the dealer. “Nah. No way. Things worth at least one hundred thousand new. Maybe even more than that.”

“Sorry,” Spinner shrugged. “That’s as high as I can go.”

Dabi’s hands clenched into fists by his sides and you were sure he was finally going to throw that punch he’d been holding back all this time. So you intervened again, saying, “That’s more than enough to get your drugs.” Dabi looked over his shoulder lightning fast, that vengeful and violent shine back in his eyes and honed in right on you. Meanwhile, Tomura was ready to jump between you two if Dabi really did lose his temper.

“Cute,” Dabi spit, whirling back towards Tomura and his friend before eying the envelope containing the cash. He could just steal it. Yeah. Once the three of you were out of here, Dabi could take it and run. “And you,” he nodded aggressively at Tomura. “What the hell do you need it for, huh?”

Tomura’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenched as he gripped the envelope tighter, Dabi taking a step towards him. He then opened his mouth to throw a hostile reply right back, but no words came.

In truth, he didn’t know.

Before meeting you, Tomura probably would’ve blown it all on one hell of a self-destructive night before finally pulling the trigger and ending it all. But now…

Well, he’d have to figure that out once he discovered what you were planning to do.

“What?” Dabi smirked, cruelty seeping back into his voice. “You gonna pay someone off to perform a hit on you or somethin’?”

Tomura warned with a growl, “Don’t test me…” his eyes going wide, though this time in a much more feral, dangerous way than before. Then, ever so slowly, he placed the cash in his back pocket. He could take it and run too, if he wanted. He just had to get past Dabi to grab you first.

“Guys…?” you spoke, sensing the growing tension and hoping to calm things before they really spiraled out of control. “C’mon. We got the money. Now let’s just go…”

Dabi ignored you, clearly occupied on setting Tomura off before calling it quits with the little ragtag trio the team of you had formed. And part of him, whether he realized it or not, wanted you to see that, just because Tomura had remained relatively calm during all the recent chaos, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of flying off the hinges too.

Because what was that saying again?

Always watch out for the quiet ones?

“Y’know, I’m not really convinced that someone like you even deserves that kind of money,” Dabi went on. Spinner was getting fed up with this quarrel too, though his concern was more for the fact that all this bad energy swirling in the room was bound to upset his replies than if one of the boys left here with a black eye. “So why don’t you just do the right thing and give it to me and the girl so we can get on with our lives while you keep trying to end yours.”

“Just stop it!” you’d tried to shout out, but it was too late.

Tomura moved fast.

Too fast.

Just a blur of black and silver and crimson, a snarl echoing off the concrete and eyes flashing with ill intent as he lunged at Dabi, the force sending both of them falling to the ground.

It was clear to everyone in the room that Tomura had never been in a real fight before, the way he wildly and clumsily threw punches that Dabi blocked with mocking ease. It wasn’t long until Dabi gained the upper hand and flipped the scrawny, scraggly boy on his back, jumping on top of him and showing him what a real punch looked and felt like.

Spinner was shouting. You were crying, screaming at the two of them to “Please stop! Knock it off already!” and Tomura and Dabi were rolling and clawing and cursing at each other while fighting for possession of that damn envelope.

The three of you were once again plunged into connected chaos, though this time none of you seemed to know how to rescue each other.

Eventually, the envelope slid from both their gasps and landed right in front of you. In a moment of panic and impulse, you grabbed it up and then snatched the lighter Dabi had left on the coffee table, flicking it open and producing a flame, holding it dangerously close to the cash and bellowing out, “BOTH OF YOU STOP OR I— I’M BURNING IT!”

All of the oxygen in the room felt like it had been sucked out at once.

Even Spinner was holding his breath, as if he had something to lose.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Dabi shouted, voice cracking with a shriek upturning at the end.

“Get off him or I swear I’ll do it!” And you weren’t bluffing, the flame kissing the edge of the envelope and beginning to toast the crinkled paper, causing Dabi to obey instantly, holding his hands up in surrender and stepping off Tomura, who was coughing from when Dabi had closed his hands around his throat.

And Dabi only hated Tomura more now.

He’d hated him from the very first moment his stolen car had nearly run the suicidal maniac over in the street. He’d hated him when he’d dropped you two off near your apartment and sped off with the music blaring, just knowing that the two of you were going to fuck. He’d hated him when he’d seen you sharing pancakes at the diner just earlier that morning. And he’d hated him when he’d seen him rest his head on top of yours in the rear view mirror like two lovesick puppies leeching warmth off each other.

He hated that you were willing to throw away life changing amounts of cash just to save Tomura from a black eye and some broken ribs. Hated that you cared more about the silver-haired freak than the bigger picture here— the picture that he was soon to be painted out of.

Because time after time, Dabi had lost in life. He’d lost, most times, because he fell in with bad company or couldn’t run fast enough when a job went south. He’d lost because he’d become a slave to his addiction and couldn’t give two shits about correcting it. And he’d had the perfect opportunity to be the one you’d invited back to your apartment, the one you’d shared shitty diner food with, and the one you’d curl up in the car with, but he’d blown it because he just couldn’t let himself have anything good without thinking there was going to be a catch.

“Just give me the lighter…” Dabi spoke softly to you now, as if talking you off a ledge, one hand extending for you to toss the zippo into, or, in another world, take hold of.

You hesitated, slowly but surely lowering the flame, dropping the lighter to the floor as you drew in frantic, uneven breaths. With one hand clutching his ribs, which were likely bruised after that altercation, Tomura pushed himself to his feet and came over to stand before you, saying something to you quiet enough that Dabi couldn’t hear. But you handed Tomura back the envelope and that’s all that really mattered in the end, right?

“Let’s just get out of here,” Tomura spoke louder now, turning to address Dabi as well. “It’s a long walk back into the city.”

And with that, the three of you left the odd maze of Spinner’s contraband castle and headed back down the long stretch of abandoned highway that you’d come, the sun already beginning to sink towards the horizon before you were halfway home.

***

All three of you were exhausted, mentally and physically, and exchanged minimal conversation throughout your trek back towards civilization before Dabi just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Does he know?” he asked, nodding his head from you to Tomura.

“Know what?” you asked, though you already had a pretty good idea about what he was alluding to.

“Oh, so he doesn’t know…”

“He does know,” you sighed, exasperated. Meanwhile, Tomura just made sure the envelope of cash was kept out of Dabi’s reach.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Dabi then asked Tomura directly, nudging him a little and causing him to flinch away. 

“Cut it out, man,” Tomura rasped, a slight grimace flashing across his features before fatigue reclaimed them.

“Whatever…” Dabi rolled his eyes, a certain mischievous lilt to his tone, edging Tomura on and grasping at straws to find any reason to cause a rift between you two. “I just know that if I was gonna fuck some random girl, I’d wanna know whether I was stickin’ my dick in a murderer or n—”

Again, Tomura moved unexpectedly fast, a cloud of dust kicked up from under his beat up red converse as he whirled on Dabi, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, spit flecked through gritted teeth as he puffed out a vicious breath.

Dabi raised his hands as if surrendering, yet still had the gall to say, “Hey, I’m just lookin’ out for ya. Your funeral, buddy. Though, maybe you’d like that.”

“Tomura, he’s not worth it…” you nearly whispered, too tired to burst out in fury like you had before. You placed a hand on Tomura’s back and pulled him from his blinding rage, slowly retracting to melt back into your gentle, understanding touch. “Please… Let’s just go home.”

You and Tomura each had an arm wrapped around one other, walking with slightly staggering steps as you guided him away and further down the road. 

“Yeah…” Dabi scoffed to himself, clenching his fists at the sight of you two huddled together again. “Let’s go home.”

***

It took another two hours until the skyline of the city that had damned all three of you came into sight, another sixty painful minutes ticking by before you actually set foot back in the territory. And you should’ve known by now, especially in Dabi’s company, that you were never really home free.

Because the moment you thought you could breathe easy and part ways, enjoy the remainder of the stroll back to your apartment with Tomura to count your cash and make a plan, Dabi ran into an old friend.

Or rather, an old friend ran into Dabi.

“Pretty fuckin’ brave of you to show your face around here again!” a rough voice called from behind, causing all three of you to turn in unison, six eyes gone wide and bearing different breeds of fear.

“Shit,” Dabi hissed under his breath, pushing you two along and tacking on an urgent, “We gotta go. Now.”

“Not so fast, hot shot,” another big, burly, tattoo-covered man chuckled as he stepped out of the nearest alley, blocking your path with a crowbar in hand. “It’s time to pay up, Dabi.”

You and Tomura braced yourselves, scanning the group of men that were circling around you for any gaps big enough to slip through and make an escape. But the pack only tightened, more and more criminals emerging from the shadows armed with flashes of sharp silver or rusted iron.

“Hey, boys…” Dabi replied, trying to hide the quiver in his tone with an uncharacteristically friendly lilt. “Been a while, huh?” He was backing up towards you and Tomura, possibly trying to make a run for it himself, but there was no escape now. Not for any of you. Especially not for you, what with the hungry way the pack of men stared you down, nearly salivating at all their own disgusting thoughts.

“I sure hope you have our money,” the one who was presumably the leader of the gang went on, a smug grin plastered across his scarred face, tapping the weight of the crowbar in his palm with a steady beat. “‘Cause if ya don’t…” He swung the crowbar forward, causing all three of you to jolt as it pointed directly at Dabi. “Well, then we’re gonna have a biiiiiig problem, ain’t we?”

And he knew that Dabi didn’t have the money.

Or, at least, he normally wouldn’t have, if not for the cash he’d collected from selling the stolen car.

But still, even that wasn’t enough to pay off the entire debt and Dabi was too hell bent on securing more of his drugs before he’d even consider handing this man a single dollar.

And you and Tomura, well…

You still needed your cut.

None of you were too keen on going down without some kind of fight.

Not when you’d come this far through hell to finally catch a glimpse of the twisted heaven on the horizon.

“Yeah, well, about that…” Dabi chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head and trying to stay calm. Meanwhile, you and Tomura noticed some of the rough and tumble facade melt away, leaving only a guy who had been way in over his head from the start.

And it happened so fast. The flash of metal. A silver streak appearing and disappearing before anyone could really see what it was. But left in its wake was a slash of red and a guttural howling, the scene growing smaller and smaller behind you until you realized that someone was dragging you along by your wrist, you nearly tripping over your own feet as you glanced over your shoulder with horror, blood turning to ice.

Maybe Dabi had shouted, “Run!”

Maybe he hadn’t.

But now all three of you were high tailing it down a series of narrow alleys, Tomura’s grip on you like a vice, desperate and unrelenting. At some point, you think you were telling him he was hurting you, trying to pull away when you felt the pressure growing over your bones, thorny pangs of pain peppered over your skin. But he didn’t hear you over the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. And even if he did, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not until you were somewhere safe and warm with him and no one else.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Dabi shouted when he rounded the next corner and halted, you and Tomura nearly barreling into him as you skid to a stop and were faced with a dead end. “Uh… New plan!” He backed up, peering down the remaining stretch of straight path and seeing the silhouettes of even more enemies pop up to cage you in, a big dumpster wedged in the middle of the narrow alley slowing them down, but not for long.

Panicked, he started back down the dead end, spotting a fire escape ladder just out of reach, rushing over to jump up to try and grab hold and pull it down, but every attempt was met with no more than his fingers barely brushing against the first bar.

“What are we doing, guys?!” you shouted, your panic catching up with you as you stared down the alley and watched as your pursuers became dangerously closer by the second. Your heart was pounding, pulse beating so fast and hard that it hurt. Though, meanwhile, unbeknownst to you amongst the dread, Tomura had gone over to assist, Dabi lifting him to pull down the ladder.

You froze. Paralyzed with terror as a group of silhouettes were mere yards away. So close you could see the whites of their eyes. You’d meant to yell, to scream, anything to inform the boys that they were coming. But then that rough, scarred hand grabbed yours again and pulled you towards the ladder, practically pushing you up it even as you scrambled as fast as you could to climb.

Dabi was already at the top, extending a hand to you to pull you up to the landing.

And the only reason Tomura dared let go of you was because he thought that Dabi would just pull you up and then keep running on his own. So when the inky haired bastard locked his fist around your wrist and took off with you. Well…

Tomura saw red.

