#and i cant wait to continue with this series!!

[russellbee]

YOU'D THINK THEY'D KNOW BY NOW (OP81)

oscar piastri x fewtrell!golfer!reader (she/her) summary. you and oscar have both started your professional careers, so it's the perfect time to share your relationship with the world. pr makes you wait a bit and chaos ensues. (mainly smau, a little bit of writing) (2.7k) warnings. for sexual implications (but no actual sex) and nosy fans. andi's note!! so this is kind of a condensed version of a series i might write (though i'm not sure). anyway i hope you all enjoy bc i had a lot of fun making this!

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september, 2022 ->

Lando Norris why does my new teammate follow u

and why do u follow him

whats goin on there 🤨🤨

You lan please tell me ur joking

Lando Norris wait.

HES UR BF?? Ur Bf OScAR?

You …yes???

Lando Norris HES THE GUY WITH THE BITING THING??? 😨😨

You i am blocking you

never bring that up again oh my god

Lando Norris …is it the teeth? he looks like a bunny 🐰

YOU HAVE BLOCKED LANDO NORRIS.

january 2023 ->

yourusername

[caption 1: some fun b4 i go pro...] [caption 2: 📍orlando, florida] [caption 3: @.maxfewtrell @.landonorris]

story replies:

oscarpiastri i think i might have to stick with mini golf 😅

yourusername but i like teaching you golf ☹️☹️ oscarpiastri you just like holding my hands yourusername well duh

maxfewtrell i don't think we can play golf with oscar again

yourusername DONT BE MEAN yourusername he's my bf who cares if he can't swing maxfewtrell i do! i've got a golf ball-sized bruise on my thigh if you want proof yourusername stop crying, there's an ice machine in the hallway 😒

landonorris i am banning you from races idk if i can deal with you and oscar together

yourusername well ur not the fia...so i will now be attending every race i possibly can. just to terrorize you landonorris at least stay in his garage pls. yourusername ...did i tell you what pr said landonorris NO PLS I CANT yourusername it's just till belgium! landonorris brb planning my retirement

yourusername first pro tournament 😁 very happy to have this opportunity (and to be in florida again!)!! thank you @.hiltongrandvacations!

liked by oscarpiastri and others

gatorswgolf We miss you!

yourusername miss you all more!!! 🐊

logansargeant florida golf is always good 😌 (liked by yourusername)

user LOGAN??? user he's shooting his shot ↳ user let him live 😭😭

user that's my golfer 🥹

user like wydm she's pro now??? 😭☹️

user i think we need another quadrant video of her destroying lando and max in golf 😁 (liked by yourusername)

maxfewtrell swoosh!

landonorris swoosh!! yourusername alright why are you making fun of me... ↳ maxfewtrell we're reminding you of your humble origins ↳ yourusername 😒😒

landonorris your cat looks like he's crying...

yourusername leave him alone 💀 user her cat...?

february 2023 ->

"It's only a four hour difference." Oscar murmurs and you groan into his neck. "Don't remind me." Oscar's hands, warm and comforting, hold you against him. Your suitcase packed for Thailand and Oscar's packed for Bahrain sit near the couch you're lying on.

"We've had worse." He continues, his hand on your lower back squeezing your side in reassurance. You shift your head so you can see Oscar, his recently cut hair and soft smile. "I don't wanna share you, can you just be my trophy boyfriend?" His nose scrunches up when he tilts his head back as he laughs.

"I'd have to work on my golf knowledge before I can do that."

"I don't mind you being a little clueless. ‘Cause then I get to play teacher." You position your knees on either side of Oscar's hips, grinning down at him as you speak. A bright red flush builds on his neck and face. "I think everyone knows that's just your excuse to touch me on a public golf course."

"Obviously," You roll your eyes, face a little warm. Oscar grins, teeth and all. "It's not the worst way to learn when it's from you."

"Yeah?" Oscar sits up more so he's level with you. "Makes it more fun. Since...it's golf."

"Oscar!"

yourusername close friends story

[caption: i want my bf back. but thailand here i come 😭✈️🇹🇭]

story replies:

oscarpiastri we'll see eachother soon ❤️

yourusername ITS NOT SOON ENOUGH oscarpiastri miss you too! yourusername i love u and i miss you already 😭 (oscarpiastri reacted with ❤️)

maxfewtrell it's been like one day.

yourusername ur one strike from being kicked off my close friends maxfewtrell i actually might enjoy that. no more photos of you and oscar kissing yourusername ...ykw just for that i'm keeping you on it forever

logansargeant i'll treat him right while you're gone👍

yourusername YOU BETTER

march 2023 ->

sentosa golf club, singapore

yourusername a very good weekend! 🏆 thanks for having me, @.hsbcwomensgolf! see you soon @.f1 😁🇸🇦

liked by oscarpiastri and others

maxfewtrell alright we're never playing golf again

yourusername this is you admitting you're bad btw. 😁��� maxfewtrell i was gonna congratulate you but i think i've changed my mind

landonorris share some champagne please? 😌🥂

yourusername it's gonna be flat by the time i see you again landonorris it's okay you can just buy another bottle yourusername nuh uh. you've got the money to buy it yourself! user my otp...i need them together now ↳ user i don't think max would ever let that happen ↳ user LET ME DREAM

user oscar in the likes? i see you op 👀

user he's BEEN here. he is never not here tbh...

user OMG YOU'RE GONNA BE AT JEDDAH???? (liked by yourusername)

Mclaren • MclarenF1

Lando & Oscar take a quiz on golf terms with @.yourusername! [Video attached]

Lando Norris Get destroyed @.OscarPiastri ↳ Oscar Piastri You've got the upperhand. I wasn't going to win anyway 🤷‍♂️

Y/N Fewtrell @.OscarPiastri you'll win next time 😉 ↳ Lando Norris I'm gonna put in all my effort so you don't rig it

yourusername jeddah things 🌺 (tagged landonorris)

liked by oscarpiastri and others

landonorris is there any trophy for golf quiz winner?

yourusername nope :) landonorris damn. all that and i get nothing yourusername cry about it

user soft launch and lando on the same post...hmmmm

user 🤔🤔 user building up an essay on why they're dating user you guys are insane 🙄 they're not even that close ↳ user she's literally only been seen with lando this week. who else would she be dating?? ↳ user i think you're forgetting the fact she was also seen with oscar... ↳ user they just met. don't be ridiculous

oscarpiastri it was nice seeing you!

yourusername you too!! 😊😊😊😊 maxfewtrell are you going insane user MAX??? user crazy behavior from the fewtrell siblings... ↳ user LITERALLY!! the emojis?? max's deleted comment?? what's going on 👀👀

april 2023 ->

yourusername close friends story

[caption: BIRTHDAY BOYYYYYY 🎂🎉!!!!! my amazing bf has turned 22 everyone go tell him happy birthday 😠]

story replies:

oscarpiastri i love you so much ❤️

yourusername if you actually loved me you'd come back to the flat early oscarpiastri On My Way! (you reacted with 😭)

maxfewtrell tell oscar i said happy birthday 🎊

yourusername 👍 maxfewtrell why did it take you 2 days to respond to this

may 2023 ->

yourusername public story

[caption: wasn't my best performance, but either way, thank you @.jmeaglelachamp for having me! time to go coast to coast ✈️ (📍 los angeles, california)]

story replies:

oscarpiastri can't wait to see you ❤️ you look great in orange 😍

yourusername i miss you!!!! yourusername the orange was for you i hate that color so much (oscarpiastri has reacted with ❤️)

oscarpiastri btw you did so well, don't beat yourself down

yourusername i love you so much yourusername now go do your pr lando is messaging me (oscarpiastri has reacted with 👎)

user the orange??? 👀👀👀

user • user

max f's sister wearing papaya at her tournament in la...interesting

user put some respect on her name 😭 she's literally a professional golfer not just max's sister ↳ user lmao literally. also the constant dating rumors in HER insta comments is crazy. keep that to yourself, you don't need to go telling her

user the 'time to go coast to coast' on her story...is she gonna be in miami?? ↳ user there's a tournament in new jersey next week, which is also on the east coast. she might just be flying there. ↳ user idk the papaya outfit seems like a hint. i have a feeling she's gonna be in miami ↳ user the delusions are crazy

Formula 1 • F1

@.yourusername is in the paddock, with Mclaren of course 😉 #F1 @.MclarenF1

user F1 ADMIN WHAT DO YOU KNOW

user where's the person who called me delusional. are you seeing this

user LANDO IN THE BACK you're kidding me like this can't be real

messages with logan sargeant 🦅

logan sargeant 🦅 oscar's snap says you're in a mcdonald's parking lot

can you get me an oreo mcflurry (00:19)

logan sargeant 🦅 how are you still in the parking lot WHAT ARE YOU DOING

logan sargeant 🦅 actually don't answer that (1:47)

you srry my phone died we got you the mcflurry

logan (3:28)

logan sargeant it's been 3 hours...

p sure oscar has my extra keycard btw

you alright he's dropping it off

sleep well 🤗

june 2023 ->

springfield, new jersey

yourusername OHHHH YEAHHH!!! a great weekend in new jersey, thank you @.kpmgwomenspga for having me!!!!!! 🏆🏆🏆🏆

liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourusername also smth coming soon...stay tuned 🤭

user can you just tell me now, my dms are open i swear i won't tell anyone user please. im not patient. please 😭🙏

oscarpiastri congrats! 👏🏆

yourusername thanks!!!! 😆

user alright...where is lando

user you cannot be serious. she's celebrating a win and you're speculating on her relationship?? ↳ user it's not that serious 🙄

maxfewtrell legend in the making 👑

yourusername why are you being nice... yourusername THANK YOU!!

user WHY HASNT LANDO COMMENTED

user lando hasn't even liked...WHERE ARE YOU LANDO

comments have been limited

sportsmag @.yourusername, a rookie in the LPGA discusses golf, relationships, f1, and her new found fame in our June edition. the full interview can found at our website sportsmag.com!

liked by yourusername and others

comments have been turned off

Y/N FEWTRELL TALKS GOLF, F1, FAME, AND ROMANCE WITH SPORTSMAG

June 30th, 2023 • Lola Lyon

In May earlier this year, I had the pleasure to meet with Y/n Fewtrell at a golf course (a personal favorite of hers) in Florida. She acts the same way she does on social media; energetic, snarky, yet kind. However, I noticed a shyer part of her personality when discussing the people and things she holds dear.

I seemed to be the first person to ask her about her relationship status — as an interviewer. The young golfer's comments have been full of relationship spec....

SUBSCRIBE TO READ THE REST OF THE ARTICLE

user • user

alright i paid for the y/n fewtrell article, will be posting some very important quotes below 🧵

user "Before she told me about her boyfriend, she told me about her feelings on the speculation. 'I never expected my relationship to be a big deal to so many people...it's a lot sometimes to see people assuming I'm dating a close friend or just a stranger. It can be funny though to see how many jumps people have to make to associate me with someone else. So far, not many people have been right."

user "I then asked her what her favorite rumor was. Her reply is something I'm sure not a lot of people could guess. "My favorite?...I mean— the ones including Lando are always so weird. He's my brother's best friend, and he's a close friend of mine. But I'm not dating him. I don't know if I could live an entire week with him as my boyfriend [laughter]. He's a great guy but, yeah. Not dating him."

user "Golf, according to her, has always been a staple in her life. 'I first played golf in Singapore, and I didn't love it at first. But, Max had played before so he was better than me, naturally. [laughter] It made me so mad. So I just kept playing, I started practicing and watching tournaments on TV. The first time I ever beat Max, I thought: What am I supposed to do now? I kept playing after that, obviously [laughter] and I still beat him, so."

user on her mindset going into a tournament: "I mean, I try to stay positive. I've— I know how sports, especially those in the public eye, can damage your self-esteem. I dealt with it myself a couple times when I was still at the collegiate level. Hearing people be so rude about you and your skills, it hurts. So, sophomore year I think it was, I started logging out of all my social media accounts a couple days before a game or a tournament. The only criticism I needed was my coach's, and now I feel like I'm at a point in my career where I can judge my own skills."

user "For my final question, I asked her about her opinion of the current F1 season. '[laughter] Well, I'm supporting Mclaren obviously. I know Red Bull's been doing really well. I've heard— seen people's complaints on Twitter, it's something. But honestly, good job on Red Bull for making a rocket ship [laughter]."

view 702 replies

july 2023 ->

Mclaren • MclarenF1

A message from Lando and Oscar before summer break!

[Lando and Oscar are standing in front of a barren wall, both wearing their team polo's. "Hi everyone, Oscar —and Lando— here." Oscar glances at Lando who starts speaking. "It's been a decent start to the season, but we're gonna go rest and come back better than ever." He gives a tired smile to the camera, and then Oscar starts speaking. "I, personally, will be vacationing with my girlfriend. So, I'm excited. What about you, Lando?" Lando's smile has changed, he's clearly trying to stop himself from laughing. Oscar raises a brow. "Um— I've got a nice vacation planned, gonna visit family too." Oscar nods along. "We'll see you all in Zandvoort." Lando waves to the camera, and a second before the video ends he can be seen falling forward, laughing hysterically. Oscar has his head tipped back, laughing as well.]

user mclaren admin i think you uploaded the wrong cut...

Mclaren Nothing wrong here 😉 ↳ user OMG ↳ user they posted this...on purpose...hmm... ↳ user i swear this means oscar's gonna hard launch his gf i know itttt

august 2023 ->

yourusername and oscarpiastri how did no one assume this. where were you all at. Hi, everyone 👋💗 (edited 3hrs ago.)

logansargeant FINALLY i no longer have to cover for you guys omg

logansargeant congrats tho! ↳ oscarpiastri thanks mate! ↳ yourusername you were our strongest soldier. we will get you a reward dw ↳ oscarpiastri we did not agree abt that ↳ yourusername do i have to remind you about the mcdonalds situation from miami ↳ oscarpiastri logansargeant i'll send some money your way as a reward user alright. whats going on here guys ↳ user i'm getting the feeling they somehow traumatized logan in a mcdonalds

user I'VE BEEN HERE (liked by yourusername)

user i knew it. oscar had been in her likes for so long user i think i manifested this tbh

maxfewtrell i feel that i'm owed a thank you

yourusername thank you for driving in the formula renault eurocup in 2018, max. i would've found him anyway but i'll let you take credit ↳ maxfewtrell i knew something was wrong from your formality. but i'll take it. ↳ user it's giving "i'd find you in every universe" ↳ user user WHAT IF I DIED oscarpiastri thank you both for being obnoxiously loud talkers ↳ yourusername OSCAR 😢

user THE CAPTION CHANGE 😭😭

landonorris oh thank god. yourusername please stay in oscar's garage, and oscar's garage only from here on out.

yourusername that won't stop me. i will make you increasingly annoyed every single race i attend until you explode oscarpiastri should i remind you that this is a public comment section and you're also talking to my teammate? ↳ landonorris yourusername LISTEN TO YOUR BF ↳ yourusername check your text messages ↳ landonorris why are you like this ↳ oscarpiastri landonorris i think you deserved that mate user oscary/n casually traumatizing every member of the grid. love this

mclaren 🧡🧡 our favorite couple

yourusername admin you are my favorite mclaren employee ↳ oscarpiastri what about me? ↳ yourusername favorite person on earth. obviously. (liked by oscarpiastri)

user • user

so it seems that i am actually delusional. anyway #oscary/n

THIS IS SO LONG I'M SORRY

[biibini]

GIRL. can you do some Modern Mizu headcanons when shes on her period??? I JUST WANT TO HUG HER😭💔

grumpy girlfriend ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

modern!mizu headcanons during her period

tags: fluff, taigen being an ass, sweet mizu, snuggle bug modern mizu, mood swings, competitive mizu bc taigen wont shut up, cuddling, taigen hunger games fan confirmed???

a/n: im suffering on mine while starting my quarter and my teachers alreadyyyy be pmo!! cant wait for s2 to come already (and so will i).

modern!mizu would have light periods

with the exception of the second day.

ive stated this in my reader gets periods hc post BUT

just bc theyre light doesn’t mean she’s off the hook

all she rlly needs to buy is the pink ones (iykyk)

basically she needs the thin ones most of the time

(idk what the colors are outside the US sorry international readers)

however…

modern!mizu ‘s second day: hell. on. earth.

if she’s raising hell in the show, she’s going thru that hell in this modern!AU

the worst lower back pains when she wakes up

i fear her stomach will do a whole somersault and multiple olympic level flips throughout the second day

the amount of fatigue hits her one day and then is completely manageable afterwards

and yes she will bitch and moan ab this when she wakes up

You feel Mizu stir awake beside you, her eyebrows furrowing into the pillow.

“Good morning”, you whisper close to her ear, gently kissing down from her cheek to her neck.

“Mmfm… morning…”, Mizu groans, stretching awake, her eyes fluttering open to a brand new day.

You look up to meet her eyes as the morning sun peaked through the curtains.

“You feel okay?”

She shook her head no, grumbling about sleeping in more. She attempts to stretch her back. However, you find her face twist into discomfort and fatigue, groaning once again from the shooting pains in her back.

“Fucking hell”, she mumbles, “I’m going to kill my back.”

“I think that would kill you first.”, you answer back. “I’ll go get tea and aspirin for you, wait here.”

modern!mizu’s mood is usually stable, except that calm she tries to maintain slips away on her period

she gets more competitive than irritated on her bad days

taigen pisses her off a little bit A LOT MORE more than usual

one time he wanted to play a match of archery against mizu

mind you, both of them had little to no experience with a bow and arrow

taigen thought it would be fun for shits and giggle because he saw katniss everdeen do it and thought she was sick asf

yes hes watched the whole hunger games series bc he whole heartedly believes he can win the 74th games… i’d love to see him try to survive too.

(anyways side lore over)

and guess who ends up getting wrapped up in it… our girl mizu

“Taigen, for the last time, I’m not playing make believe Hunger Games with you.”, Mizu grumbled, continuing to solve her homework.

“It’s not make believe, it’s archery. Just because it was in Hunger Games doesn’t mean its not real.”, Taigen claimed. “Can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to stick an arrow in your head first?”

Mizu’s head lifted up, her eyes squinting in annoyance. In her head, an imaginary arrow struck him at the very moment.

“You think you’re so good at everything, huh.”, Mizu scoffs, placing down her pencil.

“I just know you’ll be an easy target.”, Taigen declares, his face smug with confidence.

Mizu challenges him. “And I know you’ll be an even easier one.”

they both end up bothering akemi, begging her to borrow her bows and arrows for this competition

of course, she complies with one request: allowing an audience (you, her, and ringo) to watch and fairly judge each one’s skills

all judged fairly, with taigen as the winner by one point ahead

and mizu demanding a rematch

to this day, she’s still bitter ab that competition

modern!mizu enjoys getting a little special treatment from time to time

yes she does spoil you quite a lot with her actions

but small things such as prepping the snacks before binge watching or making the tea for her or letting her be a small spoon when cuddling warms her heart

acts of service warms her heart

“Nooo, don’t leave yet.”, Mizu grudges, playfully pulling at your arm as you escape her grasp.

“Then you’re not getting your tea.”, you jest.

You walk to the counter, pouring the hot water into your mugs. Coming back to the couch with herbal teas in hand, you smile and hand one to Mizu first.

“See, I’m back. And I have a surprise for you too.”

You come close to Mizu, planting a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. Mizu, now delighted by the tea, thanks you with another sweet kiss, grinning from ear to ear.

when it’s only you and modern!mizu, she becomes a snuggle bug

when you’re watching a show or before falling asleep, she will steathily and silently find herself much closer to you

sneaking an arm around you

and find yourself wrapped up in her arms while she enjoys the labors of her fruit

(sorry i don’t make the rules i just follow them)

she lovessss to wrap her arms around you at night and be a big spoon so she can hug you all night

or be a little spoon with your palms facing her lower stomach, totally not providing her with a makeshift heating pad

You wake up in the middle of the night, finding Mizu on her side, her arms away from you reaching out to the darkness. You shift over, wrapping her closer to yours with gentle pull. A small hum erupts from the sleeping Mizu, as her arm reaches behind, lazily tugging your arm.

“Yes?”, you ask, wondering what her next move was.

She drops your arm over her stomach. A tug pulls your wrist under her baggy shirt, your palm making contact with her lower stomach. You hear a delighted sigh, as Mizu let go of your wrist.

You patiently waited what would follow this move. But all you felt was the slight rise and fall of her breath.

In the morning, you question if she recalled what she did.

“Hey baby?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up at her.

“Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night?”

Mizu shook her head no.

“Did something happen?”, she asked, slightly concerned.

“No, not really.”, you lied.

The cuddling was cute already. Her doing it unknowingly? Even cuter.

“I just thought I heard something.”

“Ok schizo.”, she teased, smiling before taking another sip of her morning tea.

“Hey!”

if you thought she was competitive on her own, ohhhh goodness her mood swings make her more merciless

modern!mizu would get irritated over the littlest things, especially if they build up throughout the day and there’s no time to release that pent up energy

you end up with a grumpy mizu

the best remedy for this? telling her she’ll get surprise if she does something for you

it takes her mind off of her worries/complaints from the day

and even if the surprise was a big ol’ hug and loving kisses, it would relieve some of the stress mizu was holding onto

“Welcome back.”, you greet her, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for getting the ingredients.”

Mizu placed the grocery bags on the counter.

“So what was my surprise?”, she questioned, curious of what’s to come.

“Just this.”, you answer, wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her close for a loving kiss.

As you pull away, you see her eyes light up, a much different set than her annoyed, gloomy self before going on a grocery trip. Her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close once again.

“Just that?”, she says, mimicking the sweetness in your voice before going in for another kiss.

“Besides dinner, it would also be a few more kisses.”

You answer, smiling before going in for another.

“I like the sound of that.”

[dawn-moths]

"Player, Champagne, Showtime"

CHAPTER 2

Tomura & Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 23,400+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * ...

