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#ao3 title lyric video
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the ao3 lyric video strikes again
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arrolyn1114 · 11 months
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Ok so this afternoon I went down a YT rabbit hole of these video edits where someone finds song lyrics in AO3 fic titles. And I really, really want one to an Elvis song. Any Elvis song. I have no idea how to make these, I don't know what software is needed or any of that. So, that said, is there anyone who knows how to do this and would be willing to do one for an Elvis song? Any Elvis song, he has a huge catalog to pick from. Doesn't matter. Would greatly appreciate it you'd be my hero.
Thank you very much!
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playtwewy · 2 years
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we need more talking heads lyrics to be used as fanfic titles
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I am on the floor, flailing my silly little limbs around
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toviolet · 1 year
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we don’t thank the cab enough for what they did (destiel anthem)
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neiptune · 1 year
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aot boys x guilty pleasures
a/n: this is me being self indulgent and having a lil fun so forgive the shitposting but also feedback is always appreciated mwah
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eren loves the shit out of nature documentaries you'll leave him alone one saturday night and you'll come back to find him sprawled on the couch watching life of mammals or some shit on netflix lmao you'd be on a date and he'd get suddenly excited enough to hit you with random facts like “btw did you know that the average blood pressure of a giraffe is around 300/190?” he'd literally barge in rooms with a “babe omg hummingbirds are like the only birds that can fly backwards” and you'd just be sitting on the toilet with a very unimpressed look but he's cute 12/10 would make a good park ranger or whatever
armin is lowkey obsessed with youtubers like he legitimaly sits down and watches hours on end of unboxing/reaction videos or travel vlogs jfc and it's always the dumb stuff ya know like person x unboxing the same phone in 10 different colors or person y reacting to drake's new single and THAT controversial lyric. it's exhausting really he'd be in bed at 3am still going through chrissy's 27 min travel vlog about some bali vacation gone wrong and don't even get me started on drama and internal feuds or breakups oh my god he has a whole playlist of breaking my silence videos on youtube to keep track of who's said what so he can pick the best side
you've introduced jean to the world of fandoms and fanfiction and at first he was all like nah that's too weird but now he has his own ao3 account and eats the weirdest most hilarious shit up, will also use acquired terms in the wrongest way like you'd be watching bridgerton together and he'd suddenly nod to himself with a OOOO TRIGGER WARNING THEY BOUT TO FUCK lmao he's obsessed tbh his twitter is filled with commentary on random chapters he's screenshot and that I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP titanic gif posted over and over again like no honey you will not we've moved past that 10 years ago
oh god connie is such a chronic playlist creator he'd have one for EVERYTHING and he genuinely spends hours selecting the perfect most appropriate songs and titles for each one, you best believe before you first started dating he's made one for you called “i like you idgaf about your boyfriend” which came with a weird ass mix of sweet stuff like just the way you are by bruno mars and cash shit by megan thee stallion lmaooo he's so random he thinks he's good at it too and you don't have the heart to tell him that “get down dirty bedroom sexy lapdance music” ain't a good title. it's kinda attractive that he's not a music snob tho like he'd be blasting country music classics while cooking, rap mixtapes when he's taking a shower or full on broadway showtunes when driving, he also has a cute voice that cracks on higher notes but it secretly turns you on how deep in the moment he is while screaming to defying gravity in the car
levi gets a weird kick out of serial killer documentaries or real footage of their interviews/trials, also listens to A LOT of true crime podcasts and TAKES NOTES about the most interesting cases to check if he'd be able to solve the unsolved ones and he'd always test you as well? you'd be reading a book in bed and he'd plop next to you with a dead serious look on his face asking shit like “would you help some random guy with a cast on his arm carry his bags?” 🤨 out of the blue like ?????? baby that's kinda weird can you not but it's really just him trying to flex his big big brain thank fuck he's not an actual cop he'd be insufferable (and way less hot)
to absolutely no one's surprise reiner's guilty pleasure has to do with you, the man's all about you (and hockey), you've asked him to take a bath with you once and now not a single motherfucking week goes by without him looking at you big big puppy eyes asking “bath???” most evenings after work. it doesn't even have to lead to anything he's just content basking in warm water and bubbles with you in his lap, he gets to massage shampoo into your scalp if you want to wash your hair and is now a pro at creating the perfect atmosphere with oils and dimmed lights and omg don't even get me started on candles, he's memorized your favorite scents and now also has his own preferences, catch him walking around a yankee candle store at least twice a month, girls working there ask this big scary grumpy guy if he needs help and he'd reply with the softest most polite & specific hi hello yes actually i need to stock up on sparkling cinnamon and snow globe wonderland tyvm
porco 100% checks his naked self out in the mirror lmaooo i know this shouldn't count as something people wouldn't believe he'd do but it's kinda a guilty pleasure i guess??? he finds putting clothes on a lil depressing and knows he's hot. sometimes you'd catch him doing that after showering and the man would be so fucking thirsty for compliments cause what is he supposed to do with muscles and abs and prominent biceps if you won't drool over them a little? he's annoying & also gets soooo whiny if you don't indulge him like :( do you not think your dashing boyfriend is cute :( while flexing, also always tries to convince you to take your clothes off as well for “inspection purposes” to which you simply flick his forehead lol whether you end up pressed against that very mirror 10 minutes later it's between you and him xoxo
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klaineccfanficlibrary · 3 months
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Welcome to the 9th annual Klaine Valentine’s Challenge! The library will post a song prompt, complete with lyrics and video (if available), at midnight EST starting on February 1 and every single day through February 14th.
The challenge is to inspire new Klaine fanfiction, Klaine fan art, Klaine gif sets, or Klaine fan videos. All with the theme of LOVE. 💗
You're welcome to do whatever your muse tells you. Either write a 14 chapter story (we'd prefer 14 chapter stories), or 14 separate one shots, or you can create art/gif sets/videos. However you interpret the song is up to you. Perhaps the title moves you, the lyrics, just one line in the lyrics - it’s totally up to you. And the more words, the better!
Use the tags #Klaine Fanfiction, #Klaine Fan Art, #Klaine Fan Video depending on what you’re posting, and always include #KlaineValentines2024.
We created an AO3 Collection so all the works can be grouped together.
The library will reblog each entry every day, and upon completion, we will create a masterpost of all the entries.
Please message the library and let us know if you’re participating so we can keep a look out for your daily entry. If you're on Tumblr, don't forget to tag your entry #KlaineValentines2024. If you're not on Tumblr, please let us know you're participating via an ask so we'll watch your AO3 account for updates and we'll share your entries on Tumblr.
Please reblog and spread the word!
Thank you!
~The Library Team
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snake-cabin · 19 days
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"Till Death, What's Left"
CHAPTER 1
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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~)
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suhnnyupsidedown · 1 year
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even if i gulp and drink you, it's not enough for me - (j.j.h.)
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PAIRING: Jeong Jaehyun x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 4.5k
GENRE: smut, morning sex
SUMMARY: You and Jaehyun have quite the weekend morning, it seems.
WARNINGS: fingering, blowjob, rough sex (hair pulling), vaginal sex
A/N: I originally wrote this for my ao3 and edited it to post on here. hope you enjoy!
title is lyrics from breakfast by nct 127
I TAKE COMMISSIONS, DM ME!
~.~
When you woke on a chilly Saturday morning, you did so in the arms of your boyfriend, Jaehyun. You felt the warmth of your lover’s body heat next to you and as wonderfully comfortable as it was, your body was conditioned to stay awake once risen due to your weekday work habit.
You laid there, back snuggled into Jaehyun’s front, spooning peacefully. You brought your right hand to smoothly rub over your boyfriend’s while you felt the man’s soft snores breathe on your neck.
It was serene. No worries, no outside world, just each other...and boredom.
After an hour of laying aimlessly in your bed, faintly hoping your boyfriend that slept like a rock would wake, you got antsy. You couldn’t use your phone out of fear of being too loud when laughing at your social media or playing a video someone sent you. Popping your eyes open and readjusting them to your surroundings as you had had them closed with little faith that maybe today would be different and you’d be able to continue your slumber, you carefully pulled back the covers on your side and lifted Jaehyun’s arm from your waist.
The man slightly stirred in his sleep and you sucked in a hiss, biting your lip and freezing with your boyfriend’s wrist in midair in your hand. You looked between the limb in your grasp and your lover’s precious sleeping face and slowly placed it down on the bed behind you.
Slipping yourself out of the bed, you shoved your feet into your slippers and tiptoed off to your en suite bathroom. You inspected yourself in the mirror. Your hair was messy and sticking up and your eyes were crusty because the human body doesn’t blink away mucus during sleep like it does when humans are awake.
Freshening up, you brushed your teeth and hair, washed your face, and applied chapstick to your dry lips. You flicked off the light while peeping out to see if your boyfriend was up to relieve you of your uninteresting morning by suggesting something fun to do with your day.
You both had the day off from your corporate jobs and your schedules were free from hanging out with friends or family. Plus, it was a decent enough day outside to take a walk or maybe go on a date. It was still early, around 9 a.m., so there was plenty of the day left but the silence of no one to talk to was kind of lonely.
Watching the rise and fall of Jaehyun’s chest, you sighed and pitter-pattered off to the front of your joint apartment, waltzing into the living room after closing your bedroom door. You plopped your body onto the sofa, pulling down the decorative blanket you two used for couch cuddles from off the back of the chair and draped it over your lap and criss-crossed legs. Leaning forward, you grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the television to zone out while facing that direction.
After thirty minutes of mindlessly watching Spongebob and scrolling through “seoulonthecheap.com” for outing ideas, you heard the floor creak in the bedroom. Taking it as a signal that Jaehyun was up, you smiled, tossing the blanket off of yourself haphazardly. Deciding to make breakfast, you sauntered across the front of the apartment to the kitchen and began checking the cabinets and pantry.
While you were having an inner debate between dishes and sliding past recipes on your Echo Show, Jaehyun came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. You could smell his face wash, which had a nice hint of mango, and smiled.
“Oh, good morning,” You said, partly startled but cheerful nonetheless, looking back over your shoulder to give him a peck on the lips. He tasted like the mint of your mouthwash and you hummed with joy before turning back to his food ultimatums.
Jaehyun huffed the quietest bit and replied, “Is it? You weren’t there when I woke up.”