“Wait! Ow— Stop!” You tried to protest, fighting harder against his grip than you had on Tomura’s, digging your heels into the ground only to be yanked forward to nearly stumble over the next flight of stairs. You looked behind you for Tomura, not even having time to make sure he’d made it up the ladder before you’d been taken hostage again. You called his name, hoping— praying— that he’d call back. Let you know he was ok. That he’d made it—

But there was only silence.

“STOP!” you shrieked, reaching forward with your free hand to dig your nails into Dabi’s arm, clawing viciously at his inked skin until he had no choice but to let go, a few thin rivulets of blood welling up from the pale surface.

“Jesus— What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He scolded, sapphire eyes smoldering with white hot fury beneath a deep scowl.

“Tomura—!”

“Who fucking cares?!” Dabi shouted over your cries, which were quickly turning to sobs— fat, glistening tears welling in your eyes and streaking shimmering lines down your cheeks in pairs. Your chest was heaving with shallow breaths, suffocating yourself every time you tried to draw in more air, feeling like you were going to throw up. Like you were going to pass out. Like you were going to die.

“But he—!”

“Better him than us!” Dabi cut in with a snarl, approaching you with fists clenched. You winced when he came close enough that his shadow cast over you, shielding your face with your arms as if you expected a strike. “Now, unless you want those guys to rip you apart, then I suggest you stop your fucking crying and fucking run.”

His voice was icy hot. Searing into your heart like millions of barbed fish hooks, each one connected to a line that pulled in a different direction, intending to unravel you. To massacre you.

You felt your world sway and caught yourself on the railing of the staircase, peering down over the edge at the vast drop below.

And the thought did cross your mind. To jump. To end it all. But then from the landing below came, “Keep going!”

Both you and Dabi looked at each other with varying degrees of relief and confusion before you turned to see Tomura sprinting up the staircase, out of breath but still refusing to slow down. Immediately all your dread was replaced with a vibrant joy, a beaming, yet crooked smile lighting up your face and contrasting eerily with the tears that still spilled from your eyes.

“Tomura! You—”

“The ladder!” He huffed, coming to a stop and nearly doubling over once he joined you and Dabi on the next landing. An awful wheezing sound rattled in his chest with every inhale he took, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment before finding the will to stand and finishing his sentence with, “Tried to pull it up but it got stuck halfway… They’re probably… On their way…”

“Like I said—!” Dabi snapped, getting ready to run again. “We gotta go. Now.”

So the three of you took off— together this time— the top of the building but a landing away now, though you could hear the frantic clattering of heavy footsteps not far below.

“What happens once we get to the roof?” You called to Dabi, who was already on the final ladder.

“Just trust me!” he shouted back, extending a hand once again to pull you up, though you were careful not to hold on too tightly after what had just happened moments ago.

As Tomura climbed the ladder, he muttered to himself, “I don’t like those odds…”

But once you were on the roof, Dabi seemed to know the terrain better than he did on the ground. Because, up here, you could see the entire city laid out before you. All the narrow, intertwining streets appeared like an elaborate maze with the heart of the district shimmering like a mirage in the summer heat far, far in the distance.

“We’ll head towards the shopping district and lose ‘em there,” Dabi explained as you and Tomura followed behind him in a line, treading much more carefully than your surefooted, tattooed friend so as to avoid a deadly fall. “My place isn’t far. We’ll hide out there for a while till we can make sure the streets are clear.”

“Won’t they know where to find you?” you asked, nearly rolling your eyes as such an obvious flaw in his plan. “I mean, you can’t be telling me that these guys don’t know where you live.”

Dabi smirked to himself, eyes trained on where his next step would land upon the roof to avoid any loose shingles as he replied with an overconfident, “Well, that’s just one of the perks of this lifestyle, sweetheart. Anywhere can be your home when you don’t really have one of your own.”

You scoffed at his arrogance, not exactly finding it very funny to be making jokes at a time like this, but ultimately you let it go. It was a bridge you’d cross when you came to it, so long as you could get to the other end of the slanted path you were currently on.

But Dabi wasn’t joking.

He had a place. Several, in fact. A hideout in every corner of the outskirts. And every time one of them was discovered or raided, he’d just count his losses, retrieve what little he could, and forge a new hole to call home until the process inevitably repeated.

It was how he’d survived this long. How he’d evaded his enemies just long enough to extend his deadline or wrack up an even bigger debt.

Lucky for you, though, he was taking you back to his favorite hideout. It could almost pass for an actual place someone might be able to call home. Almost.

“Hey, I think we lost ‘em…” Tomura eventually remarked as you’d changed to your third rooftop, standing still and staring over the scenery behind you. Lo and behold, your pursuers were nowhere to be seen.

Dabi stopped to listen in, the whistling from a strong gust of wind the only sound to be heard up here other than the muffled traffic drifting over from a few streets down. “Yeah…” Dabi muttered, then clearing his throat to speak loud enough for you both to hear, “Yeah, I think we lost ‘em. C’mon. Let’s go.”

A few more unstable rooftops and several flights of rusted fire escape staircases later and the three of you were back on solid ground. And it was sort of strange, unexpectedly, being back among the maze of buildings and alleys after experiencing the view of the city from so high up. You felt so much smaller than you had before, gazing up through the gaps in the architecture at the sliver of sky which had just expanded all around you, painting over the muted greys and browns of your world with a serene shade of blue.

“Hey, c’mon…” Tomura urged quietly, taking your hand in his once more, though much more gently this time, and guiding you to follow after him, careful not to press into the bruises that were already beginning to blossom on your wrist from the abuse between him and Dabi forcing you along. “We gotta go.”

But you just wanted to stay and stare up at the sky, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps that was the first time you’d ever truly seen it— a sprawling revelation expanding around you after you’d just been fearing for your life, the city never that quiet, never that still, the heat of summer not so stifling when there was so much fresh air swirling around you.

But your feet carried you after Tomura, drifting closer to where Dabi was checking to make sure the coast was clear from the opening in the alley that would merge back onto the main streets, waving you two forward in a wordless announcement that it was safe.

“Just a few more blocks,” Dabi sighed, careful cerulean gaze scanning the narrow horizon like prey expecting to find a predator lurking among the telephone poles and parked cars. But then he looked at you, noticed the tranquil daze that had overtaken your features, and asked with a skeptical squint, “You holdin’ up ok?”

It took a second for you to realize he was talking to you, snapping out of your daydream and becoming more alert as you looked up at him and replied with a shaky, “Y-yeah… I’m fine,” as you melted back into Tomura’s side.

And Dabi wished that Tomura wouldn’t have made it past the first ladder. That he’d been caught by those thugs and pulled down, beaten to death and left to suffer on the grimey concrete. Because then maybe he could be the one whose hand you were holding. Whose chest you were starting to lean against. He could take you the rest of the way to his little hole in the wall apartment and get you something to drink, sling an arm around you and pull you close until you stopped trembling and he’d convinced you that no one— not the cops or any backstreet criminals— was going to take you from him.

But the bastard who’d tried to kill himself by stepping in front of the car was the one who currently protected your heart, the one who was allowed to touch you and whisper how it isn’t much further, we’ll be there soon.

Dabi cursed himself for the man he’d been twenty-four hours ago. The man who was so hardened from this life that he’d fallen into that he was no longer able to recognize something that was good before he scorned it, scorched it, ruined it with harsh words and biting remarks.

Deep down, though…

Deep down he stoked the embers of hope in the hearth of his heart. Hope that maybe, if you could just get through this, he could convince you to be his.

“It’s right this way,” Dabi informed the two of you as you rounded the next corner, this street wider than most of the others you’d traveled down yet entirely abandoned. Only some littered newspaper scraps or empty cardboard boxes blown astray from overflowing dumpsters scuttling along the street when a breeze blew by.

“Where even are we?” you asked as you continued to survey the place, surprised not to find even a single parked car, taxi, moped, anything in sight.

“It’s better if you don’t know, actually,” Dabi mumbled, fishing a set of keys out of one of his pockets and flipping through them until he found the correct one. 

It was only then, just as he swung open a heavy metal door and held it as if wanting you to enter first that it occurred to you. Such a chilling, stomach turning realization.

You stopped short halfway through your next step, giving Tomura’s hand a slight squeeze in warning like you had in the car on the way to Spinner’s.

What if this was a trap?

What if Dabi was planning on killing the two of you and claiming your shares of the cash for himself?

It wouldn’t be hard to do. Not once he shut that door behind you— one that might only open one way, for all you knew— and guided you further into an unfamiliar building. He’d been so quick with that switchblade before. Only, this time, instead of slashing an eye it would be you and Tomura’s throats.

“What’s the matter?” Tomura inquired with a concerned mutter, leaning down a little to keep the conversation private.

But then Dabi called over with an impatient, “Hurry it up! Can’t be out in the open for too long!”

You just shook your head, shuffling back a half step while your eyes remained stuck on Dabi holding open the door.

“C’mon, it’s ok. We’re fine now,” Tomura tried to urge you, gently tugging you along until you caved and your feet stumbled forward, heartbeat hammering as you squeezed Tomura’s hand even tighter. He could feel your entire body shaking, but he figured that was more from the trauma of the recent events than the possible fear of being murdered by the third member of your unlikely trio.

Once you were inside, the door shutting behind you with a high pitched creak whining from its rusted hinges, you were engulfed in complete darkness for longer than you were comfortable with, paranoia lacing through your veins with a jittery shiver until Dabi flicked on a light switch and the place was set ablaze with vivid blue— graffied flames painted along the floors and walls that glowed under the blacklight. 

“It’s not much but…” Dabi shrugged. “They won’t find us here.”

And just like that, your mood flipped. You were in awe for the second time that day, unable to believe the sight before you was one that belonged to your usually bleak reality. 

“Did you…” you breathed out with a sigh, a fresh wave of calm overtaking you as you and Tomura followed Dabi down the long hallway. “Did you do all this?”

Dabi hummed out a short chuckle. “Yeah, well, sometimes I find myself having to hide out for a little longer than usual, so…”

Beyond the tunnel of blue flames, behind the only door located in the expansive corridor, was a single floor, several makeshift walls and barriers constructed from cardboard boxes or mismatched, patchwork pieces of plastic creating little rooms among the warehouse-like expanse. The walls of this place were also decorated with the glowing blue flames, the inferno that ignited along the hall growing into a raging wildfire with some red accents for contrast.

Dabi flipped on the main lights and the art disappeared, plain concrete walls swallowing the fiery blaze and bathing the hideout in bright fluorescence, some of the lamps flickering every once in a while to remind you that this place was not a magical fantasyland, but a dilapidated, definitely not up to safety code concrete box that you could very well be calling home for the foreseeable future.

“You can take your shoes off,” Dabi began, already heading towards one of the little sectioned off rooms, “Or don’t. I don’t care. Sit wherever. Whatever.” Then, from the room that was most likely his makeshift kitchen, he called out, “Hey, either of you want a drink?!”

For a moment, you’d forgotten Tomura was even there, his hand locked with yours just feeling like second nature at this point. So when he called back, “Some water might be nice!” you nearly jolted at the sudden voice. He then guided you over to the tiny, scuffed up couch and sat beside you, searching your face— your eyes— for something.

“Hey…” he muttered, brushing some of your disheveled hair away from your sweat streaked face, eyes still a little puffy from crying on the fire escape. “You ok…?”

You started crying again, slowly at first, then sobbing uncontrollably as you buried your face into his shoulder, your wailing muffled by the flimsy fabric of his shirt. He pulled you in closer, protectively, as Dabi re-entered the main area carrying two bottles of water and one can of beer, stride only stuttering a fraction when he witnessed your current state, the way you were clinging to Tomura for dear life again, as if he was the only thing in this world holding you together.

His grip around the beer can tightened, pressing a few small dents into the aluminum. 

“What’s wrong with ‘er now?” he asked, words coated in thick— yet forced— derision, rolling his eyes and tossing Tomura one of the water bottles before jumping over the back of the couch and landing on the thin cushions next to you, keeping a bit of a distance even if that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to do right now.

Tomura unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, trying to coax you to catch your breath and take a sip as he rubbed a hand up and down your back. But you wouldn’t lift your head from his shoulder, only nuzzling into his body deeper.

Both Tomura and Dabi exchanged unsure glances, neither exactly sure what to do right now, that is, until they heard your sobs turn into laughter— a cold, cruel chuckle that hiccuped in your chest every time a lingering sob pried its way past your lungs.

When you finally pulled your face from its hiding place among Tomura’s person, your head flopped back and you slumped into the couch. You looked sort of terrifying— teeth bared in a too wide smile as your body shook from soundless amusement, tears continuing to stream down your face and collect under your chin before dripping down onto your shirt.