(After your fateful encounter with Tomura and Dabi, the trio of unfortunates you’ve found yourself a part of decides to try your luck at committing a high-risk robbery on some people from Dabi’s past. The payout will be huge, if things go according to plan. But, of course, nothing ever goes according to plan, so, by the end of the night, you all just hope you can make it out alive, and if you do, well, you might just have to start considering yourself a pretty good team.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! quirkless au, pretty plot heavy this chapter (no smut, but trust me, there will be plenty later down the line), violence and descriptions of gore, drugs, mentions of human trafficking, threats of sexual assault, reader gets hurt on purpose, once again the title is taken from the lyrics of “365 Fresh” by Triple H which this fic is based upon.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The following morning, you’d woken early, carefully slipping from Tomura’s warm, protective grasp on the couch and tiptoeing toward where you thought you might be able to find some water. Though, when you turned the corner, expecting to find the little cubicle room empty, you came face to face with the tattooed man who was becoming less of a stranger and more of a reluctant acquaintance with every passing hour.

And, the following morning, you’d finally learned his name.

“They call me Dabi,” he remarked after you’d pressed him about the matter in the makeshift kitchen. He leaned against the barely functioning mini fridge and studied you for a moment then, his crystal clear blues scrutinizing, as if testing you in some way.

“They?” you lightly scoffed. “And who are they?”

Dabi chuckled to himself, a hum of amusement accompanied by a grin that might’ve actually been genuine and soft, if such words were allowed to be used to describe someone like him. Then he pushed off from the fridge, causing the appliance to wobble on its uneven base for a couple shallow sways before migrating closer to you. “They…” he emphasized, leaning down to be right at your eye level, so close you could see your reflection shimmering in all that bright sapphire. “They’re the ones who we’re gonna make pay.”

You gaped at him, looking into a malicious vortex of cruel cerulean, cold yet burning with such an intense revenge it was startling. But then, just before the stretch of silence between the two of you could become suffocating, Tomura popped his head around the corner and asked, “What’s for breakfast?”

Dabi shot him a scathing glare, as if offended by the sound of his voice alone, and straightened back to his full height, replying with an irritated drone as he strolled past, hands shoved deep into his pockets, “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Though, I can’t promise any of it’s still edible…”

“Where are you going?” you asked, sauntering over to stand next to Tomura, who scratched absentmindedly at a red patch on the side of his neck. For now, you resisted the urge to reach over and clasp your hand with his to get him to stop, but later you knew you’d be applying some of the cheap lotion you kept at the bottom of your bag to it while he hissed at the sting of the salve soaking into his irritated flesh.

Dabi smirked and pulled a plastic baggie full of little white pills from his pocket, pinching it between his fingers and dangling it before him as if trying to entice you with it. “Just some extracurricular activities. Why?” He quirked an inky eyebrow, faking innocence for only a moment before that smug expression returned. “Wanna join me?”

You rolled your eyes, leaned back against Tomura, whose hands quickly found purchase on you for support. “You wish,” you scoffed. “Just don’t get so high you forget your way back. We won’t be coming to look for you.”

Dabi coughed out one loud, sardonic, “Ha!”, his mouth stretching into a too wide smile before dropping back to the general disinterest he usually carried about him, turning on his heel and stalking the rest of the way to the heavy metal door that led to the hallway painted with the glowing blue inferno. The only indicator you had to know he’d really left was the slam as the door closed behind him, leaving you and Tomura in the warehouse alone.

“Well, I guess we should see what he has in the fridge…” you muttered, spinning away from Tomura’s grasp and swinging open the rickety door of the minifridge, clicking your tongue in annoyance when you saw there were only three things in there— half a dozen eggs that were who knew how old, a six pack of some cheap beer, and half a gallon of milk that was nearly empty, likely drank straight from the jug.

You opened the crumpled cardboard carton of eggs, feeling a little optimistic when they still looked to be in pretty good shape, then peered over your shoulder at Tomura, who was rummaging through a plastic bin that served as Dabi’s pantry.

“Find anything?” you asked, coming over to check things out for yourself.

Tomura held out a half-full bag of some stale cereal hastily rolled at the opening in a failed attempt to preserve it longer. “Other than flamin’ hot cheetos and wasabi peas…” he muttered, sounding slightly defeated, “not much…”

“Wasabi peas?” you repeated, nearly laughing.

Tomura plucked up the plastic container of the little green and white morsels and gave it a playful shake, like a maraca, and then cracked a crooked, puzzled smirk. “Guy’s got some fuckin’ weird taste.”

You took the bag of cereal from him, unrolled it and reached in to see if the little niblets were too far gone or if a splash of some back-washed milk on the verge of expiration could save them. After an indecisive taste test, you handed the bag back to Tomura and said with a sigh, “Alright. I’ll see if I can find a frying pan. See if you can find any kind of bread anywhere, y’know, so long as it’s not moldy. Maybe we can make some egg sandwiches.”

“And the cereal?” he asked, reaching in to toss a handful of the sugary grahams into his mouth and seeming a little more satisfied with them than you were.

“If you’re willing to risk ingesting whatever state what’s left of the milk in there is in…” you shrugged, setting the eggs on top of the fridge while you began scavenging for anything you could use to cook over the rusted old hotplate, “then the cereal is all yours.”

Unable to find a bowl, Tomura settled for pouring the cereal straight into the milk jug and taking crunchy swigs, chewing before swallowing it down. He sort of winced a little upon the first gulp, but didn’t further elaborate on whether the milk had gone sour or not, almost like he himself couldn’t even quite figure it out, then proceeded to finish what was left, so you figured it couldn’t be that bad. Meanwhile, he also searched the other bins and tubs that held an unorganized array of varying food items until he managed to find half a loaf of bread, only three pieces left that weren’t infected with furry green spores.

“Ah! Found it!” you happily announced as you pulled a tiny, scratched up teflon pan from beneath a pile of dishes in the sink. It looked like it had been scratched to hell and back with the end of a metal fork, but you figured it would still do the job just fine.

“Still want eggs?” you asked, finagling with the faulty dial on the hotplate’s temperature gauge before finally getting it to turn on. Tomura nodded, taking a seat at the tiny table, only one folding chair topped with a thin, frayed cushion available, the other seat consisting of a couple empty wooden crates stacked atop each other, though it wasn’t much of a surprise to you that Dabi didn’t make a habit of keeping company.

Especially after what he’d said earlier.

They’re the ones who we’re gonna make pay.

By the sound of it, he had far more enemies than he did friends. In fact, you were starting to wonder if you and Tomura were the only people currently on semi-decent terms with him, and even considering it that was generous…

“Hey,” Tomura spoke, pulling you from your Dabi curiosities. Your gaze darted to meet his and he gave a cursory glance down at the eggs in the pan. “I’m no expert, but I think they might be burning…”

You turned your attention back to breakfast and swore under your breath as you quickly flipped them to the other side, a thin veil of smoke wafting up from the pan accompanied by a satisfying sizzle.

Luckily, the eggs had been saved in time thanks to Tomura’s warning, all six successfully scrambled— three for you and three for him, courtesy of Dabi’s current obligations to his drugs. Using two of the three slices of bread, you fashioned yourself a sandwich which, despite being a little soggy once the eggs soaked into the untoasted bread, wasn’t half bad, while Tomura tried his best to eat his opened-faced on the last slice on account of already having finished all the cereal.

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you’d been until you’d wolfed the whole thing down, suddenly craving more. “You said you found cheetos earlier?” you inquired with Tomura, whose eggs had fallen into a mushy mess on his plate, carefully picking up what he could with his fingers so that none of it would go to waste.

He paused mid-bite and his eyes widened a fraction as he spoke from one corner of his full mouth, “Yeah…?”

You cracked a mischievous grin, licking a couple of your fingers before saying, “Go get ‘em,” prompting Tomura to rise from his seat and retrieve the entire snack bin, dragging it across the dirty concrete floor to sit beside the cramped table.

As you dug out the flamin’ hot cheetos, along with some crumbling chocolate chip cookies, laying an array of other snacks across the table for you and Tomura to choose from, you rhetorically asked, “Think he’ll mind?”

Tomura scoffed, unable to hide the crooked smirk that pulled up one corner of his chapped lips as he tore open a bag of salt and vinegar chips. “His fault for telling us to help ourselves anyway.”

And so the two of you feasted on a smorgasbord of all things salty and sweet, fattening and processed, all the while trading flirty banter and off-handed comments about everything else that had led you two to end up sitting at the uneven little table in this repurposed warehouse.

When there was a lull in conversation, both of you drifting off into the full-bellied aftermath of an oncoming food coma, you asked Tomura, “Do you believe in fate?”

He seemed to take a moment to think about that, all the while staring at you, tracing the features of your face with his eyes as if trying to commit you to memory, to resurface any shred of a glimpse he may have caught of you in a hypothetical previous life. “No,” he finally answered, paired with a minute shaking of his head. “No, I think fate is a bunch of bullshit. I think we make our own destinies. At least, I’d like to think that.”

“So you think the good things that happen to us are because we worked for it and the bad things that happen to us are because we deserve it?”

“Not necessarily,” he elaborated. “I just think that nothing is predetermined. One decision leads to an outcome and so on and so forth. It’s as simple as that.”

You lazily rested your cheek in your palm, slouching over the tabletop a little more, considering him with a teasing look. “Sounds like you got life all figured out, huh?”

Tomura flashed a nervous smile, beginning to scratch at the irritated spot on his neck again, his skin becoming more inflamed there with every passing hour. “I just think, if there is a God, he’s got a cruel sense of humor.”

“Bet he’s laughing at us right now,” you remarked, low, almost under your breath, wearing a sad smile as you lowered your head to rest atop your arms on the table. Then, glancing up at Tomura through your lashes, you concluded with, “Though, if it’s a show he wants…” You nudged Tomura’s foot under the table with your own, entwining your ankles, bare feet turned cool from the chill creeping up through the concrete. Tomura watched you carefully, as if trying to anticipate your next move and beat you to it first. But as your foot traveled up his leg until it was just barely brushing against his inner thigh, his expression darkened into the intense hunter’s stare of a predator about to capture its prey, hungry and confident.

“Yeah?” he tempted, replying to the unspoken request your actions were currently insinuating.

You nodded, returning your foot back to your side of the table, standing and offering him your hand. “Yeah,” you confirmed, and as Tomura swallowed your hand within his own, he was once again reminded of that hazy, haloed image he’d seen of you the very first night you’d met on those dark city streets.

He’d asked if you were an angel back then, but as you guided him towards the beat up old couch, straddling his lap the moment he was seated and beginning to kiss him like you couldn’t breathe without his air filling your lungs, he knew you must be something way beyond that, the feeling of your body pressed against his transcending heavenly.

“Think he’ll mind?” you playfully asked through a quiet, breathy chuckle, your lips hovering just above Tomura’s, letting him taste your words on his tongue.

He smirked, shifting you to lay on your back as he crawled over you, kissing you again, deeper, harder, enough to have you gasping for air by the end of it. “Fuck what he thinks,” he remarked, a raw edge to his raspy voice.

And if Dabi could’ve seen you two like that, shamelessly fucking on his couch, he probably would’ve killed you both.

But he was too busy making his own slow, sweet sentiment to his beloved painkillers on some rooftop halfway across town, sulking under a greying sky with a half-smoked cigarette caught between two lazily curled fingers, staring at his tattoos until the high made the inked images bend and sway.

***

Low thunder grumbled from far in the distance, the vibrations purring in Dabi’s chest as he watched the storm rolling in over the shiny high-rise buildings of the city’s center, soon to soak the gleaming metropolis down to the bone.

The wind was always stronger from up here. In the humid summer months, it felt good. In the winter, it was almost unbearable. And during a storm…

During a storm it felt electric, as if he could breathe in the invisible sparks bouncing through the air, tiny firecrackers lacing through his blood and making him feel invincible.

The painkillers helped dull the sharp, barbed edges that always seemed to splinter back to life inside his brain, temporarily alleviating the tension that corded through his muscles and wove its way through his lanky, wraithish frame, chasing the worries away, if only for a little while. The nicotine got his wheels turning again, the ritualistic practice of inhaling the smoke and holding it in his lungs for as long as he could before breathing it out acting as a countdown until his next notion of how to strike.

Sometimes he came up here without his addictions tagging along, even if just to stare at that shimmering oasis of a city spiking up in the distance, the skyline like an irregular heartbeat on an EKG, and remind himself why he still wanted to burn it all to the ground.

He was also reminded why he was so afraid to go back.

But what Dabi found himself pondering over on this particular afternoon was a rather unexpected development in his most recent schemes. Because, of all the details he’d overlooked or ignored in previous, criminally-inclined, chaotic plans, the last thing he’d thought he’d have to worry about was catching feelings for someone like you.

He’d never admit to it out loud, but Dabi was well aware why his stomach twisted every time he saw you and Tomura too close to each other, why he had to force himself to look away when you two stared into each other’s eyes like you were actually in love and not just two fucked up slum rats just like him, only way more chemically attratched to each other than a murderer and a suicidal had a right to be.

He was the odd man out. The third wheel. The silent reject. And for what?

All because he’d gone and kicked you both out of that stolen car, practically delivered his current predicament to your doorstep and wished you well as he sped off down the desolate midnight streets with only an ear grating tire screech to remember him by.

“So stupid,” he muttered to himself, leaning back against the roof, staring into the blotchy void of the greyscale sky, stormy winds causing the clouds to race across the view overhead. He cupped a palm to the back of his neck, closing his eyes as he took a final drag of his cigarette, flicking the remains down onto the street below, bringing his other hand to join the one that was already cushioning the back of his skull. Then, again, through a forlorn, tired sigh, “So fucking stupid…”

He wondered how he always seemed to sabotage himself in hindsight, whether by getting hooked on the little white pills that he’d sworn “would only be for a little bit, just until I get out of here and put this city far behind me”, only to get roped up in a couple gangs gone wrong and end up losing every last penny he’d scrounged up in order to escape the hellhole of the slums. Or the time he’d been a homeless teen skulking around the streets, trusting all the wrong people despite his intuition warning against it just because they’d offered him some food and a corner shielded from the rain to sleep in.

And now there was you, perhaps the only girl in the entire prefecture he had a chance with, and what had he done?

He’d gone and said all the wrong things, done all the wrong things, and fucked it all up.

But then, as the charcoal clouds covering the city center began to drift closer to his part of town, little sparkling flashes of lightning laced throughout the mass of black and grey, a new perspective occured to Dabi. Because, yes, while his own choices had led him to become a hopeless, orphaned addict, he’d still found a way to survive.

Through all his hardship and loss and misfortune, he’d learned how to still come out on top in the end, even if he was bruised and battered and barely standing.

So why couldn’t he apply the same rules to winning you over?

Doing something to remove Tomura from the picture was the obvious answer, but with how quickly the two of you had become attached, it would also be obvious who was at fault if the scrawny, silver-haired boy went missing or turned up dead somewhere, even if he had tried to kill himself during your original meeting.

No, simple problems required simple solutions, so going to all the trouble to lure Tomura out and dispose of him would just end up being too much work. Dabi would have to get you alone with him, make some attempt to get to know you better, get to know your secrets, your weaknesses, convince you that you were better off with him, that he had more to offer you than Tomura.

As the first fat droplets of rain speckled the rooftop, darkening the concrete of the street below with watery freckles until the steady drizzle morphed into a full on downpour, drenching everything in sight, Dabi rose from the roof, climbed down the fire escape, and navigated the maze of alleys back to his hideout, several different schemes now cooking in the back of his mind.

He definitely had more to offer you. Or at least he liked to think he did. But, truth be told, none of you really had anything to offer each other at the moment except some twisted form of solidarity between rejected members of society. But you had the most to lose. Because Dabi did know one of your secrets. He knew you were a murderer, and, while he’d figured the guy had probably deserved it, that didn’t change the fact that the cops would likely see it otherwise.

You knew Dabi was already trying to lay low from law enforcement from how he’d acted in the diner that day and— well, there was also the fact that he stole and pawned off a car.

And Tomura, well, other than trying to commit suicide and drag others unwillingly into it, Dabi didn’t know what else he was guilty of, though the fact that he knew someone like Spinner— a man who could procure all sorts of illegal and nefarious goods— said it was probably worse than he’d let on.

So, the first step for any of you to have a chance at making it out of this place, whether it was all together or just you and Dabi, if he got his way, was finding a way to make some money.

The rain beat down hard on anything not hidden beneath cover, Dabi included by the time he had to make a run for the last stretch of his journey back to the warehouse. But the adrenaline was aiding his brain in working double time, skin prickling with needles of cold and heart racing until he swung open the door and found himself in the comfort of his painted hallway, the blue flames glowing through the dark after a few seconds and welcoming their artist home.

And it was then, in the vortex of the cerulean inferno, as cold water droplets raced down his neck and chest and stirred a shiver in his bones, that the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Dabi smirked to himself, a malicious, mean smile that made him look a little crazy as the blue light cast dimly over his face.

There was no way it could be that easy. There was just no way.

But, it’s like people always said…

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

***

A camera flash bathed the crime scene in blinding white light, there one instant and then gone the next like a ghost.

Just like the perpetrator, Keigo thought to himself, peering over the photographer’s shoulder and scribbling down some theories on his notepad, pen scritching across the page quietly as he listened in on the testimony of one of the establishment’s employees, his back facing her as he pretended not to eavesdrop.

“—still can’t get in contact with her,” a young woman explained, sounding distressed. She was one of a few hairdressers at the rundown barber shop. Besides her, there was only one employee left that the police hadn’t yet spoken to about the owner’s sudden and rather gruesome death— 

You.

“Could you give us her number?” the other officer asked, in the middle of taking his own notes.

The girl shrugged, pulling her phone out from her bag. “Yeah, I mean, sure, it’s just…” She pulled up your contact info, turning the screen around to show it to the cop. “She rarely ever picks up, even if she does know the caller. I doubt you’ll be able to reach her, but if you do, please let me know. We’re worried about her…”

The officer thanked the woman for her cooperation after jotting down the phone number, heading off to exchange notes with another investigator, which is when Keigo swooped in to do what he was best at…

Charming the rest of the truth out of someone who might know a little more than they were letting on.

“Excuse me, miss… Mind if I ask you a few more questions?” he inquired politely. At first, your co-worker looked annoyed, finally about to be able to go home after over an hour’s worth of questioning, her back turned to the new detective. But when she turned around and saw those lovely umber eyes and all that wavy, golden hair, she reconsidered rushing off.

“Sure,” she smiled, dropping her phone back into her bag and readjusting the purse strap over her shoulder. “But then I really do have to get going. I promised my sister I’d pick up her kid from daycare since she’s working a double today.”

“It’ll only take a moment, I promise,” Keigo assured her through a carefree chuckle, knowing full well he’d snagged her hook, line, and sinker the moment she blushed and began playing with her hair.

“So, this co-worker of yours… The one you can’t seem to get in contact with…” he began. “When’s the last time any of you actually saw her?”

The woman took a moment to recall that information, then nodded to herself and answered, “We were working together the morning before the mur—” She caught herself about to use a word that might’ve been perceived as harsh, even if she, as well as everyone else who worked at that barber shop, couldn’t care less if your awful boss had been gutted and bled dry like the pig he was and left to rot in the alley, then cleared her throat and quickly amended with a slightly more sensitive, “The morning before the incident… I left a couple hours before closing to head to my other job, and she said she’d close up by herself so I wasn’t late— I’m kind of already in trouble with my other boss for cutting it too close too often…” She gave a nervous chuckle and kept twirling a ringletted strand of hair around her manicured finger, sneaking coy glances at Keigo through her false lashes.

“So she was the only one in the shop when the murder took place?” Keigo asked, though it was more to himself than to your flirty co-worker. Then, after quickly scribbling something down among his patchwork web of notes, he muttered in a low, almost menacing growl, “Interesting…”

“I think one of the other girls called her yesterday morning. We all got a call. Y’know, after poor Himari walked in to open and found all that blood and the body and…” She chewed at her bottom lip, worrying the thick gloss away with an incisor, clearly still bothered by the image of such a massacre even if it was of someone she hated.

“I see…” Keigo continued, circling your name among the list of employees, condemning you as the most likely suspect in black ink. “Do you happen to know where she lives?” he asked next, then rephrased the question as, “Or rather, have any of you been by her place since this happened? You know,” he cracked a sympathetic smile, giving a flash of perfect white teeth, “just to make sure she’s ok.”

“Ren said that, when she called her, she said she wasn’t feeling very well and had the rest of her appointments canceled or something like that…” your co-worker recalled. “I don’t think anyone went over to check on her though.”

Just for good measure, Keigo asked if she would mind giving him your address. And, while all of you usually knew better than to give out each other’s personal information to anyone who asked for it, no matter how handsome said anyone may be, she figured nothing bad could come of sharing it with a kind detective just trying to do his job.

Plus, it’s not like she thought you had been the one to finally do that horrible man in.

Unfortunately for you though, while she could cut and style hair like a master of the craft, she’d never been the brightest among the group of you that worked together when it came to common sense.

So, after obtaining your apartment’s address, Keigo wished the girl a good day, reminding her he’d be in touch if he needed any information reconfirmed or followed up on.

“Just gimme a call if you need anything,” she said, giving him a wink over her shoulder. “You know where to find me.” After that, she was gone, leaving only Keigo, the forensic photographer, and two officers lingering at the scene.

After exchanging some last minute details, they decided to call it a day and head back to the precinct. The others seemed to think this was going to be a troublesome investigation, more so because there had been no witnesses and it was in the part of town none of them really wanted to make a habit of traveling to if they could help it, not really seeming to care that a man had been killed using a straight razor.

They’d say things on the ride back like, “Stuff like this happens all the time in this part of town. I don’t get why the Chief insists on us going down there unless one of them comes to our part of the city to stir up trouble first,” and “Some old guy got slashed. So what? It’s only interesting if it’s a pretty young girl or something. Can’t believe we have to do overtime to solve a case that doesn’t even have the concern of any next of kin,” but Keigo knew that, if his hunch was right—  and, let’s face it, it usually was— then this case was going to end up being more than any of them originally bargained for.

Maybe, if he was lucky, it might just turn out to be entertaining in the meantime too.

But first thing was first.

