#dabi hc

[maleficent-dabi]

Had to pay tribute to my name 😅😅

[amigadiskfiles]

Nightfall with You

Dabi/Tomura/Hawks x reader drabble, some suggestive content but can be read as fluffy too, messy idea thrown together all because I was thinking about fluffy hair <3 first drabble that im not satisfied with but anyway enjoy those who will ♡

He does not fall asleep easily. If you hadn't known any better, you would think he wasn't even human from how little he sleeps. He has better ways to occupy his time with.

"Seriously?" he sighs, big blue screen illuminating his face with a bold "YOU LOSE" right in his face. If you hadn't been in the room he'd already have raged right into the beanbag he was engulfed in right in front of the screen.

"'S a hard level…" you yawn from the bed, nuzzling into Tomura's pillow needily. He had been stuck on that damn game since dinner, and that was already six hours ago—no breaks just grinding. And you were growing sick of it.

"No, it's not." Tomura complains, hitting the restart button and huffing when he was reset to the very start of the fight, "Just stupid as hell..." Here we go again...

At least he was cute, wasn't he? Fluffy hair falling over his furrowed brows, a focused pout highlighting the cute scar on his lip… Your boss was very cute, you conclude. He just needed some motivation to quit that godforsakken game and get in bed with you.

Sliding off the mattress, you find yourself leaning over his shoulder, hands slipping into his hair and brushing it back so he can see better and so you can feel his soft hair against your fingertips. Brushing through the light blue hair, you lean in, pressing your lips on his ear out of affection.

"Clear the way—" he begins, trying to shrug you off so he wouldn't lose his focus and pulling away despite the heavenly feeling of your hands in his hair.

"Come to bed," you murmur and stick even closer to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders while you bug him with kisses.

"I said, clear the way!" Tomura growls again as his character keeps getting struck by the enemy, the HP bar constantly getting lower while every single button of the remote struggles against Tomura's efforts to succeed.

"And I said, come to bed," you huff with a pout, pulling away just to force him to make space on the beanbag for you. If he wasn't coming to bed, you might as well find the bed where he is.

On the other side of the beanbag, Tomura stares at you in irritation, as the bright screen of "YOU LOSE" flashes again before his eyes while you seem to find comfort on the beanbag, cuddling up to his side like you didn't just cost him another half hour of his life.

But, as bratty as he is, Tomura likes this. He likes knowing you will always find your place next to him, whether it's in battle or life, that you feel welcome to do so even when he knows you're clearly tired and want him in bed with you so he can complain about not having enough space... He really is a loser for you, isn't he?

He knows he is, when the morning finds you both cuddled up in front of the screen, legs huddled up together under the makeshift blanket he keeps for when he's too tired to move to the bed, or when you stubbornly find him wherever he is hiding and attach yourself to his side, just like you always have.

"You're kidding," is the first thing that slips out of your mouth when you enter the bedroom after your shower, only to see Keigo passed out in bed, one arm hanging from the side of the mattress while the other was gathered under his pillow. There really were no "sides of the bed" with him, because to Keigo it was one bed. A unity. One bed that fit two people whether it was vertically, horizontally, sideways, upside down or upright. At least he did you right by leaving all his little feathers detached and away from the bed.

"Kei, you're on my side again," you sigh as you walk closer to him, the towel around your shoulders sliding off to land on the nightstand.

"Kei." You call out again, only to earn a groan from him, and you can't resist slipping into bed with him; the comfort of his body sprawled under the covers too inviting to remain away.

And you can't scold him either can you? Pro Hero Hawks had a tight schedule, and an even tighter bedtime. So when it came to finding him passed out way before you even felt the gentle hand of sleep on your eyelids, you ought to be forgiving. Perhaps now, in the low light of the night you could finally marvel at the sight of him, eyes closed and prominent blonde eyebrows furrowed for once in his life—Keigo is the last of the heroes to ever be seen relaxed, in his natural state without showing his millionaire smile for the eyes around him, all watching and waiting. He hardly knows what for. But he knew not to show people his grievances, not for even a second.

"Finally back…?" He murmurs once he feels you poke at his cheek, tracing the line of his sideburns with your index. You hum your answer and shift closer to him, head laying on his shoulder while you caress his lower back.

"Did I take too long?" you ask and slip your hand under his shirt so you can trail your nails against his skin, aiming nothing more than to soothe him.