“Bitch is fuckin’ crazy…” Dabi mumbled under his breath as he raised the beer can to his lips, though he jumped when a particularly loud burst of laughter tore through your throat. Then he couldn’t take his eyes off you, usually half-lidded and unbothered stare going wide enough to rival Tomura’s as he sat there frozen and unblinking, beer can still lifted to his lips yet he didn’t dare take a single sip.

And Tomura, well…

Tomura knew the feeling.

“I just can’t believe…” you barely were able to get the words out, battling between the incessant urge to cry and laugh at the same time, chest beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen in your delirious and hysterical state. “I just can’t believe that we’re alive… We’re alive…”

Tomura swallowed hard, gulped down the past few hours and hoped the monster drowned in his stomach acid before it gained enough strength to crawl back up his throat. He uttered your name— a nervous, unsure set of syllables that felt wrong in his mouth, sounded wrong to your ears. But then Dabi started laughing, his sounding low and rough and downright sinful at the realization that, yes, you’d all made it back alive.

And there was still twenty thousand dollars to split between you. Six thousand each.

“Y’know what,” Dabi said, leaning forward and setting his beer down on the busted and scratched coffee table in front of the couch. “I think the three of us make a pretty alright team.” Both you and Tomura’s gazes snapped his way, your laughter slowly fading until even the smile was wiped from your face.

Finally, Tomura said, “We almost died back there.”

“Well then maybe you should be thanking me,” Dabi responded with a hint of cruelty mixed into his tone, still holding on tight to the grudge against the silver-haired boy for stepping in front of his stolen car. Though, at this point, it really wasn’t even about that anymore, was it?

“What do you mean team?” you then cut in, feeling the tension between the two of them growing and hoping to defuse the situation before it erupted again. Even so, some sarcasm couldn’t help but shine through your words, one of your eyebrows quirked up in some kind of dramatic confusion. “The way I remember it, you wanted to leave us for dead on more than one occasion.”

“Look, I’m not used to workin’ with other people, alright?” Dabi shot back, clearly feeling cornered now, both you and Tomura setting distrusting stares upon his inked skin and sapphire eyes. “So, sorry if things didn’t always go off without a hitch—” He leaned forward, tightening the huddle between you three. “But what I’m tryna say is…”

Dabi took a moment to search your eyes, studying them, memorizing their color and the way they looked in the light versus the dark. Then he shifted his gaze to Tomura, who’s bright scarlet was far less alluring. Dabi didn’t know what you saw in him— saw in his dry, cracked, scarred skin and all that shaggy silver hair that fell into his eyes. Because all Dabi saw was someone not worth the trouble. Someone who would bury him— bury the both of you— along with himself if he got the right chance.

Perhaps Tomura was a risk in all of this.

Perhaps Dabi would live to regret trusting him.

But Dabi knew that if he wanted you— and he most certainly did want you— then Tomura was going to have to be the stray that tagged along. At least, until he could think of a better way to get rid of him…

“What I’m tryna say is that I think the three of us could pull off some pretty decent jobs,” Dabi finally concluded.

You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking if you traced over the lines of his tattoos or dared to submerge yourself into the blue of his stare for long enough you’d figure out what angle he was working, what catch would be tacked on to the end of such an offer. Though, in your hesitation, Tomura seemed to have put some of the scattered pieces to this puzzle he could gather together in his own head. He held his stare with Dabi and asked, that raspy, dangerous darkness overtaking his tone as he lowered his voice and asked, “Like what?”

And that was it.

From that moment on, you were in, all three of you leaning in closer and closer to each other as Dabi detailed some robberies he’d been trying to plan— robberies that required more than one person who knew the streets like he did and would have each other’s backs if things took a turn— elaborating on the fact that they were mostly on his enemies, guys who’d either wronged him in the past or would in the very near future if someone didn’t remind them they weren’t untouchable.

“But that’s just the warm up,” Dabi smirked, wearing that arrogant grin as he gave a half shrug, rolling his eyes a bit as if to say, child’s play. “I say we test out just how well we work together on these guys, then move onto something a little less pedestrian and more, say… Corporate.”

You thought of your view standing upon those rooftops, the heart of the city that you’d been cast out of so long ago shimmering in the distant summer heat. Close enough to dream of but still too far away to touch.

Dabi chuckled to himself then, posing the question, “I mean, what do we really have to lose?”

You’d wondered that for a while now.

Maybe it was about time you found out.

For the remainder of the night, the three of you tunneled deeper and deeper into Dabi’s plans, exploring every nook and cranny of the scheme until you felt like enough of the holes had been filled and openings in the fences patched up. By the time the hands on the clock were beginning to run into the early hours of the next morning, your eyelids were growing too heavy for you to fight against anymore. 

You were exhausted and both the boys saw it.

So Tomura took the envelope out of his pocket, counted out each of your shares, Dabi counting his twice just to make sure, and thus the alliance was set. After that, you guys called it quits for the day, got some rest and allowed yourselves to recharge before the first act of your ambitious new activities would commence. And as you fell asleep curled up close to Tomura on that narrow couch, half of your body draped over him and finding comfort in the slow rise and fall of his chest, Dabi’s words kept repeating in your head over and over, an endless, overlapping echo of, “What do we really have to lose?”

You found the answer just before slipping unconscious, you think, though by the time you’d wake up tomorrow you’d forget it.

What do we have to lose? Well, the only thing that’s really ever been ours to begin with.

Our lives.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please do check out the MV this fic is based on if you get the chance, it’s one I’ve loved since it came out all the way back in 2017, though perhaps you ought to wait until the fic is finished since it’s likely you’ll be able to predict some spoilers haha.

Anyway, future chapters will feature more of the Dabi x Reader side of things so for those of you who prefer Dabi please be patient with me! There’s actually a scene that’s been in my head for a while that I’m really looking forward to writing when the time comes.

I originally planned to write this fic in three parts but given how much more involved it became the more I developed it, now it's likely going to end up being somewhere between five and ten depending. I'll probably end up breaking up the original "three parts" into slightly shorter (though still lengthy) chapters so I'm able to post updates more consistently throughout this year rather than only be able to put out one huge chapter every few years.

Anyway, I really appreciate everyone’s patience and hope that you look forward to the next chapter. With that being said, I’ll see you soon!

Byyyyye~)

#again: please make sure to read the content warnings beforehand on this one! #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia smut #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bnha #bnha dabi #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #dabi bnha #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi mha #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #bnha tomura #mha tomura #tomura shigaraki #tomura mha #tomura bnha #tomura x reader #tomura x you #tomura x y/n

[livyjh]

Temptation ch.11

Co-written with @fhatbhabie

No outbreak!Dbf!Joel x Fem!Plus size!Reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Summary: After you break things off with your toxic boyfriend, you move back home with your dad. His best friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, takes an interest in you. But you’re the one who has to convince him to make the first move.

A/N: this is the second to last chapter!!!! Enjoy! 🩷

Chapter warnings: tattoo, smut!!, public play, mentions of being on a plane, almost getting caught, teasing, hot shower, staying in a hotel, riding rides, mention of eating, flirting, drinking alcohol, bar bathroom sex, exhibitionism, daddy kink, possessive!Joel, oral sex.

Divider art by: @saradika

One year. 365 days of being with Joel. You've heard of couples not lasting that long because after a few months you get out of the “Honeymoon Phase” but with Joel you didn't have to worry about that. He always found some way to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world. Whether it was him sending you flowers to your office making every woman envy you or just simply going to the mountain outlook and spending time together. You did the same too. You made him feel loved and like he was the only man in the world. You always brought him a freshly made lunch to work and had dinner ready for when he got home after his long day. You spent a lot more time over at his house but you always told your dad you were going to your boyfriend’s. It wasn't a lie because you were, in fact, going to your boyfriend’s but he didn't need to know your boyfriend lived right next door.

About a month ago Joel started to feel insecure about his age. He told you that he was afraid you'd up and leave him for a younger guy. So one night you walked into his house all giggly and smiling, excited to show him what you did to make him feel better.

“What's that face for?” He asked.

“Got you a little… somethin.” You giggled.

“Jesus… what?” He said, laughing.

“Well I know lately you've been feeling a little... insecure, so I got you something.”

“Darlin’ you didn't have to…”

“You're right, but I wanted to.” You pulled him off the couch and pressed your ass on his crotch making him groan softly. “Lift up my skirt.” You said. He grabbed the hem of your skirt and bunched it up around your waist. He looked down and saw the fresh black ink spelling out his name in a small, pretty font.

“You got my name tattooed on your ass?” He said, laughing

“Yep.” You giggled. He turned you around and wrapped his hands around your waist.

“I love it.” He said, smiling. “Now when there's a handprint on your ass everyone will know who did it.” He smirked, making you laugh.

Fast forward to now, it was finally your one year anniversary. You and Joel were on a plane to California, him having surprised you with the gift of a trip.

You two were in first class, cuddled up with each other under a blanket when you felt Joel’s fingers drawing circles into your upper thigh, just below the hem of your shorts.

“Whatcha doing?” You whisper.

“Nothin’.” Joel smirks mischievously. He squeezes your thigh tightly then, making you hold back a yelp on the rather quiet plane.

He leans back and closes his eyes to look like he’s asleep just as his fingers move up to your waistband and dip beneath it. The touch on your low stomach made you tingle between the legs.

You also lean back and close your eyes, trying to enjoy this instead of worrying if anyone would notice. The blanket was big and fluffy, Joel’s movements were subtle, and both of you looked like you were asleep. Chances of getting caught were low… but not none, you realize as Joel’s middle finger slips down under your panties and taps your clit.

You start to moan but cover it up by clearing your throat. You spread your legs wider beneath the blanket and scoot down in the seat just enough to give Joel better access.

His middle finger moves down to your entrance to collect some of your wetness before coming back up to circle your bundle of nerves.

The flight attendant a couple rows up, at the front of the plane, comes on the overhead speaker. “Food and drinks will be served momentarily.”

Okay, now you might be starting to panic. The flight attendant was gonna come by and look directly at the two of you as she asks if you want drinks.

You lift your head from the headrest and open your eyes to look at Joel. He still looks fast asleep but his middle finger is rubbing fast on your clit and you’re already getting closer. You bring your arms up out of the blanket and lightly place them over your lap to mask any movement going on below.

The flight attendant is getting out the food and beverage cart and starts tending to the first row of people. You and Joel were in the third row.

You subtly grind down against Joel’s hand, hoping to get off before the attendant got to you and inevitably saw your flushed face and your boyfriend’s hand under the blanket in a peculiar spot.

“Joel.” You breathe, just a whisper.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Joel, wait, I-“ you whine just loud enough for him to hear.

The flight attendant steps to the second row with her cart to serve the passengers directly in front of you. You reach under the blanket with one hand and grip Joel’s wrist to ground yourself.

He pinches your clit and it sends you over the edge. You barely have time to enjoy your silent orgasm when the flight attendant rolls her cart further down the aisle and looks directly at you.

“Any drinks? A snack?” She smiles at you, totally oblivious.

You take a deep breath, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm hitting you. “Uh- I- um…” you stumble over your words. “Water.” You finally spit out.

She pours you some water from a pitcher and hands it to you.

Your hand, not gripping Joel’s wrist, reaches up and takes it from her. You smile and hope that the employee will disappear.

“Anything for him?” She asks.

Joel presses a finger into you at the same time you take a breath to speak, turning it into a small gasp. You laugh nonchalantly to try and cover it, “Nope. He’s sleeping.” You say shyly.

“Okay.” The woman nods and turns to the people across the aisle from you.

You dig your nails into the back of Joel’s hand, hoping to hurt him just a little bit.

Joel continues slowly fingering you until the flight attendant is a few rows behind you. He opens his eyes, looks at you, pulls his hand out of your shorts and sticks his middle finger in his mouth.

He sucks it clean, grinning at you all the while.

“You’re an asshole.” You laugh quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Joel winks.

The rest of the flight is calm and easy, you and Joel both falling asleep for real until the pilot comes on the speaker to tell everyone to return to their seats for landing.

You and Joel go through the motions of getting off the plane, but you thankfully just brought carry-ons for the weekend and don’t need to go through baggage claim.

You walk out of the airport into the warm, California spring air. You take a deep breath and grab Joel’s hand. “So glad we’re here.”

“Me too.” He smiles down at you.