He had to find you.

Because you— little miss missing in action, the ghost of closing— were the first key to finding where this case led.

Actually, fuck the key. You were the whole damn door, lock and all.

***

“I told you to help yourself to whatever was in the fridge,” Dabi growled as he surveyed the damage to his secret snack stash, colorful wrappers and torn, metallic plastic packaging littering the kitchen table leaving blatant evidence of you and Tomura’s raid. Then, under his breath he complained, “God… Now I’m gonna have to start robbing the local Seven Eleven again… And I know they got me on CCTV last time…”

All the while, amidst Dabi’s rambled tirade of passive-aggressive complaints, you and Tomura were sitting atop the uneven counter, watching the inky-haired member of your hodge-podge trio with gaping stares and furrowed brows as if he’d left the warehouse with one head and returned with two.

Then, finally, after swiping the shredded remains into an already half full trash can (one that was likely stolen, as the logo for a local cafe was stamped on the front in white spray paint), Dabi whirled around to face you two, looking more than miffed as he snapped out a short-tempered, “And get the fuck off my counter!”

You jumped down, tiptoeing a few short steps towards him, Tomura sliding ungracefully off the counter a few seconds after. “Dabi…” you began, cautious, as if trying to talk someone off the ledge. Then you asked, as if this was the most distressing factor of the current equation, “Why are you soaking wet?”

Just seeming to register this to himself now, Dabi’s tense shoulders sagged, weighed down by heavy, soggy clothes, raven spikes matted flat to his head (you thought you saw a few droplets of diluted black race down his face but figured it could just be a trick of the light) and let out a defeated sigh.

“‘Cause it’s fucking pouring outside,” he said, adding on as his eyes squinted into a slight glare, “Maybe if you two wouldn’t have been crunching on all my shit then you would’ve heard it beating down on the roof.”

“Look, man, we’re sorry, it’s just—” Tomura began to apologize, actually sounding sort of heartfelt, but was cut off when Dabi shot him a scathing look.

Before things could begin to escalate between the two of them, as they so often tended to do, you stepped in, drawing closer to Dabi, and in a tone far too caring and soft for someone like him, you sighed and said, “Where do you keep your towels? You’re going to catch a cold if you stay wet like that…”

Dabi glanced from you, to Tomura, then back to you, his expression melting from hostile into something much more tired. And how he wanted to take you by the hand and lead you to his makeshift bathroom, give you one of his raggedy old towels that was frayed at the edges and eaten through with tiny holes and tears, sit on the edge of the grimy old tub and just let you work the fabric over his head, drying his hair and his face before peeling off his drenched clothes and letting you pat the water from the rest of him, if you’d be so kind.

But that kind of intimacy— that kind of care— was so foreign to Dabi, so long forgotten, that the thought of the emotions that might follow terrified him more than the need to be taken care of enticed him.

“I can do it myself,” he scoffed, all those sharp edges and harsh lines etching their way back into his voice and features. Then, right before rounding the corner of the kitchen cubicle, he peered back over his shoulder and said, “Oh, and, meeting in the living room in ten minutes…” The smirk that curled on his lips then caused a spark of fear and excitement to flare in your chest. It was the kind of smile only the totally insane or arrogant could wear. It was a smile that said, “I know something you don’t,” and, in this case, you hoped that something would play in your favor.

“Meeting?” Tomura asked, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms, not looking too thrilled at the vague order. “Meeting about what?”

Dabi turned around the rest of the way, leaned against what served as the cubicle’s doorway, and simply stated, “I think I have an idea. And it just might be crazy enough to work.”

***

Your apartment had been easy to find. Even easier to break into, since Keigo was well versed in picking the old, cheap locks used to provide a false sense of safety to anyone living in the rundown old buildings this far from the city’s sparkling center.

Because, despite the fact that the agency’s newest golden boy looked, sounded, and acted like he’d been raised in the privileged lap of the city’s luxury, Keigo was and always would be, to some degree, just another kid raised among the rats of the slums.

Sure, he hadn’t called the maze of narrow alleys and crumbling architecture home in over a decade now— he had the foster family who’d taken him in at thirteen and decided to keep him once he proved to hold some form of talent and intelligence to thank for that— but he could still remember what it felt like to navigate the dark tunnels and cramped spaces woven throughout the downtown area.

The only thing that had really changed, Keigo had thought to himself as he’d struggled to squeeze through a tiny opening on his journey through the cluttered side streets, was him. No longer was he the malnourished, spindly little kid with scraped knees and dirt-smudged cheeks who could slip through any opening, steal what food and supplies were needed to survive, and slither out in a flash, sprinting back to his little tarp-tent covering spread out at the end of an adjacent alley like a cobweb hanging loosely in the corner of an attic.

Now he was bigger, stronger, still lean and lithe but in a way that spoke more to health than starvation. But, most importantly, he was smarter, more cunning, blessed with the carefully studied and learned ability to talk his way into or out of any situation the job called for.

He’d already had a whole spiel rehearsed on the off chance he knocked on your door and you actually were dumb enough to answer. Though, of course, as was the more likely scenario from the start, you were nowhere to be found, your residency left vacant and in slight disarray. Aside from your unmade bed and a couple dishes scattered in the sink though, not much seemed out of the ordinary at first glance.

But any detective worth his salt knew that first glance meant near to nothing.

It was the digging further, the unearthing of unseen evidence, that really told you anything worthwhile about who or what a person was. And, at first, he wasn’t even entirely sure what he was looking for, but after rifling through your cabinets and drawers, flipping through your little calendar book that you’d used to keep track of things like your scheduled appointments for work or jotted down notes about items to pick up at the grocery store next payday, Keigo made his way into the bathroom and discovered the golden egg of the scene.

Balled up and tossed into the bathtub was a heap of clothing— your clothing— and, with hands gloved as to not leave any fingerprints or evidence of his own behind, he carefully tugged one article free from the pile. It was a shirt— your shirt— and it was covered in what was unmistakably recognized as the dark, dried remains of human blood.

Too much to be your own, Keigo figured instantly, and upon taking a closer look at the skirt that had been tangled with a tanktop, he could tell that, whatever had happened, it had been a rather messy affair.

It all added up— you disappearing right after your boss turned up dead, the blood on your clothes belonging to the man you’d most likely killed with one of the razors found around the barbershop— but yet, Keigo got the sense that there was far more to this than currently presented itself.

He wasn’t so much troubled by the likelihood of you— a young, attractive girl who’d been unfortunate to end up in the darker parts of town— killing your boss— a man whose lost life hadn’t been mourned much if the way his next of kin had sounded when they’d received the news over a phone call the morning the body was discovered. In fact, Keigo didn’t even really care why you’d done it. Again, he was familiar with the kinds of people who crawled between the cracks in this section of the city. He had a pretty good idea.

It was more so this feeling, this unrelenting intuition that, whatever you’d gotten yourself roped up in, it was far from done.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket then, interrupting his chain of thought for a moment as he peeled off a glove and clicked the answer button, one of his co-workers back at the precinct on the other line.

“Hey, so I know it’s technically your day off—” he began, and Keigo already knew where this was headed, preemptively rolling his eyes. “But we just got some new evidence on that other case you were working on and before we go any further the chief is insisting you take a look at it…” Keigo held the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, slipping the other glove back on before kneeling down to shift through whatever you had under your bathroom sink but finding nothing of particular interest. “So do you think it would be possible to just stop by at some point today? All the other guys are gettin’ pretty restless with the whole thing. Plus, you know they look up to you, Hawks—”

Keigo bristled slightly at the nickname as his co-worker continued to ramble on. He closed the cabinet, pulled the shower curtain three quarters of the way across just the way he’d found it, and strolled back into the main area of the studio, standing between your bed and the partially sectioned off kitchen area.

He checked his watch. 12:45 PM. He’d really wanted to drop by the new noodle place that had just opened up around the block from his own apartment in the city center, maybe catch a late afternoon showing of one of the 80’s action movies they were currently rerunning at the theatre, then have a nice, relaxing night before the whirlwind of work resumed the following morning.

This time though, his guilty conscience got the better of him, so he cut in before the guy on the other end of the call exhausted himself from trying to convince him and said, “Alright. I can be there in half an hour,” before getting a much relieved thank you in response. He hung up the call, just about to leave before remembering what he’d been about to do right before his phone rang.

Pulling the shower curtain back open to reveal the bloody clothes in the tub, Keigo snapped a few photos on his personal phone before returning everything to its previous, hastily yet lazily hidden state, then slipped back out of the apartment, making sure to relock the door, tossing the gloves in a rusted dumpster down the block from the building.

Even as he worked on sorting out and discussing the newly discovered details from the case he’d been called in about, a piece of his mind was still turning its wheels about you. So much still seemed— felt— uncertain.

But he was onto you.

All he had to do now was figure out where you went.

***

Black water sloshed against the edge of the docks, night turning it dark and oil-slick as is caught shimmering reflections of the hooked moon hanging overhead, salty air corroding away at rotting boards that creaked underfoot with the threat of breaking every time someone was brave enough to tread over them.

Located on the very edge of the city, there were only two types of people who ventured out this far— people looking for a place to hide or people who already had something to hide.

But, in this case, that was going to work in your favor. Because, like most crimes committed beyond the formally recognized city limits, if there was a case of breaking and entering, theft, or even murder, most times it wasn’t taken seriously, if even investigated at all. 

As Tomura and Dabi approached the chain link fence that tried and failed to deter trespassers, they were careful to stay out of sight and keep their heads down as they navigated the dark, debris strewn courtyard. It was littered with anything and everything from cigarette butts and playing cards and coins to the remains of clothing that had probably belonged to former enemies, now decaying bodies sunk to the bottom of the bay courtesy of some zipties and cinderblocks, scattered among wooden crates and broken glass.

Because even though this territory was technically owned by the city, it had been long claimed and occupied by some of the slum’s most notorious gangs, vultures landing to pick at the abandoned corpse left to rot on the desolate outskirts.

Dabi was far more suited to traversing this kind of terrain, footsteps quick and light as he ran from one cover to the next, clearly more familiar with the territory than Tomura, who more so scuttled and jumped clumsily a few generous strides behind his reluctant confidant, just barely avoiding being discovered by whoever had been put on watch that night.

But now, with their backs pressed to the wall and awaiting their signal in uncomfortable silence, the two boys tried not to instigate any unresolved issues with each other, which was to say, Dabi tried not to instigate any unresolved issues.

“Damn, what’s takin’ ‘er so long…” Dabi eventually grumbled under his breath, leg beginning to bounce and wishing he at least had a cigarette to pass the time with right now. Then, with unbridled sarcasm, “It’s not like she has the easiest part of the plan or anything…”

“Relax,” Tomura shot back through a hiss, growing tired with Dabi’s constant nagging, especially in an already high-tension environment. “Just give her time. Plus, she has to come all the way from the other side of the docks.”

Dabi felt his whole body coiling with the urge to jump into defense mode. To shoot back with some hurtful, low blow remark or, if he really had it his way, do something to trip the guy up and leave him in the dust the next time they had to move further into the nest of nemeses. It would hardly be his fault if Tomura got shot because he couldn’t run fast enough. You’d be distraught and the plan would go to shit, sure, but at least Dabi would still earn the reward of being able to pick up your devastated pieces after the fact.

But, once he took a second to apply some logic to that scenario, Dabi realized that jeopardizing the chance to nab one hundred-thousand dollars, even for a chance at winning you over, was a fucking dumb thing to risk. Well, really only about thirty-three thousand once it was split three ways between you.

But still. That was a hell of a lot more money than any of you had ever had your hands on— ever imagined having your hands on— and all in cash at that.

But the best part of it all— y’know, besides the life changing wealth— was the fact that Dabi was finally going to be able to score some revenge against those who had wronged him. Or, at least, a small portion of those who had wronged him. If he was being honest, he’d sort of lost count when it came to the tally. But these guys had been the most recent offense, which was good enough for him.

They were the ones who’d left him beaten and bloody in the alley the night he’d met you. The night he’d stolen from them, only to have them steal it right back, and caused Dabi to suffer the beginning stages of withdrawal from his beloved white pills.

Tonight he felt sharp though. Tonight he felt good. Tonight, he felt ready for anything that could come at him. There’s no reward without a little risk, he reminded himself, trying to keep calm while he and Tomura waited, pretty much out in the open, vulnerable and defenseless. On a similar note, Tomura’s line of reasoning had been that winning big prizes required playing difficult games.

You just hoped you made it out alive at the end of it all, one hundred-thousand dollars richer or not.

And so, running like your life depended on it, tears streaming down your face, knees skinned and wrists bruised, looking like you’d narrowly escaped a specific kind of hell, you called out, voice shredded and broken as you begged for help, cries echoing across the water and hopefully reaching its intended audience.

Something in Tomura’s chest ached at that sound, body instinctively pulled in your direction as if you actually needed saving. He stopped himself, reminded that it was all just an act, but even when he felt a nudge at his shoulder, Dabi dragging his attention back to the task at hand, the look Tomura wore was almost traumatized. Let me go to her, his eyes pleaded as carmine clashed with cobalt. Please, just let me go to her.

“C’mon,” Dabi beckoned, ignoring Tomura’s pained expression, already having swiftly picked the rickety old padlock securing a thick chain around the back door of the warehouse on the edge of the water, dropping the linked metals to the concrete slow and quiet. “We only get one shot at this. Don’t fuck it up.”

***

Three days ago, the trio of you had been huddled in the living room for Dabi’s impromptu “meeting”. You and Tomura sat side by side on the couch, thighs pressed together, while Dabi paced restlessly back and forth on the other side of the scuffed up coffee table that had most likely been salvaged from someone’s curbside or stolen from a junkyard. He still had a towel slung around his shoulders, darker stains smudged against the navy blue material from where he’d roughly rustled his hair dry, now wearing a clean white t-shirt and fresh pair of jeans.

“And that’s why they’ll never see it coming!” Dabi explained fervently, still trying to get his excited madness to rub off on you and Tomura. “They won’t even be able to trace it back to me— back to us— because you two practically don’t even exist to them!”

“But…” you began, hesitant to poke holes in his master plan lest he completely lose his cool. “Didn’t they see us the other day when we were running from them in the alley?”

Dabi dismissively waved away your concern, frowning for a moment as he quickly brushed over the fact that those were, “Completely different guys. I mean, there’s a chance they might know the guys we’re targeting, but they hole up on the other side of town. Don’t do much business together except for once in a while.”

“Oh, great!” you commented, faking pleasantry and relief before your expression and tone dropped back into unamused ridicule, “So you have friends in all the darkest corners then…”

“Don’t forget that the cops are probably still looking for you because you stole a car,” Tomura butt in, to which Dabi just narrowed his eyes and hissed back at him, “Not helping.”

“What’s the plan, Dabi?” you asked, point blank. With an exasperated shrug of your shoulders and a look of incredulity you said, “I mean, what? We break into where they keep the drugs or the money or whatever and then what? We just grab as much as we can carry and make a run for it? They’ll catch us in an instant— They’ll follow us right back here and then we’ll be even more fucked because we’ll have nowhere else to hide!”

“Need I remind you I have sev—”

“Several hideouts in every corner of the outskirts,” you completed his sentence, rendering him silent for just a little longer. “Yeah, I know. You told us. But if you think the three of us stand a chance against however many of them there are, then you’re delusional.”

Dabi ceased his pacing, facing you with arms crossed over his chest, tattoos on the most display you’d seen them yet with his usual jacket absent from his form, currently hung to dry over the side of one of the cubicle dividers, and asked bitterly, “Oh and what’s your plan then, princess? Gonna waltz in there and woo them with your feminine charms?”

A scornful response was on the tip of your tongue, just about to be spit right back at him when all of a sudden, something in your mind clicked.

“Actually,” you said, “that’s probably the smartest thing you’ve suggested so far.”

Dabi raked his hands over his face, though you could still see the way he rolled his eyes from between the cracks in his fingers, and muttered something indistinct under his breath that was muffled by his dramatic display of disbelief.

“But— Hey, listen—” you went on, forcing Dabi to pay attention. “Sure, it’s not like I’m gonna go in there and get them to hand over the goods with the power of seduction or whatever, but I do know something else that might work that only I can do.”

“And what’s that?”

You smirked, the idea just sick enough that it might actually succeed. “I can make myself worth something. A bounty or a runaway or—”

“Human trafficking,” Dabi interrupted, and while he looked like what he’d just suggested was as common as a cloud drifting across the sky, you and Tomura both stared at him like he’d just uttered the most offensive thing either of you had ever heard. “Yeah…” he nodded to himself, silently working over the details in his head. “Yeah, they mark those girls so, if they run away, they can always be returned, y’know, so long as the fucker runnin’ the show can pay up.”

“Hello? Hypothetical human trafficking victim sitting right here…” You waved your hand, causing Dabi’s electric blue gaze to snap back to meet yours. “Wanna ask me how I feel about this? ‘Cause it’s definitely not good.”

“Well how else do you propose you make yourself worth something, genius?”

“Well good luck making this plan work without me you snarky piece of—”

“Guys!” Tomura shouted over you and Dabi’s argument, his raspy voice sounding raw and jagged, like there were tiny shards of broken glass stuck in his throat. Once you and Dabi were looking at him, he cleared his throat and addressed you by name, saying, “Let’s just hear him out.” Tomura put his arm around you, tugging you slightly closer into his side as if trying to comfort you. “And Dabi—” His eyes narrowed with contempt at the man in question, warning him with his gaze. “Why don’t you explain it in a way that’s a little less…” He let the sentence trail off, searching for the right word, then settled on, “A little less like, y’know. Like she’s not actually in the room with us.”

Again, Dabi thought to himself that, if you weren’t around to act as Tomura’s shield, he’d have beaten this guy’s ass up, down, and all the way around town for the audacity he had of which to speak to him with. And in Dabi’s house, no less.

But, as all of you were coming to realize— some more begrudgingly than others— this was a plan that needed three. Not two. Not one. Three.

It was the magic number and, if nothing else, it was the only thing the group of you really had going for you.

So while you and Dabi brainstormed, cooking up a plot that your targets just might buy, Tomura took to mapping it all out, having Dabi help fill in the blanks in the shoddy blueprint of the waterside warehouse, as he’d seen the territory firsthand before, and giving you all a better visual of your positions and movements throughout the entire plan, given it went accordingly.

Though, as all of you knew but none of you dared to point out, nothing ever really went according to plan, no matter how much choreography went into it.

“But how are we really gonna sell it…?” Dabi murmured, glancing from the crudely drawn map to you back and forth a few times before holding on your face, your figure, trying to decipher if your acting abilities would be enough or if these guys— pieces of shit who’d likely dealt with real human trafficking victims before— would smell the inauthenticity from a mile away.

“Well…” You began, hesitant as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, his face only inches from yours as the three of you sat smushed together on the floor on one side of the coffee table, you nestled between the two boys. You sighed out a regretful breath, knowing if you didn’t force the words out now, they’d remain lodged in your throat. 

You stood from the huddle, hands on your hips as you rounded to the other side of the table. You looked from Dabi to Tomura then back to Dabi again, both of them looking at you caught in suspenseful confusion.

Then you shrugged and said, “I guess one of you is gonna have to hurt me.”

***

Dabi and Tomura had been met with a narrow hall dotted evenly with pools of cool light casted down from the flickering fluorescence after clipping the chain that had been secured around the back door.

The coast looked clear, until Dabi heard something and quickly pulled Tomura into a tiny crook in the hall as the sound of footsteps echoed in warning taps around the corner.

The two of them stood there, practically pressed chest to chest and trying to avoid eye contact, until the sound faded. The moment they were in the clear, Dabi shrugged out of the small space, nudging Tomura in the ribs amidst his haste.

“Just how many of them are there?” Tomura asked, keeping an ear out for any more unexpected visitors.

“Well, we saw at least five guarding the front,” Dabi recalled, continuing further down the dimly lit hallway, checking every corner before he turned it. Puddles of greenish-blue light pooled evenly along the floors, leaving small spaces of darkness that Dabi couldn’t help but picture someone lying in wait and ready to strike within. For a moment, he even thought he could make out a familiar face within the shadows— someone who he’d tried so hard to leave behind, who he’d escaped the moment he left home and set out on these crooked streets, yet still haunted him like a specter no matter how far he ran— his own personal, paternal monster.

“Hey,” Tomura whispered, pulling Dabi from his trance. “Are we gonna get going or what?”

Dabi glanced down the opposite hall, looked back to where he’d seen the wavy, mist-like image of his father’s face like an omen through a fog, then started down the other way. “It’s this way,” he directed, waving Tomura along after him to follow. “Stay close and don’t let your guard down.”

***

When the time came, you’d asked Tomura to do it. You had a feeling Dabi would take things too far, end up actually breaking your wrist after getting a preview of his grip strength from the time he’d hauled you up onto the roof along with him while you’d been running from your pursuers in the alley.

And Tomura hadn’t wanted to do it. Didn’t even like the thought of hurting you, despite how well acquainted he personally was with pain. But it hadn’t been up to him. You were the one that was going to have to suffer, so you got to choose who inflicted the suffering.

“Ok…” You winced, preparing yourself for what you knew was going to be an unpleasant experience. Tomura held your wrists in his grip, loose for now, but about to become a whole lot tighter. “I’m ready. Just do it—”

A high-pitched yelp escaped your throat upon the sudden pain, Tomura gritting his teeth as he dug his fingers into your tender skin as hard as he could without crushing the bone. You bit your tongue, a sob hitching in your chest and your feet stomping on the ground as you tried to distract yourself with anything that would help you outlast the pain.

“More?” Tomura asked, sounding distressed. “Or stop?”

For a second, you couldn’t answer, just hissed a sharp breath in and then panted a shaky exhale out. “Just… Ok— Ok, stop!” His grip released in an instant, you pulling your throbbing wrists into your chest, your pin-prickling hands taking turns rubbing the places where the imprint of Tomura’s fingers were already beginning to blotch in navy and violet from under your skin, dark bruises blooming bright and brutal over your flesh.

“Fuck…” you hissed, the pain subsiding a lot slower than you’d originally anticipated.

