#ghostflowers sequel

Like, not even close. I have three chapters out of an estimated 20. I'm still working on Sharpest Lives but I need to work on other stuff so I don't get too burnt out on it.

You can read Ghostflowers here:

I’ll post two, since you also posted two :D

SFW: This is from the sequel to Ghostflowers, Tabula Rasa!  :D  There are three unedited chapters so far.  When I’m done with Sharpest Lives I will go back to working on this one.

Tomura scowls up at him, but scooches into Dabi a little further.  Dabi doesn’t say anything about it, and continually pets his hand over Tomura’s hair.  “I need this compound, or everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing,”  Tomura says bitterly.  Dabi knows that he means the work they did with the Yakuza‒with Overhaul.  Every member of the League suffered and sacrificed for the drug that they stole from Overhaul, so Dabi gets it.  If they don’t finish what they started, the loss of Compress’s arm and Magne’s death will have been in vain, and Tomura will have suffered yet another trauma for nothing.

Tomura sinks further into the couch, muttering to himself.  Dabi watches him for a moment before gently taking him by the shoulders and pulling his head down into Dabi’s lap.  Tomura settles down like a grumpy cat, his legs folded up against the side of the couch, accepting Dabi’s fingers carding through his hair with little more than a mildly irritated harumph. 

“Try not to stress about it too much,”  Dabi says, pushing Tomura’s hair back from his forehead.  He runs his fingers lightly over the scars on Tomura’s face, the texture of rough skin strangely calming.  They’re not as rough as Dabi’s scars, but they still feel nice against the pads of his fingers, and he knows that Tomura secretly likes it when he touches them, even if he won’t admit it.

-

(slightly) NSFW: this is from a stripper!Dabi AU that I never finished 

The man’s spidery fingers trail over his belt, slowly pulling it out of its buckle and unzipping, pushing his pants lower on his hips as he rolls them, letting his whole body sway with the motion.  He beckons to Tomura, motioning him towards the cage with the playful smirk on his scarred lips and the crook of his finger.  Tomura’s face burns from embarrassment, his only saving grace the darkness of the club, and the fact that no one else is paying attention to him‒all eyes are focused on the man in the cage.  

He inches towards the cage, heart hammering wildly in his chest.  Tomura’s eyes trail over his body, lingering on his exposed lower abdomen.  It’s almost unfair how attractive he is‒all these people screaming for him, trying to touch him, begging him to touch them.  

And yet...he isn’t looking at any of them.

“Shigaraki,”  he greets, eyes glowing with mischief.  “You like my show?”

Tomura blinks and nods, unsure of what to say.  The man chuckles and tosses his hair again, dancing away to the other side, throwing his arms out in a spinning move that he somehow manages to make look effortless despite seeming quite complicated, before making his way back to Tomura.  

Tomura swallows and clears his throat.  “I didn’t get your name.”