There are lines of taxis up and down the road, waiting for passengers to pick up. You both spot the same one that still had a light on to let you know it was free. You head for it and get in, the driver greeting you. “Afternoon, folks. Where ya headed?”

“That a Texan accent I hear?” Joel asks with a smile.

“Sure is.” The driver nodded. “Where you two from?”

“Texas.” You and Joel speak in unison.

“Well, howdy.” The driver smiles as he looks in the rear view mirror.

“Howdy.” You say back happily.

“We’re headed to the Hilton at universal city.” Joel tells the driver.

“Great.” He clicks the meter to start running as he carefully pulls out from the line of parked taxis and merges into the road.

“Universal city?” You ask Joel. He hadn’t told you anything about the trip except that you were going to LA for the weekend. “As in universal studios?”

“Yep.” Joel smiles at you.

“Fuck yes!” You grin. It was like Disneyland for adults and nerds. You wouldn’t exactly call yourself a nerd but you did enjoy several classic/iconic movies and tv shows.

“Knew you’d like that.” Joel smiled.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as the driver takes you to your hotel.

You two get there and check in, heading up to your room.

When you walk inside, it’s not quite like anything you’ve ever seen before.

The entire outside wall is thick glass, showing through it was a view of Hollywood. Fuck, you could even see the infamous Hollywood sign.

“Joel… you didn’t have to do all this.” You shake your head, smiling, almost in tears from how happy you were.

“Wanted to, baby.” Joel smiled and pulled you into a hug.

It was around 4pm, neither you or Joel were ready for dinner yet so you decided to kick off your shoes and plop onto the bed to relax a little. Stretch out after the flight.

Joel turned on the tv and flipped through channels till it landed on a home improvement show.

“Babe.” You laugh.

“What?” He raises his brows and looks at you.

“You might as well be at work if we watch this.” You chuckle, teasing.

“Nah, because if I were at work… couldn’t do this.” He puts the remote down on the side table and before you know it, he’s between your legs, looming over you, holding your wrists above your head.

You’re suddenly out of breath as you look at him, biting your bottom lip.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He grins.

You nod, feeling yourself get aroused yet again today. If the orgasm on the plane wasn’t enough, what Joel had in mind certainly would be.

To your surprise, he leans down and kisses you ever so gently. “Come on,” he whispers, “let’s go walk around town.”

“You’re a fucking tease, Joel Miller.” You sigh with a laugh.

He gets off the bed and stands up. “You’re welcome to tease back, honey. Just know I’ll have something to say about it when we’re in private.” He laughs darkly.

This sends a bolt of electricity straight to your groin, making you gasp softly. Joel doesn’t seem to hear it as he turns away and gets his shoes back on.

You had a fun idea. If Joel was open to teasing, you’d have to take advantage of that sometime.

***

7pm rolled around and you and Joel realized you were starving after walking up and down the streets of Hollywood, exploring shops and attractions.

You went back to the hotel and ordered room service after realizing most of the restaurants around here were either too fancy for how you were dressed, or the waiting list was two hours.

You both got wagyu burgers with fries and a milkshake. By the time you were done, you were both rubbing your bellies from how stuffed you were.

Joel kept dozing off and you decided that a shower sounded nice. You get up and go into the bathroom and turn on the water to heat it up.

You’re surprised when you hear the bathroom door open behind you, Joel slipping inside. “You gonna shower without me?” He asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“You’re welcome to join me.” You laugh a little at the state of his curly hair. It’s sticking up in every different direction and he’s just so cute when he’s tired.

“Think I will, darlin’.” He smiles and steps closer to kiss you before you both get naked and get in the hot shower.

You sigh happily as the water runs over your scalp and down your back.

“Jesus, that’s hot.” Joel reaches his hand out to catch some of the water.

“Too hot?” You ask.

“A little.”

“Pussy.” You snort a laugh.

“What’d you say?” Joel chuckles.

“Called you a pussy.” You giggle and turn around to make the water a little cooler.

He lands a slap on your ass, happy when he sees it jiggle. You yelp in surprise at it, turning back around once you’ve adjusted the water temperature.

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a deep kiss, making you moan softly against him. It felt nice to be with him like this. Intimate, soft, vulnerable.

You both wash up and then get out and dry off before climbing into the large hotel bed. Joel pulls you in against him so your back is against his chest. He takes a deep breath and you follow with the same.

“I love you.” Joel whispers against the back of your neck.

“I love you, too.”

***

You woke up the next morning feeling Joel's arms wrapped around you. You looked over and he had a grumpy look spread across his face meaning he was still sound asleep. You gently placed a kiss on his cheek and rolled out of bed making your way to the bathroom.

You slipped on a pair of leggings along with a cute top tossing your hair into a bun to avoid sweating like a whore in church. You walked out of the bathroom and saw Joel awake and getting dressed.

“Look at that. Didn't have to wake you.” You teased.

“Oh, whatever. I'm not a kid...” he pouted.

“Oh baby, of course not. You're my big, strong man.” You said, making him roll his eyes and chuckle.

You walked into the park hand in hand with Joel mesmerized by all the attractions. You started off by going on some rides which Joel was not a fan of. Every ride you got off of he avoided the picture booth by the exit but you couldn't resist to see the look on his face when the camera went off. It was close to 7pm when you realized you haven't ate anything all day.

“Hungry, baby?” you asked as you rubbed his tummy.

“Starvin’…”

“Oo let's go there.” You grabbed his hand and walked into an old school diner. “Make you all nostalgic?”

“This was actually before my time, sweet girl.” He replied, making you laugh.

You ordered your food and sat down and ate. You went on and on about the other things you wanted to do in the park but Joel wasn't listening. He could see your mouth moving but your voice became muffled. He was amazed by the twinkle in your eyes making his heart warm to see you this happy. How beautiful you looked with your hair slowly coming out of the bun it was in, making strands of hair hug your cheeks. Absolutely beautiful.

“Joel!” You said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, making you giggle.

“You not hear what I said, baby?”

“No sorry, honey... Got distracted.”

“By what?” You asked as you looked around the diner.

“You.” He said, making you blush.

“What about me?”

“About how beautiful you are. How amazing of a woman you are. Y’know. You.” He smiled, making your face turn bright red. “What were you saying darlin’? I'm listenin’.”

“I said I just wanna hit a few gift shops and we can get going before it gets dark. Oh and I wanna take a picture together.”

“Darlin’ you know I don’t like gettin’ my photo taken...”

“I know… but please, baby.” You pouted, making him chuckle.

“Fine.” He said, making you smile.

You walked out of the diner hitting up a few shops and grabbing things for yourself and of course Sarah. You were making your way over to the big Universal globe when you handed Joel your bags.

“Gotta pee, be right back.” You pecked his lips and walked off to the bathroom. He stood there for a solid 2 minutes when he saw someone walking up to him from the corner of his eye.

“Well well well… aren't you a tall glass of handsome water.” A man said to Joel. “I'm Caleb. What's your name, cowboy?” He asked, giving Joel a wink.

“J-Joel…”

“Joel… that's hot.” Caleb said as he chewed on his bottom lip looking Joel up and down. “Here.” He handed Joel a small card with a phone number on it. “In case you ever wanna have some fun.” He winked and walked off, leaving Joel speechless.

You walked out of the bathroom and saw Joel frozen in the spot he was in with his cheeks bright pink.

“Joel? You okay?”

“Y- Yeah umm… I think that guy just hit on me…” he said, confused.

“Ahhh… I see.” You smiled. “You liked it, didn't you?” You asked, making Joel's eyes grow wide.

“N- No baby girl, I swear I didn't. I love you.” he said, making you giggle.

“Mmhmm...” you smirked as you walked away with him hot on your tail. You stopped in front of the globe and asked someone to take the picture for you. You wrapped your arm around his waist and placed your other hand on his tummy. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and held you close.

“I love you darlin...” he said, making you laugh.

“I love you too baby. I'm just teasing you.” You walked back to the woman and grabbed your phone thanking her. You scrolled through the pictures she took and smiled. There was one picture where you were looking at the camera and Joel was looking at you smiling from ear to ear seeing nothing but love spread across his face.

“This is my favorite...” you said, showing Joel.

“Mm... Mine too.” He smiled and with that you changed it to your lock screen wallpaper.

You walked out of the park holding hands with him. You looked down at your fingers laced with his and pouted.

“What's wrong honey?” he asked

“Wish we could do this back home… Hold hands and kiss out in public.”

“I know baby... once we tell your dad everything we can.” He placed a kiss on the top of your hand, making you smile. “What do you say we get dressed up and go out tonight?”

“That sounds amazing baby. Where?”

“We'll find a place.”

**

You and Joel get to a bar in downtown Hollywood after stopping by the hotel to get changed and dress up a bit.

Joel was in tight, black slacks with a silky, burgundy button down tucked into it, and some nice, black leather shoes. He’s never looked so dashing.

You were wearing an emerald green dress that hugged your curves and hit at about mid thigh. It had thin straps and a sweetheart neckline. You also wore some heels, a strapless bra, and your favorite (and Joel’s favorite) matching thong.

Joel keeps his hand on your lower back as you two walk into the bar and find a couple of open stools at the cocktail counter. You both sit and look at each other, smiling.

“Baby, you look so handsome…” you grin at him.

“And you are as pretty as a peach.” Joel hums.

You blush a little and the woman behind the counter comes over to take your order.

“Whiskey.” Joel smiles and nods at her.

“And for you?” The woman asks you.

“Vodka cran, please.” You smile.

Joel hands the woman his credit card. “Keep the tab open.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.” She smiles and walks down to the register behind the counter, putting in your orders. She pours your drinks and hands them to you with cocktail napkins.

“Thanks.” You and Joel say at the same time before smiling at each other.

“What should we drink to, baby?” You look at your handsome boyfriend.

“One year of always being the hottest couple in the room, even if no one knows it.” He smirks.

You nod and clink your glasses together before taking sips of your drinks.

It’s not long before Joel is 3 whiskeys in and you’re on your 4th vodka cran. You’d been chatting for almost two hours when Joel placed his hand on your thigh, sending electricity up your spine.

He held it there while you kept talking about your trip to the park today and which attractions were your favorites.

His hand was so fucking warm, it almost felt like it was burning you. Maybe it was the alcohol. You didn’t know, but he slowly worked his hand upward to the hem of your dress. He’d dip his pinky underneath it every couple of minutes, just to tease. Then you remembered.

Joel welcomed you to tease him back.

You blink slowly, drunkenly, as you lean in to whisper in Joel’s ear. “Daddy, I’m all wet.”

He clenches his jaw and the thumb that was moving back and forth on your thigh is now still. He turns his face to yours, only a couple inches away as he hums a response. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm… wish you could taste it. Feel it.” You purr.

He growls quietly in his throat. You lean your head on his shoulder and turn your face into his neck so that the tip of your nose is brushing against it.

“Do you need me to take you back to the hotel?” He slurs.

“Not enough time… need you now.” You whine quietly.

He squeezes your thigh, hard, and then he’s getting up. He mumbles the word “bathroom” before walking away to the back of the bar.

You blush and down the rest of your drink before getting up on slightly shaky legs. You stabilize yourself before walking where you saw Joel go, into the men’s bathroom.

The door isn’t even fully closed when he gets his mouth on you. His beard scratches against your neck as he sucks a mark into the side of it. “Daddy… please just… take me. Fuck me so good.” You whimper.

Joel leads you into one of the three stalls, closing it and latching the door before shoving you against it. You whine softly as his hands grab your breasts, massaging them, groping them.

He leans down to capture your lips with his and press his crotch against you.

Fuck, so hard already.

“I know.” He replies. Wait, did you say that out loud? Whatever.

You sling your arms around the back of his neck as he reaches under your dress with one hand to push your panties aside and feel just how wet you’d gotten for him.

“Shit, darlin’… you’re soaked.” He groans.

“F- fuck me, please, baby.” You whine against his lips.

He plunges a finger into you and you gasp, thighs already shaking.

“You need it bad, sweet girl.” He tuts.

“So bad!” You say loudly.

Joel pulls his finger from you and brings it to your lips, smearing your slick over them before pushing his digit into your mouth. “Suck.” He demanded.

You start sucking his finger while his other hand reaches down to undo his pants. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and finishes unzipping his slacks before pulling his cock out.

It was heavy, leaking… fuck, you wanted to put your mouth on it but you didn’t want to get on your knees in a bar bathroom. Even in this nice bar.