There was a small pout in his playful tone and in moments like these, it reminded you of your one-year age difference. He was cute when he occasionally showed his younger side and you knew if you turned around, the man’s adorable dimples and big eyes would strike your heart down.
Chuckling at the words, you placed a hand on top of Jaehyun’s on your waist similar to how you did in bed and rocked the both of you side to side while stroking his hand with your thumb. “I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to get started on breakfast.”
“We could’ve ordered in when we woke up, you know, together. I wanted to lazy day snuggle,” Jaehyun murmured into the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin and it made you tingle a bit, distracting your concentration on your breakfast.
“I thought I’d make us something cool to eat before we head out for today, as a treat,” you informed, pointing to the screen in front of you. “Which one do you want?”
You tried to ignore Jaehyun’s body heat as he placed his chin on your shoulder to look over it. Jaehyun hummed as he weighed his decision between eggs benedict or french toast and the vibrations sent a million tiny little shocks through you. Trying to breathe normally, you cleared your throat and stared at the screen, desperate not to perceive how attractive your boyfriend was that morning.
“A treat, hmm?” Jaehyun questioned, pressing a kiss to your jaw and you had to hold yourself rigid to keep your knees from buckling. His morning voice was so hot in your ear and tempting to hear. “My choice too?”
You nodded dumbly, unable to get anything intelligible out, and felt Jaehyun’s unlatch from each other to slowly creep under your shirt. Cool fingertips slid to the edge of your abdomen to grip it firmly, causing you to gasp. The upturning of a smile pressed against your jaw to leave another kiss there, one far from innocent and Jaehyun’s husky voice whispered out, “Can I have you then?”
His thumbs rubbed over the back parts of your hips as he began to trail kisses down the expanse of your neck, you were unable to hold back a low moan, your panties slightly dampening as you clenched your legs tighter together.
“W-wait—mhmm, we can’t,” you breathed out, reaching back to touch Jaehyun’s hair, tugging it a little to get him to pull away. The man groaned from the action, it having the opposite effect and turning him on more. “I really wanted to go downtown to see the festival happening there today.”
You could feel Jaehyun's cock poking into you, the man tugging you closer toward it to ease some of the tension. Leaning back just faintly enough to talk, Jaehyun responded with, “We can still go, we just gotta be quick about this.”
“I love you, Jae, but you’re never quick,” you snickered, turning back to look him in the eye and smirking. Jaehyun’s eyes were slightly blown out with lust and he looked starving for the person in his arms.
Jaehyun was insatiable when it came to fucking you. He never wanted to stop until you were unable to walk straight. Despite being younger, he was something just shy of a sadist in bed. He’d go for hours, eating you out till you were in tears begging for release and pounding you into the mattress till you came multiple times.
“It’ll be different this time, I promise,” Jaehyun pleaded, licking the shell of your ear. You shivered at the action trying not to lose your rationality, but God did you want him to plow you. “Jagiya…”
There it was, the billion-dollar word. Jaehyun knew you had a weakness for being called that during intimacy. It made you wet when Jaehyun said it in that needy way. It drove you insane with the desire to give in to anything he wanted.
You unconsciously leaned into the touch, effectively distracted from breakfast making and sighed, leaning your head back onto Jaehyun’s right shoulder and closing your eyes.
Jaehyun’s lips brushed up against your temple and hairline and he softly stated, “I need verbal consent, my love.”
His right fingertips glided over your stomach and navel under your shirt, rubbing you until they reached the hem of your pajama shorts. Your body twitched in anticipation at the movements and whimpered out a struggling “ah—y-yes, fine, we’ll be quick.”
Taking the invitation, Jaehyun tilted his head to suck on the left front part of your neck while continuing to play with your clothing bottoms, tugging at them to tease you but not actually going deeper into them.
You groaned in frustration, your hand in Jaehyun’s hair entangling further as you grinded your ass into your boyfriend’s hard cock through your nightwear. Jaehyun’s grip got tighter with each movement as his left hand began to dig into your side, a good kind of pain. Detaching his mouth from the dark mark it made on you, he breathed heavily with the warmth fanning over the area. Pulling his right hand from his lover’s waist and making you whine out and lift your head up from the missing touch, he brought the two fingers up to your mouth.
“Open your mouth, baby,” he ordered and you complied without a second thought. Your lips enclosed the digits, tongue swirling along them carefully as they hit the back of your throat. Jaehyun felt the moan of elation you let out at the fingers in your mouth and chuckled inaudibly to himself. You were a whore when it came to your oral fixation.
Once you got the fingers nice and wet, Jaehyun slipped them from between your lips that were drooling slightly. Tugging your bottoms forward with his left hand, he guided his right hand down into your panties. You gasped at the sensation, separating your legs a bit for easier access.
Jaehyun rubbed at the slit of your pussy, making you jump and bite your lip. Going between the soft folds, he quickly found his lover’s clit, a shuddered breath from you alerting him.
Rubbing the nub in a circular motion, Jaehyun felt you wiggling, hips jerking a little. Your ass pressed into Jaehyun’s cock more and more, causing precum to leak out. Jaehyun’s left hand returned to your hip to stabilize you a bit more.
“You like that, baby? Hmm, right there?” Jaehyun questioned tauntingly, fingers dipping lower to press at your hole before coming back up to flick at your bud more.
You whined loudly as your head fell back for the second time, your hand pulling at Jaehyun’s hair again. It felt amazing and you wanted him to ruin you badly. Your right hand began to stroke up the arm that was pleasing you, clawing at it lightly when it became too much.
“I need—oh fuck!—you to f-fuck me, Jae,” you demanded, arching your back off of Jaehyun’s front, your ass pushing your lover up against the island further. “I wanna cum around you...”
The words slipped with no remorse and Jaehyun wanted to oblige them sincerely. Removing his hands from you slowly, Jaehyun wiped his hand on his pants and looked up to see you staring in his direction but mostly through him.
Blinking your eyes to focus your vision from having them practically squeezed shut for so long, you looked Jaehyun over from his tousled hair to his plump and swollen lips. Your eyes trailed down to Jaehyun’s thick cock that was begging to be freed from his plaid pajama pants and then back up to meet his eyes. You flushed when you saw your boyfriend looking at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, but still sank to your knees and crawled a few inches closer to be eye level with the bulge.
It went against the urgency you voiced just seconds before but Jaehyun wasn’t stupid enough to question you. When you wanted something, you set your mind on getting it and this new challenge was just a preface to achieving your overall goal.
The tile floor was hard under your knees, but you didn’t care as you were on a mission. Bringing your hands up to it, you palmed the cock through the clothing, looking up at Jaehyun with faux innocence. Jaehyun stared down at you, all traces of joking gone from his face and replaced with intense concentration while biting his lip.
Placing kisses up and down the covered dick, you giggled as Jaehyun grumbled in lack of patience.
“Baby, please,” he stressed, hand brushing the hair from your eyes. It sounded so desperate and you could see the hint of annoyance in his eyes. Deciding to be merciful, you snaked your fingers up to hook into both layers separating Jaehyun from freedom, and tugged them down. Jaehyun leaned off the counter to assist you, his cock springing up to his abdomen once the clothes were at his ankles.
Now if there was one guilty pleasure of yours, it was sucking dick. You’d never admit it aloud, but you loved having your throat fucked till you couldn’t talk the next day.
Jaehyun lifted his shirt up to make it easier for you and watched you get to it. Taking the erection in your hand, you slid the cock across your face. You rubbed it against your cheek, precum smearing on the side of it. Running your nose alongside it, breathed him in with eyes dazed. Jaehyun sucked in a breath and stared hungrily as you licked a stripe up it, your thumb following it lightly to avoid scratching him due to the dryness.
Your tongue flicked the top slit before your lips puckered to suck on the head. Jaehyun moaned lowly, desperate for more. Letting your tongue feel around the tip, you brought your hand up to his balls to give them a squeeze. You were still being a tease.
Popping off easily, you dipped your head lower to nose at them, peppering kisses to the sack as you lifted the cock up for better access. Unbothered by the hair at the base of his dick, you took one in your mouth causing Jaehyun to clench up.
“Fuck, baby,” he spoke through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to pound you into every surface in their home after he used your mouth like his personal cocksleeve.
You laughed around the ball, the vibration setting Jaehyun off further. You licked all over the sagging body part, paying equal attention to both sides of the sack.
After a bit more teasing and playful bites that Jaehyun groaned at, you unlatched from the testicles to focus on the cock in your hand. You gathered saliva in your mouth and spit directly on the erection. Jaehyun shivered at the action, defenseless as you gripped his cock with both hands to work it in.
You slid your hands up around the dick, mouth open with your tongue out to brush the tip on it. Jaehyun had switched to panting, overwhelmed by how good you were on your knees. He had the strong urge to paint your pretty face with his cum and Lord knows you would let him.
“I, uh, need your mouth, jagiya,” he informed, his eyes locking with yours. This gaze was so serious, you were compelled to listen. It felt like slow motion the way you lowered your mouth on the cock, engulfing it.
It was hot to view you hollowing your cheeks as you sank it deeper down your throat. Bobbing up and down, you relaxed yourself to keep from triggering your gag reflex, stroking the parts you didn’t get down to. Your tongue expertly ravaged every part it could, eager to taste the salty skin.
Going down one last time, you took the cock as far in as you could with pubic hairs just barely brushing against your nose. You held yourself there until you were gagging slightly from forgetting to breathe. Pulling off to keep stroking, there was a thread of spit between your bottom lip and the tip.
“You love this, don’t you, baby?” you whispered hoarsely, thumb grazing over the tip, as you met Jaehyun’s eyes through your lashes. You did have to ask, you already knew he did from the way he twitched in your mouth. Jaehyun reached out to rub your cheek, you leaning into the touch.
Once he noticed you let your guard down, he brought his hand up to your hair softly. Jaehyun grabbed a fistful of strands roughly, yanking your head back and watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Stop talking and open.”
You moaned at the demanding edge of his words and guided the cock back in, removing your hands from the base to place them on Jaehyun’s thighs to ground yourself. You loved his controlling nature during sex and followed instructions immediately, another way of giving Jaehyun the illusion of him calling the shots when it was really you running the whole show by setting him off.