He shakes his head 'no', because Keigo would rather have all his feathers get wet than tell you that he was exhausted, that despite how long he fought, his eyes betrayed him and closed out of need. Still, he knows you; he knows you'd never hold it against him, always choosing to keep yourself in his company instead of call him out on his crap.

But he won't deny you the simple pleasures of life. He will make time for you time and time again, even if he must split himself in a million pieces—even if one piece of him is right here, holding you close and trying to resist slipping his legs between yours just to feel closer to you, while the other piece of him is preparing for tomorrow; for waking up and doing it all over again, rinse and repeat. And by nightfall, he'll be yours again. Because Keigo Takami found the first open cage in his life and willingly walked inside, hoping he can shut the door once and for all one day.

His nightly routine is less of a routine and more akin to war, really. Having gotten used to living on the street, he has become accustomed to going through his "checklist". He calls it a checklst, you call it rituals.

"Touya," you call out his name when he keeps going around every corner of the room, checking the window twice—thrice for good measure— and making sure the door is closed so not a single ray of light from the other rooms will seep inside to wake him up during the night when Twice inevitably wakes up again, bringing a water bottle for when he in turn wakes up at night and can't cool off from how much his body is burning up.

"Touya!" You call out again, this time more firmly, sitting upright on his bed and waiting impatiently for him to join you.

"Quiet, damnit, I'm almost done," he grumbles, finally starting to take off any extra clothes so he can jump in bed in just his underwear, for the mere idea of any clothes on his skin makes him boil even quicker.

He's not a fan of "going to bed". Not that he doesn't like sleeping (believe me he would be asleep all day like a cat, laying by the window if he could) he just doesn't like willingly closing his eyes, or being caught by surprise for that matter. WIllingly choosing to sleep and to succumb to the threat of vulnerability is already out of his comfort zone, let alone something he so much as rarely chose to do in the past. You just happen to make it… easier. More tempting.

"There. Happy?" He scoffs as he slides under the bedsheets with you, wrapping his scarred arm around your waist and dragging you back down with him, one pillow accomodating both of your heads. Yet, instead of answering him, you simply huff, turning your head away from him as punishment.

"Hey—" he huffs irritably as he watches you ignore him and follows your line of sight with his face, only to be disappointed when you keep being a brat. In a grand act of defiance, he shoves his nose in the crook of your neck, tickling you with his scarred lips to get you to look at him for even just a second longer before his eyes close to the sight of your peaceful face. He knows he will earn your attention back anyway, because you are too soft for someone like him, too kind and loving for someone as rough around the edges as he is.

Dabi isn't always mean, you come to find out as you sleep next to him every day. You can't demand more of him when you know that for a large part of his life he had to survive without so much as a bed, let alone an embrace. If anything, you know he sleeps better knowing you're next to him, whether it is after having you moan into his pillow to keep quiet while he keeps drilling you into the bed, or cuddling you from behind and inhaling your scent while you complain that he's too warm. Dabi becomes Touya when you're next to him; grumpy and needy, wanting all your attention and care just for himself. And he does earn it, by making sure you are safe right next to him—safe from the shadows lurking all around his life and fate. Most of all, however, he knows he's earned this when he wakes up with a smug smile to your huffs and puffs every morning, complaining he's just too warm and too close to your body. And he'll do it again, too.

© all rights reserved, ai training on any of my work is strictly prohibited

[star-spirit-mayhem]

The League finding out Dabi’s a Todoroki because while he was fucking you you moaned out his real name and for the next three hours he was fucking you so hard you saw stars and he made you keep saying his name until you've both cum at least three times and there's no way Shigaraki didn't hear you yelling about how you belonged to Touya and telling him how good his dick is.

[unlovablelover]

you know what i think? i lowkey think dabi's dick is fucked up like genuinely fucked. like most of the time he can't get it up AND i also think it's probably a little on the shorter side. he prefers to use his fingers instead of his dick to pound into you #bczisaidso

edit: i am not letting this go unnoticed @fuckthevillain take this and good night!