“Need it inside.” You whimper.

“I know, honey. I’m gonna give it to ya.” He smiles.

He hiked up your dress around your waist, pulling one leg up around his hip before pushing into you.

“Fuuuuck!” You gasp.

“Shit, baby. All fuckin’ wet… so tight.” Joel moans deeply.

“Hhngh…” is all you can get out when he pulls back and pushes in again.

You’re holding on to his shoulders and he’s got one hand holding your leg up, his other hand around your back at waist level, keeping you close. It helped the angle that you had high heels on, Joel didn’t have to bend his knees too much to fuck you.

“Whose pussy is this?” He sighs with pleasure.

“Da- daddy-“ you huff.

You hear the bathroom door open and you suddenly sober up, just a little. But Joel doesn’t miss a beat.

He keeps fucking into you, making the stall door thud against the lock over and over.

You look at Joel, giving him a face of confusion.

“S’alright, baby. It’s okay if he hears.” He starts fucking into you especially hard before reaching down and pulling your other leg up, both now wrapped around him. He’s supporting you under your ass with his hands as he fucks you against the stall door, your pussy making obscene noises as he does so.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He growls.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“Whose pussy is this?” He repeats.

You hear the other man in the bathroom flush one of the urinals.

“Y- yours!” You nearly scream as you hear the sink start running.

You should be embarrassed. You should be telling Joel to stop. There’s a lot of things you should be doing, but his cock is too fucking good. You can’t stop now.

“All mine.” He groans over and over and you hear the other patron leave the bathroom.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell.

“Alright, baby. Go ahead. Cum on daddy’s cock.” Joel orders.

He pumps into you a couple more times and then you’re losing it. “Oh! Yeah, Joel! Fuck!” You whine like a porn star as you cum hard, squeezing around him.

“F- fuck…” Joel stutters before he’s spilling his load inside you.

You both keep moving until you’re overstimulated and sensitive. Joel pulls out and carefully sets you down. He hands you a little toilet paper to clean yourself, and you do before tossing the soiled paper in the toilet.

Joel flushes it with his foot and turns back to you, kissing you hard. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. Love you.” He hums.

“Love you s- so much.” You breathe.

He adjusts your panties and pulls your dress back down to an appropriate length before you both step out of the stall.

“I’ll walk out, you wait ten seconds, then come find me.” Joel nods.

“Okay.” You smile, drunk and blissed out.

You look in the mirror and make sure you look somewhat presentable before peeking out of the bathroom to make sure the coast was clear.

You step out and see Joel in a spot close to where you’d been sitting before. You walk past a table of rowdy men, aging between 25 and 50 you imagine.

You sit down at the bar next to Joel when you hear a man at that table behind you.

“Some bitch was getting her brains fucked out in there.” He said.

Your head snaps to the side to look at Joel with wide eyes. He smiles at you. He heard it too, but he’s more proud than embarrassed.

“She sound hot?” One of the other men asked.

“Fuck yeah. Moaning like a whore, pussy sounded juicy, too. She had to be a thick girl.” You hear the first man chuckle.

You turn a deep shade of pink and rub the back of your neck, looking into the mirror behind the bar and catching Joel’s eyes there. He was smirking like the devil.

“You alright, darlin?” He asked, still smirking.

“Mhmm...” you took a sip of your drink, hoping it would help reduce the redness spread across your face.

“Makes me wish they were out in the sink. Woulda paid to see that.” The man added, making Joel chuckle evilly to only where you could hear. You finished the last bit of your drink and stood up, trying to regain the feeling in your legs.

“Baby I think I'm ready to go...” you slurred.

“Let’s go, sweet girl.” He waved the bartender over and closed out his tab. He wrapped his arm around your waist and made your way out of the bar and into a cab.

***

You stumbled into the hotel room, kicking off your heels and walking over to the bed.

You laid down on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed at the knees, closing your eyes. You hear some clothes shuffling and then Joel’s hands are on your thighs.

“Hi, baby.” You lift your head and open your eyes. “Oh-“ you giggle drunkenly, noticing his nakedness. He was already half hard, cock hanging heavy between his legs.

“Hi.” He smiles, fingertips tracing circles on the tops of your thighs. “Let’s take all this off.” He uses one hand to motion to your clothing.

You nod at him and then he’s on you. He shoves your dress up and pulls your panties down quickly. He laughs darkly. “Still all swollen from earlier.”

“Still wet and sensitive, too.” You breathe.

“Good.” Joel groans as he runs a finger through your folds to collect your slick.

You moan softly as you watch him bring the wet digit to his lips and suck on it. “Awfully tasty, darlin’… good thing I’m hungry.” He hums.

You bite your lip as he reaches down and pulls your panties off the rest of the way. He then uses both hands to pull off your dress, you sit up a little to help.

“Ah, easy access.” He laughs with a smirk when he notices your strapless bra is clasped in the front.He reaches down with one hand and undoes it with a twist.

The bra flies open, laying underneath your back as your full breasts burst out. “Could never get tired of those.” Joel bites his lip and looks you over.

You smile and blush a little when Joel moves down and grabs your hips, shoving you further up on the bed. You lay your head on the pillows and look down as he crawls up between your legs.

He kisses your lips for a long moment before he started trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He took a couple minutes to praise each breast with his mouth and fingers before he continued south.

He got down and threw your legs over his shoulders, beginning with little licks to your slit.

“Joel-“ you gasp.

He put his hands underneath your ass, squeezing as his mouth attached to your clit. The warmth of his mouth was almost overwhelming.

“Oh, daddy…” you whine, gripping the sheets.

He hums against you as he presses his tongue against your bundle of nerves as hard as he can. Your toes curl and your hips buck up. He grabs them quickly and pushes them back down into the bed.

He darts his tongue back and forth, pressing a hand over your belly to keep you from rutting up against him. His other hand travels up to your breast to pinch and pull your nipple.

“Fuck…” you moan and gasp when his tongue starts moving up and down, making you reach for his biceps.

Joel really knew how to please you. On top of all this, he starts to suck on your bud, making you dig your nails into his skin.

He growls against you and it does you in.

“Fuck!!” You shout, your hands flying up to grip the sheets next to your head as your cunt seizes against his tongue.

Your back arches and you feel liquid squirt from your pussy onto Joel’s chin. He groans against you, sending a shockwave up your spine.

“Don’t- don’t stop!” You cry out, hoping for a quick and even more intense second orgasm. And you knew Joel could get you there.

He pushes two fingers into you and starts sucking on your clit even harder now, you swore you could feel his teeth too. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out, rubbing against that special spot inside you.

“Yes!!!” You scream, thighs shaking around Joel’s head.

“Yes! Daddy! F- fuck-“ you cut yourself off with a moan as your second climax hit you. One hand gripped the sheets while the other pulled at Joel’s hair for grounding purposes.

He keeps his fingers moving, mouth active against your clit. As the waves kept hitting you, he gradually slowed down and eased the pressure on your sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” He whispered as he pulled back. “You never stop surprising me, baby girl.” He laughs.

“Give me like two minutes to recover and then I’ll surprise you again.” You wink at him.

“Is that right?” He chuckles.

“Mhm.” You nod, breathless.

He moves up next to you in the bed, pressing his aching cock against your hip.

You moan at the feeling of wetness on the head. He moans too, the slight friction enough to make him do so.

You reach down between your legs, wetting your fingers before wrapping them around his dick. He bucks into your hand, no hesitance.

You stay like this for a couple minutes, him rolling his hips forward as you stroke him. Before Joel is aware of what’s going on, his mind feeling fuzzy from arousal, you’re on top of him.

“Shit.” He breathes, reaching to hold your thighs.

You grab his cock and guide it to your entrance before sinking down onto it.

“Fuck, baby girl… always so tight for me.” He groans and grips your thick upper thighs.

You lift up a couple inches before slowly sinking back down onto his hardness. “You’re so fucking big.” You whine.

“And you can’t get enough.” He moves his hands up to your hips, holding them hard as you begin to bounce up and down.

You place your hands on his chest, supporting yourself as your body rolls against him. He’s gripping your hips to help you thrust when he bucks his own hips to slam into you.

“Joel-!” You gasp.

“This pretty pussy is all mine, isn’t it?” He growls.

“Yes!” You whimper, meeting his hips with your own as he fills you up, over and over again.

“Need my cum, don’t you, honey?”

You nod.

“Say it.” He demands.

“Need your cum, daddy… please.” Your hips stutter as you feel yourself getting closer.

He grabs one of your breasts as he keeps fucking up into you, cock twitching. “F- fuck, sweet girl… you always look so good split on my cock.”

You nod frantically. “Pl- please…”

“Whaddya need, sugar?”

“Touch… please touch my clit, daddy.”

He laughs darkly. “All ya had to do was ask.” He removes his hand from your breast, reaching down to rub circles into your clit with his thumb.

A few seconds later you were quivering. “I’m gonna-!!” And that was all you could get out before your orgasm hit you like a bullet train. “Yes!!! Joel!”

He grunts with each thrust as he fills you with his seed, the both of you shaking from how good you felt.

The aftershocks were incredible, your pussy fluttering around Joel’s cock for a minute after you both came.

He slowed down and you leaned in to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as he pulled out of you.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed against your lips.

You let out a moan of agreement and moved off of him to get under the covers together. He pulled you in and held you tight until you both fell asleep.

***

The next morning was only slightly stressful. The traffic to the airport was a nightmare, even for the experienced taxi driver who was taking you.

But, you made your flight on time, getting to the gate just ten minutes before you were supposed to board.

“Told you it was gonna be fine.” Joel nudges you with his elbow.

“Yeah okay, you were right.” You chuckle. You sit down in your assigned seats, you by the window and Joel in an aisle seat, not long after the plane took off...

“Thank you...” you said, looking over at Joel. “For everything this weekend.”

He smiled. “Would you say it was the best anniversary?” He asked, making you laugh.

“Don't wanna say that cause I feel like you're gonna try to top this one next year.”

“Tellin’ me we're still gonna be together next year?” He asked.

“Honey, you can't get rid of me that easy. And yes I'd like to think that we're still gonna be together a year from now… maybe even longer.”

“Sounds like a plan to me darlin...” he cupped your cheek and pulled you into a deep, wet kiss, making you melt into his touch. You nibbled his bottom lip lightly, making him chuckle.

“I love you...” you muttered as you brushed the tip of your nose against his.

“I love you too... more than you'll ever know.” He said, making you smile. The sound of the drink cart pulled your attention away from him. The flight attendant stopped right beside your row and smiled at you.

“Would you like anything to drink, beautiful?” He said.

“Water is fine, thank you.”

He poured a cup of water and handed it to you. He looked down at Joel and smirked.

“What about you, handsome?” He said, making Joel blush.

“W- Water is fine...”

“Coming right up, big boy.” He winked, making you giggle. He handed Joel a cup of water and leaned down. “If you need anything else...” he started as he rubbed Joel's bicep. “Don't hesitate to ask.” He winked at Joel and walked off, leaving Joel speechless and you in tears from laughing so much.

“Darlin, I promise I didn't do anythin’ for him to talk to me like that,..” he said.

“Baby, it's fine.” You laughed.

“I swear, darlin...” he said again, making you laugh more.

____________________________________________

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[asbealthgn]

(sorry about the last one! but not that sorry. this builds on it so read that part first!)

Spring 1986

Just once, Steve would like to go twelve months without the world falling apart. Just 365 days without some fresh new hell opening up. That doesn’t seem like so much to ask, but apparently, life has other ideas.

He’s currently curled up on a chair in the Wheeler’s basement for the second night in a row. In the past seventy-two hours, he’s been threatened with a broken bottle to his neck, found out about two murders at the hands of some unknown dark wizard from the Upside Down, and almost watched Max get taken herself. And it’s still ongoing.

Everyone else is asleep except for Robin, who has the first shift watching over Max. Steve can see her through the dark, sitting with her back against the couch by Max’s feet. Robin’s fingers are drumming silently along her knees, tapping out a frantic rhythm. Steve knows he should be trying to sleep, because he has the next shift in two hours, but he can’t. Not when his mind is miles away in a boathouse on Lover’s Lake.

Eddie is alone over there.