“Sorry…” Tomura huffed out, the word a wisp of air exhaled under his breath, his carmine gaze tracking you and hoping that when you next looked up at him it wouldn’t be with fear or contempt.

Just then, Dabi reentered the room with three cans of beer and an ice pack, setting the items on the coffee table and casting a somewhat nervous grimace towards your blossoming welts. “Did it work?” he asked, not sounding so thrilled about the current state of your plan now.

“I think so…” you muttered, Tomura lightly pressing the ice pack to one of your injuries, holding your wrist in his palm like it was made of the most delicate glass. “It’s just… I hate to say it, but it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than this to be convincing.”

When you met Tomura’s eyes, he was already wearing a look of pleading worry, all that wide, bright red begging you not to make him go any further than what he’d just regretfully done, even if it had been with your consent.

“Tomura…” you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. “It’s ok. It’s not your fault. It’s—”

He snapped his gaze away from you, jaw clenching and looking like he was wrestling with about a dozen emotions at once, a sea of memories flooding him. He opened his mouth to speak only to close it again. But you gave him time to collect his thoughts, and once he’d finally picked out the words he wished to say, he told you, “Does it really have to be you? Is there anyway it could be me instead. I mean—”

“Tomura…” Lightly, with your free hand, you reached over to cradle his cheek, trying not to flinch when you bent your wrist a little too far under its current state. In that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you in that room, Dabi torn on whether to stay and express his disgust with your openly displayed affections or leave again and give you the room.

“It’s ok. Besides, this is the only way this works. Once we have the money we can go anywhere, right? We can go anywhere…” The thought of getting out of the city’s gutter had felt like such a far off dream to you for so long. Now, faced with the possibility of leaving the entire country behind if that’s what you so chose, well…

It was damn near impossible to imagine.

“Alright, well, if you two love birds are done making googly eyes at each other…” Dabi droned, breaking the delicate silence of the atmosphere with the sharp crack and sizzle of opening his beer, slurping the first sip noisily and making sure to swallow extra loud just out of spite, “I think we have a plan to get back to. This is time sensitive, remember? Tick tock, tick tock.”

Tomura shot Dabi a scathing glare, an unsightly sneer to match, but before another argument could ensue, you stood from the couch and said, “He’s right. We only have four more hours until we either do this or die trying…” You wandered over to an open space of scuffed concrete off to the side of what defined the perimeters of the living room, brushing away some dirt and debris with the side of your shoe. “That should be enough time for these bruises to darken.”

You looked back at the boys, both watching you with varying levels of confusion and intrigue, and then you locked eyes with Dabi, giving a short, beckoning nod of your head. “I’m not fucking around this time. Dabi. Get over here and push me.”

Dabi quirked up an inky eyebrow, beer can still raised to his lips. He finished his sip then placed the drink off to the side, resting his elbows on his spread knees. “Uh… Come again?”

“You heard me,” you taunted, shifting on your feet. “I mean, I’ve been beaten and abused by all kinds of people, right? That’s why I had to run away? So get over here and make it real. I can’t do it on my own.”

Dabi then looked to Tomura, who offered no assurance but also no protest, before sighing to himself and pushing up from the couch, lazily strolling over. You’d been afraid of him before, still felt some sense of nervousness in his unpredictable presence, but now, looking up at him, his shadow casting over you as he looked down at you right back, those cerulean eyes damn near glowing in the dark, you felt something you couldn’t place.

It wasn’t quite fear, but the way your heart skipped a beat in your chest told you to be wary still.

“Turn around,” Dabi muttered, voice low, the three syllables not so much an order as they were a suggestion.

You abided by his request, slowly turning so that your back faced him, already bracing your hands in front of you to catch you when you went down. “Just— Just count down from three or something,” you stuttered, suddenly wondering whether you were going to regret choosing him to do this or not.

Now standing from the couch, Tomura said your name, an anxious upturn to the end of it like he was warning you of something you already knew was coming.

“I mean, I don’t know if it would be better if I saw it coming… But I only wanna do this once so—”

“One…” Dabi began, drawing out the number as if that would buy you more time before you were subjected to even more pain.

“But not too hard—!” you warned through a startled gasp, preemptively flinching. “None of this will work if I break anything. And also—”

“Two…”

“Wait! Maybe I do wanna do it myself! I mean, maybe there’s a way to—”

You didn’t even hear Dabi say three, but the moment both his hands made quick, hard contact to your shoulder blades and you felt yourself surging forward, the rest of your protest was cut off with a gasp.

You stumbled to the ground and skid a little, yelping as electric bolts of pain shot through your knees and elbows as they collided with concrete, numbness ricocheting through your bones. You didn’t even register your skinned shins and nicked palms until you felt something wet dripping down your calf and touched it, fingers coming back with the bright redness of blood.

“Are you ok?” Tomura asked, coming to your side and taking a closer look at the latest injury. Dabi stood back, not necessarily admiring his violence but— ok, maybe he was a little bit.

“I’m fine…” you assured him, voice a little strained with discomfort as you staggered to stand, Tomura helping you back to your feet on wobbly legs. “I don’t think I wanna go further than this though…” You looked to Dabi, his gaze taking a moment to move from your bleeding knees to meet your beseeching eyes. “Please tell me this is enough?”

“Something around your throat might help,” he commented, and when Tomura gave him a look of disgust that very much translated to “dude, what the fuck” Dabi just shrugged and replied defensively, “I’m just sayin’! These guys are pieces of shit! If you think they draw the line at choking a girl—”

“Alright, enough!” you cut in, starting to feel a little nauseous. “If we need to take things that far— Fuck, I don’t know, I’ll have to steal some eyeshadow from the drug store and do it that way. I’m not letting either of you do that to me.”

He considered you, looking you up and down a few times before nodding to himself in contemplation. Then he said, “I think if we add some fake needle tracks and really fuck up your hair and makeup, put you in something a little less…” He vaguely gestured to the oversized outfit you were currently wearing, which consisted of a pair of Dabi’s boxer shorts (you’d been extremely adamant that he lend you clean ones) and an old black t-shirt adorned with the logo of some underground metal band. You cast him a look in response that agreed. Enough said.

“Alright, well, that settles it then. You two are gonna have to get me some things. And you’re gonna have to do it fast. Makeup takes a while.” Dabi asked you what you meant, though Tomura already seemed to have caught on, even if just partially. “Well, I can’t risk showing my face around you two on the off chance of one of them seeing us together before the job. It’ll blow our entire cover. So, you two are gonna have to go steal me some drug store makeup and a skirt or a dress or whatever you can get your hands on.”

After listing off some more specific items you thought you would need, more so in the realm of makeup than clothes, you sent the boys off to do some shoplifting. In the meantime, you navigated your way into the bathroom and searched around the disorganized cabinets until you found a nearly empty bottle of disinfectant, setting yourself up on the couch for a little pre-plan contemplation session while you carefully cleaned your open wounds, each sizzling sting of the peroxide on your skin making you wonder just many times you could ask yourself if you were going to be able to live to regret another decision you made.

***

The cheap slip dress was a size too big and the chunky costume jewelry earrings kept smacking you in the face with every bounding stride you took sprinting across the field, your feet bare and cold, adrenaline helping you forget your staged injuries for the time being. Clumpy streaks of mascara ran down your cheeks in pairs, biting the inside of your cheek, your lip, at one point even your own bruised wrist, just to force more tears to come.

Around your neck was Tomura’s handprint branded in dark violets faded around the edges with navy— eyeshadow, that is. You’d brushed it onto his hand before having him place his palm to your throat and apply just enough pressure to leave the residue on your skin. You’d spruced up the fine details yourself to make it appear as convincing as you could, even adding a few scratch tracks, some of which had been done with your own nails.

“Every little bit helps, I guess…” Dabi had said, almost sounding a little disturbed as he’d watched you mutilate yourself from the bathroom doorway.

“Yeah, well, it fucking better,” you’d said bitterly under your breath as you applied lipstick and then smudged it across the corner of your mouth with a tissue. You thought you looked the part. Now the only question was if they would believe it too.

With every nerve in your body screaming for you to stop, to turn around, to run away from the men pointing guns at you and not towards them, you forced yourself to press on. You just had to have faith in the fact that Dabi and Tomura— or, in the very least, Tomura— wouldn’t just abandon you to the wolves.

Or, who knows. Maybe they would. You’d only known them for five days, give or take.

“The fuck…?” one of the guys muttered, gazing over the barrel of his pistol at the silhouette frantically approaching, your distressed cries ringing out loud enough for the sound to reach them, though the words were still indistinguishable.

“Dunno…” another shrugged, lowering his gun, which caused some of the others to do the same. “Stay here though. I’ll go check it out.”

You came skidding to a halt right up against the chain link fence that caged the entrance, clutching the criss-crossed steel wire in shaking hands, sobbing as you babbled incoherently, more tears streaming down your face as you shook your head back and forth, rattling the fence in a desperate attempt to get in.

“Please!” you shrieked, making sure to anxiously glance behind you a few times for good measure. You were being chased after all. Pursued. Hunted down. “Please! Please, you have to help me! They’re after me! I— I can’t go back there!”

The man who’d volunteered to approach you stopped halfway between his colleagues and the fence, looking over his shoulder at them with slight confusion as if asking for some guidance, but when offered none, simply shuffled a few steps closer, finger still resting on the trigger, and asked, “Who’s after you?”

“The last thing you need to be is logical,” Dabi had instructed you on the drive over, having hot-wired the nearest vehicle he could find unattended after smashing the driver’s side window with a screwdriver, making quick work with getting the engine started and sneaking glances at you through the rearview mirror as you adjusted the cheap dress to stay up on your chest. “The less sense you make, the more time you’ll buy us.”

“Oh, god! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—!” You were practically hyperventilating at this point, making yourself lightheaded in the process but hoping that only added to your acting. “Please! Please just let me in! I— I’ll do anything! I just can’t go back there! He’ll— He’ll kill me! Please! Please, please, please, please, please!”

You clutched the gaps in the fence above your head, leaned forward so your forehead could press against the wire, sobbing yourself to a point of near faintness, and feeling an odd sense of pride when you felt the beam of their flashlights shining on your form. Starting at your hands and making their way all the way down to your feet before tracing back up again, their hesitation and silence spoke to the fact that they knew exactly the kind of person you’d escaped from.

Or, at least, the kind of person you wanted them to believe you’d escaped from.

“She one of Chisaki’s girls?” you heard one of them mutter, lifting your head to show off more of your smeared makeup and watery, bloodshot eyes.

“We’d have to check ‘er for the brand,” you heard another answer, and that made your stomach drop. Of all the effects you’d applied— both special and practical— a brand hadn’t been one of them.

“Well should we let ‘er in or just call ‘im?”

“Fuck if I know, man. I mean, unless there’s a reward for returnin’ ‘er, why not just keep ‘er for ourselves?” The three of you had agreed not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary— more so because that would take too long and only complicate things— but that comment made you wish you’d voted in Dabi’s favor for taking as many of these assholes out as possible.

“Just let ‘er in. Take ‘er to the boss. He can decide what to do with ‘er.” He looked you up and down again, eyes landing on your fake needle tracks for a while until he said, “And if she is Chisaki’s… Well…” If you weren’t so terrified then, you might’ve been able to pick up on the fear in the man’s own voice, horrified yet curious as to what kind of monster this Chisaki person must be to scare these guys so much without even showing his face. “Just don’t let anyone put their hands on her until we confirm.”

And then, the gate was being unchained and swung open. You almost forgot to keep up the act, jumping from your temporarily dazed state back into the panicked pleading and rambled thank yous of a poor drug-addicted, abused, hostage-escapee of a girl who thought she was finally being saved.

But that had been the easy part.

Now you had to clear a path for Tomura and Dabi to grab the goods, grab you, and get the hell outta dodge.

*** 

The place was bigger on the inside than it looked and, also equally as troublesome, a complete fucking maze.

This gang had enough guys to cover their main entrance and the goods they kept inside, but not enough to have every inch of this place on lock. Besides, back when Dabi ran with them, it had been his job to hangout and watch for stragglers who might try and sneak up on whatever shithole they were calling base for the week in hopes of finding a stray window or door unattended. Since his departure, he’d been willing to bet they hadn’t bothered finding a replacement.

They hadn’t had a reason to. They’d never been infiltrated.

At least, not until tonight.

But even so, as they navigated the crumbling concrete halls like every corner they turned could be their last, Dabi was kicking himself for not bringing a gun. Too bad he didn’t even own one. Though, maybe tonight he’d get lucky enough to change that.

“Clear,” Tomura whispered, him and his inky-haired accomplice dashing down another long stretch until they finally grew closer to the heart of this place, distant voices now registering from off in the distance.

“Not far now,” Dabi said, also careful to keep his voice low. “When we get there we’ll just have to hang tight till we get her signal.”

It shouldn’t be long now, he figured. If things went according to plan, the guards would take the bait and let you inside. Someone would inform their leader and draw a bulk of the attention surrounding the goods elsewhere. From there, Tomura would cause an additional distraction while Dabi swooped in and grabbed the duffle bag or whatever sorry excuse for a hiding place the cash was stored in. He knew it would be in whatever room they kept the most heavily occupied. These guys might’ve had more than him, but not by much. They wouldn’t risk letting their guard down in fear of losing what they’d scored.

They might as well have lit up a blinking neon sign that flashed “I’M HERE! I’M HERE!” with an arrow pointing straight to where they stashed the money. That’s how confident Dabi was feeling about this plan. Besides, he kept reminding himself, he used to run with this crew. He knew they talked big and acted tough, but at the end of the day they were just as desperate and greedy as any other slum rat trying to survive was, himself included.

“…Should’a seen the look on ‘is face, man!” one boasted as Tomura and Dabi came upon their main hangout, crouching low beneath the windows cut out in the half-finished construction job, the glass never installed before the place had been left to be scavenged by the downtown dogs. “He was all like, ‘Please, I have a family! I have kids! You don’t have to do this!’” The man let out a dark chuckle, the sadistic sound making Dabi clench his jaw. “And I was all like, ‘Well I guess you should’a thought about that before you took out a loan you couldn’t repay.’”

“And then what?” a second guy asked, sounding high off his ass with the way his words slurred and sloshed together like water threatening to spill over the edge of a glass.

“Well then I fuckin’ slit his throat, obviously,” the leader, a man Dabi knew was called Jiro, shrugged, as if killing a man in cold blood was the most uninteresting topic in the world. Dabi took the risk of slowly peeking over the edge of his cover, trying to get a count on just how many guys they might have to deal with— or outrun— if things went south.

But, from the looks of it, there was just Jiro, one guy half asleep from whatever he was high on, and a third who slouched forward from his seat on the couch occasionally to tap the ashes of a dwindling cigarette into a chipped tray on the table, his leg bouncing anxiously while his gaze darted around as if expecting a threat to pop up any moment now. But, most importantly of all, Dabi noticed, was the gun secured at his belt. Now if only he could figure out an easy way to steal it…

“What we got?” Tomura asked, growing a little restless as Dabi sunk back below cover, filling him in on what he’d seen. Then, nodding to himself, Tomura said, “So if we get rid of the leader somehow, we could just take the other two out ourselves…”

“Yeah, but only if the paranoid one doesn’t get all trigger happy on us, which, trust me, one look at that guy and I can tell, given the chance, he will. So here’s what I’m thinking…”

As Dabi laid out the next phase, Tomura was only half listening. Truthfully, he was still too antsy wondering what was going to happen— or maybe already currently happening— to you to be able to fully focus on the task at hand.

“But first thing’s first,” Dabi decided, looking a little more conflicted than confident now. “We gotta figure out exactly where in there they’re keeping it. Once we locate the cash, we’ll have a better chance at actually getting out of here with it alive.”

That was something they both could agree on, at least, and Tomura suggested they split up to try and cover more ground. From where they were currently crouched, the view inside the shoddy lounge contained plenty of blind spots. Plenty of places for a duffle bag holding dozens of wads of bundled bills to hide. So, with Dabi venturing further around the right side and Tomura beginning to creep towards the left corner, the two of them attempted to better map out the area without being spotted, the tops of their heads bobbing up and down through the vacant window cutouts for only a few seconds at a time. But the closer they came to completing the circle, the more worried Dabi became.

Because he didn’t see anything worth much of anything anywhere.

“Shit…” he swore under his breath as he sunk back below cover, defeat already looming over him like a shadow. With his back pressed to the wall, the chill seeping through the concrete soaking through his clothes, Dabi was almost ready to call it off. To just slip out before there was time for even more losses to pile up and regroup back at the warehouse.

But that’s when he heard it.

A scream.

High and loud and splintered with terror.

He flinched at the sound of it, the blood-curdling cry pulling the attention of the other men in the room, their conversation suddenly going quiet except for one muttered, “The fuck…?” from High Guy.

Dabi lifted his gaze over his cover, locked eyes with Tomura across the way, even from this far able to tell how his crimson stare widened with pleading.

Let me go to her, let me go to her, let me go to her.

But Dabi shook his head, slow and warning, the gesture advising him to stay put for now.

“Well?” Jiro snapped, causing both the other men in the vicinity to wince. “Get the fuck up and go check it out!”

There was the sound of frantic, shuffling feet rushing out of the room, Dabi’s gun escaping as the man with it secured to his belt drew it and prepared his finger on the trigger as he and his more sluggish colleague disappeared off into a deeper part of the building, nearly spotting Tomura who pressed himself as hard and flat as he could against the wall he was hiding behind, waiting until he saw the darkness swallow them completely until he dared shift his position to meet back up with Dabi.

But Dabi didn’t move.

Not yet.

Jiro’s back was to him now, not a care in the world as he reclined and rested his arms across the top of the sofa, rolling his neck and groaning as a few joints popped, the red scorpion tattooed there shifting as the tendons moved beneath his skin, the crackling echoing faintly throughout the high-ceilinged space.

The way he saw it, Dabi had a choice to make. And it was now or never.

He leapt through the window opening with more cat-like grace than most people would’ve assumed him capable of, rubber-soled boots laced tight and landing soft and soundless against the dusty floor. 

Tomura popped up to try and see where his accomplice was currently at, but felt his stomach sink with dread when he saw Dabi sneaking up on Jiro, a length of stray rope that had been discarded amidst the other odds and ends of debris scattered across the floor held firm and taut between his hands.

What the fuck are you doing, he would’ve called out if it wouldn’t have meant sudden death. So instead, Tomura decided to double back and pursue his own mission, now that everyone seemed to be going rogue. 

But the thing was, Dabi was still technically doing things according to plan, just with a little improvisation tossed in at the last minute. Because he’d seen something Tomura hadn’t, and while things most certainly wouldn’t be going as smoothly as you all originally had hoped, you wouldn’t be leaving empty handed if he managed to actually pull it off.

Because placed on top of the coffee table and currency serving as Jiro’s foot rest was a metal box with a turn dial on the side— an item Dabi hadn’t been able to tell prior was actually a safe.

Here goes nothing, he thought to himself right before he slipped the rope over Jiro’s head and pulled it tight across the man’s throat. When the struggle started to look like it wasn’t going to turn out in Dabi’s favor, he growled out a desperate, “Tomura! A little help!” but was met with nothing except Jiro’s continued grunting, choking sounds and a fist colliding with his cheek.

Dabi went to just put the man into a headlock but Jiro threw his head back and cracked Dabi in the nose, blood gushing and temporarily spotting his vision with white. Dabi loosened his grip, giving Jiro just enough space and time to throw his assailant off of him and swivel around to look him in the face with wild, wrathful eyes.

“You—!” Jiro began to accuse, reaching for something inside his jacket, but Dabi was faster, barreling towards him and tackling him, both of them crashing through the coffee table before they hit the ground, the safe sliding across the floor until it went under one of the gaps of the wooden shipping crates stacked atop each other off to the side.

“Fuck—!” Dabi yelped, feeling his elbow crack down on the concrete with a sickening crunch, pain lancing through his bones like a lightning strike before his arm went numb from elbow to fingertips, which was probably for the best right now.

Because he didn’t have time for wincing and whining. Not when Jiro was already halfway to standing and wearing an expression of blind rage and bloodlust.

And then, reaching back into his coat, instead of pulling out a pistol like Dabi had originally anticipated, instead Jiro drew out a blade. An eighteen inch machete that gleamed in the dull, yellow light, freshly sharpened and hungry for its next victim.

And Jiro— Jiro was laughing.

He was laughing like a man who already knew he’d won.

“Gotta hand it to ya, kid…” he taunted, voice gravelly and strained from where the rope had bit into his throat, a rough, red mark rubbed raw across his skin. Dabi went to stand, but Jiro kicked him in the ribs hard, knocking the wind from his lungs. Then he pressed a grimy boot to Dabi’s chest, effectively pinning him in place, and concluding with a sinisterly amused, “You sure don’t know when to quit.”

Suddenly, Dabi was sixteen years old again, scrappy and weak and all alone. His hair was still snow white and his pale skin was unmarked, not even having gotten his first tattoo yet. He was hungry and desperate and all he had to his name was a black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, some combat boots, and a pocket knife.

He’d chosen the wrong guys to steal from loads of times during that first year, been beaten within an inch of his life too many times to count, and that had begun even before he’d fled to the streets, so what was one more time, right?

Only, this time, with the blade resting under his chin, Jiro intent on taking his sweet time making Dabi squirm before he made him bleed, Dabi had a feeling he wasn’t coming out of it alive.