[rat-typewriter]

Hating Weddings | Dabi x Reader

SUMMARY: Just hours before you’re due to marry a man you don’t love, Dabi comes to change your mind; as it turns out, you don't need too much persuasion. WORD COUNT: 2.3k

You sat, staring at your reflection - the stylist nervously tried to meet your eyes in the mirror. She had spent three hours - and quite possibly half the world’s supply of hairpins - drawing your hair into the elegant

“It’s lovely.” You said, attempting to mask the disappointment in your voice - but judging by the way your soon-to-be mother-in-law rolled her eyes and huffed, you were still a bad liar.

Over the year that you had known the woman, the only thing you seemed to have in common was a mutual dislike for one another. You were not the sort of bride she wanted for her son; maybe it was the way you didn’t fall over yourself at the opportunity to spend time with the beyond dull boy - or maybe it was the way that XYZ. Either way, she had really mastered that expression of distaste she wore (which you could only imagine was paired with her envisioning you being run over by a bus). But she tolerated you nevertheless and you did the same for her. Engagements like your own were rarely anything to do with love or feelings or whatever you wanted - they were strictly business.

Quirk marriages were much more common than most people would’ve liked to believe; they paid well too. You’d been found by the guy’s father - an owner of a wealthy demolition company - who knew your quirk would be an invaluable asset to their business. It wasn’t the life you had imagined for yourself, but at least money would never be an issue for you again.

“Thank you,” You smiled sympathetically at the stylist, who seemed unable to exhale fully - glancing between you and the other woman with wide, doe eyes.

She seemed to relax a little before your mother-in-law took her by the elbow and pulled her into the doorway - as if standing a few feet away suddenly made you incapable of hearing their hushed voices.

Shutting your eyes, you exhaled slowly - as if, with enough determination, you could expel the tightness in your ribs through your breath. Your legs buzzed with adrenaline that only seemed to worsen as the ceremony drew closer and your head was starting to feel slightly too light for the rest of your body - as though a strong wind would dispel your skull into a wisp of smoke.

Just as you began to half-heartedly wonder if you might be about to vomit: your phone buzzed. The text from an unknown number flashed up on the screen.

Last chance.

Quickly, you swiped the message away - averting your gaze, instead focusing on the colours of nail polish picked out for you. You had no idea that there could be so many shades of white: eggshell, light ivory, pearl, fresh snow, bone china, chiffon, porcelain, dark ivory-

I’ll be outside in twenty-five.

You stared at the text, your legs becoming more restless than ever. You could practically hear his low voice and smug tone in the sans serif. He was so sure of himself; so arrogant. Who did he think he was? Expecting you to follow him wherever he went, well over a year after you’d told him that you were giving up work with the league of villains. Expecting that you’d just abandon everything you’d worked for - to build a new identity and to cover your tracks so you could leave it all behind - just because he goddamn asked.

It was only as your fiancé’s mother reentered the room - meek hairstylist in tow - that you tore your gaze from your phone.

“Don’t do that with your face.” She scoffed and you were suddenly aware of your deep scowl. Despite trying to relax your expression, you still felt the hot redness in your cheeks.

She continued, “Plenty of girls would kill to be where you’re sitting. I don’t see why you have to go and spoil it for everyone else.” She turned back to the stylist and resumed her string of complaints and general dissatisfaction, occasionally jabbing a finger in your direction.

You tried to follow a string of deep breaths - in and out, in and then fucking out - but Dabi’s stupid, snarky voice still rang in your mind.

The pair of you had always argued like your respective lives depended on it. To the untrained eye, strangers would have assumed your relationship to be beyond dysfunctional - but insults and generally winding each other up was just how you both communicated. It ranged anywhere from flirty teasing to pettiness to flat-out screaming matches - but it was never truly malicious. Even after the most seemingly brutal throwdown, you both continued like nothing had happened - with a casual Do you want takeout tonight? or a simple See you later, babe and a peck on the cheek. Somewhere along the way, being at each other's throats became being more-or-less joined at the hip. And as quick as you were to poke fun at one another and compete - you were still (literally) partners in crime and made a killer team.

Leaving him was one of the hardest things you had ever done. But it was a decision you had to make.

Again, the phone buzzed - sliding across the table a little.

Now or never.

You exhaled - biting back a smile - the fucking cheek of this man. You were tempted to text back Now-or-never my ass, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response. Now or never had become a secret between the two of you: a reference to your first meeting that you’d drop into as many situations and missions with the league as possible. He’d shouted it from the street below, trying to convince you to take the leap out of a fourth storey window after him; you’d whispered it in his ear while pressed up against him, hiding between shipping containers. It was a prayer to your relationship; a promise. All referencing that first chance meeting.