He must be terrified. He was only thrust into this other world a few days ago when he watched a girl die right in front of him. If Steve can’t stop picturing Max lifting into the air while they waited helplessly below, he can only imagine how horrific the afterimages of Vecna’s curse being carried out to completion must be. Eddie was a babbling mess when they found him, and it can’t have possibly gotten easier being stuck in that boathouse by himself the last couple of nights. That has to be the worst part, the being alone. Whenever Steve has been recovering from his brushes with the Upside Down, he’s never truly been alone; there have always been friends to turn to, even if he’s not always the best at doing so. There’s still a world to escape to, places he can go to feel normal again. But Eddie has no one, confined to a small box while police and pissed off jocks hunt for his blood.

Steve doesn’t want Eddie to be alone. He has no idea if Eddie would even want to see him considering how they left things, but Eddie deserves to have someone by his side right now. So Steve lowers his feet off the chair and leans over to tap Robin’s shoulder. She starts and looks at him. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” Steve says, “Everything’s fine. Just—I’m heading out for a bit.”

She angles to face him more fully. “What?” she asks, “You can’t leave.”

“It’s just for a little while,” he assures her, “I’ll be back by the time I need to watch Max.”

“Steve—”

“It’s important, okay?”

“Steve, no offense,” Robin hisses, scooting closer and grabbing his ankle. “But there is nothing in the world that could be more important than sticking together right now.”

Sighing, Steve lowers himself off the chair and sits on the ground next to her. He wanted to avoid this, but it looks like it’s the only way. Maybe it’ll feel good to tell her. He leans close to her to whisper as softly as he can. “You remember last summer, when I told you about that guy I liked?”

She nods. 

He leans even closer, voice almost inaudible. “It’s Eddie.”

It’s too dark to see her expression, but she grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Oh,” she whispers, “I understand.”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” he says, “He’s been alone for days.”

There’s a pressure as she leans her head on his shoulder. “Go to him,” she says, “I’ll cover for you if anyone wakes up.”

“I love you, Robin,” he says, turning and kissing her on the forehead. Then he gets to his feet. “Thank you.”

He ascends the stairs as quietly as he can and goes out the front door. Thank God he parked his car at the end of the driveway behind Nancy’s. He pulls away from the house and starts heading for the lake. 

As he drives, he thinks about the last time he saw Eddie five months ago. He still doesn’t understand what happened. He thought things had been going well with Eddie—he thought they really liked each other. Steve knows he should have done more to tell Eddie how he felt. He knows he shouldn’t have deflected every time Eddie tried to have a conversation about what they were. He knows he was scared. But he thought they’d have time. Instead he’d shown up that day and Eddie had ended things without telling him why. The only reason Steve can think of is his own cowardice. And he hates himself for not being more ready. Maybe if he had been, he and Eddie would still be together. 

Steve isn’t sure if Eddie will turn him away now. The two times they’ve seen each other since this all started, Eddie acted like they’d never even met. He came rocketing out of that boat brandishing a broken bottle, holding it up to Steve’s throat like he might really slit it. That was the first time Steve had seen him since he’d slammed the door in his face.

Parking outside of Reefer Rick’s place, Steve gets out of his car and makes his way to the boathouse, wondering what his reception will be like. He just hopes Eddie doesn’t send him back. Steve wants to help, wants to be there for Eddie. He hopes Eddie lets him. 

He eases the door to the boathouse open. “Eddie?” he calls softly.

There’s no answer. It occurs to him that Eddie may be sleeping. If so, he doesn’t want to disturb him. Steve moves quietly inside, shutting the door behind him. He looks around, but doesn’t see Eddie. He wouldn’t have left, would he? Or maybe he was found, either by the police or by Jason and his cronies. 

Steve moves through the boathouse with more purpose, trying to hold off the panic threatening to bubble up. “Eddie,” he calls again, not daring to raise his voice for fear of alerting the neighbors. 

Again, there’s no answer, but he hears the faintest shuffling from the boat. Relieved, Steve crosses to it and pulls the tarp back. Eddie is lying on his back, staring up at Steve with those big eyes. 

“Why are you here, Harrington?” he asks.

“I came to check on you,” Steve says.

Eddie looks away from him. “Great, well, you’ve checked on me,” he says, “You can go now.” He reaches for the end of the tarp and starts to pull it back over himself, but Steve grabs it before he can.

“Hey,” he says, “You’ve been alone for days, and you’ve seen some shit. You—” Steve digs in his jacket pocket and produces a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want one?”

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at the offered cigarette, not moving. Then with a small sigh, he sits up and climbs out of the boat to take it. Steve holds out his lighter, but Eddie gets his own out of his pocket. He pushes past Steve and sits on the bench along the wall. After a moment, Steve sits next to him. Eddie won’t look at him. 

This is going great so far. 

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” Steve asks. 

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve already said all there is to say.”

“Alright.”

True to his word, Eddie is silent. Steve listens to the quiet breathing of the man next to him, the long inhales as he takes a drag. He listens to his own heartbeat, loud and persistent. 

“How—” Eddie begins. Steve looks over at him and sees Eddie’s hand covering his face. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“This. Handle this shit. I—I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Steve angles his body, knees almost touching Eddie’s. “Well, you’ve seen me,” he says, “You’ve held my hand through enough panic attacks to know I don’t exactly handle it.”

Eddie drops his hand and looks at Steve, expression pained. Steve holds his hand out. Eddie doesn’t take it. Instead he folds his arms around himself, angling away from Steve. Steve retracts his hand.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, “Still don’t know why you bothered to come.”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone,” Steve says, “Because I care about you.”

That earns him a huff of air, an annoyed exhale. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks. “You don’t think I care?”

Eddie takes a long drag of the cigarette. “Why should I think you do?”

Steve stands abruptly. This isn’t getting him anywhere. He wanted to be helpful, but he’s not going to stick around if Eddie’s just going to be a dick. “Alright,” he says, “I’ll go. I need to take over watching Max for Robin, anyway.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep Robin waiting,” Eddie says drily. 

Hands on his hips, Steve turns to stand right in front of Eddie. “What, you have a problem with Robin now too?”

“Why would I have a problem with her?” Eddie asks, shrugging. “Everyone loves your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Eddie raises the cigarette to his lips again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Well, yeah, considering it’s the truth,” Steve says, “We’re just friends.”

“But you’re clearly sleeping together.”

“Absolutely not, man,” Steve says, “Why the fuck would you think that?”

Brow furrowed, Eddie waves the cigarette vaguely. “You’re so…close,” he says.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “And we survived Russian torture together, so yeah. We’re gonna be close.”

“You survived—what?”

“Not the point. The point is Robin and I are not together. Never have been, never will be.”

Eddie is staring up at him, mouth slightly open. Steve can’t quite read his expression. “You…” Eddie says. “You’re not?”

“No, definitely not,” Steve says. “Is that why you’re so mad at me?”

Eddie stubs out the cigarette and drops it, then runs his hands over his face. “I saw you,” he says, voice muffled. “In October, I saw you at the diner in town all cuddled up with her. I thought she was your girlfriend.”

“You thought—but, Eddie, I was with you.”

Still hiding behind his hands, Eddie shakes his head slightly. “I thought she was your girlfriend and that you were fooling around with me behind her back.”

Steve is frozen to the spot. This is why Eddie ended things? Not because Steve wasn’t ready to label things but because Eddie thought he was a cheater? 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve says, his voice coming out angrier than he expected. “And it sucks that you think I would.”

He turns and takes a step towards the door, but he’s held back by a hand on his wrist. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie says. He stands and moves around to face Steve. “I—I really thought—”

“I’m not that kind of person,” Steve says. He’s not. Even in his King Steve days, he never kept multiple girls on the line. When he loves, he’s all in. He’s not a fucking cheater.

Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s arms like he’s trying to keep him from running away. “I’m so sorry I thought that,” he says, “I just—I didn’t understand why you would be holding her like that. I mean, how was I supposed to know what your relationship was like? It’s not like you ever introduced me to any of your friends.”

That feels like a slap in the face. “You could have asked.”

Shaking his head slightly, Eddie goes on. “Sorry, no, I shouldn’t be trying to blame you, I—” He pinches his eyes shut. “It really didn’t make any sense. I didn’t understand why you were with me. You with me. It doesn’t—I mean, look at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re—Steve Harrington. The golden boy,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m a freak.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says.

“I am,” Eddie says, “You know I am.”

“Okay, well, I really fucking liked you,” Steve says, “Whatever you are. I don’t care if you have, like, unconventional interests. I really wanted to be with you.”

Eddie looks like he might cry. “I wanted that too,” he whispers.

“I wish you had talked to me,” Steve says, voice gentler. “I wish you’d told me what you thought you saw so I could have explained then.”

Eddie closes his eyes. “I thought I already had my answer,” he says, “I thought you—I mean, I tried to talk to you, about what we were. And you always avoided it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. Tentatively, he lifts a hand to Eddie’s hair and Eddie leans in ever so slightly to the touch. “I should have told you how I felt about you. But I was scared. I mean, I’ve never liked a boy until you. It’s been—terrifying.”

“I understand,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m sorry. Maybe we both kind of suck at talking.”

Steve smiles slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you think we could, uh, start over?” Eddie asks, “Pretend all of that never happened and just go from here?”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He puts his arms around Eddie, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder and they stand like that for a while, clinging to each other. He knows they’ll need to talk more, work out the issues that led them to this place and figure out where they’re going from here. But for now, he’s happy to just be touching Eddie.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks, gripping him a little tighter. “Will you stay for a little while?”

Steve runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Of course I will.”

Eddie takes his hand and leads him over to the boat, climbing back in. They lay side by side on the bottom, tucked close together. It’s not even remotely comfortable, but Steve doesn’t really care. All that matters is that he’s holding onto Eddie and Eddie is holding him back.

“When do you have to leave?” Eddie asks, face against Steve’s shoulder. Steve checks his watch.

“In about an hour.”

“And why—you said you’re watching Max?” Eddie says. “Why does she need watching?”

“Oh,” Steve says. He sort of forgot that Eddie doesn’t know. “Vecna almost got her.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, tilting his face to look at Steve. “Is she okay?”

Steve shrugs. “I think so. No broken bones or anything,” he says, “But she’s definitely freaked out. We all are.”

Shifting a little, Eddie frowns. “How did she survive?”

As quickly and coherently as he can, Steve explains the discovery that Robin and Nancy made about music and Max’s description of what she saw. He stumbles over the explanation, since he’s not sure he completely grasps it. He wishes Dustin was here to describe it better. But Eddie nods along like he gets it.

“Music is powerful shit, man,” he whispers.

Steve nods. “Yeah, it saved her life,” he says, “We have her listening to the song on loop, and somebody staying awake to keep an eye on her in case she starts lifting again.”

He feels Eddie tense slightly, probably remembering Chrissy. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. 

“It was fucking terrifying,” Steve says, “I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone.”

Eddie tucks his face back against Steve’s neck, not saying anything. For a long time, they just hold each other. As terrible as the circumstances are, there is something oddly comforting about being in this boat with Eddie, bonded by their shared history and this new misery. 

“You can sleep, if you want,” Eddie whispers eventually. “I’ll wake you up when you need to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” Steve says, “You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Eddie says, “I slept all day when it was light out. I can’t seem to fall asleep in the dark.”

Steve knows that feeling exactly. He’s gone through it enough times to know how much worse the darkness makes the nightmares. Now though, he’s so exhausted from the day that all he wants is to sleep. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Sleep, baby,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve could cry from the return of that name. “I’ll wake you up.”

(part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21)

taglist: @adashofaroace @spectrum-spectre @girlwhoknewtheoriginoflove @cupc8keblonde @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @leeahpuppet  @bidisastersworld @axltheedaddy @crushed-like-an-ant @whimsicalwitchm @hollysimone @awolfnamedaliac @gay-little-bitch @duckyreads @nelotegreitic @henderdads @iamsotiredman @thegingervulcan @mezmatch @stranger-poets-society @official-insanity-c @briceslayed @ohwelsh @lonestarcowpoke @lycriza @bejeweledbaby @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @cnfsd-bisexual @cheeseaddict-12 @wrenisflying @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @ash-a-confused-enby @grtwdsmwhr @edgelordesworld @vecnuthy @lightwoodbanethings @soulminyg @notbatman00 @steve-the-hairrington @lizisodd @artiststarme @queerbeansworld @thegingerrapunzel @ceaselessly-watching @best-selling-show @idkwwhatimmdoiing @ashlynjessi @yes-im-your-mom @steddie-there @thefailcollection @samcoxramblings @beeing-stuupid

lmk if you want to be tagged! as a side note, i also started posting this fic on ao3. there will be more than what’s in these snippets so check it out if you’re interested :)

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

[ash5monster01]

Back To You

Pairing: MacGyver x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of heartbreak

Summary: based on the song Back To You by Selena Gomez. You try to give Mac space, protect him and allow him to be happy without having to worry about you. Yet after you realize you’ve still been thinking about him for a whole year, you finally decide it’s time to go back.

word count: 1444

Masterlist

It was day number 365.