Dipping his cock in and out of your throat, he grunted as he shallowly fucked your mouth. He used the hair to bring you back with each thrust, saliva dripping from your lip corners.
By now, your panties were completely soaked and you clenched your legs together for friction as your eyes watered from the movement. You kept your jaw wide, being sure not to let your teeth scrape anything.
Jaehyun felt himself getting closer as you choked with the pounding, tugging you back off with a pop. Tears on your cheeks, you squeezed Jaehyun’s inner thigh as he stated, “Jagiya, come here.”
Standing you up on shaky knees, Jaehyun assisted you to your feet before kicking off his pants completely. You captured him in a kiss as soon as he finished and Jaehyun could taste his precum on your puffy lips.
You wrapped your hands up in Jaehyun's hair while his fingers met your waist. Your tongues lapped over each other as you moaned into each other’s mouths. Jaehyun’s hands traveled down into your shorts, grabbing your bare ass to mold the mounds. You gasped at the gripping, Jaehyun sucking on your tongue during your shock.
Pulling away to exhale heavily out of lack of air, Jaehyun brought you closer. “Fuck, let’s go, the island is too tall.”
Blindly directed to the nearest surface low enough to fuck on, you greeted the dining room table, Jaehyun almost slamming you on your stomach with need. He tugged your bottoms down quickly, your naked legs on full display. Placing a small kiss on your right ass cheek before smacking it harshly, causing you to jump and the table to find your thighs.
The action made you wetter, slick dripping out with anticipation. Lifting your left leg, Jaehyun helped you remove the garments and positioned the limb up on the table. With one leg left to balance on, you felt your pussy lips split a bit and Jaehyun’s warm right hand on your back, on the cleft of your ass.
Jaehyun brought his left hand up the brush up against your slit, his middle finger pushing in slowly. You immediately clenched at the sensation, tiny gasps leaving your mouth. Jaehyun flicked the digit in and out with moderation, allowing you to get used to it.
By the third finger, you were thrusting back onto them and mewling out in elation. “Yes, yes, oh fuck!”
Once he felt you were stretched enough, he slipped out his fingers to rub the slick over his cock. He jutted his hips closer to your entrance, his right hand shifting to gripping your waist as he eased himself in.
His cock slid deep with little struggle, your tight cunt welcoming him with warmth. Gritting his teeth, he shallowly pumped himself in to adjust you to the feeling. Wiping his sticky hand on his shirt, he placed the hand under the bend of your knee that rested on the table to get a better stance and angle.
You inhaled as Jaehyun’s tip brushed your cervix lightly, the tingling nice to your lower belly. Jaehyun minutely fucked into you, stopping before his cock base reached the swell of your ass to slip back.
Once you were ready, you let out a puff of air and instructed him with, “Shit, harder!”
Quick to appease you, Jaehyun pistoned his hips deeper, bottoming out and dragging your body closer to him from the table. He hunched over, grunting madly as you began to whimper into your arm, the pleasure too much.
Sweat started to form on his forehead as he plowed into you, his right going from your waist to your hair to snatch your head back. “Such a pretty girl, all fucked out like this. You love taking it in your tight cunt, don’t you?”
You yelped in euphoric pain and soon after answered, “Yes, I love it, please!”
His left hand hiked up your leg more and at times like these, Jaehyun admired how sexy it was that his girlfriend was flexible. The table was wobbling from their movement and the creaking only fueled their excitement.
Jaehyun felt his stomach tightening and knew he was getting close. Letting his cock reach deep to where you could practically feel him rearranging your guts because of the way the table pressed into you, he pumped himself in a few more times before pausing.
Yanking you up by your hair once more, he brought you to stand on your right foot, still holding up the left one while you had your arms out in front of you on the table to balance yourself. Letting go of the hair while you relaxed at the release of follicle tension, he placed his fingers on your soaking clit.
Jaehyun rubbed over it, you spasming and writhing. The feeling was sending shockwaves over your body and each movement of your body in response to the stimulation to his nub made Jaehyun’s cock hit your cervix and made you unstable all over again. You dug your nails into the table surface, adding pain back to balance the blissful sensation you were feeling every else.
“Whose pussy is this? Who does it belong to?” Jaehyun interrogated as you whimpered. His possessive side tended to come out during sex and it was so maddeningly intriguing.
“Ah! you—oh my god! It belongs to you, only you,” you barely managed to reply, lost in your head. The admission only fueled Jaehyun's ego, making him press down on your bud harder.
By the time you were close, you were leaking down your thighs and begging for mercy. You were clenching down hard around Jaehyun, who was hissing at the grip. Your body was leaning on Jaehyun’s to keep from falling and you were desperate to cum.
“Oh, Jaehyun-ah, please!” You sniffled out, leg nearly giving out for the third time. Jaehyun began peppering kisses on your jaw as you flicked the nub faster.
Your mouth fell open with a scream as your eyes rolled back, squirting all over Jaehyun’s dick. Your juices messily covered yourself, the clothes still on your ankle, and the floor. Your arms went numb and you dropped back onto the table, riding out your orgasm with Jaehyun continuing to rub circles on your bud.
Without warning, Jaehyun began to fuck into you harder than ever, chasing after his own release. You, still high off cumming buckets, relished in the overstimulation of the drag of Jaehyun's cock along your walls.
Tensing up for the third time, Jaehyun started trying to pull out only for you to use the last bits of strength in your body to bounce back onto him and slip his cock further in, desperate to feel full. “Cum in me, please.”
Heeding your prayer-like request, Jaehyun brought you as close as possible, trying his absolute best to honor it. With his abdomen tightening, he came into the filthy, wet pussy, filling up the cavity with his warm semen before pulling out. You moaned at it, feeling dripping fluids trying to leak out and Jaehyun swiping his tip up your entrance to fuck them back into your cunt and finding it absolutely melting.
Coming down from your ecstasy and letting your leg down, Jaehyun eased you into an upright position before checking you over to make sure you were okay. Both your knees and your right upper thigh were bruised from the activities but you looked quite refreshed despite the redness on your body.
“Ugh, now we have to shower,” you complained, acknowledging the stickiness of bodily fluids that was setting into your skin. You tugged at the collar of your shirt before sighing, gazing down at your foot to kick off the soiled trousers and shorts there while holding on to Jaehyun’s forearms.
You both must’ve looked ridiculous, two people so horny they barely had time to fully strip and were idling in their food-eating space after desecrating it with mind-blowing sex. Once the bottoms were off, you let go of your boyfriend to eye him suspiciously as you caught him staring at your ass.
“What?” You wondered aloud, snapping Jaehyun’s attention back to your face, a blush creeping up on the man’s ears—a tell that he wanted something. Jaehyun turned his gaze from looking at you directly, going back to his quiet, composed, and shy nature as he tried to focus on anything other than his girlfriend.
“Since we have to shower anyway,” Jaehyun trailed off, scratching the back of his head, and you knew he was up to no good. “How about we shower together...and maybe have a round two? One and a half if we just get straight to the nitty-gritty?”
You listened to his words, processing them, and shook your head in disbelief with a loud laugh. “See?! What did I say? You’re almost an addict!”
Jaehyun dropped his head in false shame before popping it back up and reaching out to pull you flush against him, his semi-hard cock between the two of you. “So is that a yes?”
You slapped his shoulder playfully before pecking his lips and poking a finger into his chest. “Only if you understand you’re mopping the kitchen later.”
Jaehyun beamed at your agreement, nodding happily and grabbing you by the back of your thighs to hoist you up around his waist. You yelled in surprise but immediately wrapped around him to avoid them falling over.
“I’ll do whatever you want, jagiya,” Jaehyun flippantly responded, already walking towards the back of your apartment, the kitchen left in disarray and nutrition left forgotten. “Any way you want.”
The suggestive tone made you slightly flushed, but you rolled your eyes to play it off.
“You’re so lucky the festival is open till tomorrow night,” you concluded, letting yourself be taken to your shared bathroom, knowing damn well you weren’t leaving the house at all that day.
~.~
how to support me! -venmo
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borntobewondering · 6 months
Text
'til your ghost is gone
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Luke Patterson x Female!Reader (8k) It all starts because of a fucking TikTok.
Warnings: A curse word or two (what can i say? I'm foul mouthed). Ghosty supernatural shit. Grief. Mentions of death. Depictions of death. Mourning. Heartbreak. angst
Author's Note: I watched the entirety of Julie and the Phantoms in less than a week, even though I knew it was a bad idea to watch this show knowing it only got one season. (which is bullshit by the way, but I'm digressing.) And I immediately smelled a potential for angst. So, of course, I had to write something. This was a lot of fun for me (if you consider sobbing fun), hopefully it's at least somewhat fun for you
Also, I feel obligated to tell you from the jump that this fic does not have a happy ending. There is bittersweet closure, but no happy ending. Figured I should give you a heads up. Enjoy!!
The title comes from "Ghost is Gone" by Harper Grae (this time around I beg that you actually listen to the song while you read. it encapsulates them perfectly.)
(divider by @silkholland)
Note: My work is not to be posted anywhere else on any other platforms (aside from my ao3 account).
Masterlist
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It all starts because of a fucking TikTok. 
It comes in the form of a link that is sent to you by an old friend you haven’t spoken to in ages, really. Some band performing at some sort of school event at a high school in California. They’re good, you can admit it. The girl has quite the voice. It isn’t until you watch a little more closely that you see the reason this video has made its way into your life. 
You notice Alex first. Your attention is drawn to the drum kit near immediately. And can anyone really blame you for the way your phone falls out of your hand and meets the kitchen counter? 
And then you listen a little closer. You listen to the guitar, you let yourself focus on it. You get lost in the specifics, in the familiarity of it. You squeeze your eyes shut, partially to hold back the tears that are fighting for their time to shine, and just listen. You listen as it keeps going. As the lead girl absolutely fucking kills it.
A song that you’d read the lyrics to ages ago. One that never got its turn to be loved, at least not until right now. And then, as if the universe knows exactly what you need right now, the song builds through to the second verse. And a new voice shines through. A familiar voice. Your favorite voice. 
You force yourself to open your eyes. Because there’s no way this is real. Logically, you know it can’t be real. It’s some kind of twisted trick. Or maybe you’re dreaming. It’s not like you haven’t had a dream like this before. Well, you know, the details are obviously a little different. But the dream that Luke didn’t die, oh you’ve had that dream a million times.