—

You stumbled through the snowy alleyway, still reeling from excitement - and, now that you thought about it, smoke inhalation. You hadn’t burnt something like that in a long time. Probably ever. Sure, as a child you scorched the odd tablecloth and spent your awkward teenage years nervously causing whatever you held in your hands smoke haphazardly - but to truly, completely burn something: that was new. You were fed up with lighting people’s cigarettes and melting their frozen car doors and listening to the frankly endless (and sub-par) swathes of spark-based pick up lines. For once in your goddamn life, you got to burn something.

The night air was freezing; turning your breath to fog in the dark. Despite your blackened clothes and singed hair, the cold numbed your fingers and you were suddenly very aware of your choice to wear flip flops in February. You had only meant to make a quick trip out of your flat to the shop downstairs; had you known that you were going to be making your debut as a record sprinter, you probably would have chosen something a little more robust. Each step through the wintry slush left your feet dripping and even in the dim, yellowy light of the alley, you could see your toes beginning to turn blue.

Hopefully this place wasn’t too far - if it even existed.

You reached a metal door - dented and dimly lit by a flickery yellow light over the frame - and, before you could convince yourself otherwise, knocked. Do you knock at a villain’s hideout? Stepping back from the door, you steadied your breathing - a group of drunken men walked past the opening of the alley, shoving each other and slurring.

Was this even the right place? You rarely found yourself on this side of the city and your melted phone had about the functionality of a deformed paperweight. Conversations with odd people in stairwells or strangers smoking out the back of the kitchen where you worked were all you had to find the league of villains. Conversations with people that you really shouldn’t trust.

The clunk of bolts being undone, followed by the scrape of metal-on-metal pulled you from your thoughts. Hinges groaning, the door swung half-open.

For a moment, it was as though it had opened by itself; breath caught in your throat you stared into the unlit building - but a few feet back from the doorway, the shape of a person shifted. His voice was low and gravely when he spoke.

“Coming in?”

Opening your mouth - vaguely aware of your brain screaming as you sprint back down the alley - you managed a hoarse Uhhh.

Another moment passed, the quiet filled by your soft breath turning to fog. A van rumbled past on the road and you caught yourself glancing back, watching as it rolled by.

“You’re letting the cold in.” He said. “Now or never.”

Oh, fuck it. Turning back to the door you laughed weakly - sounding like something between a cough and a sore throat. “Suppose it better be now then,”

The stranger stepped back and a yellowy strip of light crossed his face, illuminating his features. His skin was littered with scars - you recognised them as burns. Over the years of not being able to control your fire quirk, you had plenty of your own. But beneath them he was young, no older than you.

His eyes crinkled slightly and he grinned - which sent jolts of fear and excitement through your chest again.

“Come on then, sparky.”

—

It was the eleventh time that your phone buzzed - two minutes before the ceremony was to start - that you gave in.

You jumped out of your seat, the bridesmaid (who you barely even knew) and had been fixing your hair stumbled back.

“I- Uh,” you stammered as the other bridesmaids turned to stare at you. “I’m going to the toilet.”

And you took off.

You stumbled out of the door and down the hallway in eight layers of tulle and shoes that were horrendously uncomfortable. You took a left, then a right, then a left again - until you found an open window.

Good enough.

With no further thought, you forced the window as wide as it would go and shimmied through - tumbling out and into a bush.

As you attempted to pull yourself out and untangle your stupidly poofy skirt - which had caught in the branches - you heard a familiar laugh.

“Wow. Bit desperate to leave are we?”

You whipped around, finding yourself face-to-face with Dabi.

“Didn’t think you missed me that much,”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out and your brain was suddenly empty. Butterflies erupted in your stomach - the boy who you hadn’t seen in over a year was still able to make you nervous.

He grinned - oh how you’d missed that - and laughed again. “You look gorgeous, Doll.”

“Thanks, I’ve always loved the dragged-backwards-through-a-hedge look.” you said, dryly, before adding. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He stepped forwards - rolling his eyes; offering a hand to pull you out of the bush. “Oh, how you flatter me.”