So close, he thought with regret, both hands gripping Jiro’s ankle in his fists and attempting to lift some of the pressure from his bruised chest, but all that seemed to do was make the man stomp down harder. I was so fuckin’ close…

And that wasn’t just about the money.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen…” Jiro said, voice lowered to a ruthless hush. “I’m gonna handcuff you—” he gestured with the machete, “to that refrigerator over there. Then, I’m gonna go get the other guys ‘cause I’m sure they’d be just fuckin’ elated to see you again—” Dabi tried to twist free with one quick, harsh jostle, but to no avail. What Dabi had in height, Jiro had double of in strength. He knew he didn’t stand a chance. “And after that,” Jiro continued, ignoring Dabi’s growing despair like he was nothing more than a fly slowly buzzing about the room, the threat level only warrenting a light swat, “we’re all gonna take turns teaching you what happens when you keep try’na bite the hand that fuckin’ feeds…”

Dabi remembered his days serving as one of Jiro’s yes-men cronies, seventeen years old and halfway to a full sleeve of ink etched into his right arm, hair a fading blueish-black. He remembered the grueling hours, the shit jobs left especially for him because he was the newbie, yeah, let Dabi do all the things no one else wants to. He remembered the way his ribs began to show stark through the t-shirt he was outgrowing, could still feel the sour pang of starvation twisting just below his sternum. The headaches. The disorientation from going five days with nothing but a heel of stale bread and half a can of some other guy’s beer. Always left to beg and scavenge through the meager scraps of the packs’ provisions like the outcast runt of the litter.

Holding a scream back behind clenched teeth as he felt the pressure on his chest feel like it was soon to splinter ribs, Dabi spit, “When did you ever even try to feed me, motherfucker—” which in turn only earned him more agony. But if he was going to die tonight, he might as well hold nothing back.

And for what, Dabi wondered, eying the safe which taunted him from just a few short yards away under the crate,  Just for a fuckin’ chance at a life out of the gutter…

All he’d have to do would be to reach under there and grab it.

Pathetic.

“Enough chit-chat. Just be a good boy,” Jiro teased, pressing the blade’s edge harder against Dabi’s craning neck as he reached into his back pocket and produced the set of steel cuffs that clinked and clacked against each other as they were dangled before him, “and don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

***

They took you into the building, caged you in the center of their tight formation, guns still held at the ready, and led you to a room in the back filled with more dangerous looking men.

You felt your stomach flood with dread the moment all their heads turned in unison to the opening door, four new sets of eyes landing on your disheveled, abused, and terrified state with varying degrees of confusion and eagerness. 

“That don’t look like pizza,” one man huffed with sarcasm, his lips splitting into a smirk and causing the scar that ran through one side of his mouth to pull awkwardly. Then, turning back to his buddies, all of them holding playing cards close to their chests, occasionally darting their glances down to a growing pile of money wagered at the center of the table they were gathered around, he asked, “Any of you order an appetizer beforehand without tellin’ me about it?”

They all laughed, their mockery of you and your situation— or rather, the situation you were pretending to be in, which still made you just as sick knowing real victims were probably passed through their hands as regularly as a slice of pepperoni and cheese, by the sounds of it— causing you to begin shaking with fear, your entire body trembling like a rabbit surrounded by pack of salivating wolves.

“We found her by the front fence,” one of the men who’d led you through the building explained, and while he sounded a little more sympathetic than the new group you were faced with, if things began to escalate you doubted he’d do anything to stop it. And then, leaning in to speak quieter to the man with the scar, he said, “She might be one’a Chisaki’s girls…”

The man with the scar set his cards facedown on the edge of the table, pushing up from his seat with a sigh and strolling over to take a closer look at you. He leaned down to be on your level, his face only inches from yours as he studied your smeared lipstick and running mascara. He asked you, voice lowered to a quiet growl, “You one’a Chisaki’s girls? And don’t lie to me now, because, y’know that if you are, we don’t really have a choice here, right?”

He noticed you were shaking, your stare still spread wide with trauma and your jaw clenched shut as you felt tears begin to well in your eyes. You weren’t acting anymore. You didn’t have to. Not when every bit of this suddenly felt all too real.

“Shit…” he exhaled, seeming to come to his own conclusion as he straightened back to his full height, running his gaze up and down your bruised body. He seemed to be considering something, the room filling with an eerie, anticipatory silence, until he nodded to himself and said to the group that had guided you in, “Did you check for the brand?”

You felt your blood run cold.

Slowly backing away, as if intending to make a getaway and escape from eight armed men, your tears spilled over the edge, a few sparkling droplets racing down your cheeks in pairs as your back met something solid behind you.

His hands took hold of your shoulders before you’d even finished turning around to look at him, and you gasped when you looked back in front of you, the scarred man having closed the gap that had grown between you in barely a second.

“We’re really gonna need ya to cooperate, sweetheart,” he said, gravelly, condescending tone laced with a heavily implied command. “Or else we’re gonna have’ta hurt ya. And I don’t really think you would like that, would you?”

“Please—” you breathed, trying to twist free of your captor’s strong hold. You swallowed hard and then attempted to speak louder, fear crackling through your voice as you frantically stammered, “I— I don’t have a brand! I’m not one of Chisaki’s girls! Please, just— Just let me go. I swear I’ll—”

“Let you go?” the scarman repeated, clicking his tongue and flashing you a look of sarcastic concern as if to say “it’s so cute that you think that”. His friends were flanking him now, a wall of them stretching out before you with the others guarding the exit behind. He said, “Nah, sorry, hon, but that’s not how this works…” Before you could even get out one more syllable of a bargain or a plea, he nodded towards you and instructed his friends with two simple, condemning words. “Check ‘er.”

The hold on you vised tighter, another one of them coming to assist as your struggle increased, holding you in place as you thrashed and kicked and tried to get away. Your foot made contact with one of their thighs and you heard a growl of impatience right before a hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to scare you at first, then hard enough to choke you until you settled down.

“So that’s how you want it to be then?” Scar sighed, sounded disappointed with you. All activity to “search you” ceased for the moment as the others awaited his approval to continue. He reclaimed his original seat, looking rather bored with the whole ordeal now, slouching back and crossing one ankle over his knee. Then he snapped at the others, “Well the fuck are you waiting for? Hurry up and see if she has the brand!” Then, more so to himself, “If not, I call first dibs.”

You were crying. You were begging. You were writhing as several more sets of hands joined in the effort to try and rid your clothing from your body in search of Chisaki’s brand— the identical mark he had burned into all his whores to make sure no one else could try and claim them for their own. And while you had no idea who this Chisaki man was, just knowing he was notorious for such things made you feel like you were trapped in a vicious nightmare.

Before they could get your dress past your waist though, you let out an ear-piercing shriek, a kind of razor-sharp wail, stunning the men around you for a second before one of them went to clap a hand to your mouth, but he miscalculated slightly and allowed you the perfect opportunity to sink your teeth deep into the space between his pointer finger and thumb, clamping down until you felt a burst of bitter copper hit your tongue, coating your mouth in nauseating warmth.

You didn’t hear the man yelp over the pounding of your own panicked heart, though weren’t able to hold on for long as a thick, sharp-knuckled fist collided with your temple, causing you to fall slack for a moment as your head spun with vertigo and pain.

“Fuckin’ bitch—!” you heard someone swear through the muffled ringing that ran between your ears. You coughed out a pathetic sounding groan as your head lolled slightly to the side, your eyes fluttering and rolling as reality sloshed inside your vision like a fishbowl rocking back and forth on the edge of a shelf, just about ready to tip. “God— Bit me fuckin’ hard!”

“Oh shut up and finish it already!” the scarman barked, but when the others hesitated, too distracted with watching the blood well and spill down their friend’s wrist in fat red rivulets, a few drops already dripping down onto the floor and staining the dirty concrete, he pushed up from his seat and marched over, roughly hiking your dress up the rest of the way and quickly scanning for the telltale mark. Unable to find it on the front or back of you, he yanked the thin fabric back down to cover your body, completely uninterested in whatever ideas he had for you prior, and then decided, “Y’know what, fuck this. Bring her to the boss and have him decide what to do. She ain’t worth the trouble.” 

You were just sort of coming back to, though tried to stay as silent and still as possible for now, hoping it might buy you some time. You heard someone say, “C’mon man, wouldn’t be the first time we had a biter—” but was cut off by a distant crash-and-shatter sound that drew their collective hivemind attention in the direction that it came.

“What the fuck now?” Scar grumbled, and then, “Y’know what— Ok, you four, go back to guarding the front. If the boss finds out we left this place unattended he’ll have all our heads. You two, go see what that was all about, and you—” gesturing to the one you’d bitten, “fuckin’ tie her up or some shit until all this chaos is resolved and Jiro can decided what to do with ‘er.”

“And what about you?” one of them asked.

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke. And I swear, if any of you fuckers so much as even think about peekin’ at my cards, I’ll shoot you in the face myself. Reconvene in an hour—” A chuckle, the sound almost playful, teasing. “And don’t think I intend on lettin’ any of you off easy. I’m still gonna rob you blind at the end of the night.”

Some of them laughed. Some of them scoffed. All of them then went off to do as they’d been told, leaving you alone with Bitten-Hand, who kept mumbling passive-aggressive complaints under his breath about how he was always left cleaning up everyone else’s mess.

You let him drag your limp body to another corner of the room, fought the urge to jump up and run right then and there. But it wasn’t until you heard him shuffle a few feet away from you, cracking your view open to see him struggling with some zipties, that something inside you said, loud and bright, now.

You sprung up and dashed for the door, nearly stumbling over your own feet but surged with adrenaline again, which helped with the pain that was currently reduced to a faint throbbing behind your eyes and, well, almost everywhere else on your body at this point too.

You heard Bitten-Hand call out a more-desperate-than-angry, “Hey, wait!” just before you threw yourself against the door and came barreling back out into the hall. You didn’t look behind you to see if he was following. You knew he was. The sound of his boots hitting the concrete further down the long stretch of hallway behind you told you as much. But you didn’t stop running. Didn’t slow down.

You felt your eyes welling with tears again, your chest heaving with ragged, panting breaths as you neared the next corner. Maybe you could lose him, find some vacant room to slip into or some bit of cover to dive behind. But the moment you rounded the turn, you felt yourself getting yanked off to the side, a new palm covering your mouth as the other arm wrapped around your waist, submerging you both into the thick black darkness once again.

***

It hadn’t been easy, but Jiro had, in the end, gotten Dabi handcuffed to the busted old refrigerator. And no matter how hard he tried to yank against the pull handle the cuffs were liked around, the damn things wouldn’t give.

The room was empty, Jiro gone off to fetch his cronies, and the safe lay still as a stone where it had slid from the broken coffee table to underneath the wooden shipping crates. Dabi tried to force himself free once more, but it was no use. Plus, he was exhausted from everything that had led up to this too. He pressed his forehead to the cold steel of the stolen fridge and just breathed out a wobbly, defeated, “Fuck…”

He didn’t even have it in him to be pissed off at his own shitty life decisions for landing him here right now. What he was really angry about was how he’d roped you into all of this. Sure, the original plan had benefited from the part you had to play in it, but right from the start Dabi knew he should’ve just done this himself. It might’ve been riskier, taken him longer, but he was willing to bet he would’ve at least come out of it with something in the end. Either way, all it would’ve taken was one fuck up, but at least it would’ve just been his consequences to suffer.

Tomura was probably already shot dead and bleeding out in a hallway somewhere, he figured. That didn’t really bother him that much, given the fact that, because of Tomura’s abandonment, Dabi was, regretfully and beyond irritatingly, handcuffed to a fucking refrigerator and basically waiting to get the shit beat out of him before he was murdered as the grand finale. 

But you…

God, he’d never forgive himself for that.

So be it, he thought. Let them kill me. I fucking deserve it at this point anyway.

And so he waited.

Dabi stood there and waited to die.

***

The grip around you flexed slightly as you began to struggle, though, unlike your last encounter with people who wished to do you harm, the more of a fight you put up, the looser the hold on you became.

It wasn’t until you whirled around and let out a terrified sob that you caught a glimpse of silver amidst the shadows and a quick flash of those crimson eyes.

“T-Tomura…?” you squeaked, entire being beginning to shake with relief rather than horror now.

“Jesus— Are you ok?” he whispered, hands cautiously hovering about you like he was afraid even a single touch would make it worse. “You’re all—”

“Wait—” you cut in, pushing him back against the wall of the small closet of a room, pressing yourself against his chest until you heard Bitten-Hand’s running footsteps pass your cover and disappear down the next hall. You let out a shaking sigh, resting your forehead against his chest and trying to catch your breath, feeling a panic attack coming on but fighting to keep it at bay.

Slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, Tomura gently wrapped his long, spindly arms around your shivering form, holding you against him but in a way that made you feel safe, not trapped. And you were crying again, you think, your sobs muffled by his shirt and his skin as he stroked the back of your tousled hair and just kept on repeating in a low murmur, “It’s ok, I’m here. It’s ok,” until you were able to calm down enough to feel like separating from his grasp wouldn’t completely shatter your world.

And the next words out of your mouth were ones that shocked you both. Because where you’d meant to say, “We need to get out of here,” instead what came out was, “Where’s Dabi?”

Tomura stammered for a second, stalling, and then just admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Well we need to find him and get the fuck out of here,” you stated, panicked severity working back into your tone. “Forget the money. We just have to go.”

Tomura opened his mouth to protest— whether it was the idea of going back for Dabi or forgetting the money, he didn’t know— but then he registered the suffering in your eyes, the suffering that was written all over your body in bruises he knew he or Dabi hadn’t given you in preparation for this whole robbery-gone-wrong, and then bit back his reluctance, nodded firmly, and said, “Ok. But stay close to me.”

You didn’t intend to stray from his side. In fact, more often than not you found yourself clutching his arm as you both navigated your way back to the room where Tomura had seen the third member of your crew last, a few times almost causing him to trip.

“Should be just down this hall,” Tomura told you, checking to make sure the coast was clear before lightly pulling you along behind him. Oddly, you hadn’t seen anyone else in a while. You’d tried to compare notes, Tomura saying there had originally been three in the room you were doubling back to, you saying there had been five at the front but only four had led you inside to the room where another four had been waiting. Making it twelve you’d seen so far.

“But I bet there’s more than that skulking around this place,” Tomura muttered. He was willing to bet the total count was somewhere near double that, given how big the place was and the fact that you guys had only really traversed about half of it. Then, irritated, “Fuck, this whole thing was just a big fucking mistake…”

“Tomura…” you spoke, almost sympathetically. Then, figuring you probably didn’t have much else left to lose, you said, “Y’know, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad we hit you with the car that night.”

And when he looked at you, you were actually smiling. The expression was far softer or sweeter than you had a right to wear, given the current situation, and yet…

Tomura smiled too. “I’m really glad you hit me with the car that night too,” he said. “And even if—” He had to stop himself, finding the words even if we do die tonight to be a little harder to admit to than usual. He cleared his throat, then started from scratch. “Well, I just want you to know that spending the last few days with you has probably been the highlight of my entire life.”

And, god, how you wanted to just reach up and kiss him in that moment. To twine your fingers through his fluffy white waves and taste him one last time. And maybe you might’ve, just shrugged and thought, fuck it, before making one more bad decison before you all died here. But you didn’t get the chance before another figure turned down the long hallway, stopped in his tracks as he registered two unknowns before him, a long blade gleaming in the low light from where it was clutched in his hand by his side.

Jiro didn’t bother asking any stupid questions or attempting to monologue his sinister schemes that time. Instead, he just started straight for the two of you, not in a run, but a fast-paced walk that somehow made things seem all the more dire.

“Fuck!” Tomura gasped, already pulling you back down the hall from whence you’d just come before you could even figure out what was going on. You didn’t remember to ask, either. You just tried to keep up with Tomura as the man with the machete approached closer on your heels, all of you sprinting now.

Tomura must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere though, because suddenly he slammed to a halt and looked around with certainty as an even more worrying, “Uhhh…” escaped his chapped lips.

This was a part of the warehouse none of you had seen before, a wide room filled with all kinds of stolen goods— cars, appliances, pills, handbags, jewelry, you name it— sort of similar to Spinner’s contraband museum but nowhere near as glamorous or organized, but luckily, just in the nick of time, you and Tomura ducked behind a stacked display of tires that looked like they belonged to eighteen-wheelers, trying to cease your heavy breathing and hope Jiro didn’t know the ins and outs of this place too much better than you did.

“Wanna know the best thing about this place?” Jiro’s voice rang out as he began to navigate through the tightly packed space, hunting for you. “There’s only one way in and one way out, so…” He jumped up into the bed of a rusty old pickup truck, one foot propped up on the edge as he scanned the cluttered chaos, looking rather satisfied with himself. “All I really have to do is wait.” You and Tomura exchanged looks caught between despair and panic.

You could now consider yourselves officially trapped.

“I have an idea,” Tomura whispered, “but it’s gonna require us to split up.”

Instantly, you grabbed onto him, eyes gone wide with terror as you frantically replied, “No— We need to stay together until we get out of here!”

“Just trust me, it’ll only—”

“Don’t leave me again—” You were near sobbing now, bloodshot eyes welling with a fresh film of sparkling tears. You covered your mouth to try and contain the sounds that threatened to hitch in your chest, lest you give away your current position and alert Jiro, all the while mumbling incoherent pleas that all pretty much roughly translated to the same thing.

“Alright, just— Listen.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, felt you trembling beneath his palms. It took a few tries to get through to you, but eventually he had enough of your attention to explain, “We won’t have to go very far. Basically, each of us will take a side of the room. We’ll take turns making distractions to lure Jiro away from the door. Once we’ve got him far enough we can just sneak out and—”

“But what if—” What if something went wrong. What if Tomura was caught or you were caught and then you were killed. What if. What if. What if. What if.

You couldn’t get past the image of that machete buried into the side of one of your necks or sticking straight up from the center of your chests.

Taking a steadying breath, you tried to calm yourself down, then came to the conclusion that this was your best shot. “Alright,” you agreed, though every fiber of your being was fighting against the thought. “I’ll take the left, you take the right. But Tomura…” You looked into his eyes, searching for something, and then, in your moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss. Quick. Over before it really had the chance to begin. But it was enough for now. It was the promise for more once you made it out alive.

“I’ll be careful,” he said, cracking a tiny smile, as if he’d read your mind. “And don’t worry, I’ll pull him further to my side so he doesn’t get too close to yours. Just keep your head down and don’t let him know which one of us is which.” You weren’t feeling too confident, gazing down and off to the side as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. As soon as he spoke your name though, tone sweet and soothing, you glanced back up at him. “You can do this,” he told you. “We can do this.”

Somehow, even if they were simple words that might turn out to be completely untrue, hearing them gave you the resolve you needed to participate in this plan. So off you went, carefully weaving your way through fishtanks full of broken jewelry and plastic bins of prescription drugs. Once you reached the far back corner, your eyes landed on some kind of big, blown glass sculpture, the art speckled through with a rainbow of color. It stood almost as tall as you did, and as you considered it you wondered why, and how, these guys had managed to bring it back to their base in one piece. Maybe it was worth a fortune, but it wouldn’t matter anymore, because with both hands placed against its side and a good push, it tipped, fell to the ground and shattered.

Jiro perked up from where he was still perched in the truckbed, tightening his grip on the machete’s handle as he swiveled around to face the direction the sound had come from. He chuckled darkly, the taunt echoing faintly throughout the room, and then jumped down from the truck with a heavy thud, starting in the direction of the crash.

“Ready to come out and play?” he provoked, a husky, off-key sing-song tone to his words, his footsteps scuffing closer your way. When he passed a severed car door, passengers side, from the looks of it, he scraped the end of the blade against the steel, a grating screech reverberating closer to where you tried your hardest not to cower in the corner.

And honestly, Jiro hoped he’d find you first. He hoped he’d get his hands on you, get to feel you writhe and squirm and struggle under his hold. He would relish in the look of horror that filled Tomura’s eyes as he was forced to watch your throat part with a thin red smile, deeper, darker crimson soon spilling out and soaking the front of you until you choked on your own blood and fell limp and lifeless to the ground. 

Then he’d go for the scrawny, scraggly, scratch-track streaked boy before he even had a chance to register the scene unfolding before him. He’d make a gorey mess of him too, only allowing you two to lie together one last time right before he had his boys drag your mangled corpses out back and burn the remains, scattering them into the bay before daybreak.

And Dabi…

Well, he figured he might want to force Dabi watch his friends’ bodies go up in flames right before he joined them in the grave too.

“Y’know, for what it’s worth,” Jiro began, his voice now way too close to your corner for comfort. For a moment— as much as you hated to even consider the idea— you began to fear that Tomura had merely been using you as bait, allowing you to take the fall while he made a quick and easy getaway. “If you guys had done this without Dabi, you might’ve stood a chance. I’ll admit, I didn’t see it comin’…” You were getting antsy now, ready to bolt off in any direction that wasn’t Jiro’s.

“And you…” His voice was practically hovering right above you now, all of your limbs suddenly locked with prey-like terror. Jiro’s ugly mug came into view from over the edge of your cover, his beady gaze colliding with your wide, terrified one, reminding you of your boss, the same perverse hunger glowing at the center of them. Shark’s eyes. “I think I might have a little fun with you first after a—”

Your body lurched with a sudden jolt, more tears spilling from your eyes and rolling down your ruddy cheeks to meet under your chin and drip onto your chest as you saw Jiro’s eyes glaze over and then roll, his sentence reduced to a thin, feeble whine for but a moment as his entire body stiffened and then went slack, dropping to the floor like a bag of rocks.

The machete slid from his grip and when his head smacked against the concrete, it left a rorschach smattering of red there, the back of his skull blooming with a hemorrhage.

You opened your mouth to let out a scream, but all that escaped was a distraught, animal moan.

You didn’t even notice Tomura’s figure looming like a shadow behind where the man’s body had just stood, a crowbar still raised with vengeful intent as if he thought the man he’d struck down would rise and try again. You were too busy watching the blood well and spill into a puddle on the floor.

“Are you ok?” he was saying to you, but all his words were muffled by the blood singing through your ears, everything around you feeling like it was swaying, body becoming lighter, head growing dizzier, until Tomura wrapped his arms around you, tucking your face into his chest to hide the view beyond him from your sight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just— I saw the opportunity and I took it.”

Reality came crashing back over you like a violent, white-rimmed wave. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“It’s ok now,” Tomura kept on repeating, hugging you close, almost hard enough to crush you. “Let’s just go. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. So you just let Tomura help you to your feet, grabbing up the machete on his way, as your team was severely lacking in weapons, and guide you towards the exit.

“Wait here,” he told you, still speaking quietly, afraid raising his voice any louder would destroy what little was left of you. “I forgot to get the keys.”