You watch the video more times than you can count. And you’re suddenly thankful for the fact that smartphones are an inescapable part of life, and that kids are never far from their phones. You’re grateful that someone captured this.
Even if it’s going to drive you crazy.
Because, yes, all of this is set in motion by one TikTok. But it started, and ended, a very long time ago. 
It started in the 90s. When you were both high school kids. And Luke Patterson was crazy. He was the most passionate boy you’ve ever met, with more self confidence than you knew someone could have.
Sunset Curve was his everything, anyone within ear shot would know that. He wasn’t exactly shy. If something mattered to him, he gave it his all. Music was first and foremost at the top of his list. But you were a very close second. 
High school love doesn’t typically last, in most cases. There are a few rare exceptions. And you really thought the two of you would be one of those exceptions. 
The universe had other plans. 
The universe had rancid hot dogs and unhappy endings. It had everything you hoped it’d never find. Everything you never imagined it could offer.
And it chose to enact its twisted humor on what was supposed to be the greatest night of all of your young lives. It was the fucking Orpheum for God’s sake. The start of everything. The ticket to every single one of Luke’s dreams.
You were all on the cusp of cloud nine. It figures the universe would feel the need to knock you down a peg.
And, of course, you ended up being too late.
They’d just finished sound check. And they were amazing, by the way. The best thing you’d ever seen. And then they came down from the stage. And they were all bright grins and infectious energy. They were filled to the brim with an indomitable kind of hope that can only be described as a byproduct of youth. 
You’d told them they were amazing. That they were gonna kill it tonight. You’d playfully dodged Luke’s first attempt to kiss you. But then he fixed you with that pleading, soft-hearted look of his and you were giving in in a second. He claimed he needed your kiss for luck. And, well, who were you to deny the boy luck on the biggest night of his life?
You didn’t stick around much longer.
You’d brought your Polaroid camera for the show. Wanting to document everything, you figured they’d want the memories. But you’d just used your last bit of film. You had to run to the store a few blocks over to get some more before the show.
When you were leaving the boys, and by the boys you mean Alex, Luke, and Reggie, were picking on Bobby as he flirted with the cool waitress. When you got back the boys were gone.
Only Bobby was still around and he told you where the boys had gone. You rolled your eyes because you’d told them time and time again that street dogs are a very bad idea. But they’re seventeen. And when you’re seventeen you think you’re going to live forever. You’re indestructible when you’re seventeenth.
And there was no one more indestructible than Luke Patterson. Or so you thought.
You heard the sirens the minute you set foot on the sidewalk outside the venue. Your heart dropped, you just knew that something was wrong. Which, yes, obviously an ambulance means an emergency. But somehow, you just knew that this was your emergency.
You ran as fast as your legs could carry you in the direction of the sirens. They cut the sirens after a few minutes, but you kept running. You were out of breath when you made it to the spot, you almost wish you hadn’t.
You wish you’d been two minutes later. You wish you didn’t have to see what you saw. You wish they had been utterly and completely gone.
You wish you didn’t have to watch as they zipped them up in those black bags and loaded them into the ambulance.
You wish you didn’t have to step forward as the paramedic had the zipper halfway up Luke’s and ask that he just waited a second. You wish you didn’t have to reach out and close Luke’s eyes the rest of the way because you couldn’t bear looking at them and not seeking the energy, the life, the love, that they held not even an hour prior.
The last thing you want to be able to remember is the feel of his clammy skin beneath your fingertips as you pressed them to his pulse point. Hoping and praying with everything you had that you’d feel something. The slightest hint of a heartbeat. The smallest shred of a reason for the paramedics to fight for him.
But the heartbeat never came.
So you brushed some of his hair back and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. His hand clasped in yours. You gave it a small squeeze, him  not squeezing back was the moment your heart well and truly broke.
You put his hand down gently before you took a few steps back. Distance felt necessary for this part even though you knew he was already so far away. You nodded, a signal for the medic to finish his job. You kept your gaze focused on where the zipper rested above the middle of Luke’s torso.
There was no movement for a few seconds. Each one felt like an hour. So you lifted your head to meet the medic’s eyes, and he watched you with a greater hesitation than you’d ever seen before. A kind of hesitation you haven’t seen since.
You nodded once more, because what else could you really do? There was no saving the boys now. You were too late.
The medic nodded back, a slow and solemn thing. You’re sure they thought the three of them were these idiot kids because they willingly ate hot dogs out of a car. They should’ve known better. What did they think would happen?
You think maybe this changed their minds a little bit. Not that you wanted to do that. You didn’t give a shit about anybody’s opinion. You just wanted them back. But you couldn’t do that. No one could. 
You watched with singular focus as the zipper completed its journey. And you kept your gaze fixed on the bag on the gurney as they loaded it into the ambulance. The doors closing sealed your fate. The show was supposed to start in a little over an hour, but the band wasn’t going to be able to make it.
You had to go tell Bobby. You had to go talk to the promoter. God, you had to get to Luke’s parents. Even though you knew the cops would probably beat you to it, even though they really didn’t know Luke anymore, you still felt that they shouldn’t be alone in all of this.
For the rest of that night, and for several nights after, you spent your time trying to focus on getting through the next simple thing. Simple is actually really fucking hard, as it turns out.
But no one ever told you that. You’re not sure anybody realizes how difficult simple can be until it’s their turn to walk a mile in those shoes.
It’s been twenty-five years and you wish you couldn’t remember everything about that night in such painstaking detail.
But it’s ever present. You haven’t been able to catch a break from the reality of that situation. You haven’t been able to escape Sunset Curve. Despite their absence, they’ve always been with you.
And now they’re back, in a somewhat real way. And you don’t understand it yet, but you will soon.
— — —
Okay, so you obsessed over the TikTok a little ( read as a lot ).
You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve watched it. Whatever teeny bopper hit post on that clip has probably made bank off your latest habit. You’ve tried to figure out the truth behind it. You’ve tried to figure out how it’s possible to pull off something like that.
You saw the poster in the comments saying it’s some kind of hologram band. But you know better. You know Sunset Curve when you see them, and there is nothing scientific or technical about any of this. It’s strictly supernatural.
You’ve always believed in ghosts, that part isn’t strange. It’s just everything else. Why are they back now? Is there some kind of strange ticking clock to ghosthood? You’re not really sure. You don’t know the logistics of haunting. You just know that they were on that stage. They’re perpetually on your screen.
They’re back. They’re real.
And you have the good sense to not tell anybody about it. Mostly because they’d think you’re crazy. But also because they’d give you that sad look. The one that screams, “Come on, it’s been 25 years, shouldn’t you be over this by now? Shouldn’t you have moved on by now?”
And, for what it’s worth, not that you need to prove anything to anyone, you have moved on to the best of your ability. Time and time again, actually. You just so happen to have a few serious partnerships and a divorce under your belt. Thank you very much!
Now those relationships all went up in flames, of course. Because they all felt like they were playing second fiddle to a dead guy. And you really couldn’t blame them. But you also couldn’t snap yourself out of it. You couldn’t shift your brain, or your heart, into a different gear and force it to keep driving down the road when it was on its last legs.
You’ve tried every trick in the book. Visited so many therapists that you’ve lost count of them. But it never worked. Not in the way it’s supposed to. And people think that you’re just stubborn. Unwilling to get on with your life. They believe you shouldn’t let yourself be so stuck in the past. You have to kick your heart out of high school at some point. 
And, yes, there is truth to that. But you also think that those people most know what it’s like to love someone so much that you wish they’d haunt you. That you wish you could feel them in places that they aren’t. In places that you know they’ll never be. 
You find Luke everywhere, in everything. It isn’t hard. It doesn’t take any real effort. He’s in every song you hear. Every band you’ve ever seen play live. He’s at the beach. He’s in the passenger seat of your car. The car that you refuse to give up because apparently CD players aren’t useful anymore. And you can’t drive a car that doesn’t have a CD player, because you refuse to be the one that makes the call on when you have your last listen to the Sunset Curve demo CD.
You find Reggie in every Star Wars poster. You’ve never really cared for those movies, but you saw every single one of them when they hit theaters just to feel closer to your old friend. Reggie’s in every bad joke you overhear.
You find Alex in every bout of joy you witness in a random person when you’re people watching. You even find Alex in your anxieties. He was always the most neurotic of the bunch.
Luke is every star filled sky you ever bear witness to. And it brings you back to nights when Luke was crashing in Bobby’s garage. And the two of you would stay up for hours. Your head on his chest, and he’d dream about the future. He’d paint the most vivid picture of it. Sold out shows, number one albums, Grammys. A million screaming girls, but he promised, crossed his heart and hoped to die, that you would always be his favorite groupie. 
You always rolled your eyes at that part. You weren’t jealous, you had no reason to be. You knew exactly where Luke’s heart found a home. There wasn’t another pair of arms that he was yearning to run off into. He liked being exactly where he was. With you.
You know that everything feels larger than your life when you’re a teenager. Every high is so high, and every low, every bump in the road, feels like the end of the world. The sky is constantly falling. 
You know that’s the typicality of being a teenager. You know everyone writes off teenager’s and their feelings because teenagers are so dramatic and they make a big deal out of everything.
But this was different. You and Luke were a big deal. It was a monumental love. The kind of love that, if you’re coming by it honestly, only happens once in a lifetime. He was it. He was everything. He was the one.
He was the future. He was supposed to be the rest of your life. And then he was just gone. In the blink of an eye your entire world view shifted. Your life flipped upside down, nothing was ever going to be the same. That beautiful life he’d painted, the kind of art that could rival DaVinci’s work, would never see the light of day.
He left, and you had to pick up the pieces. You’ve just never been able to put them back in the way they were before. There’s always going to be a few pieces missing. Three to be exact, but who’s counting?
You have a feeling people aren’t supposed to get their world rocked like that at such a young age. It’s not easy to move on from something like that. It’s hard to let go of the loss of one’s dearest friends, and the love of one’s life all in one fell swoop. 
But no one ever seemed to really understand that. They gave you a couple month grace period, because that's customary, right? And who really bothers to care beyond the accepted customs?
Twenty-five years is a long grieving period, even you can admit that. But you also have the feeling that grief never truly goes away. It just gets quieter, until it decides to get loud again. It ebbs and flows. It’s a marathon, never a sprint. No, it could never be that easy.