It was just another day, yet it wasn't because here you were lying awake, staring at the bright red numbers that glowed 12 am into the room. Officially day 365. 1 whole year and here you were wide awake thinking about him again. Suddenly you realized you must've not gotten any sleep this past year.

Rolling over you spotted the bare back of the male beside you. This wasn't right. It was never right. Sighing you rolled again to face the ceiling. For the past 2 months you had kept returning to this house to try and keep the thoughts of him away but much to your surprise it didn't work. Now it was day 365 and it made you realize you couldn't do this anymore.

Rolling back to face the clock it was now 12:02 am and you didn't feel any better. Quickly standing up you slipped on your jeans and grabbed your purse and heels. Every day it felt like you did the walk of shame out of this house. Just never this early. As soon as you sat in the car you tried to convince yourself to just drive home and eat away all the feelings. But some force was pulling at your heart and that was the only explanation you had for starting 20 minutes in the opposite direction.

By the time you got there it was 12:30 and it took you another 30 minutes to work up the courage to walk up to the front door. This was silly. Everyone knew it. But this was unfinished business and at the end of the day you couldn't help but want to be in his arms and do it all again. No matter what all you ever wanted to do was go back to him. And with that thought it got you to ring that doorbell fresh at 1 am.

It took a moment and then the front entry lights flashed on and the nerves rushed up your spine and made you stomach sick. Now you half expected Mac to be shirtless, opening the front door, and looking shocked to see you but instead Bozer had opened the front door and as soon as he spotted you his eyes went so wide you could barely tell you just woke him up.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" your stomach turned at the idea of explaining but at the end of the day Bozer was one of your best friends and he would understand any situation you were in. He was just that kind of guy.

"Would you believe it if I said I got lost on the way home?" Bozer immediately noticed what was actually going on here and ushered you inside.

"No, but I could never refuse a visit from you. Even if it was 1 am" Bozer led you to the the kitchen and started brewing some coffee for the both of you. It wasn't hard to notice that all the pictures of you had been removed from the room.

"So what are you actually doing here Y/N?" he asked as he handed you your coffee, made to the exact way you liked it. Only Bozer would of course remember.

"It's been a year. Today. Did you know that?" Bozer dropped his head as he heard the sadness laced throughout your voice.

"Not hard to forget. That's why I agreed to let Mac stay late at work. Keep his mind off of things" you gripped the mug tight. Bozer of course had kept this in mind and made sure Mac would make it through.

"So he's not home-"

"Y/N I don't even think you should see him" you dropped your head. Bozer of course was only protecting you both from the chance of heartbreak again but all you wanted to do was hold him even when you weren't supposed to.

"I still love him" Bozer went to reply but headlights flashed across the kitchen. It wasn't hard to spot Mac's jeep pulling into the driveway.

"You should go" he mumbled and you knew he was trying to protect you but the idea of seeing Mac was keeping you glued to the stool.

"Bozer what are you still doing up?" Mac's voice filled the home as the door opened. Once he shut it he turned towards the kitchen and spotted the two. Automatically he froze. He would've stayed at work later but he couldn't pay attention with the thought of you roaming around his head.

"I'll leave you two alone" Bozer grabbed his coffee and walked back down the hall to his bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" Mac didn't move from his spot. He wasn't even sure he could go through this conversation without begging for her to come back. But she has to want to come back. He can't keep her.

"I just wanted to catch up" you weren't sure why you lied. Maybe it was because seeing him now in his jeans and black long sleeve shirt with his hair all messy from what it looked to be running his hands through it to much.

"Is it overstepping to call bullshit" it pained him to see you. He wanted you so bad he thought it was cruel you were just ‘catching up’.

"I couldn't sleep okay Mac. I'm not even sure why I came here myself. All I know is I couldn't get you out of my head so I drove here at one am to see you" Mac froze as she spoke. Blurting the words out made it all so real.

"You left" he whispered and a lone tear slipped down her face.

"I left because you needed your focus. Bozer had just found out about your job and you were protecting him. I'd go days without seeing you. I didn't want you to worry about being there for me" Mac walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer as he let out a long sigh.

"If you were so worried about taking care of me did you think about how much it would hurt me when I came home after five days to have all your stuff missing and a note that said goodbye" you turned your head. It wasn't your best moment, but you knew one look at Mac's face and you wouldn't do it. You wouldn't leave.

"I was to in love with you. If I saw you, those blue fucking eyes I would've kissed you instead of give you space. I needed you to be happy. Even if it meant hurting you at first" Mac wouldn't turn from the fridge. He couldn't look at her. Looking at her made this all to real for him.

"I hate how much you meant to me. I fell so hard and you left. It hurt everyday. It still hurts. And I can't give you that power again. Not unless I knew you would never leave me again" slowly you stood up and he visibly tensed when he heard the stool scrape across the floor. Somehow he tensed even more when you placed your hands on his arms. He had to turn around.

"Mac I have thought about you every day for a whole year. I've tried to move on but all I do is think about you. I knew I couldn't fight it anymore" Mac relaxed slightly and started to slowly turn around. Your hands fell from his body as he faced you. His blue eyes piercing your soul.

"You feel this?" he grabbed your hand and placed it on your chest. His heart thumped slowly against it. "Even though you broke my heart in two it still beats for you"

"Then let me fix it" you said and before Mac even knew it he placed his lips on yours, quickly kissing you. This was what he was afraid of, he knew when she came back he wouldn't be able to stay away. But then again as he kissed her he didn't feel bad. It was like relief washed over him.

Slowly he picked her up and set her down on the counter. Her hands tangled in his hair as she locked her legs around his waist. This was so SO good. It was like relapsing and everything seemed better than it ever was before. Breathing in his pine scent and tasting each others cherry mouths was enough to set fire to each others touch. When the both finally pulled away breathing heavily in each others faces it took only 6 words to convince Mac to let her stay.

"I'll always go back to you"

#macgyver #macgyver x reader #macgyver imagines #macgyver imagine #macgyver x femreader #macgyver smut #angusmacgyver #angus macgyver #lucas till #lucas till imagine #lucas till x reader #jack dalton #lucas till fanfiction #macgyver trash #macgyver 2016 #imagine requests #imagine #fic #Spotify

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 374. brb x oc

a/n: so sorry for the slow smut, lol im just having weird issues with tumblr (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none........yet

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia @mrsbradshaw01

-

He cracks his knuckles as he waits, rubbing his wedding band over and over out of nervousness. He was far from Bea now, he still had some time until his name was called but he had to…calm himself.

He inhales, looks out the door that shows the outside and his eyes lock on Beatrice’s head as she swivels it around in hopes to see him. She doesn’t, and Nicole notices her mother’s antics, choosing to do the same by climbing on her lap. 

Part of him still can’t wrap his head around…well…everything.

Beatrice was…the most amazing woman ever. Honestly, if someone ever told him what was his favorite thing about her he’d just say her whole self as an answer. Then the kids, fuck,he’s a father of three kids. Normally,if you were in the Military you’d have kids earlier because,well,you don’t know.

He counts himself so lucky to be able to have his kids after accomplishing so much.

His heart is full and his whole self is happy. What is it that Bea says? That his smile makes little wrinkles form on the corner of his eyes, like he’s the cartoon of a smiling sun. And fuck he feels like it a lot.

Rooster did so much, he achieved so much and yet his mind can’t handle the whole process. Yes,he’s happy with his promotion, yes he’s happy with his life. But…he was an angry young man for many years and he is working in his therapy sessions on how to make the child inside of him stop being so angry all the time.

Dr.Paulson asked once what made Rooster happy…and all he could think was his family. He has a loving family and loving friends he considers just as family. Hell,the Schiavoni’s too. They took him in seconds and he had to admit, it felt so good. Beatrice’s family was great, they made him feel at peace and welcome.

Maybe he should reach out to his aunt and uncle.

It’s been so long.

He…well,he never really had a close relationship with them but he could try right? This new step in his life is important and he knows a lot more will come…he had most of his father’s family here - in a way if you consider his family was the Navy and Mav.

Why couldn’t he have his mom’s?

He tried to remember if his aunt and uncle were ever against him joining the Navy and honestly, he couldn’t recall a point where it happened. He holds his clasped wrists in front of his navel, feeling the cold belt buckle touching the inside of his hand as he purses his lips.

Yeah, it’d be nice.

The kids would love it, the more the merrier…and,they were his mom’s siblings. They’d like to know about it,right?

But the fear of rejection still gnawed at him, the scars of his tumultuous upbringing still fresh in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if his aunt and uncle would even want to hear from him, if they would be willing to forgive the mistakes of his youth.

But then he remembered Beatrice's words, her unwavering faith in him giving him the courage to face his fears head-on. 

She had always believed in him, even when he struggled to believe in himself.

 And now, as he sat there on the brink of a new chapter in his life, Rooster knew that he couldn't let his fears hold him back any longer.

He would reach out to his aunt and uncle, no matter how daunting it seemed. He would confront the ghosts of his past and lay them to rest, once and for all. He knows it’s the right thing to do, his mom would want that.

The murmurs of conversation ebbed and flowed around him, but Rooster's focus remained fixed on the stage, where the ceremony would soon take place. And his name was finally called.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room as the Admiral stepped forward, his imposing figure commanding attention. Rooster's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Vice-Admiral Simpson approach the podium, his stomach churning with nervous anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Admiral's booming voice echoed through the room, "It is my honor to announce the promotion of Lieutenant Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw."

As the Admiral spoke, all eyes turned to Rooster, who felt a rush of adrenaline course through him. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he prepared to step forward.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please come forward," the Admiral called out, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Rooster's heart raced as he made his way to the stage, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He could feel the weight of all eyes on him as he approached the podium, his palms sweating with nervousness.

His eyes immediately met Bea’s and she offered him a smile and a thumbs up, one that Nicole followed, giving him a thumbs up as well.

As Rooster ascended the stage, he stood tall and confident, his chest swelling with pride as he reached the podium.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw," the Admiral's voice boomed, "For your exemplary service and unwavering commitment to duty, it is my privilege to promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander."

The words echoed in Rooster's ears, sending a thrill of excitement through his veins. Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. It had a nice ring to it, really nice. The whole room erupted in cheers and clapping, so much he almost couldn’t hear his own steps.

He stepped forward to receive his new rank insignia,he bit back the inside of his lower lip, inhaling shakily as the vice-admiral approached him. 

“Bradshaw.”

“Sir.”

Cyclone pinned the new rank insignia to his uniform, and Rooster let out a shaky breath he had no idea he was holding. “...thank you sir.” he whispers before Cyclone stepped back.

“...thank you,Bradley.” he then gestures ahead, “Now, your speech,son.”

His brown irises moved to the podium, his heart beating to hard he felt his whole body hurt.. Taking a deep breath, Rooster cleared his throat and began to speak. His voice was steady, his words measured as he addressed the gathered crowd.

"Thank you, Vice-Admiral Simpson, for this incredible honor," Rooster began, his voice carrying across the room. "I…am truly humbled and grateful to be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. It is a privilege to serve alongside such dedicated men and women in the Navy,”

“Woohoo!” Coyote shouts from the back and laughter erupts for a brief second into the room “And I am honored to continue my service in this new capacity."

He smiles, licking his lips before continuing. He pauses, tapping his coat only to see that his speech…was nowhere to be found. Alright. No panic…wing it.

Trust your gut.

"I…” he laughs softly, “I’ll admit I had a three pages speech planned, but I think no one here would want to stay that long,right?’ more soft laughter “...I…hm…” he taps the podium with his fingers, “I.. have so much to say, but I’ll make it…as short as possible.”

He licks his lips, then closes his eyes before continuing

"I want to take a moment to thank all of you for being here today," Rooster began, his voice steady as he addressed the crowd. "Your support means the world to me, and I am truly honored to have the opportunity to serve alongside each and every one of you." he smiles at the dagger squad, who just cheered him silently.

He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I also want to express my deepest gratitude to my family," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Without their love and support, I would not be standing here today." he smiles at Mav and Bea, “But…especially…to my wife.”