“The keys…?” you muttered, but Tomura was already gone.

Luckily, the journey to Jiro’s corpse and back was a short one, Tomura a little more familiar with the layout of the room now. He unhooked the ring that jingled with at least twelve different keys from Jiro’s belt loop, thumbing through them and hoping at least one of them would be useful to you down the line. He’d played enough games to know that sometimes even the smallest of items could be the difference between clearing the level and game over if left behind.

When he returned to you, you were curled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your shivering body with your forehead resting on your knees.

How much had you been through, up until now? And how more would you have to endure before all this suffering and trauma could finally come to and end?

“Hey…” He extended a hand toward you, feeling a little bit of the weight of his worry lift when you looked up at him, now appearing more tired than terrorized. “C’mon,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

“Dabi—”

“We’ll get him,” he promised, though didn’t sound so sure. And then, repeating more resolutely, “We’ll get him.”

Whether Dabi was even still alive, there was no way to know. But, for your sake at least, as much as Tomura was still caught between despising and respecting him, he found himself hoping that the third member of your trio had somehow survived.

***

It was sort of eerie, Dabi was beginning to think, that no one— not a single soul— had been seen or heard within his vicinity since Jiro had left him alone.

Hadn’t he gone off to get the others? Y’know, gather everyone ‘round for a good ol’ fashioned torture party?

But it had been too long. The place was big, but not that big. And the fact that none of the others had returned, even just out of coincidence, curiosity, or boredom, was weird too.

And what about you and Tomura?

Were you two even still alive, or had you just escaped without him, left him here to die?

All of them sounded like likely options, but still, the little sliver of hope that lodged itself in Dabi’s heart like a thorn told him to wait just a little bit longer before he started mourning the first real friends he could’ve had.

But even if you guys did come back for him, there was still the whole handcuffed to a refrigerator dilemma to deal with. You might have no choice but to leave him to be devoured by the wolves anyway.

“…Down here I think…” Dabi’s head lifted from where it rested against the side of the fridge, the rough, whispery voice dangerously familiar only for the fact that it made that slice of hope inside him twist like a blade. “Are you sure you can walk? You can always get on my back and I can carry you…”

“No, I think I’m ok, thanks…” Dabi’s heart fluttered at the sound of your voice. It made him wonder if he had dozed off and was dreaming, or if maybe somehow he was already dead and this was his own fucked up version of heaven.

And then there you were, looking like hell but still alive, one arm slung over Tomura’s shoulder, who also looked a little worse for wear but then again, didn’t he sort of always?

“Oh my god—!” Dabi barked out an incredulous laugh, the sound sharp but full of light, like the sun reflecting off of broken glass. “Oh my fucking god!”

“What the fuck?” Tomura asked once he registered Dabi’s current predicament.

It was then that Dabi’s disposition suddenly shifted, a deep scowl etched into his inky brows. “Yeah, what the fuck, Tomura?” He roughly jangled the chain linking the cuffs together against the handle of the fridge, as if he needed to further accentuate his point.

Tomura helped you down onto the nearest couch, leaving the machete by your side, and you were grateful for the rest and the weapon. Then he approached Dabi, slowing to a halt a few feet away and staring at him, hands shoved into his pockets like he was wracking his brain for a solution. Dabi stood, trying again, and failing, to yank himself free.

“Shit won’t budge!” he stated with an irritated shrug. “And I’m not too fuckin’ keen on dislocating my thumb.”

Tomura let out a sigh. You stared at your ravaged reflection in the gleam of the machete. Dabi shook the cuffs against the stainless steel just for the hell of it.

Then, finally, Tomura said, “Yeah, well, that guy who’s their leader or whatever is dead.”

In that moment, something made you look over and lock eyes with Dabi, his piercing blue gaze boring right into you, and then, you realized, the machete.

“Jiro’s dead…?” he repeated, though it was hard to tell whether he was shocked or devastated. Maybe a twisted mix of both. A crooked, deranged smirk then began to break out across his face, a maniacal chuckle bubbling up from deep within his chest until it became a full blown bout of hysteria.

This could’ve gone on for ten seconds, or it could’ve gone on for several minutes. Time seemed to shimmer and sway like sand through an hourglass, ungraspable, uncountable. It wasn’t until Tomura had had enough of all this madness, oddly enough, that he pulled out the ring of keys, the gentle jingle of them shutting Dabi up like a door slammed closed.

“No fuckin’ way!” Dabi exclaimed, his surprise genuine and almost endearing. Before Tomura even had a second to act or respond he blurted out, “Well— God, hurry up and unlock me already!”

You heard Tomura shifting through the keys, mumbling something to himself while Dabi craned his neck forward to try and pick the right one out. But the more they passed that weren’t the right one, the more anxious Dabi started to become. Until finally, the second to last key—

“Oh, oh!” Dabi called out. “That’s it! Hurry, hurry!”

Tomura put the small silver key into the cuffs’ tiny keyhole and turned it, the cuffs clattering to the concrete with a satisfying clank.

Dabi let out a stuttering sigh of disbelief, rubbing his wrists and relishing in his unexpected freedom for a moment before remembering the safe.

Perhaps this nightmare of an evening wouldn’t end up as a complete waste of time after all.

“Alright,” Dabi declared, strolling over to reach under the crate and swipe up the safe, tucking it snugly under his arm. “Let’s split, while we still can. We just have to—”

A loud bang immediately followed by a high whistle sang through the air as a bullet whizzed by and struck one of the crates directly behind Dabi, missing him to the left by only a hair. Tomura yanked both you and him behind the cover of the fridge as several more attempted to strike you, more guns firing from just beyond the cage of crumbling concrete you were now trapped within.

“Shit—!” Dabi swore under his breath, clutching the metal box to his chest like it would shield him, like it would save him.

“What now?” Tomura barked impatiently, having grown tired of all the mishaps this mission had brought several mishaps ago.

“Do we just run for it?” you tossed in, panicked.

“Uhh…” Dabi stalled, his own trepidation beginning to bubble up to the surface. More bullets struck the steel of the refrigerator, pinging off but approaching your cover with more and more accuracy, warning of the fact you were all about to be closed in on. Then, seeming to regain himself, you saw those cold blue eyes ignite with surety as he declared, “On the count of three, we all scatter. Meet back at the car, whoever gets there first, be ready to fuckin’ floor it once they get close enough to hit the tires—”

“No, wait— What about—” You began to protest.

“One—”

You weren’t going to make it out of this alive.

“Jesus, man! Just hold on a fucking second!”

They would mow you down the moment you showed yourself.

“Two—”

None of you were going to make it out of this alive.

“Oh, god! Please don’t—!”

Dabi flicked his gaze to meet yours. Held it as he said, “Three!”

And then you all ran for your lives.

Their aim followed in a tight trail at your heels, threats and shouts echoing behind you as you and Tomura bolted off in one direction and Dabi in another. He’d said for all of you to split up, but you hadn’t gotten the lay of the land like they had. You were lost without Tomura, though, honestly, he could only do his best to retrace his steps without Dabi around to lead the way.

But then he pulled you down the long stretch of hallway that Tomura now recalled being the first one he had walked down, the space narrower, the fluorescent lights flickering pale puddles against the scuffed cement floor.

“It’s this way,” he said, voice low but urgent, just on the cusp of disbelief that at least you two might have a chance at escape.

Dabi, on the other hand…

He’d been stuck with taking the long way around, several more guys in pursuit of him given he had what they valued most. And there’d been a fleeting moment where he wondered if there would be anything in the safe at all once he cracked it open, but with how desperately the others chased after him now, he knew it must be the whole damn lot.

And once they found out Jiro was dead, then what? Which one of them would rise to the top to take his place? Or would they all just end up killing each other in the end, fighting over their leader’s scraps like starving wild dogs?

Dabi skid around another corner, pulling down an empty metal shelf as he rushed by that was leaned against the wall in hopes that the slight obstacle might buy him a few more seconds of time. He felt a bullet graze his calf, bit his tongue at the sting of it, but forced himself to keep running. Soon he was around the bend to that telltale hallway, the final stretch, his chest heaving, lungs burning with the effort to travel as fast as his legs could carry him.

When he burst through the doors, the cool night air flooding his senses, he felt himself begin to slow his pace, entire body buzzing with adrenaline and relief all in the same breath. But then he heard another gunshot from the other side of the heavy metal push-doors and was shocked back to reality, which was that he wouldn’t be truly in the clear until he made it back to his warehouse, which meant he first had to make it back to the car.

He frantically searched the immediate surrounding area, looking for something, anything to block the door with. He found an old wooden rake and slotted it between the door bars. It wouldn’t hold for long, especially not with the force of at least four men trying to bust through on the other side, but it would be enough to at least gain the distance he needed on them.

The first slam-retract of the doors attempting to be broken past came when he was only about four yards away. Another by the time he was six, and after that, he stopped paying attention.

Because there was the car, sitting dark and patient off in the distance, two figures he recognized as you and Tomura hopping in, Tomura in the driver’s side and—

Dabi nearly halted in his tracks when the grinding, squealing horror of an engine that wouldn’t start pierce through the sloshing ambiance of the nearby bay. He heard a crash behind him, the handle of the rake splintering in half, a barrage of armed men racing his way.

“Guys—!” Dabi shouted, now close enough for you to hear him. You popped your head out from the passenger side’s rolled down window, dried tears still streaking your mascara smeared cheeks, hair a tousled mess and clothing all askew in the frenzy.

“It won’t start!” you half sobbed, half shrieked.

Tomura turned the key in the ignition again, earning the same, blood-chilling result.

“Fuck— Move over!” Dabi snapped, practically yanking Tomura out of the driver’s side as he tossed the safe into the back seat. Tomura didn’t get angry or wait for Dabi to solve the problem. There was no time. He jumped into the backseat to join the safe, and after one final, miraculous try, the engine purred back to life and Dabi slammed the door shut behind him, flooring it away from that nightmare as more bullets hit the ground just inches from your tires, one bursting through the back window as he swerved hard, nearly throwing you from the car as you scrambled to put on your seatbelt, and disappeared from the edge of the outskirts with nothing but a cloud of dust and the smell of burning rubber to remember him by.

***

You were not happy when you returned to the warehouse.

You were not giddy and curious enough to stay awake while Tomura and Dabi tried to crack open the safe.

You might’ve felt relieved to be alive, if not for the growing ache in your bones, flesh tender with bruises and the ghost of forceful hands that had grabbed you. Mainly, you just wanted to wash this day from your skin, to soak and scrub every last inch of your body until you felt like yourself again.

But instead what you did was find the quietest corner of the base to collapse in and fell asleep.

***

The following morning, early, when the sky was still pale with dawn’s soft, lulling light, you were awoken by the jittery mumbling of hysteria.

“…Holy shit—”

“—can’t fucking believe…”

“No, no, hold on…”

“…think we could just…”

“…not a good idea, it’s probably—”

You rose from your slumber, limbs heavy and aching with the night before, slowly rising to stand with a groan. You pulled the blanket further around your shoulders, a slight chill skittering up your spine, the slightly-too-big silk dress you hadn’t changed out of still clinging around your legs like a veil of cold as you slowly shuffled your way closer to all the hubbub.

“If I had a dollar for every time I…”

“Dude, it’s not even—”

“Sure it is, but only if you know the right people…”

The voices were getting clearer now, words spoken hurried, but hushed.

“She’s gonna freak when she sees this—” Dabi.

A raspy chuckle, and then, “Should I go see if she’s awake?” Tomura.

You rounded the corner of patchwork walls, some of the dividers a little leaning or lopsided in places, and announced with a sleep-rusted tone, “I am awake.” You cleared your throat, looked from the boys to the table in front of them, eyes widening when you saw the array of cash spread across the chipped wood, so much of it that it covered the entire surface and still left Dabi and Tomura clutching bundles of it in their hands.

“Holy shit—” you gasped, rushing over to kneel before the table, scooping up some of the bills and cradling them in your hands like they were delicate enough to turn to ash at just the slightest flex in your grip. “Is this really— You guys got it open?”

Dabi plopped down on the sofa across from you, Tomura opting for a seat on the floor, always needing to be closer to you, though whether that was out of necessity or habit now was lost to you both.

“Wasn’t fuckin’ easy…” Dabi drawled through a smirk. “But yeah. About half an hour ago.”

Your smile was widening, slowly but surely, like a flower blooming up through a crack in the concrete, hope fighting its way to the surface. “Oh my god…” You felt like maybe you were still dreaming, like you’d blink open bleary eyes and find yourself curled up under a frayed old blanket all over again like the day had reset itself. “How much is—”

“We’re still counting it,” Tomura cut in, handing you one of the thick wads of cash to thumb through, letting the bills fan through your fingers like one of those flip-books that made little doodles look like animations. “But we think it’s somewhere around fifty-thousand.”

You looked up to gaze upon their faces. Dark bruises hung under their bloodshot eyes, the most obvious sign that they hadn’t slept. They’d been up all night trying to crack the safe, desperation skittering like ants through their veins until success had brought them the catharsis of feeling like they’d earned their much needed rest.

“We decided…” Dabi began, leaning forward to set his stack of cash on the cluttered table, elbows perched on his knees as his fingers laced loosely to dangle before him. “Each of us will count it individually.”

“All of it?” you asked, eyeing the money-flood that drenched the table.

Dabi nodded. “All of it.”

“That way we know, when we all come up with the same amount, that the split will be even,” Tomura further explained, scooting closer to you still.

“And then…” you uttered absentmindedly, still in a daze.

“And then,” Dabi replied, “we can all go our separate ways…”

He leaned back to lounge against the couch, one hand cradling the back of his skull while the other remained bent awkwardly across his lap. His elbow was definitely fractured and he’d sustained a slight concussion, but for now, he figured, that could wait.

“Or…” he continued after a few beats of heavy silence, a tangible uncertainty hanging between you and Tomura as if you’d thought you’d heard him wrong.

“Or?” you pressed.

“Oh, I dunno…” Dabi sighed. “I was just thinkin’, we make sort of a not-so-terrible team—”

“You mean, besides all the shit that went wrong and nearly got us killed back there?” Tomura posed, unamused.

Dabi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was too tired to argue right now. “I mean, despite the odds, we still came out on top. And it wouldn’t have worked without the three of us— y’know, aside from you abandoning the plan halfway through—”

“I saved your life—” Tomura cut in.

Under his breath, Dabi muttered, “Don’t know if I’d go that far, but—”

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Tomura, on the other hand, still had some fight left in him. “Next time I’ll make sure to leave you handcuffed to a fucking refrigerator so those guys can use you as target practice—”

“Ok! Ok—!” You called over their useless bickering, hands held out as if trying to keep them from advancing on each other, despite neither of them looking even halfway to making any kind of physical move. “Enough! None of that matters now. Next time, we’ll all stick to the plan, and make sure there’s a plan B just in case.”

“Not to mention,” Dabi continued, still droning with his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, “technically, Tomura, you shouldn’t even get the same cut as us since you didn’t really contribute as much—”

“Oh, fuck off!” Now Tomura stood, looking ready to throw a punch.

“Kidding—! I’m just kidding. Jesus…” Dabi was quick to remedy. Tomura relaxed a little, slowly lowering back to his seat beside you as you grabbed his hand and pulled him back to his senses.

“That’s another thing,” you said. “No matter what, if we do this, we all get the same share. No exceptions.” You locked eyes with Dabi, held his striking sapphire glare until you feared you might crack and shatter under the intensity of it. But then, begrudgingly, he clicked his tongue and agreed. 

“Fine,” he said. “But if either of you ever leaves me without backup again, I’ll make sure none of us gets anything.”

“Whatever, man…” Tomura mumbled, cheek resting in his palm, the exhaustion trying to ambush him.

“Well, same goes for me,” you pointed out. “I mean, was it even ever really in your plan to come help me out if things went south on my end?”

Dabi opened his mouth to defend himself, maybe protest, but then closed it again when he realized you had him on that one.

“Dude,” Tomura snapped, his grip tightening around your hand protectively. “What the hell? You said—”

“I know what I said!” Dabi shouted over the accusation. Then, simmering down a little, raking a shaky hand through his inky hair, “Fuck, just… I didn’t think it was gonna play out like that. I really didn’t. I mean, I knew it was risky, for all of us—” You shot him a bitter glare, causing him to backtrack with, “For you, especially, ok. I knew that. But I really thought—” He pulled his tattooed hands down his pale face, brain on its way to short circuiting from lack of sleep. “I never would’ve asked you to do it if I really thought those guys would…” But he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. To finish the thought.

“Ok…” you exhaled, figuring that was as close as you were going to get for an apology. “So, now what?”

“Now…” Dabi stood from the couch, boots dragging over the concrete floor as he slowly circled around to you and Tomura’s side of the table, sitting on the other side of you. “Well, now I guess we start counting.”

***

(Well… two years later and I’ve finally managed to finish chapter 2. In truth I’ve been wanting to get back to this series for a long, long time now, but knew it was going to be a big commitment (especially given how much more involved it became shortly after beginning to dive into this chapter) and due to some personal/life stuff I just didn’t have the time. Originally, this series was supposed to only be three chapters, but now it’s looking like it’ll end up being somewhere between five and ten, so please be patient with me while I write it.

But I’m happy to report that, this year, I really want to put a lot of focus into this series. I have some big ideas for it that I’m excited to share, especially the scenes that have literally been living in my mind rent free for over two years now lol. So please look forward to that!

As always, a big thank you so much to everyone for reading! I’ll see you next time! Byyyyyeee~)

[gunsatthaphan]

🏳️‍🌈?

[sylensombrr]

A couple months ago I finally started watching dragon ball starting with the 1986 show much to my brothers pleas not to jokes on him I'm enjoying it very much but I would take long ass breaks in between episodes and it was taking forever to get through it

Solution: make an art challenge for myself. Not only would it motivate to continue but also I'll finally get off my lazy ass and draw digital art again

Every 10 episodes I'm gonna draw something relating to those 10 episodes tho I did think of this when I was already like 40 episodes in sooooo whatever i got some catching up to do

50 / 153 <-how many episodes in i am at the time of posting

Episodes 1 - 10 <-episodes the drawing is for

First up: Puar!

I love her very much she so silly despite sounding like nails grinding on a chalkboard everything she speaks XDDD I love her and yamcha as bandits i wish they stayed as them longer but oh well I'm not complaining they're favorites either way

I was originally gonna post ep 1-40 drawing in bulk which is why I didn't post this like a few days ago when I finished it but I'm liking one of them too much to be put in the shadow of the others

Rest in Peace Akira Toriyama 🕊🕊 despite only being a fan of DB for about a year now it has helped through so much thank you for creating such a wonderful series and characters may you rest in peace

[puppycatpawprint]

oh my god quackity is gonna change streaming forever i think. like all this for minecraft is fucking amazing but like if that translation tool is used elsewhere i think that dude just revolutionized streaming as a whole

[lovesickeros]

Hiii just popping out to say thank you for feeding my sagau reader x furina brainroot by small interactions in "Even the Gods bleed." (Sorry if I wrote it incorrectly, I didn't get proper sleep.)

They way reader tugged at Furina's cheek— hell yeah your Grace I understand you.

i am always down to feed other furina enjoyers. at some point i need to give furi her own solo fic with reader but i know im gonna make it like triple the length of everything else..favoritism at its finest!! and proud of it. furina gets priority in everything.

[rivaiin]

finished the life links yesterday and i had to go and spoil myself about [redacted] showing up more later cause honestly if that had been all i wouldve gotten honestly angry

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : ISAGI YOICHI

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : isagi yoichi x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 543

⊹ warnings : reader is referred to as “girl” with she/her pronouns, suggestive, mentions of oral sex, if I’m missing something pls lmk!! MINORS DNI

⊹ A/N : this is a repost from my prev blog bc i wanna continue this series and i cant post the next part without the context from this one so if it looks familiar, thats why. ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira's part somewhere pls send me the link!!

⊹ bachira’s version | kunigami’s version

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this”

“@/isagisbbybgrl asks How big is your dick?”

Isagi had practically choked on his own spit at the question.   “Wha—why is this the first question?!”

“I’m just reading out what Twitter wants to know?”, the interviewer laughs at the shock in his face. “Now answer the question.”

Isagi, Kunigami and Bachira were currently sat side by side across from their interviewer. They had been invited to guest star on LockX , one of the most popular podcasts to date relating to everything and anything Blue Lock. And today they were asked to answer a few fan questions from Twitter all while hooked up to a lie detector. Up first was Isagi, who looked like he was already regretting coming today.

“Like 10 inches” he sighed out. All heads turned to the polygraph examiner— Milo was his name.

“There’s no way—“

“Truth”

Bachira laughs out at Kunigami’s disbelief while the latter mumbles to himself. Something about not believing it till he sees it himself.

“Wait, now I’m curious” Bachira scooted forward and turned to Isagi. “How much of it does your girl take in her mouth?

“What the fuck Megs? Nope. I’m not talking about Y/N here. Not like that.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but more than half these Twitter asks are about her,” the interviewer adds.

“Come onnnn Yoichi”

“Fine. All of it. Next question”

“Milo?”

“He’s telling the truth” Milo nods back, while the room fills with whistles and cheers to Isagi, who’s hidden his face behind a hand but can’t help the proud smirk that grows on his face at the thought of you taking all of him.

“Okay okay” the interviewer laughs before he directs his next question, “User @/mysagiballs asks where is your favorite place to kiss a partner?”

“Hey at least this one’s not about Y/N”

“Ehh it technically is,” Bachira counters.

“It basically is,” Isagi sighs once again, finally accepting that this is what the rest of the interview will be like. “Her lips, that’s my favorite place to kiss her”

“He’s lying.”

“Wha- No I’m not!”

“Another lie”

“I feel like of all the questions you’ve been asked, this is the most mild.” Kunigami speaks up.

“But you’re lying about it, which means there’s something juicy you’re hiding” Bachira teases.

“Fine, her cheek”

“Still lying”

“Seriously Milo!”

This continues on for a few minutes, Isagi calling out a bodypart and Milo calling out his bullshit.