Accepting the hand, you let him heave you out of the bush - pulling you far closer than necessary. You stood practically against his chest, having to crane your neck slightly to look him in the eyes.

You swallowed and felt your face grow warm.

God, he knew just how to make you feel sixteen all over again.

“I see you still like to leave everything until the last minute.” He said, glancing down at his watch. “I texted you ages ago.”

You scoffed. “An hour at most–”

“–Two hours.”

You glanced at his watch. 10:59. “I’ve still got a minute - there’s still time for me to marry that guy!” You threatened, unable to hide your grin. “Don’t test me!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just curious - with or without the dragged-backwards-through-a-hedge look?”

“I’ll do it.”

You narrowed your eyes, holding his gaze: both locked in a semi-serious staredown. Standing there, his dark hair falling into his eyes; his arm around your waist tightening every-so-slightly, was the person you had thought of every day for the last year. At night, as you stared at the ceiling he had been the one that you wished was by your side. At every fancy dinner and business party; every dress fitting and stupid, stupid charity ball that you had gone to with your husband-to-be - you had wished he was holding your hand.

And now he was here, holding you close. Staring you down like an asshole.

"I've missed you." You blurted out. It came out slightly disjointed and stilted, surprising you both a little. He glances down at your lips.

He smiled - with only a hint of his usual smugness. "I've missed you too, Sweetheart,"

He leant down, quickly kissing you. It wasn't long or passionate or hot. Just a regular, discrete peck on the lips.

But, God, did it make you fall in love all over again.

The sound of a door opening and voices flooding into the street came from around the corner. Dabi took a step back and turned to you with that slightly-terrifying, but oh-so-exhilarating grin.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He extended his hand to you, faking a courteous bow and in return you grinned and curtseyed. Giggling slightly, you put your hand in his and he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles - winking up at you.

"Touya Todoroki, I never knew you were such a gentleman!"

"If you ever tell anyone, I'll have to kill you"

For a moment, his tone is so serious that you almost believe him; even more worryingly, you don’t seem to care. But then he smiles and tugs on your hand.

"C'mon, I hate weddings."

"Me too." You giggled.

With your hand in his, you both took off running.

NOTES: This is actually a rewrite of something I wrote last year to try to ease me back into writing! I've missed it sooo much over exams but ngl when i sat down to finally write again the absolute DRIVEL that came out of my head wasn't worthy of seeing the light of day. Please send over any requests you might have!! im desperate for some inspo atm!!

[theartofsimpatry]

Corpse Bride AU

Dabi x Reader

Part 3

Part 2

“Mm..” You moaned… you could feel yourself waking up but your eyelids felt so heavy. It took all of your willpower to open them. It took your eyes only a second to adjust to the scene in front of you. You were lying on a plush velvet couch… the windows showed it was night and the nearby lamps illuminated the room around you. Your wedding dress was muddied and tattered from your running. Your mother would beat you with a wooden spoon for what you did to her dress. You slowly rose off of the couch, oh god, you were sore. Your body felt weak and battered. You stretched out your neck and could feel your hair matting on your head. You touched and felt gauze wrapped around your head. You remembered running in the forest from… something and then passing out after falling into a creek bed…

“Now where is that salve I put down?” You heard an old man speak, he must be a room away. Did he save you? He must’ve wrapped the gauze around you. You should get up and thank him, maybe he’ll give you a ride back into town! You got up fully and finally noticed you were barefoot, you must’ve lost your shoes while running. They were your grandmama’s… your mother will surely beat your bottom when you get back. You navigated through the cluttered room, piles of old books that stood like towers. You knew that it would be best not to touch anything as you were already in this man’s debt. You opened the room’s door into a dark hallway.

“Hello?” You called out, down the hallway you could see the shadow of a short man wearing maybe a coat, from of one of the rooms.

“Yes dear? Are you alright? I’m trying to find my medicated salve for you. If you can, can you come here and help me find it?” He called out, you felt at ease. You made your way down the hallway to join him. “Yes, of course! Thank you for helping me. I must’ve gotten lost in the forest and got hurt.” You came in through the illuminated doorway, again, mountainous piles of books all around the room. You saw a short figure, facing away from you. The only thing that you could see besides his long robe was the top of his head, very pale and not a single hair on top of his head.