That TikTok makes it a little easier. Well, it hadn’t at first. At first it sent you into taking a few days off work. Trying to grasp onto your last few shreds of sanity. But you eventually got your shit together. Which is honestly easier said than done, okay?
You went back to work, to both of your jobs, and you decided that you weren’t going to fuck around with this ghost shit. Despite your endless stream of thoughts about the Orpheum, sold out shows that never got to be played, and the strange nature of second chances. Despite the fact that you think this is finally your chance to see everything he ever wanted come to fruition, even if it’s different from what you two always talked about.
You’ve decided that you’re not going to seek the band out. If they’re meant to find you, then they’ll find you. This is all being controlled by something far greater than you, if it decides you’re part of the journey then so be it. That’s as trusting as you know how to be in this situation.
You just kinda figured that the paths would never actually cross. But, well, the universe had its plan. And who were you to argue when you’ve already decided to put your fate in its hands?
You also figured it wouldn’t happen so soon.
You work nights at Eats&Beats because, let’s face it, your day job really is not enough to pay the bills. Which is unfortunate, but not entirely unwelcome. This cafe, despite its slightly pretentious nature and hipster clientele, is kind of like your perfect place. 
You’ve practically begged the manager to schedule you for their equivalent of open mic nights. Because music is, once again, another way that you feel like the boys are still there. When you overhear a particularly good act, you can’t help but think of how much they’d love whatever group or artist is performing.
Tonight really isn’t one of those nights. Not with Dirty Candy currently taking the stage. God, you kinda hate that kid. Not because of anything she ever actually did to you. It’s just, well, you have a bit of long standing beef with her dad. 
Because Bobby’s an asshole who decided that his old friends don’t mean shit and don’t deserve to be properly remembered. You’d pitched a fit when Bobby started dropping music under the name Trevor Wilson.
Well, you didn’t pitch the fit right out the gate. Your fit came when you heard his first single. And you recognized those lyrics. That melody. You were the first person Luke played it for. Before he even started to workshop it with the boys.
Luke wrote that song, and you were willing to let one song go. Until you saw the tracklist for his debut album and you recognized every title. And yet, there was one name missing from the song writing credits for the project.
Bobby had been stupid enough to invite you to his release party. But it made it incredibly convenient for you to give him a piece of your mind. Even if that piece ended with you in a holding cell for a few hours with some bruised knuckles.
Heh, good times.
So, yeah, you have no problem with this Carrie girl herself. She just reminds you of all of your failed attempts to try and get Luke’s name in the credits of that album. You asked Bobby yourself, you tried to appeal to the fact that he was Luke’s friend. And that Luke never got the chance to have this dream himself, so the least Bobby could do is just give up the credit for the songs.
Writing your own songs wasn’t even that much of a big deal back then, everybody cut songs they didn’t write. It was commonplace. There wasn’t as much pressure and stress put on who wrote a song back in the 90s. But Bobby refused. And then he made a pass at you. Which, uh, explains the bruised knuckles.
And then the officer had the nerve to tell you that should be grateful that Mr. Wilson wasn’t pressing charges. He can take that gratitude and shove it up his ass as far as you’re concerned.
You’d even tried getting a lawyer to fight the case. But they claimed you didn’t have a case. Sure, you had Luke’s notebook. But there’s no proof that it was actually Luke’s or that it was Luke’s handwriting. You could’ve fabricated that to try and get a payout.
But it wasn’t about the money, which made the lawyers even less interested. It was about the principle of the thing. Luke wrote those songs, it’s the one thing he wanted in this life. He deserves the credit for his incredible work. For his unimaginable, hit making talent. 
But he never got it. And you’re still mad about that to this day. You think you’ll always be mad about it. 
So you’re white knuckling your way through Carrie’s vapid, pop princess performance. Trying to just make it through to the point where an artist who actually gives a flying fuck about music has the opportunity to take the stage, when something catches your eye. 
A blonde boy, appearing in the middle of the stage. Making a bit of a mockery out of her already unimpressive dance routine. And it takes you about thirty seconds to realize you know that blonde. The blonde who just poofed into existence seemingly out of nowhere. The blonde that no one else seems to notice despite him being in the middle of the whole thing.
Alex Mercer. 
You lean up a little further against the counter, trying to get the best peek you can. You fight back a laugh as you watch him. God, you missed that kid. More than you will ever be able to actually articulate. 
And then he’s gone. Poofing off the stage, and out of your periphery you notice him poofing up down and to the left of the stage. And it doesn’t take long for you to figure out who’s standing with him.
“Luke.” The name falls from your lips so quietly. It’s barely even a whisper, it’s so quiet that it can’t even qualify as one. But it’s there. It hangs in the air, just like the rest of your life feels like in the balance.
You scramble for the sign up sheet for tonight’s show, and you find one band scribbled down at the bottom of the sheet in the most god awful chicken scratch handwriting. Luke’s god awful chicken scratch handwriting. Julie and the Phantoms. Good name.
You look back up just in time to catch Alex poofing in for the tail end of Carrie’s performance. And, well, it’s definitely made the show infinitely better. You feel bad that not everyone gets to bear witness to this added bonus of a dance solo. 
And then stage clears, the announcer steps in to be the center of attention, and he butchers the hell out of their band name. God, Luke’s horrible handwriting strikes again.
You stifle a laugh as the girl, who you’re assuming is Julie, takes the stage. The boys poof onto the stage too, standing there at the ready as Julia leads them through the first verse and the pre chorus. And then, when the chorus kicks in, so does the full band. And the crowd comes alive.
And you swear that you’re seventeen again in this moment. You’re right back at the Orpheum. At sound check. Seeing all three of them so clearly in their element, getting to share their talents with an audience again, is the greatest blast from the past that you could ever receive.
And, well, it does your heart good to see Luke performing again. Because he’s still Luke. Still the same boy you fell in love with all those years ago. And getting to hear his voice again, on new lyrics and new melodies, is a gift beyond comprehension. 
You can’t keep your eyes off him. He’s sleeveless, which is probably the least surprising thing about this entire show. He’s still him. Still talented, still amazing. Still great at soaking up the attention and adoration from a crowd.
He looks alive. They all do. And it’s trippy, if you’re being honest. Because there’s this strange dissonance. The same boys from 1995, the same talent. The same everything. Except for you. You’re not the same, there’s no way you could be. Not after twenty-five years.
This is everything you wanted. Everything you’ve been dreaming of for decades. And now it’s here, and it’s too late. It’s too impossible. 
It was better when you could stick to figuring out the simple things. Measly distractions that could occupy your mind for long enough that you didn’t have to dwell on the loss of Sunset Curve for every second of every day. 
But those simple things are powerless now, how could that be anything but in the face of this? So, yeah, the universe had a plan. It just chose to build unkindness into the very fabric of the blueprint. And it shouldn’t be a surprise because the universe has never been kind to you. 
The boys may finally be free, but you’re starting to think you never will be.
— — —
The cafe crowd trickles out after Julie and her phantoms bring the house down. You saw more phones, you think it’s safe to say they’re bound to be a viral sensation. You come out from behind the counter, a bottle of disinfectant spray in one hand and a rag in the other as the agent approaches Julie and the boys.
You hang back a little, especially as Julie’s dad comes up and interrupts everything. Because you just have to talk to the boys. You really can’t help yourself. The universe put them in your path, in your place of work. You can’t just let it pass you by.
You watch as Julie leaves with her dead, and the woman watches as she goes with a slightly unfortunate expression. But she doesn’t stick around long, she’s grabbing her things and leaving not soon after.
The boys are still off in the corner, talking slightly about the trouble Julie is definitely going to be in. And the opportunity that just walked right out the door. You shake your head with a slight smirk, same old Sunset Curve. 
You chance a glance up to see that the cafe is damn near empty at this point, and you figure now is as good a time as any.
“You boys did pretty good up there.” You say, spritzing down the table and wiping it off with a rag. People really do not care when they spill coffee all over these tables. You catch the boys freeze, their heads slowly turn in your direction.
“Do you think she’s talking about us?” It’s Reggie who asks, and you have to bite back a laugh. 
“That’s impossible.” Alex cuts in, shaking his head, “That would mean she-”
“Can see you?” You finish for him, a smirk on your lips as a quiet falls over the group. You wipe down another table, the only sound among you is the spray leaving the nozzle on the bottle.
They just watch you. Wondering where this is going. Assuming you’re not a ghost, probably. Otherwise they probably wouldn’t be that surprised. They’re waiting for you to lead them through to whatever the answer is.
“Yeah.” You say, standing up and turning away from the table you were cleaning. “I can see you.”
They just stare at you. Clearly trying to put some sort of puzzle together. And you know you look different. Twenty-five years does that to a person. They may be the same by virtue of their ghostly nature, but you can’t say the same. 
You’re neither offended nor surprised by the fact that can’t place you on the spot. You shake your head with a humored smirk, they’re still at a loss. 
“You know, I think I’d know you guys anywhere.” You say, watching them as you lean against the table. “Nice dance moves, by the way.”
You direct that last comment at Alex directly, and he seems to blush at the compliment. But also the strangeness of what’s going on. Because you know that this feels familiar to you, and for good reason. But you wonder if it has any feel of familiarity to the boys. Or if it’s just eerie. If you’re nothing but some strange threat in the form of a human who can see them. 
“You know, Sunset Curve was like my favorite band when I was in high school.” You say, chuckling slightly under your breath. You pick at what’s left of the nail polish on your nails. You’d only painted them a few days ago, but you have a tendency to pick away at the polish until it only remains in little flashes. 
That seems to have them interested. It has them gravitating in closer towards you. Because you can place them as the people that they were. And they’ve yet to have that experience. Which makes you interesting. Small miracles, you suppose.
“I was your number one fan, scout’s honor.” You say, chuckling slightly and nearly hating yourself for this last part. Because you absolutely refuse to take on this title, but maybe it’ll be enough to have it finally sink in. 
Besides, you think you’re already halfway there. Because Alex and Reggie let themselves gravitate towards you. But Luke didn’t. Luke hung back. Watching you with this look in his eyes. One that you don’t remember ever having seen before. You think it’s almost close to hope, but not a happy kind. You’re not sure if that even exists, but it’s the only way you can think to describe. Like he thinks he knows who you are, but he’s kind of hoping he’s wrong. 