She smiles softly at him, one hand coming up to her lips.

“...without her.” he continues, not looking away, “Nothing of this would be possible. Nothing at all.” 

As Rooster continued his speech, he felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him. The words flowed from his heart, and Bea’s eyes filled with tears.

"She has been  my guiding light through all this," Rooster continued, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Her support and unconditional love have carried me through the toughest of times, and I am eternally grateful for her presence in my life."

Beatrice's eyes shimmered with tears of pride as she listened to Rooster's heartfelt words. Her heart swelled with love for him,and she tried - and failed - to hold some of the tears back.

“...I also,” he clears his throat, “I’m almost done,I promise,” he chuckles in hopes to calm his own tears down. He pauses…then ducks his chin to his neck, clenching the podium with both hands and looking up in time to sniffle quietly, “...I also…also want to…thank my parents. As…as some of you know, they aren’t here- couldn’t be here, unfortunately.” he rolls his tongue inside his mouth, “But,without them I wouldn’t be here.”

 "And to my dad," Rooster continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I hope I'm making you proud up there. I miss you every day, but I carry your memory with me in everything I do."

Tears welled up in Rooster's eyes as he spoke, his emotions raw and unfiltered. He glanced over at Beatrice, her eyes shining with tears of her own, but she nodded for him to go on.”

"And to my mom," Rooster added, his voice catching in his throat, "Thank you for your love and sacrifice. You've always been my biggest cheerleader, and I wouldn't be here without you."

Rooster's words hung in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable as he spoke.

"Finally," Rooster said, his voice firm with resolve, "I want to thank my fellow service members. You are the backbone of our Navy, the unsung heroes who work tirelessly to keep everyone safe. It is an honor to serve alongside each and every one of you, and I am proud to call you my brothers and sisters in arms."

A round of applause filled the room as Rooster finished his speech, the sound echoing off the walls in a chorus of support and admiration. He stepped back from the podium, his heart pounding with emotion as he took in the faces of the crowd.

He sniffles, quickly wiping his eyes as he made his way back to his seat.He had poured his heart out to the people who mattered most to him, and he hoped he did a good job.

Beatrice gave Nicole to Mav and immediately rushed up to meet him halfway, hugging his torso and letting him bury his head on her neck, “You did so good.” she whispered, rubbing the back of his head, clenching her eyes when he shook,trying to hold his sobs back in the middle of the crowd, “Baby you did so good, so good.”

"Thank you," Rooster whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Beatrice squeezed him tighter, her own emotions bubbling close to the surface. "You were amazing up there," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

Rooster pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "Do you really think so?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Beatrice nodded, her eyes shining. "Absolutely," she replied, wiping her own tears quickly. "You spoke from the heart, and everyone could feel the sincerity in your words. You touched so many people today, Roos."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Rooster's lips, a flicker of pride breaking through his lingering self-doubt. "Thank you," he said softly, his gratitude shining in his eyes.

Beatrice reached up to brush away a stray tear that trailed down Rooster's cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You don't have to thank me," she said with a small smile. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Rooster's smile widened at Beatrice's words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart overflowing with love for her. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured.

Beatrice returned the kiss with equal tenderness, her heart swelling with affection. "You'll never have to find out," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “Come on, let us sit down, yeah?”

Rooster nodded, holding her hand as she guided them back to their table. Nicole bounced on Mav’s legs, reaching for her father, “Dada!”

Nicole's enthusiastic cries of "Dada!" brought a smile to Rooster's face, his heart swelling at the sight of his daughter reaching out for him. He scooped her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her cheek as she giggled with delight.

"Dada, abuhehu good!" Nicole exclaimed, her eyes shining with adoration. 

Cue to her wet kiss on his cheek.

Rooster's heart melted at Nicole's words, his chest swelling with love for his daughter. "Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "I’m so glad you think so.” he looks over at the twins who were now wide awake inside their strollers

“Well,” he begins, “...the night just began,right?”

#im happy yall are still here #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[quicktimeeventfull]

Good Boys Deserve Fun 🍒

Lawlight workplace praise kink Not sponsored by Office 365 1k words Read here or on AO3 L decides to show off his remarkable cherry-knotting skills. Light describes his equally remarkable Microsoft Excel skills. Content notes: This is unrepentantly horny but there’s no actual sexual content in it, technically speaking

Light was trying really very hard to ignore what was going on beside him.

He was working. He was trying to work. He was trying to catch the world’s most prolific serial killer, and also incidentally rescue himself from a lifetime of imprisonment while his chainmate, his supervisor, his jailer and the three foremost detectives in the world was busily knotting a large bowl of bright red cherries with his tongue.

Light stared very hard at his Excel spreadsheet. Cells, he decided, were important. Enrapturing. These particular ones were, quite literally, depicting the powers of life and death, and he had never before been so fascinated. He could hear the little plink of L’s cherry seeds hitting the ceramic bowl Watari had brought along with the cherries.

He colour-coded a row, then assigned some conditional formatting.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Finally, at the end of his rope, he spun around to face L. L looked up, one cheek stuffed.

“What,” Light said, “are you doing?”

L stared at him, wide-eyed and disturbingly innocent. He looked very much like a lemur. As Light watched, he swallowed what Light assumed to be the meat of the fruit, then stuck out his tongue, plucked a knotted stem off of it, and tossed it into his bowl.

Plink.

“Practising,” he said.

Light died several varieties of deaths. “What are you practising for,” he said, flat.

“I’ve been occupied,” L said. “For quite some time. Stuck in here with you. People always say it’s like riding a bicycle. But I’ve never found that to be true. Well. Not with this in particular — I’ve never gone so long without, so I wouldn’t know — but with skills more broadly, you understand.”

For a solid thirty seconds, Light considered telling L that he was in fact Kira after all. He wasn’t, but it would facilitate L putting him out of his misery.

“Okay,” he said, finally. “Well. I’m happy for you. Have fun.”

He spun back around.

“Would Light-kun like to try?” L said, from beside him.

Light turned around again.

“No,” he said. “Light-kun would not. Light-kun is busy doing Ryuzaki-san’s job. Can you please fu—could you please focus.”

L reached into his bowl and plucked out a fresh cherry. “Are you sure? It might not be as difficult as Light-kun thinks.”

“I don’t care if it’s difficult,” Light said. “You’re just being really, really annoying.”

L shook the cherry. It wobbled.

“Go on,” L said. “Give it a shot.”

Light exhaled, heavily. He shut his eyes, and opened them again. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Whatever. I played clarinet in high school. I’ll tie your stupid cherry.” He held out his hand, but L pulled the cherry away.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he said. “Only good boys deserve fun.”

“What,” said Light.

“Tell me what tricks you’ve preformed,” L said. “Tell me why Light-kun deserves a treat.”

“I — what? I’m sorry?”

L grabbed the edge of the table and pulled his rolling chair forwards. He peered over Light’s shoulder. “Ah,” he purred. “I see Light-kun is using Microsoft Excel.”

“What the fuck,” said Light.

“What has my lovely Light-kun done with Microsoft Excel to earn himself a sweet?”

“I — I added conditional formatting? To the dates of death?”

“Mm,” L said. His voice was low and liquid, coiling dark. He leaned closer. Light could feel the heat of his body, hovering just above his shoulder. “Did Light-kun utilize a formula?”

“It — yes,” he said. His voice came out shaky. “I. Yes. It uses a formula.”

“Which functions does Light-kun’s pretty little formula use?” His voice was right next to Light’s ear. Light could feel the vibrations of it beneath his breaths.

“It uses an equal-to operator and an IF function to reference a table on a separate sheet.” Light said, breathless. Then he shook his head. This was the weirdest and most bewilderingly erotic thing that had ever happened to him. His stomach felt very tight and fluttery.

“Well,” L said. “Then he’s been a very good boy indeed. Open your mouth.”

Light did. L reached over and popped the cherry in between his lips. It was stuck for a moment, smooth and sweet, and then all of a sudden it was there, in his mouth, on his tongue. Light experienced a brief and very disorienting moment of bliss, then entirely forgot what he was doing and swallowed the cherry whole, stem, seed and all.

He looked up. L was staring at him, his black eyes wide. Light couldn’t see his pupils at all.

“Light-kun has a remarkable gag reflex,” L said, calmly.

Light swallowed again. His throat hurt from the stem. “I take a multivitamin,” he said, croakily. “It’s not chewable.”

“Mm.” L stood up. He tugged very lightly on the chain and Light, disoriented and compelled by the circumstances of his being, stood with him. He felt dazed.

L looked back at him, benign, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “Well, this day has been a bust,” he said, perkily. “I’m going to call it and make us some cheese and crackers. Maybe some tea.” He paused. “Unless …”

He was very, very clearly fishing for a response. Light stared at him. L stared back at him. After a moment, undeterred, L went on. “Unless Light-kun would like to come to our bedroom and help me practise.”

“I,” said Light. “I. I think.” He looked at L, who was watching him, unruffled. “Okay,” he said, weakly. “Okay. Yes. Let’s. If you really need the help.”

L smiled at him. “Light-kun is very generous,” he said. “It’s much appreciated.” Then he coiled the chain once around his wrist, tugged very gently, and headed for the stairs.

Light glanced back at the computers, considered, then decided that he had, in fact, been very good all day. All week. Most of his life, in fact. If the very best detectives in the world said so, who was he to argue? He followed.

#death note #lawlight #fic #light yagami #l lawliet #it IS really annoying to reference across sheets so like 10/10 for light #anyway!!! here’s some quick little midweek fun for u #.pages

[siremasterlawrence]

Freestyle Bar

“This bar makes Stars “ Tom Holland says in a deep sleep as he rolls over on to his back as he snores.In deep slumber his mind drifts away until he thinks he is awoken, he sits up in his bed in a feverish sweat. His mind grows groggy landing on to his feet he slips from his bedroom and out the door as it shuts.

There is a long path of bricks leading in to a blue brick road his feet start to shuffle ever forward. As he continues to walk something is most definitely off with bright lights striking past him.Loud music is playing blasting through the windows fully propelling him forward as his fest begins to break out.

Reaching edge of the road he comes to a full stop standing, staring and lost in a sea of amusement.He watches through the window at the utter beauty of a wondrous light show with neon lights swaying away.People are dancing away with the dj and the bartender are in dance mode performing all over the place.

Tom enters the foray in to the door way slip in to the hallway as he moves closer to the end of the entrance. He is left in awe stepping an inch closer the doors slam shut automatically locking in place there is no escape.The music grows louder booming higher in to the massive cabin as the dj begins to go blending genres.

Less then a second people stop everything they are doing as they stare up in to the sky watching the beautiful dance being unveil .It is for all to see as the ceiling slides open letting the fresh night air and the stars are on full display. “The shooting stars are driving everyone to a new high, the world is crazy, give in so we may dance.” Dj states.

The music penetrates his mind bouncing all over the place everything goes wild in awe amazing effort.He loosens up dancing like a crazy person in his clothes, stripping off what still exist of the semblance of his life.He spins about landing on his feet he faces in to two mirror, poor Tom Holland is an actor no more he backs up.

The cabin grows dark leaving him isolated and alone with both slamming back on to the floor smashing.The glass shards are breaking extremely loose spreading on to the floor and shaking him in to his core.He walks to one kneeling down he peers in to the shards seeing alternating versions of himself.

The shards are starts to align crawling one little shover growing closer to him as they are reassembling. They form the back building it as it core and the shards jump on to it completely showing him who he is.He continues to back up in to an invisible wall behind him and find himself total blocked in place.

Dj Tom Holland exists the motto pushing past the glass on to the floor of the dark room as he looking so fine.Behind him there is a hand touching both of his shoulders, he grips him tight with love in his heart.That is bartender Tom Holland started to turn him to face him and he finally gave in to it like a puff of smoke meeting with both versions of him.

“Hello everyone!”

“My name is Tom”

“Tom here too”

“We are here to rock your body”

“Mold your mind”

“Set you loose”

“24/7”

“7 days a week”

“365 days a year”

“Who wants a drink?”

“Who wants to party?”

“Go bat shit crazy”

“I love these moves”

“Do you want this body”

“Who wants to join me and feel me up?”

“Touch my body “

“I’ll pour you a drunk”

“Hell yeah! Fuck yeah!”

the end

#celebrity slaves #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #mind control slaves #bar #club #bartender #Dj #dancing #In Universe #tom holland