Her neck. Lie. Her shoulders. Lie. Her hands. Lie.

Meanwhile Bachira and Kunigami have practically fallen off the sofa in tears, laughing at how frustrated Isagi grows with every call of his bluff.

“Between her legs, alright?! I’m not getting any more specific than that. You can figure the rest out yourselves I’m sure”, he glares at Milo as he grumbles out his final answer.

“That was the…truth”

It takes a few moments for Bachira to calm down from his hysterics but then he’s teasing Isagi for being so naughty, giggling at the sight of his friend aggressively ripping off the cuffs and sensors connecting him to the polygraph.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want now but you’re going next.” Isagi grins at him, excited to see his friend suffer the same as he did.

[miyakiwiii]

GUESS NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU HOW TO BE A REAL MAN...。o○ [2]

KANG DAE HO x FEM!READER

Wylcome back sigmas.. or idk.. help

TAGS

mmm red light green light,blood, a lot of blood, uh period ahh period uh, 'IVE PLAYED THESE GAMES BEFORE' ahh gi hun, but has gore and a lot of death, spoilers, lots of hand holdinh between TWO players (guess who)

NOTE:

Heyy wassup my peeparoo's, i hope yer liking this series fic or whatevs you call it! Ilysm and ty for liking the last post! THAT WAS THE FASTEST LIKES IVE EVER RECEIVED( *・ω・)ノ TYSMM

WORD COUNT:3,560k

PREVIOUS... NEXT PART.. MASTERLIST

"That is correct." The square says. 'Hope this'll be fun, whatsoever.' I say in my thought's, focusing on the rushing things that came on my mind.

"...cool i guess, free money from playing kiddie games." I put yet again, both of my hands in my pocket's. But suddenly, a voice of an old woman was heard.

"Good heavens- excuse me." The voice echoed through the room.

A faint sound of a slap, a slap on a cloth was heard as it soon was followed by words. "You idiot-!" The old woman says.

"Mom! Wha- what are you doing here..?" The familliar voice that was heard earlier said.

"Thats what i wanted to ask you! What are you doing here!?" The old woman's voice said angrily.

"Embarassing? If you know what was embarassing, you wouldn't be here!" The old woman continued, i guess the son spoke in a whisper before that then.

"No- we wont, come on! Your leaving." The old woman said again, it appears to be that my calculations were correct, never mind im sounding like a nerd.

'Wow, family drama in such place like this is crazy, haha.' I say in my thoughts.

"Why would you bring a naive old woman here?! Will you take responsibilit if my mom collapses!? HAH?" The familliar male's voice earlier yelled out.

"yong sik- ill stay and do this, you go home.." the old woman said, now that you knew that player's name.

"Stop it! Im already here, i cant just leave!" Yong sik continues.

"But you promised me! You promised never to gamble again!" The old woman continues(i love this diva sm)

SKIPPING TO.. TAKE PICCIES.

As you were standing in line, looking at the players taking their pics as a woman on the speakers had announced something.

"Damn.. this is taking long, my feet are gonna be sore-" i sighed, but the speakers interrupt me.

"The first game will begin momentarily."

Now the line being done, you took a step as it said to you.. "smile." Yeah sure, smile for the picture or cheese?

(The picture is what i potray the reader as! But you can potray the reader however you like, or being yourself! The reader can be any race, weight, or bodyshape! As long as your enjoying it :). )

Music plays as you stood infront of the camera.

"Yeah i wont.. smile." You say, because your smile scared alot of children last time you approached them, yeesh.

You walked out of the photo booth or something ... i really dont know what its called.

The speaker spoke again.

"After having your picture taken, follow the staff's instructions and proceed to the game site." The speaker says as you slowly went up the stairs...

☆ ○o。..。o○ ☆

"Welcome to the first game, all players please wait a moment on the field." The speaker says as you stepped out, there was sand in the ground, the walls were painted like landscapes, and there was a huge hole above all of this.

But the strange thing you noticed is that..

There was a weird doll that represented a figure of a child, it wore yellow and had pigtails, "yeesh that give's me the chills." You said as the sun went to blind your eyes.

The door behind you closed, basically the door was shut behind you, automatically..

"The game is Red light, Green light." It announced.

I prepared myself as i stretched my arm's "first game, easy enough." You say with confidence as you looked at the front.

"Hey! Dont get too cocky missy." Someone said right behind you, ew.

"Nah, id win." You said, your back still facing the man that said you were too cocky, well it was a sheer boost of confidence.

"Cross the finish line in five minutes without getting caught. If you do you pass." The speaker says but suddenly- someone went upfront, it was the familliar voice that you heard earlier. "Everyone! Everyone! Pay attention!" The familliar figure waved and put his hand to deliver attention to him, wow main character energy that much.

"Listen carefully! This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you DIE!" He yelled out.

"Dying from a kid's game? Sounds awfully fake." You said, fixing your hair as strands went up to your face, looking at the.. crazy? You wouldnt call him that, Man.

"That sounds sketchy,"

"Fake"

"Hes crazy."

People spoke, as you laughed a little.

"Hey! What are you talking about?" A random woman says. "Were going to die playin' red light, green light?" The random woman questioned.

The familliar figure responded. "Of course! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot from somewhere!" The man says.

"Sounds weird enough." You said, letting out a sigh as you moved your head again, looking at your left, you noticed... player 388 yet again. His head was tilted slightly as he listened to the man's words. Huh, cute- wait. Your only here for money not for love.

"Oh hey its you agai-" you spoke out, but the familliar figure that was in the front spoke again.

"Stay on your toes!" The familliar figure yelled out.

"Ehem, as i was saying, hello... player 388." You greeted him as he glanced at you, his lips were parted as he waved a little bit.

"Ah.. hello again uhm, player 238." He says flashing a small grin, but the familliar figure spoke again.

"If you get caught, YOU DIE! That doll's eyes are motion detectors!" The familliar figure says."Stay on your toes!"

"Well, no time for chatting i guess." I say as i spoke to player 288, he nods as we both stood silent, the tension was akward even if there were multiple people surrounding us.

"What the hell are you talking about???" A random man says. "I think he's trying to scare us so he can win the prize money!"

"Thats right!"

"I agree!"

Multiple people agreed on the man's words as we both still stood akwardly with each other.

"Dont pull any tricks, asshole!" Another guy says.

"You have to believe me!" The familliar figure says. The figure rotate's its head as the weird doll starts to move, its right hand started to raise and cover its eye. You took a deep breath and released it.

"Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!" The figure says.

"Let the game begin."

An alarm suddenly ticks as the doll finally spoke.

"Green light, red light."

You moved, and finally stop, looking at the man that did a gesture that made his arms go down.

"Freeze!" The man yelled, you focused on not moving as your feet began digging in the sand. The sun literally is interfering with this.

The doll rotated its head as its eyes began to weirdly move. 'Ew.... creppy ass doll.' You said, looking at the doll while you spoke in your thoughts.

"Well done! You just need to stay calm like this! We just have to move and stop at the same time!" The man yelled.

"Green light...." you moved fastly as you halted, the man speaking yet again.

"Freeze!" He yelled.

'Being in a jumper while being under the sun, too much coverage, but gotta handle it.' You say in your thoughts yet again.

"Dont move! Stay still! Just relax!" The man yelled.

"Green light.." you ran slowly.

"Red light." The doll chanted.

It repeated again as you took some steps, you really wished there was an AC inside this room, well.. you never experienced it anyway except when going to stores and such.

"Freeze!" The man repeatedly yelled again.

'This is getting boring not gonna lie..' you say in your thoughts again.

The doll moved its head again as you repeated it, repeat repeat repeat, even hid words were repeated.

You freezed yet again, the air hitting you lightly.

But suddenly, you heard a gunshot.

Shit.

A loud thud echoed through as you stood, now static as a heavy boulder. Then, there was a scream that followed now, people we're moving. Scarlet red coated the back of your jumper as you still stood. Not flinching from the sound at all.

Screams and gunshots continued, more blood soon dripped in the ground, wow you already got stained by someone's blood. Thats that for not knowing what will happen, also maybe consequences in the first round: getting stained by someones blood.

'Just dont move and we'll be good.' The gunshot's were still going as the man yelled again. "Freeze!" One more gunshot followed it.

"You can move forward while the tagger shouts, 'red light green light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will get eliminated."

The doll rotated its head again as you still stood.

It rotated its head for two times untill the familliar voice finally spoke again.

"You'll also die if you donr make it there in time! That doll is a motion detector! But it can't detect motion thats not visible to it!" The man signals its hand open and closed as he continues with his words. "Get behind someone bigger than you! Like your following the leader! Were running out of time! We've got to move!" You moved behind a.. familliar back with that signature small ponytail of their's.

Player 388. Huh this must be a coincidence that your almost being close to him and such.

You suddenly stumbled as you put your hand behind him.

"...sorry." you said, gripping his jumper a little to be a gesture of an apology, you noticed his hand slightly shaking, that made you feel slightly worried.

"No-nono.. its fine.. miss." He said, you can tell he was anxious suddenly.

Two gunshots were soon followed again as the doll moved its head again, getting your grip out of 388's jumper, he suddenly held your hand and ran, then stopped. His hand felt callused compared to yours, his was warm, yours was.. cold.

You were still behind him as you gulped some air.

Now, a line was now formed by individual players. Yet you still focused on.. the game and this feeling i guess.

"Do not move! Freeze!" The familliar man yelled out, but then suddenly, three thuds were heard as it was one gunshot, and the other two were shot at the same time.

The doll moved its head again and his grip on your hand tightened, running, and then stop.

One gunshot followed as he still kept you behind him, wow dude you guys arent even dating or in a relationship yet, get a grip🙏😭

As i was saying, it repeated again, the sound of the sand below crunching as there were another gunshot.

"Hey- 388, why are you holding my hand-" you questioned but he doesnt respond. He still kept holding it as you both halted again one gunshot. Two gunshot.

You two were almost near the finish line as you noticed someone stumble, now shot.

"It wasnt me. She pushed me i didnt move! It was her i didnt move!" The random man said.

A gunshot was soon followed as the familliar man cheered. "Your almost there! You can do it!"

You two were a step ahead on getting to the finish line.

You two both fell inside the finish line as you both grunted, now you were heaving, breathing for air.

"Im sorry uh- miss, i didnt mean to hold your hand." He said, holding a hand out for you to grab.

You held his hand and stood up, dusting the jumper.

"... thanks for shielding me though, i should be the one to apologize for-" he cut's you out.

"No, no its fine." He spoke. You noticed that there was three people running up to the finish line, the one in middle being injured.

The three of them ran, and now arrived at the finish line.

"By the way miss.. whats your name?" The man behind you spoke.

"I think you already heard it being announced but.. [nam-]" there was a gunshot followed as the man died inside the finish line.

You didnt speak after that, knowing it was a time to not speak.

"...[name]. It is.. im- im kang dae ho." He introduce's himself.

The sky suddenly darkens as you both look up, there was sound building up from the other players as it closed slowly.

"Players, its now time to go back to the quarters." The speaker had announced.

☆ ○o。..。o○ ☆

Now you and dae ho were facing each other even in opposite bunk beds, the silence filling both of your eardrums.

"That was..." you said.

"Not great." He said.

Both of you had said it in unison.

The door buzzed open as the pink guards showed up, walking a little bit.

You hid behind your bunk bed in instinct as they approached.

"Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results of the first game." The square said.

The tv immedietly turned on, showing numbers that dropped down. "Out of 456 players, 91 players have been eliminated. 365 players have completed the first game." The square announces.

"Congratulations again for making it through the first game." The square announces.

"Sir please dont kill us!" The familliar old woman's voice begged. "Please dont kill ud im begging you! As for my son's debt, i will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!"

It followed other players begging for their lives, kneeling down, crying. Both you and dae ho didnt mind all of them but just exchanged eye glance's.

"We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you an opportunity." The square says.

"Clause three of the consent forms!" The familliar man yelled out. " 'the games may be terminated upon a majority vote.' Correct?"

"That is correct." The square answered. Both you and dae ho's head were now turned into the direction of the familliar man, looking at him.

"Then let us vote right now." The man says.

"Of course. We respect your right and freedom of choice." The square continues. "But first, let me announce the prize amount thats been accumalated. "

The square clicks on the remote as the piggy bank slowly goes below along with music and sound effects.

I looked from the side of the bunk bed and stared at the won falling from a tube inside the piggy bank.

"The number of players that were eliminated were 91. Therefore,accumalates to 9.1 billion won." The square says. "If you quit the game now, the 365 of you can equally divide 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.

"How much is that?" The old bitc-man says.

"each person's share would be 24,931,500 won." The square says.

Voice's build up yet again as they all had different answers.

"Thats not enough.."

"We almost died for that.."

Well, it was true. You needed more won. Still too minimum.

"Million? You said 45.6 billion!" A purple haired guy said. Oh you definately could recognize the dude.

"The rule is that, a hundred million won will be accumalated for each eliminated player." The square says.

You perked up from his words that soon followed another. "If you play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly." The square spoke.

"How much will it be if you survive untill the end?" The annoying- i mean old man spoke.

"as i already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. Those who make it through all six games, will equally divide the 45.6 billion won." The square answered.

"So if your the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion?" A random man spoke.

"That is correct." The square answered.

Murmurs start building up again as you noticed dae ho fidgeting with his fingers, signalling him with your hand to ask if he was okay, he nods and gives you a thumbs up.

"So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?" A random man had spoke.

"As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote for each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated to that point. We alwaye prioritize your voluntary participation.. Now, lets begin the vote." The square spoke.

You gestured dae ho to stand up and he does so, walking down to go with the fewer people below.

Both of you were standing behind the several players as you sighed.

"If you wish to continue the game, press the O button, if you wish to end them, press the X button." The square has said as you looked at the ground. "The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers, player 456." The man had called out, everyone's attention went to him as you gulped, thinking about what to vote.

You needed the money because it wasnt enough.

"Its all pointless!" Your thoughts had been interrupted as a strange woman that was on the top bunks spoke. "Talk about getting creep's again.." you said.

"You didnt decide when to come into this world, and you cant decide when you leave it either. When and where you die, were already decided by the gods the moment you were born. No matter how hard you try, you CAN never escape it." The woman said.

a button was soon followed as you looked at the flat screen tv, one X. "Once you finish voting, put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest, put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest, and stand on the side you have chosen." The square announces.

A few votes followed as it called dae ho, looking at dae ho who was walking torwards the button, the O went up by one.

After few people again, it was finally your turn. "Player 238." It had announced. The X and O's side turns their face on you as you walked, thinking about the buttons that was plastered on the voting, you finally were infront of it.

You pressed.. O.

After you pressed it, they gave you a blue patch and went to the blue side, the counter went up by one yet again.

Several votes followed as the score is now 87 to 93. Looking at the screen above, someone had spoken up yet again.

"Wait a minute everyone! Wait! You cant do this." The familliar voice had spoken again, looking into the direction of that player, you already knew who it was.

"Come to your senses! Dont you see? These arent all games, we will die if we keep playing! We have to get out of here now." The man had interrupted the voting process.

"Who do you think you are?!"

"Im super man." I answered. It was that annoying old man again.

"Why do you keep egging people on like that? You scared us by saying they'd shoot us before the game even began!" Wow ferocious debate mister.

"Thats right! He was going one abour how we'd die, and i almost did because i got so nervous!" A woman had spoken up, it was followed by a man. "How did you know they were going to shoot us? Are you one of them?" The man had spoken, and that annoying voice came up again.

'Fucking hell this debate makes my head hurts..' i say in my mind, as i went to rub my temples.

"Are you conning us all by pretending to be a player? Who is this guy?!" The old man shoved the man. "Did you plant him to mess with our hands?!" The old man said.

"Thats uncalled for! We wouldn't won the game and survived if it weren't for him!" The guy who seemed to be his bestfriend defended him.

He was correct afterall, but you just needed more money to pay half of the debt.

"And you! I saw how scared you were, and your legs were shaking!" The bff man yelled.

"You should thank him, not treat him like a fraud!" The man yellled. "And who the hell are youuu? Are you conspiring with him?" Another guy said. "Older than you, what are you going to do? Huh? Huh?" It was followed by an old woman's voice gesturinh for them to stop.

"Please dont do this, listen- none of us would be alive if it weren't for this gentleman! So enough with the greed- lets put our live's first and get out of this place- okay?" The old woman cried out.

"Thats right!"

"Lets get all out of here!"

"No we have to keep playing!"

The arguments were cut off as it was followed by the familliar man's voice.

"I have played these games before! I have done this before! I know about the first game because i had played it before! I played the games three years ago! And everyone who was with me.. died here!" The man had said, as voices build up yet again, theyre so noisy...

"They all did?"

"All of them?"

"Really, no way. If they all did, how did you survive alone? Wait. Are you saying you were the sole winner?" A man had said. "Thats right. I was the final winner." The familliar man answered. They were gossiping again soon after. "If we continue the games, every single person here... just like all the people back then, will die in the end." You can hear pain in his last few words. You felt bad but, you still needed the money.

"Bullshit." The old man interrupted again."if you were the sole winner it means you eon 45.6 billion won. If you really did, why would you even come back here?"

"Thats right! Hes lying!"

"Cut the crap!"

"Hes a total nutcase!"

"If someone like you can win, so can i!"

"If you really won it actually works better for us. You can give us some tips, on how to beat these game's." The familliar purple haired dude said, now you do recognize him.

"Thats right! We have a previous winner with us, so what do we have to worry about? Come on lets do this!"

"Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Lets make some money!"

"Lets do this!"

"Lets do it!"

"Lets try!"

You just stood there processing what happened as every word of them came to a blur, but the square spoke again.

"From here on, we will not tolerate actions that disrupt the voting process. Now, lets resume the vote."

Few votes afterward, it all led to a tie. People cheered for the tie.

"Lastly, player 001." They all looked into the direction of the man.

"Everyone say O!"

"O!"

"X!"

They all cheered as the man went to the voting podium.

All of them were now focused on the man, so were you.

The vote had clicked as the O... won.

Half of the people in O cheered as you covered your ears, now.. all the people retreated to their quarters. You noticed dae ho and ran up to him.

"Hey, dae ho!" You said, he noticed you as you followed him, going to your bunk bed as the opposite of him.

You sat down in the bunk bed and looked at hid patch, you werent alone anyways.

"Hey dae ho.. do you have a reason on why you voted O?" You asked, looking at him. "Yeah.. i do." He said quietly.

[ifyoucandaniel]

favorite fics of 2024/basically just batfam fic rec list

It's that time of year guys, here is my favorite fics of 2024 in no specific order (aka my master batman fic rec list bc that's all i read this year with some spider-man thrown in there lmao). most of these have been in my previous rec lists, but this is just like one big frankenstein’s monster of a fic rec with all of them in one place <3

starting off strong, anything @bluelotuswrites's hands have touched is pure gold. Red is the Color of Sinners placed post UTRH where after being hit by bruce's batarang and now mute, jason decides to leave gotham and go to hell’s kitchen for a fresh start, but he keeps running into daredevil both in and out of costume. this is possibly the best jason of all time i rotate him in my mind like a microwave all day

The Hellblazer's Apprentice is an all blades jason fic where instead of continuing his lost days world tour, he meets john constentine and decides to learn magic to piss of bruce. blue added some lore to jason’s character in this that to this day makes my brain vibrate with excitement and the dynamic between john and jason is just ?? so good. both of these fics haunt me, they follow me wherever i go, i love them. read everything she's written, trust me

going with the theme of my favorite authors i read this year, @cdelphiki wrote my favorite read of the year and possibly all time Life Happens a fic that hit me like a sucker punch where tim and damian are both sent to a different dimension where everyone they know are comic book characters. with no other choice, they have to start a new life in this world while they wait for rescue. words just dont do it justice, please please read this fic. it’s the most beautiful story on growing and life

their other fic Jason and the Three Terrors crosses my mind at least once a day if not three times. jason is still with the league when talia charges him with getting damian, his cousin mara, and his secret sister athanasia to bruce safely from ra's. the rest of the fic is jason going from "i cant wait to get rid of these kids" to "these are my kids, i need to provide for them and keep them safe and i would die for them" 100/10 jason's character development is some of my favorite in any fic.

The Time Before is another of my favorites where jason is sent back in time to when he was 9 and goes to bruce for help and realizes maybe his memories of bruce maybe aren't all accurate. just read everything cdelphiki has ever written, trust me <3

Split by @wolfsbanesparks i have never been hooked on a character i previously did not know much about faster than when i read this fic. Billy and shazam are forcefully separated into separate bodies by black adam and then they have to try to keep billy's identity secret somehow while working with the justice league to fix them. the end of this fic had me sending paragraphs and 5 minute voice notes to my friends, trying to explain why i was so absolutely distraught and obsessed.

also by wolfsbanesparks, From the Shadows is basically everything you could ever want from a billy batson joins the batfam fic. it's got plot, it's got identity shenanigans, it's got badass magical billy, what more could you possibly need! seriously idk what is up with everything wolfbanesparks writes, but the endings are always so fucking good, 100/10.