And that right there is probably the most painful thing to come of everything you’ve been through with these boys.
“I was like your most dedicated groupie.” His favorite groupie. You let yourself actually look at him. You commit every last detail of him to memory, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for the last several years. As if you hadn’t done it that night in the alley in front of the open doors of an ambulance.
He’s still looking at you like that. Like he hopes he’s wrong. But it’s shifted slightly. He knows, he’s sure. You’re sure of it. And you don’t know why that hurts so bad. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that in every iteration of this dream that you’ve had over the years, he’s always happy to see. Despite the complications and everything else. He’s happy to see you.
But that’s not reality. Dreams never quite come to fruition in the same way you thought they would. You’re learning that lesson. You seem to keep learning that lesson. Over and over again.
And you’re not an idiot. Obviously you know that this story is going to be Shakespearean at best, no matter how you slice it. Because he’s not human, he’s not physical. You can’t have him, it can’t just be the way you were when you were seventeen. And, besides, you watched him on that stage with Julie. You caught the way he looked at her. The way he used to look at you. 
This is not some magical happily ever after at the end of a fairytale. It doesn’t work like that. But you thought he might at least be kind of happy to get to talk to you again. To give you the chance to say any of the shit that you’ve been wanting to say to him for years. Because you really never got the chance to say goodbye to him properly. 
His eyes drop, his gaze being torn from yours almost immediately after you meet his. And you let out a sorry sigh, one that’s just bordering on a scoff. Because you should’ve known better. You know Luke, better than you’ve ever known anyone. You should’ve known he wasn’t going to react well. But you had hope, because you’re human. Because you just can’t help it. 
But you’re not going to sit here and endure Luke not even being able to look at you. You shake your head, pushing off the table and fixing the boys, and by the boys you mean Alex and Reggie, with a kind smile.
“Well, it’s nice to see you boys playing again.” You say, trying to pretend that it doesn’t feel like you’re dying right now. “Tell that lead singer of yours that she is out of this world talented.”
You look up, and there are tears shining in your eyes. You’re sure of it. You manage to meet Reggie’s eye, and you kind of want to sink into a hole in the floor. Because Reggie’s a little on the dim witted side, but he’s not that dumb. He’d know his friend anywhere. He’d know you anywhere.
You try to send him a small smile, one that doesn’t look like your heart just disintegrated in your chest. You’re not sure you manage it, if the look on his face is any indication.
You sigh, walking away and back towards the counter. Because that feels like the safest option. If the boys have any decency they’ll poof out before you even make it back to the bar. Because having to see Luke again when you turn around might actually put you in an early grave.
“Wait!” You stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. You turn over your shoulder slightly and you find Luke standing in front of the boys now. His expression is more open than it had been before. "Can we talk?"
The boys are watching the two of you intently. Their eyes bouncing between the two of you like the crowd at a tennis match. And then, as if he can sense the inability his friends have for playing it cool, he adds:
“In private?”
You take a look around at the cafe. Noting how most of the chairs are now up and the sign in the door has been flipped to tell the general public that this establishment is closed for the night.
It’s not like they really need you here anymore. So you nod your head, putting the bottle under the counter and tossing the rag into one of the baskets on the bottom shelf. 
“Yeah, we can talk.” You say, grabbing your jacket from where you stored it on the shelf beneath the register. “I just have to clock out. I’ll meet you outside.”
He nods, looking the least bit hopeful as you’re heading into the back room to swipe your time card. You hear the boys poof out before you’ve even turned the corner.
— — —
The talk happens on your drive home. Because you figure you’ll look less crazy talking to thin air if you’re in your car. Maybe you’re taking a Bluetooth call. Or, maybe, no one gives a single fuck about what you’re doing in the confines of your own car so long as it doesn’t end up endangering somebody else.
You’re, thankfully, at a stop light when he poofs into the passenger seat. Neither one of you says anything for a few seconds. You’re not sure either of you really knows where to start. It’s not like anyone really has a guide for this.
There’s no real set of rules for what you’re supposed to do when your boyfriend is suddenly a ghost. When there’s unfinished business between the two of you that will never actually be finished no matter the circumstances. No matter what gets said.
This will always be unfinished because it never will be the way you both dreamed it would be. That’s something that is always going to be hanging over your head. You and Luke Patterson will always be unfinished, that’s something you know for sure.
“Are you married?” He asks, like he’s loathing the answer. Because, clearly, the answer is going to be yes right? He loved you so wholeheartedly, knew you were the one, the absolute perfect girl, so the odds are someone else realized that after he didn’t get the chance to lock it down. And a few people have tried, hell, one succeeded in getting you down the aisle, but it never lasted. It was never right.
And you know you’re to blame for a good part of that. For most of it, really. 
“I was.” You admit, your expression twisting into something a little unpleasant. “A few years back.”
Honestly, romance is a lost cause for you at this point. Your parents have grown to accept it. Your friends know attempting blind dates is a waste of time. You’ve tried over and over again, and you’ve always managed to strike out in one way or another in the end.
You see him nod beside you, and you press your foot on the gas as the light changes to green. You briefly think about how your life could be so different if the boys had just listened to your advice and sworn off street dogs. It sounds so incredibly ridiculous, you do realize that.
You wonder it’d be like to just be driving Luke around. To be driving Luke home. You didn’t even have your license back in ‘95. You’d been too scared to even take the lessons. Everyone drives in LA, you know that. It’s just that it’s terrifying, at least it was when you were seventeen. 
“Any kids?” He asks, and you’re briefly brought back to one of those late nights where you’d plan out your perfect future.
Family is a touchy subject for Luke, you know that. Sunset Curve is his family, and he never got the chance to fix things with his parents. He had fears that he would make a bad dad. He worried his issues with his parents would bleed into his relationship with his own children, and he didn’t want that. He’d have to put in the work to make sure that didn’t happen in case kids ever did end up coming into the picture.
But he wanted kids with you, he’d told you as much. He wanted more of you in the world. And he wanted to be a part of that. The two of you could do anything together. If you were there it wasn’t as scary. 
You’d never been able to get that thought of your head. Every relationship you’d been in you couldn’t shake the idea of that. Did you really want to put more of those people in the world? But, really, did you want to put more of yourself into the world? Luke might’ve thought it was a great idea, but times have changed. You have changed.
And you didn’t have the heart to put new life into the world. It just seemed ill advised given the state of the world and the state of yourself. 
“Oh yeah.” You say, smiling despite yourself as you turn onto a new street. “Tons of them.”
“Tons?” He asks, but he doesn't seem impressed or amused. He actually seems a little concerned. Maybe even a smidge jealous. 
“Yeah, like twenty.” You say, and you spare a glance in his direction because you just can’t afford to miss the slack jawed expression on his face. It’s only a few seconds before you’re letting your laughter get the better of you. 
His brows pull together as he watches you. Clearly this isn’t all that funny to him.
“It’s not funny.” He says, pouting slightly as he sinks back into his chair.
“I’m sorry.” You say, stifling your laughter so you can clarify what you meant by that. “I’m a music teacher, Luke.”
You’d always been musically inclined, your ability to relate to that love was part of had Luke interested in you in the first place. You’d been taking piano lessons since you were four, your parents insisted on it. And then, through Luke, you learned to play the guitar.
Once he walked in on you in Bobby’s garage with his guitar in your lap as you sat criss-cross applesauce on the couch. He freaked, but only slightly. Something about how he loves you, but his guitar is his baby and people need to be very careful with it.
And then he promised that if you wanted to learn to play, that he’d teach you. But you can’t be touching his guitar unsupervised. And you agreed. And, by the time of the Orpheum show, you were about half as good as Luke was.
Your guitar skills are still fairly basic, you never went to find a formal teacher after Luke’s passing. You didn’t want to learn guitar from anybody else, so you never did. 
“And to answer your question for real,” You start, shaking your head with the briefest flash of a smile on your face, “No, I don’t have kids.” 
The silence settles over the both of you, but it’s not as heavy this time. It’s comfortable. Feels like twenty-five years ago. 
“I’m sorry.” He says, “For the way I acted back there.”
You’re not going to interrupt him. Because you know if you do he won’t actually get to his specific point. 
“I just.” He sighs, shaking his head as he focuses on the road in front of you. “I looked for you. When I got back, I looked for you and I couldn’t find you. I hoped you left. That you went somewhere else and that you’re happy.”
Because the last thing he’d ever want for you is misery. The idea of happy without him still kind of twists a knife in his stomach, but happy with him really wasn’t an option. So happy in general is good. That’s all he wants to hear. He wants you to be happy, that’s it. Then he’ll be okay.
“Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, tapping your finger against the steering wheel in time with the click of the turn signal as you wait for the light to turn green.
Happy is relative, you think. And it can be hard to come by. You’ve been happy at points of your life, with and without Luke. Luke isn’t the key to happiness. You’re sure it sounds like your life has just been one blanket of misery without Luke. But it’s not the case. You’ve been happy. You’ve been really happy.
It just doesn’t always last. And even though things end, it doesn’t mean that they didn’t have good parts. You hold onto those good parts, no matter how it all actually ended. 
Happiness is not unattainable without Luke. You know that. Are you happy right now? In this particular phase of your life? Well, that bit is a little unclear. You’re not sure, you haven’t really stopped to think about it.
You haven’t really given yourself the time to stop and think about it. You’ve kept yourself so focused on everything else so that you don’t really have to focus on yourself. It’s worked pretty well so far, but you know it isn’t the right answer. It’s not the right way to be doing this whole life thing.
“Are you?” He asks after a few minutes of silence that felt like the scratch of a wool sweater, “Happy?”
The air conditioning fills the silence as you stare down the traffic light. Because you can’t bear to even chance the slightest of glances in his direction. 
Then the light turns green, you press on the gas, and you say:
“I don’t know.”
— — —
A few weeks go by before your next Sunset Curve encounter. And you don’t even see this one happen. It’s during a rush at Eats & Beats, where the orders seem to be nonstop. And you honestly kinda wanna tear your hair out because of how crazy it is. 
The customers are ungrateful and impatient. Honestly, you’d quit here and now if you didn’t love this place so much on a typical day. You’re handing off a cappuccino, one that’s had to be remade twice to be this person’s exact liking, when a small breeze causes a napkin to float into your eye line.