Something in the Static by @bonerot19 is one of my favorite jason series ever, i go back to it constantly and think about it all the time. this is a series where jason's mom doesn't die and his dad isn't in prison, instead he's 17 working nights at a convenience store when everything changes and suddenly batman won't leave him alone. this is my favorite jason & steph best friends fic ever and the way this fic is paced scratches an itch in my brain, the flow of the story is just perfect

Buy Back the Secrets by @vinelark is the only ship fic on here and it deserves a place of honor. every time i get an email that it's updated an angel gets it's wings and my friends all get texts in all caps. Timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but tim keeps calling for superboy when he's in trouble which leads to kon meeting him as a civilian. the identity shenanigans are just so top tier, its a 5 + 1 fic so every chapter is just just a new world of fun tropes. the chapter with tim's fake uncle and jason is actually probably my favorite chapter of a fic ever its so dear to me. as far as i'm concerned, this fic is the only timkon ever <3

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O is the shortest fic on this list and is the most important jason & dick post UTRH fics i've ever read. this fic both scratched an itch and created an itch because i need 100 more chapters and for it to never end. set post UTRH when dick starts to rethink his opinion on a note jason left him and realizes it was jason reaching out and decides to find him and fix things. this goes up there with RITCOS in the post UTRH fics where jason decides to just fuck off and do his own thing, i love them

Adopting a New Plan by A_Silly_Gander is yet another fic where jason winds up with an adoption problem when he first comes back to gotham. however, my favorite part of this whole fic is how the author writes jason making mistakes and being flawed and how those mistakes affect him. absolutely 10/10 character development and jason rejoining the batfam + damian and jaosn meeting in the LOA tag is just a mixture of all my favorite things, i love this fic so much

A Collision of Masks by MOVAZ is my favorite dick grayson fic ever, its set in a young justice AU where batman never joined the JL and YJ never met dick, so when the YJ team is sent to investigate a new vigilante, nightwing, identity shenanigans ensue. this is seriously such a fun fic, i loved all the crossover between dick's many identities and the YJ team

Cards on the Table by @wesslan is just!!! so fun oh my god. the chapter titles are to this day my favorite things ever they enhance the experience. it’s about tim being a scam fortune teller who knows a lot more than he should about the upper class due to his nighttime stalking. he winds up meeting the batfam and giving some scarily accurate advice which leads to him being tied up in their business and lots of lying <3 it’s such a fun fic and i just love the vibes 100/10

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by @a-large-orange-cat is by far my favorite fucked up tim fic! while tim’s out taking pictures of batman and robin as a kid he gets kidnapped by black mask and raised to take over his crime empire. cue 50k of manipulation and angst, the ending is so satisfying and the sequel with jason always makes me :’) very good, this tim lives in my mind in a little house he and jason built

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone because would it be a fic rec without the loml? i love this fic so much oh my god, it sent me back on my spiderman obsessed bullshit which in turn led me back down my marvel bs. post infinity war peter is dusted and wakes up in the DC universe with the ghosts of the dusted avengers following him. i love this fic so much, nothing compares to this peter in my mind. the dynamic between him and the batfam + the identity angst is just so well done

keeping up with the peter theme, The Teenage Vigilante's Guide to Saving New York (And Making Friends Along the Way) by candlesneedflame is such a good team red/mentor matt fic oh my god. where peter goes against tony’s wishes and starts hanging out with daredevil and his friends and maybe starts getting mentored by new york’s vigilantes. 10/10 i love peter interacting with the other vigilantes and also matt mentoring him

anyways, that’s all folks! 2024 was the year for the DC and marvel fics clearly and hopefully 2025 will be the year of me binding all of these finally and having them sitting pretty on my shelf <3

[81folklore]

heaven - PIASTRI - final part

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams + pinterest)

summary: on the 2 year anniversary of oscars first win in f1, everyone’s favorite couple has a surprise

type: social media au (smau)

note: well this is it!! the final part to heaven!! this ending has always been the plan and im so pleased i can finally post it, this win has been a longgg time coming and i am super stoked for oscar!!! obviously not the best race (esp for mclaren fans) but we got through it and oscar won!!!! super duper proud of my mclaren boys and i cant wait to see many more 1-2 with them!!

i honestly cant believe this is the last part to this series, this was one of the first fics i ever posted and its crazy how far its come!! to this day i get notifs that people have found the first part to this series and it blows my mind how big this has gotten. i know ive been inactive for a long time but i hope by finally finishing this fic i will find love for creating fics again!!!! love u all🩵

heaven masterlist masterlist

set 2026

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 11,629 others

two years ago my best friend asked me to marry him, i said yes immediately. how could i say no to spending the rest of my life with someone i love so deeply?

today marks 6 months of him being my husband and i feel so incredibly blessed to be able to call him that, to be able to say that someone i love, loves me back just as much

but today is also the anniversary of my boys first win, which seems crazy now that he has many more under his belt but its true, its been two years since that crazy day in hungary and one that changed us forever

i have grown so much in the time we have been together and im so pleased i was able to do it with you, osc. i love you forever and always!

tagged oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri my favorite forever🤍

oscarpiastri marrying you was the best decision i have ever made

youruser my boy🌟🌟

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, logansargeant and 1,382,003 others

i cant believe i get to call this gorgeous girl my wife, and i’ll be able to do so for the rest of our lives

you had never shone as brightly as on our wedding day, however youve continued to shine ever so bright since and i hope it never goes away, seeing you happy and content makes me feel like the luckiest man alive

thank you for saying yes all those years ago and thank you for trusting me with your heart, ill love you forever and always

your osc x

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youruser i love you so much osc

youruser you mean the world to me

landonorris congrats mate x

logansargeant i miss you guys :(

youruser we miss you too logie!!! we’ll be home soon and we will take you to dinner!!

logansargeant oscarpiastri promise?

oscarpiastri we promise

georgerussell63 happy for you both!

frederikvestiofficial come back soon i think logans withering away

oscarpiastri he’ll be fine for a few more days🙄

logansargeant nu huh!! i cant last much longer☹️

user66 oh my god she looks gorgeous 🥹🥹

oscarpiastri she is

user72 YOUR OSC😭😭😭😭

user6 im never getting over them☹️

user91 THEYRE MARRIED☹️☹️😭😭

user10 remember when yn said they werent getting married yet because they still had so much growing to do,, look at them now☹️

user47 i feel like everyones being too calm, WE DIDNT EVEN KNOW THEY WERE ENGAGED?!?!!?!

user64 LIKE WHY ARE WE NOT MORE SHOCKED

user22 bcs they are written in the stars and we all knew this was going to happen!!! liked by youruser

user30 yn with all the little babes oh i cant do this🥹🥹 liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri

liked by youruser, lewishamilton and 1,392,027 others

17.01.2026

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lewishamilton so happy for you mate, it was a gorgeous ceremony💜

logansargeant my favorite people in the whole world

oscarpiastri we love you

logansargeant 🥹🥹 (i love you guys too)

youruser my boy forever and ever and ever

oscarpiastri 🤍🤍

landonorris you guysss😕😕

youruser love you lan!!!!

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, yourmum 11,483 others

a story told in many parts💐

comments on this post have been limited

pinned youruser to osc, my best friend, my love, my husband i will love you until the end of time. i will hold your hand through everything and more, until death do us part x

youruser added to their story

story song added heaven by niall horan text reads: my 🏠

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 12,472 others

replies

user72 OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD

user19 I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU TWO 😔😔😔😔

user63 ur literally perfect for eachother wtfwtfwtf

user90 I FEEL SICK THIS IS SO CUTE

user6 oscar is so sweet🥹🥹

youruser the sweetest!!!!

[worldlxvlys]

can you plase make a story where chris is obsessed with the reader and is super clingy, and always want to be close to her.

and he cant stop thinking about her and talks about her to his friends all the time.

and he gets hard everytime he sees her, and everything about her turns him on, and he jerks off alot while thinking about her.

obsessed

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, masturbation, fantasizing, cursing

a/n: this is inspired by the request (obv) but also by @solarsturniolo ‘s series We’re Just Friends for matt, i’m absolutely obsessed with it ! please go read if you haven’t already :)

3 TIMES CHRIS WAS DOWNBAD FOR READER AND 1 TIME HE DID SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

1. HE’S IN DENIAL.

“you gus are being dramatic, it’s not that bad” i said to matt and nick.

“chris, you can’t go a day without being around her. and when you aren’t with her she’s all you talk about” matt said.

“that’s not true” i brushed off his comment.

“chris, you’re doing it right now. this conversation started with you telling us how much you miss her” nick deadpanned.

i rolled my eyes at this, “whatever bro”

“no, not whatever. you’re obsessed with her”

“that’s crazy. i’m not obsessed with her, guys. i just love spending time with her” i stopped to think, “and helping her pick out her outfits, seeing how excited she gets over little things”

“her smile, her face, her laugh, her voice, her body”

“but you’re not obsessed, right?” nick said “exactly” i agreed.

“kid, please listen to yourself” matt spoke,

“you’re smiling like a fucking idiot right now” nick pointed out, making me drop my smile quickly.

“you sniff her hair like a creep and whenever she is here, you’re always touching her in some way” he continued.

“and you’re always talking about how good she looks or how you like her hair that day. i bet if i asked you the exact outfit she wore yesterday you could tell me” matt said.

i went to object, but realized i did have her exact outfit memorized.

“she was wearing my favorite pair of shorts” i spoke, trying to give an excuse.

“chris, you can’t be serious” nick spoke, looking at me incredulously.

“what ?” i asked, my voice raising slightly.

“look, there’s nothing wrong with it. but you need to be honest with yourself about it” nick said.

“look, guys. you’re just wrong! i-” suddenly, i was cut off by my phone buzzing in my pocket.

when i checked to see who it was, i was met with the face of the exact person we were talking about, a wide smile growing on my face.

without hesitating i answered, putting the phone to my ear.

“hold on, i’ll be back” i told them, holding a finger up.

“this kid is unreal” matt spoke, rolling his eyes.

🤭🤭🤭

2. HE’S OBSESSED.

matt and nick had left to go to the store a little while ago, stating that it’d be a while before they were back.

i immediately took the opportunity to let out my pent-up frustrations, caused by her.

her eyes, always looking up at me so innocently. like she was just begging me to take that away and completely destroy her.

her lips, always soft and hydrated. like they’re just waiting to be kissed. i wanna see them get puffy and bruised from my own.

her thighs, always so shiny and squeezable. i wanna watch them shake while she screams out my name. i need them around my head, pushing me further and further into her pussy, holding me captive. i wanna see them folded into her chest while i hammer her pussy, her body thrashing under me.

her hands, always freshly manicured. whenever she gets a new set and sends me them, i imagine what they’d look like wrapped around my cock.

which was how we got here in the first place. except, this time, she sent me a video.

“fuck, chris” she started making me cum immediately. “i love these so much” she spoke excitedly, wiggling her fingers to show off the intricate nails.

“thank you for paying for them, i seriously…” she continued to ramble but i lost focus as my hips stuttered and thick ropes of my cum coated my hand, some even flying onto the phone screen.

i hadn’t even realized i was close.

before i knew it, i found myself overstimulating my sensitive cock as i continued to pump, getting lost in the sound of her voice.

yeah, nothing about this is normal.

🍆🍆🍆

3. HE’S DELUSIONAL. (OR IS HE 🤨)

she looked way too good.

we were hanging out at her house, after just getting back from shopping.

she was giving me a try-on haul, and god it was criminal how good she looked in anything she put on her body.

her body. i tried not to stare at her body when i was around her, but i couldn’t help it. she was hypnotizing. it was getting harder and harder to hide the boners that i got every time i saw her.

i was already struggling, but the second she pulled out the bikinis? i had to pull my hoodie off and place it over my lap.

every time she walked back to her closet, her hips drew me in. i watched her ass as she walked, gripping onto the sheets under me.

the bikinis got cheekier and cheekier as she tried them on, but i lost it at one in particular.

when she bent over to rifle though her bag, the fabric moved over slightly, giving me the smallest glimpse of her pussy.

“i gotta use the bathroom!” i yelled as i rushed past her.

“oh-“ she barely even finished talking before i pushed the door closed.

i leaned against the door as i pulled down my pants.

i spread the pre-cum that covered my cock around, my head falling back against the door as i held back my groans.

my arm started to cramp up at the speed that i pumped my length at, needing to finish quickly.

suddenly, there was a knock at the door, making my eyes widen but not stopping my movements.

“chris, are you ok? you seemed kinda off” i heard her speak through the door.

the sound of her voice alone pulled me closer to finishing.

“uh, yeah. just felt kinda weird” i did my best not to let any moans slip out.

the wet sounds of my hand furiously stroking my cock echoed through the bathroom, and i prayed that she didn’t hear it.

“do you need help?” she asked.

“what ?” i asked, her words catching me off guard.

“like, is there anything i can get you ? do you need anything?” she asked.

“uh, no. just give me a minute” i breathed out heavily, struggling to suppress my groans at the sound of her voice.

“a minute? you close, baby?” she asked. at this point, i was too far into the pleasure to question her words.

“yes, so fucking close” i moaned as my mouth hung open, drool dribbling down my chin.

“you thinkin about bending me over the sink in my bikini?” i let out an embarrassingly loud groan at this.

“feeling me clench around your cock while you fill my pussy up? reminding me who i belong to?” my eyes crossed at her words and my legs shook so hard i had to hold onto the sink.

“i’m cumming! holy fuck, i’m cumming!” i groaned.

my seed spurted out of me, making me groan at the feeling of it dripping down my length.

“oh my god” i breathed out shakily, grabbing toilet paper and cleaning myself up.

i flushed it down the toilet, pulling up my pants and washing my hands after.

i splashed water onto my face, letting the reality of my actions hit me.

did i just fuck everything up?

taking a deep breath, i opened the door.

she had a slightly concerned look on her face as she spoke, “hey, you ok? what happened?”

my eyebrows furrowed at her question. what did she mean, what happened ?

“i mean- yeah i’m good”

“ok, you kinda scared me. you seemed like you were gonna be sick” she spoke as she looked up at me.

did i just imagine that entire thing?

“chris, what’s wrong?” she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“did you come to the door to talk to me at all?” i asked.

“no, why?”

oh, this is not good. i’m fucked.

she cupped my jaw in her hand, swiping her thumb across the corner of my lips.

“you had a little drool” she lightly smirked at me.

🤨🤨🤨

1. HE’S BOLD.

“ok, i should get going” she spoke as she patted my knee lightly.

she was cuddled into my side, her head laying on my shoulder while my arm was wrapped around her waist.

her shirt had ridden up slightly, allowing my hand to rest against her bare skin.

although it may not seem like a big deal, being able to feel her skin was driving me crazy.

i wanted to run my hands all over her body, but i couldn’t. so i settled for the small area of skin that was exposed.

“noooo, just tell your friends to come here” i spoke as i lightly played with the rings on her hand.

“chris…it’s a girl’s night out. that completely defeats the purpose” she said.

“i know, i know. i just don’t want you to go” i spoke before leaving a small kiss to her neck.

i kept my face there, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.

i tried my hardest to move my face away from her neck, but i couldn’t find it in me to pull away.

i shouldn’t have left the kiss in the first place, because now that i knew what it felt like, i wasn’t going to be able to stop.

i left a kiss to the same spot.

and another.

and another.

i moved up her neck, beginning to leave them along her jaw.

“chris” she sighed out, tilting her head to give me better access.

i continued to press my lips to her jaw, and moved up towards her ear, stopping just below it when she let out a moan.

the noise traveled straight to my dick, and i groaned out against her skin.

i focused on the sweet spot, enjoying the way her body reacted to it.

“fuck, chris” she moaned.

suddenly, nick bursted through my door, making us pull apart quickly.

“your friend’s here” he spoke to her, taking in the distance between us and our heavy breathing. “y’all good?”

“yup” we spoke quickly, at the same time, making nick look at us weirdly.

“i should go, don’t wanna keep them waiting” she spoke as she left quickly.

“i just ruined something, didn’t i?” nick asked.

i let out a heavy sigh as i fell back onto my bed.

yeah, i’m fucked.

💋💋💋

is chris delusional ??? 🤔

i loveee this

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @heraakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

[thomaslittlegirl]

sleepy. cillian murphy

warnings; sleepy sex, creampie.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

it was late at night when you finally consider that you've spent enough time watching your series and get ready to go to bed.

you had started a new show and you had been so caught up in the plot that it just flew by and you didn't realize how late it was.

the clock on the living room wall read 3.50 am.

you let out a sigh and headed to the room you shared with your fiancé, the comfortable blanket wrapped around your tired body.

cillian had been asleep for quite some time, with his body completely spread out in the center of the bed. there was no place for you to get in without waking him up so, carefully, you placed the blanket on the edge of the bed and began to crawl over his body, your hair tickling his face.

your lips went to his cheeks and you began to kiss them softly, trying to wake him up as peacefully as possible.

“love…” you whisper, continuing your kisses.

"mhm?" he murmurs sleepily, his eyes opening slowly when he feels your wet lips trace a path on his neck.

"you're on my side of the bed, again." cillian gives a nasal chuckle and wraps his arms around your waist.

somehow or another, the man always managed to end up in your space; as if his body was unconsciously searching for your smell when you weren't lying next to him.

"im sorry, i cant help it."

your lips finally reach his and you give him a peck, smiling sleepily.

murphy steps aside and makes room for you to lie down. your back hits his chest and you feel his large arm reach across your side, holding you in a hug.

eyes close with pleasure when you feel his mouth place small kisses on your neck, returning the treatment you gave him minutes before.

his tongue moves with experience and knowledge on your skin, knowing which places drive you crazy and melt you like sand in his hands. as your boyfriend kisses the back of your neck, you feel one of his playful hands slipping into your underwear.

his middle finger runs up and down between the space of your folds a few times, testing the waters before sinking his finger against your clit.

"cillian..."

the man touches your cunt to his liking, caressing it as if it belonged to him.

"yes...?"

"what are you doing?" you ask, feeling your bottom heat up at the intrusion on your panties.

"just playing with your pussy." he points obvious. you press your lips together to not let out any moans. "can i taste it, my love? can i eat your cunt?"

the sweet question makes you gasp, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit making you even wetter.

the idea is tempting, even more so when you have too much knowledge about how good the irishman is at eating pussy: as devoted as a hungry man.

however, you feel too tired to let that happen, knowing that once he sinks into your wetness, he won't stop until you can't squirt any more juices onto his face.

"im tired, love." you reply, hoping not to disappoint him. "can you just put it inside, please?"

he nods, placing one last kiss on the back of your head. the man takes his hard cock out of his pants and boldly takes off your own pants and underwear. cillian spits into his hand and pumps his erection a little; he knows you're wet enough to take him but he tries to make it easier for you anyway, like the gentleman he is.

the head of his cock positions itself at your soaked hole and he squeezes your waist, letting you know that he is ready.

as you nod he sinks inside you, deep inside, the way he likes. he waits a few seconds for you to adjust to the intrusion before starting to move.

"do you feel me, baby?" he asks, his hand groping your tits as he spoons you. "do you feel me inside you?" you nod, eyes closed in pleasure as you feel him fuck your cunt heavenly. "yes, i know you feel me deep inside you... im so deep i could leave a baby if i wanted to."

you moan and bite your lips, making them bleed. the idea of ​​cillian fucking you a baby was a topic that always helped both of you cum quickly.

his sleepy thrusts become erratic after a minute, big hand leave your tits and starts making circles and patterns on your clit, stimulating you while he doesn't stop fucking your pussy.

the way you moan his name and your insides suck him in drives him completely crazy, bringing him closer.

"can't take it anymore." you warn, feeling how you begin to cum in his hand, dripping all over the sheets. your boyfriend grunts, fucking your pussy through your orgasm.

"good girl, you're making a mess for me." he praises.

you coming so hard always made him feel proud.

"inside." you ask, breathless. "cum inside."

he can't refuse when you ask so sweetly, so after a few seconds he cums inside you, leaving his seed on your body.

cillian presses a kiss to your head, caressing one of your legs gently. you can't keep your eyes open any longer and neither can he, sleep taking over both of you after sex.

that night, you both sleep connected, with cillian's cum resting deep inside you, his cock keeping your pussy filled.

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[vnards]

MafiaAU pt 2

“Here you go!”

Ghost’s fingers stuttered.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Your attention stirred something in him. Your fingers began playing with your apron again. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been watching the door since you’ve sat down.”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately, not used to having conversations with strangers as most thought he was too scary to even look at, “No. Pretty day outside.” He stated simply. He pulled his mask up to take a sip of coffee you had made for him.

You nod, almost eagerly, “I love spring. Sunny days are my favorite.” You look out the window to mourn your longing for outside. Ghost used the moment to soak in every inch of you. “Would you like a piece of pie? Fresh out the oven.” Your offer was so genuine, so polite.

He nods, “Please,” and you scamper back off behind the counter, a renewed pep. Ghost isn’t one for pie, prefers cake, but you asked so nicely. How could he refuse? Ghost’s phone dinged with a message. An all call from Price.

A shame.

You came back with the piece of pie, the light on your face dimmed as you see him place money on the table, “You're leaving?” you nearly sounded disappointed. It tugged on a string in his heart a bit.

“Enjoy it for me, doll.” The offer seemed to settle your sadness for something else.

“Oh, I-I can't. I'm still on the clock.”

“Sit.” The suggestion came out more of a command then anything. But you listened so well. And without question. “Eat my pie for me, darling.” He settle back into his booth, eyes scanning the room behind you for any potential threat. Ghost’s eyes lifted to the waiting at the till, over watching your interaction with him. His eyes held a suspicion he’s seen from other men before. Other men who want to dig his claws in a pretty thing like you.

The weight of the gun hidden against his chest whispers to him. Convincing him of a threat. His fingers being to tap again.

“What's your name?” the lithe in your voice breaking through the whispers. He gives you his full attention.

“Simon.” A name only those close to him use.

You smile and tell him your name. He repeats it, enjoying the feeling of it on his tongue. “I believe everyone has a story,” you eat his pie, just like he requested, “I think I'd like to know your story.”

Ghost’s fingers still. “I’m not a story you’d want to read, doll.”

You look up at him with those eyes of yours, a gentleness he knows he would ruin. The blood on his hands too stained to ever wash off.

He knows what he should do. He should walk away, let you go. Let you not be smeared by his meer presence. But Ghost was always a selfish man. Ghost tried to ignore the lick of fire at the thought of ruining you.

You slide a napkin across the table, a series of numbers written on it, your cheeks . Ghost cant help but smirk behind the mask. “Well, if you ever change your mind…”

The buzzing of his cell phone caught the table’s attention. Ghost grumbled, knowing only one person who would call him. You seem to know it’s a dismissal as well, seeming to slump further in the booth, the air of rejection about you. Ghost almost felt bad, but he hoped a few extra bills would make up for it.

The call continued to ring, Ghost was in no hurry to pick it up. You begin to protest at the extra cash on the table, but Ghost simply didn’t want to hear it. “Stay out of trouble, doll.”

He grabs the napkin as he goes.

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