There’s a message scrawled on the napkin, in god awful chicken scratch. And a smile pulls at your lips despite the craziness of the caffeine addiction induced rush. The note reads:
Playing the Orpheum tonight. Got you on the list. See you there! - Luke
And, suddenly, you find yourself excited for the rest of the day that lies ahead. Even the rush, and the shithead customers that come with it, can’t bring you down. Here you are again, right on the cusp of cloud nine.
Everything’s different and everything’s the same.
You don’t really know how to feel. You just know that you arrive at the venue early, and they give you one of those VIP badge things. Which, admittedly, makes you feel very cool. And you just sit and wait. You wait for Julie to take the stage. You wait for what is certain to be an amazing night. And an even better show. 
And you certainly aren’t disappointed. Julie is amazing on her own, but then the boys start coming through. Alex and then Reggie. And then, then it’s Luke.
And he glitches, that’s the only word you can think of to describe what happens to him. You didn’t know ghosts could glitch. You note the slight concern on Julie’s face, and you think that this wasn’t planned. That this is not some part of the show, a way to enrich the schtick. There’s something wrong with Luke.
But then he comes through, just in time. Right on time to sing and grace the place with his beautiful voice and his immense talent. Just like he should’ve all those years ago. And they’re fantastic. The best thing you’ve ever seen. 
You’re whistling as they bow because you just can’t help it. You catch Luke’s eye briefly before they go to bow, and smile at him. You don’t dare acknowledge the tears on your cheeks in that moment. It’s all just a little overwhelming. The Orpheum, after all this time. Him on that stage. Him and Alex and Reggie, doing what they always should’ve had the chance to do.
They’ve lucked into a second life. One where they get a real chance at the things they lost out on the first time around. Luke gets to be happy like this. He gets to have a good life and a fully realized dream. And that’s all you could ever really want. Even if you don’t get to be a part of it. 
And then the boys poof out and Julie leaves the stage. And you leave the venue. Because, honestly, you don’t give a shit about anybody but Julie and the Phantoms. 
The walk to your car goes a little slower tonight. This place, one that you haven’t been back to since that night, is different now. Rectified. And it feels good. It feels so amazing to have this place restored to its former glory in your mind. 
And you think about Luke and Alex and Reggie. You think about their second chance. At their talent and their happiness and the absolutely epic joy that had been radiating off them when they were playing.
Are you happy? That’s what he’d wanted to know. Are you?
You haven’t been. Not in the way you should be. Happy can pass you by if you let it. If you don’t try to find the happy in all of the shit that life throws your way. And you're tired of being passed by. Of letting the good things slip through your fingers just because the future can’t be what you once wanted it to be. 
So you aren’t going to let it pass you by anymore. 
Are you happy? 
No. You’re not. 
But you will be.
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diana-fortyseven · 4 months
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Now that the days (in the Northern Hemisphere at least) are getting shorter and darker, why not enhance your fanfic reading experience with a fun challenge?
Generate your own Fanfic Reading Bingo Card and try to finish it over a timespan of your choice (e.g. during your next family gathering).
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Details & instructions under the cut
Generate a new bingo card until you're (mostly) happy with the results. You can re-roll every single bingo field separately by clicking/tapping on it. When you have a card that fits your reading habits (or takes you out of your comfort zone, if you want to challenge yourself), take a screenshot of the card to keep it. Closing the page and reloading it will reset the card.
There are no fanfic-negative or bashing items in the lists. This bingo card is meant to be a positive experience and celebrate fanfiction and fanworks in general.
It's just a little practice piece I made for funsies mostly over the weekend, with some finishing touches earlier today. I will add more content over the next few days and weeks (and let's be realistic, probably months), but everything that's currently in there should already work as intended.
The bingo generator is responsive, which means it should work on desktop and mobile. The mobile layout isn't ideal yet, I'm trying my best to make it better (but I'd also still consider myself a newbie and I'm learning by doing).
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The platform I'm using, Perchance, recently added AI options for their generators. This is a regrettable decision that I don't condone, and I'd like to emphasise that this generator is 100% handcrafted chaos.
Leaving the NSFW checkbox unchecked should remove all NSFW tags and tropes, but you could still come across content you find objectionable. Leaving the AO3 Tags checkbox unchecked removes all tags, but you could still come across tropes you find objectionable.
If you run into any issues or come across any bugs, please let me know. If you find something that should be in the NSFW category, but isn't, please also let me know. It's possible that I missed a few tags when I worked through the list. (But don't ask me to remove content you find objectionable.)
What do the checkboxes mean?
NSFW is basically what it says on the tin. If you tick this box, the NSFW tropes will be added to the mix. If you also ticked the AO3 Tags box, NSFW AO3 tags will be added.
AO3 Tags is also what it says on the tin. It's a list with roughly 1,000 AO3 tags. Around 250 of them are currently marked NSFW and can only be generated if you ticked both the NSFW box and the AO3 Tags box.
Stats & Meta currently only includes the lists "length" (contains wordcounts ranging from drabble to >500k) and "meta", which currently contains items like "a work with a song lyrics title" or "a work in a series". I will probably add other lists to that category at some point.
The already populated lists are:
challenge (various challenges and events like Yuletide, Whumptober)
creator (items like favourite author, anon creator)
discovery (various ways you could've found a fic)
fandom (ranging from tiny fandom to megafandom, also options like old fandom, inactive fandom, etc)
length (wordcounts from drabble to over 500k)
medium (items like podfic, fandom meta, fic with fanart)
meta (a fic's front-end and stats, also "citrus scale for rating" xD)
platform (where you read the fic)
reader (your relationship with the fic; is it your comfort fic, or your first fic in a fandom?)
style (chatfic, iambic pentameter, custom workskin, stuff like that)
trope (roughly 100 tropes)
tag (roughly 1,000 AO3 tags)
Lists that are currently planned, but empty:
canon (probably stuff like anime fandom, video game fandom, etc)
category (planned to add the AO3 categories and maybe Archive Warnings to this list)
content (might be scrapped, might be populated with some items moved over from other lists)
genre (what it says on the tin)
setting (where or when does the fic take place)
It's possible that I come up with more ideas for more lists at one point.
I had lots of fun making it, and I hope that you'll have fun with it. If you're using it, let me know when you got a bingo! :D
If you have fannish accounts on there (or don't mind inflicting fandom on your regular followers), you can also share the Fanfic Reading Bingo on Twitter, Mastodon, and Bluesky! :D
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bookshelfdreams · 1 year
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no but srsly the ao3 lyric video might be my favourite genre of fanmade things because
look because. just. the collaboration involved? dozens of people who never met and never coordinated, all deciding independently "hey, a line from that song would make a baller fanfic title, wouldn't it?" and then someone else coming along thinking "wow I really like that song I bet I can find all the lyrics from it in a very specific function on this one specific website". and it works!
& of course sometimes there's a little bit of cheating involved - like people putting out prompt lists for missing lyrics - but still. it's just. art that can only exist at this specific point in history, and only because hundreds of thousands of strangers share the same hobby and like the same songs.
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Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 2 Side A Round 2
No Children (I hope we both die) - The Mountain Goats
"I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die"
I can't decide ([Blank] can't decide) - Scissor Sisters
"I can't decide Whether you should live or die Oh, you'll probably go to heaven Please don't hang your head and cry No wonder why My heart feels dead inside It's cold and hard and petrified Lock the doors and close the blinds We're going for a ride!"
Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)
Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:
No Children (I hope we both die) - The Mountain Goats
Propaganda:
cmon. its no children. its AMAZING. the VIBES... the LYRICS.....
You're not a real fandom un til you have "hand in unloveable hand" as the title for every other ao3 fic
Not only is this song, like, objectively really really good, but it's been absolutely put through the ringer in terms of fan creations.
There's a video online somewhere of a whole group of people singing it alongside the person who made it (i think its just audio which makes it hit harder tbh) and it fucks me up so bad actually. like its a whole community of people rejoicing and in its own sense that's beautiful but the fact that its this song of all things is so depressing yet unifying at the same time it gives me so many emotions
AND IIIII HOPE WHEN YOU THINK OF ME YEARS DOWN THE LINE YOU CANT FIND ONE GOOD THING TO SAY AND I HOPE IF I FOUND THE STRENGTH TO WALK OUT YOUD STAY THE HELL OUTTA MY WAYYYYYYY I AM DROWNING!!!!!! THERE IS NO SIGN OF LAND!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE COMING DOWN WITH ME!!!!!!!! HAND IN UNLOVEABLE HAND!!!!!!!!!!! AND I HOPE YOU DIE! I HOPE WE BOTH DIE
It makes people make animatics about divorce/divorce-adjacent situations, which makes it swag and awesome!
Animatics with the song:
The Owl House Alador Animatic
Don't Hug Me I'm Scared
BNHA
Mob Psycho 100 Mob and Reigen Animatic
Bojack Horseman
DSMP Quackity and Schlatt Animatic
I can't decide - Scissor Sisters
Propaganda:
Literally every playful villain ever. You want to use this for enemies to lovers? Do it! Someone who sees crime as a game? Go for it! The instrumental is so silly goofy and the lyrics are so flirtatiously sinister
Scissor Sisters be so funky and this song is so silly and playful (even when it's about deciding on whether or not you should kill someone)
Animatics with the song:
The Adventure Zone
FNAF
Karmaland V
31 Minutos
Danganronpa Kokichi Animatic
The Walten Files
Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.
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wren-of-the-woods · 2 years
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The anniversary of Love Run is approaching, and I have an idea for how to celebrate!
You know those lyric videos where the whole song is written in AO3 fic titles (like this, this, and this)? We’re pretty close to being able to do this for several songs from the album. It would be really cool if we could manage to make that happen around the anniversary!
These are the lines from King, Elsa’s Song, and Not Yet / Love Run that have not been used as titles yet. They need stories! Feel free to use as a promptlist, or just claim a line and start writing. No pressure, obviously -- I just thought this could be a fun way to celebrate! 
Reblogs/signal boosting would be much appreciated <3
King
When you are gone away
As our boat is untethered from the dock
There’ve been times I know
I’ll stand up up up at the bow
And the waves of our bodies and the smell of our follies
You fumble through the dark
To the light that you keep burning there (all hell)
I know your fingernails are the colour of rust (come back)
And your veins are empty of dust (but our voices)
The wind and its shackles, the old fishers tackles
Elsa’s Song
I can hear the cannons calling  
Around this muddied lot              
I cannot hear them scream          
Cos although you say good day to me    
That I barely know the meaning          
And all the cannons shot                  
And in years to come you’ll wander
And then you’ll cry to our painted sky
And you’ll strew some sage and lilies
And roses where I rot
Not Yet/Love Run
By hook or by crooked look give me land
The oh’s of your screams still echo in yer dreams
I’ll point you steer
It seems oh it seems / To me / That you / You can’t sleep
Grab the stroud
It’s time to fight don’t be yellow bellied
Hold the bar at Hurley's hurly burly's
Out of pillows and get drunk again
It seems oh it seems / To me / That you / You can’t dance / For shit
If my old mum could see me now
Oh how she’d howl she’d howl
Don’t turn 'round
O let the earth a-tumble, love
And humble you withal, keep running
Let foul men band and heed your hum
For that ancient hymn you heard me strumming?
Is nought but fumble-falls and guns / And tumbleweeds.
It's nought that rum won't solve
Though some would harm you, none - not one - no none / Will raise to you a hand nor thumb.
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witchertits · 1 year
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AO3 sings "The Horror and the Wild" Witcher collection 2023
You know those "AO3 sings [insert Hozier song here]" lyric videos? We're making one exclusively with witcher fics for the 3rd anniversary of The Horror and the Wild on February 28. Technically, it's February 29, because of course they released an album on leap day. The thing is, there aren't witcher fics titled after some of the lyrics yet, and we need your help to write them and/or upload art to the archive!
Edit: all prompts have been claimed, meaning all lines in "The Horror and the Wild" are now available for bonus entries! No need to sign up, you can just add to the collection and I'll make sure all 10 versions of "give me back my heart you wingless thing" make it into the video 😘You can still register as a pinch hitter and we may call on you closer to the event.
Prompts (All Claimed!!):
deep beneath your bed
let them not hear
you're the daughter of silent watching stones
you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments
forever asking more
you are that space that's in between
every page, every chord and every screen
you are the driftwood and the rift
we're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking
all the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold
you are the son of every dressing-up box
and called me child
by day, oh lord, three things I pray
that I might understand as best I can
how bold I was, could be, will be, still am, by god, still am
Rules:
1. Witcher-only content, using the title as the prompt you were assigned. 2. OCs, kink, dead dove, and all ratings are allowed. No minimum wordcount. Use archive warnings where they apply. 3. Only submit E-rated content if you are 18+
All prompts have been claimed! A few things to note:
Submissions are now open to ANY line in "The Horror and the Wild" (just the one song, if you want a lyric from another song on the album to be added to the collection I'm happy to approve it, but it won't be in the lyric video)
I'll check in with you in early February to ask how it's going. If you know you can't fulfill the prompt, let me know ASAP. If I check in and don't hear back from you within 3 days, I'll assume you can't finish the prompt in time and will look for someone else to fulfill it
We're still accepting pinch hitters in case someone has to back out
You don't have to FINISH the work by the deadline if it's multi-chapter. One chapter is enough, take your time and have fun!
Submission deadline is February 20, 2023. You can add items to the collection anytime before then
The tag I've been using on tumblr is "The Horror and the Wild 2023," not necessary to use it when posting but the option exists
Don't hesitate to reach out with questions, brainstorming help, and requests for betas. I'm here to help!
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crestfallercanyon · 9 days
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🏜️ 🥤🍓 :)
Thank you so much for the ask @mmmichyyy !! I'm excited to answer.
First off, the (I actually don't know what this is lol) 🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
Um, I just appreciate people enjoying my work, honestly. Always makes my day. I do enjoy when people point out lines that they liked, and especially if they think it really sounds like the character I'm writing for (when it comes to fanfiction). It just makes me feel good. But honestly, just hearing someone enjoyed what I wrote truly is super thrilling and I love hearing from people reading, so really anything.
and then the 🍓, how did you get into writing fanfiction? 
So I started writing original fiction a LONG time ago, like when I was a young tween. I got into fanfiction due to the pandemic. I just wanted to write something indulgent for me, and had never heard of ao3 and had never had a tumblr either. My first fandom I wrote for (knowing it was fanfiction, I technically wrote Doc Holliday/Katie Elder fanfiction way back when, if it can even be called that),but my first fandom was Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Then it was a teeny tiny video game fandom that I won't even say that's how small it is. Then coldflash, then my friend got me back into TMR and I haven't left TMR since, but have picked up others like Inception and Shameless.
It initially started as a practice to try to help me get my pacing to be better (because I tend to write too long). And now I still think my scenes are probably a little too long lol, but I have become a better writer over the years. So yeah, that's how I got into it!
🥤 recommend a fic or an author I love
Oh, do we have all day? I'm going to take up all day. I realize it says "an" as in probably only one, but I went way overboard. like embarrassingly so. I have so many recs. This got out of hand and I wasn't even done but it's time for me to go to BED so I have to STOP. Anyway, here is my list of recs. I moved this question last that's how long this is lol. Hope you find something you love from here!
@subjecta5newtella , (unbelieve on ao3) they don't miss. I've read several different fandoms of what they've written and they're all great. They also write killer second person fics which is just like, it takes a damn good writer to do that. Also I just learned they've also written for Avatar and Merlin and now I will be reading more of their fics. (also fuck me I have not commented on so many of these I'm such a bastard, I need to comment). Anyway, Some fic recs from them of what I have read that's been great
A Hundred Thousand Loves (for just this one), Maze Runner, Minewt, T+
And if This is What it Takes, Stand By Me, Chris Chambers/Gordie, M
holding all i used to be sorry about, The Flash, Hartmon, T+
They also do great Star Trek: TNG and just Star Trek in general fics
@blue-summers, bluesummersmoon on ao3-- I love all of their thomally. They have written for thomallyweek a few times now and I just -- there is something so lyrical about how they write, and whether their melody is a tragedy or a lullaby, it just always sings. They also have a greece au that's fantastic for tmr. They've also written for other amazing fandoms (I believe I have read their Merlin fic now that I am looking at the title) and I just. I recommend. (they've also done LotR which I'm so mad impressed by and they've done Merlin too!)
Oh when you love it, TMR, Thomally, T+
Meltwater, TMR, Thomally, G
The Greece AU
fissures, TMR, Minewt, T+
@qlala, qlala on ao3 as well, they don't miss. Their fics always are so good. I particularly love their modern aus, I don't usually love aus with coldflash but I love all of qlalas, I also don't usually read kid fics, but you guessed it, qlalas are fantastic. They are such a good writer, and their coldflash just has me chomping at the bit. I often drift on the sides of coldflash these days, but whenever I see they've posted I am brought back into the swirl of them and I am ever so happy to be back because that's how good qlala is.
and because I'm a sucker for soft possessive coldflash, here's one of my absolute favorites: and in your heart I feel how cold it can get; which by the way I just realized how tragic that title is and I am in awe again. So good.
Also this au where Barry is a hired escort and Len is a politician hiring him to raise his ratings with the polls (there's a part two as well/not really technically tied to this story but same universe) that's gold: talking with your fast hands, saving all your slow dances -- very good (also that song the title is from is also a banger, winnetka bowling league my beloved).
@sam-loves-seb, sam_writes_fics on ao3, I am pretty sure they are my most bookmarked gallavich writer, I love the way they write gallavich, also their fucking power to be able to stick to like themed MONTHS and churn out GOOD FICS so FAST? because of time and because their stuff is all that good, I am genuinely just going to link their whole profile and tell you that if you like gallavich you won't be disappointed, they're amazing.
I don't know their tumblr, but pink_ink is another fantastic gallavich writer. They mostly write explicit stuff, and it's all great. They have a (few) multiple chap fics that absolutely stole my heart. My favorite one of theirs? It is absolutely so poetic and sexy and tragic, and Mickey's voice is on fucking point.
Regular What, Shameless (US), Gallavich, E
Paragraphs is also really good. A Shameless multichap ,Gallavich, E
Another tumblr that if they have one I don't know, but I also love spqr's works. It's funny because I've actually just naturally ran into them like several times while delving into fandoms, I never looked at their dashboard until I hit them I think three separate times because I was like "wait, I recognize this author, did I read something else of theirs?" and it was straight up in an entirely different fandom. The fics I did that on are as follows:
madwoman, The Queen's Gambit (TV), Beth/Benny, M
Whensoever, The Sandman (TV), Dreamling, E
the dry sand of daylight, Inception (2010), Arthur/Eames, E
Um, I could do this for hours just going through my bookmarks, but I genuinely am getting tired so I don't want to do that. One day maybe. But, some fics that I would absolutely be a complete dunce if I did not mention because I reread them SO OFTEN. So here we go:
Ready by comebacknow, The Maze Runner, Minally, M
all i want of the world, coming down, Inception (2010), Arthur/Eames, T+
burnout by Tattered_Dreams, The Maze Runner, Brenda/Gally, T+
makes a cathedral, him pressing against me by misandrywitch, Shameless (US), Gallavich, No Rating (and its companion! and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it by intimatelyrearranged)
Cold Storage by @sproutwings (sandrine shaw on ao3 -- also filled with great fics), the Flash TV, Iris West & Leonard Snart, T+
and for a woman wert thou first created by @hamartian-cathexis, The Maze Runner, Minewt, T+
this is what makes us girls by @its-tea-time-darling, TMR, Rachel/Sonya, E
Pinesong by aperplexingpuzzle, Legend of Zelda BOTW, Link/Revali, T+ (this ship came as such a surprise to me, but it's so good)
Stag and Wolf, Wyvern and Rabbit by deadlifts, Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Claude/Felix, M
Adagio by towine, Fire Emblem: Awakening, Owaine/Inigo, M
and I'm currently (while behind) REALLY enjoying two incomplete fics
ad nauseum by Order_Of_The_Forks, Dimension 20: Fantasy High, Riz Gukgak/Fabian Seacaster, T+
Stitches by nightmarechild, Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn, Rhys/Shinon, T+
These are all courtesy of the writers truth or dare! I love answering questions so thank you SO SO much for asking! if you want to ask more, just send me a message, I'm not shy <3
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