“Ah, yes. Your husband did say that is what happened.” Husband? Did your fiancé come after you into the forest and save you? Despite your very limited time with him… he didn’t seem like the type that would be worried about you. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought? You snaked your way through the books and began searching for that salve.

Crack!

You quickly turned around and the hold man seemed to be rubbing his hip in pain. “Damn these old bones.” You quickly stifled a laugh and continued digging through piles of books on the ground. After a few minutes, you heard the click-clack of his shoes coming towards you.

“Looks like I’ve found it, dear.” You quickly turned around to see… the old man’s skull was pale white with a pair of simple glasses on his face despite not having eyeballs. With no hesitation, you grabbed the thickest book near you and swung it at the old man’s skull.

CRACK!

His skull flung off of his shoulders and into a pile of books that came down like an avalanche on top of it. The old man’s body stumbled around like someone in the dark. His robe fell off revealing nothing more than a skeleton underneath. Nothing about what happened was a dream?! You actually married a walking corpse?!

“Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” You screamed. You turned around and ran back into the dark hallway. You frantically checked all the doors for an exit. Door 1: no. Door 2: no. Door 3: no! You turned down a corner and saw a lone double door that the end of the winding hallway. That must be it! You sprinted down and grabbed the knob. You swung the door open to see the tall dark figure you hoped to never see again. Your eyes trailed up from his tattered dark blue suit to his decaying blue face. His blue and white eyes glittered at you.

“My runaway bride, I left to get these roses for you, I guess you missed me too much?” In his hands, a bouquet of wilted dead roses. Your eyes darted to the clear area behind him, maybe you could run again?

“Thinking of running away again? Did it work out for you last time?” He mocked, he advanced towards you and instinctively you hobbled back. His hand guided you to turn and your back hit the wall of the hallway. You flinched in pain, you were still bruised, maybe you should’ve stolen that salve… He kept his hand on your shoulder and freed his other hand by throwing the roses out of sight. His skin was so cold, it almost felt nice on your bruised body. His cold and foul smelling breath hit your face making you shrink even further into yourself. You only had maybe 3 inches of space between you two. You hated this.

“I also went out and got a ring for you. A proper one.” His freed hand dug into his suit’s pocket. In his pinched fingers was a large diamond ring, a large white diamond in the center and a ring of blue sapphires surrounding it. It was such an extraordinary sight. You’ve never seen such a large ring, the one that was proposed to you was a mere silver band with a tiny and delicate diamond embedded into the band. You were blinded by the sight that you didn’t even fight back when he gently grabbed your hand and slipped the ring onto your ring finger. The diamonds and sapphires glistened in the light from outside.

“Wh-where did you get this?” Was all you could ask, the man in front of you chuckled, he brought his freed hand back and slightly away from you before a bright blue flame roared from finger tips, disintegrating the surrounding skin.

“I had to burn someone for it.” His eyes flickered from the sapphire blue flames to your terrified face. “I would hate to have to burn you too, my bride.” Your eyes turned away from his face and flames to the outside world just beyond the doorway. The closeness of his cold lips to your ear made you want to hide under a blanket forever.

“Maybe if you keep fighting and running, I’ll have to brand my name into your body: Dabi. I suggest you start playing the perfect wife for now on.”

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Dabi x reader with chronic pain

Tags/Warnings: chronic pain, slight angst with comfort, fluff, soft Dabi, established relationship

Author's note: Having a bad pain day and I was thinking about what Dabi would do seeing the one he loves in pain.

Word count: ~650

It’s kind of embarrassing, truthfully, how something so small can piss you off today. It’s not even a big deal, more like an insignificant annoyance in the grand scheme of things. Still, you find yourself groaning in agitation. All the minor inconveniences you experience every day just seem so overwhelming right now, with the constant background pain that seems to be ramping up as time passes on. 

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Princess?” Dabi teases with his usual cocky smirk. You turn around to face him, finding him in the window of your bedroom. You’re a bit surprised to see him. Not that he doesn’t usually enter your home through the fire escape, but because you weren’t expecting him. Especially not on a day like this. 

Unlike most other times, where you either respond to his playful jabs with one of your own, or instead vent it all out with passionate ranting, your expression communicates a sort of exhaustion he’s not used to seeing on you. You don’t seem sluggish from a lack of sleep, rather, it’s as if you’re out of energy to deal with anything. You’re tired from the demands placed on you, your pain eating away at any mental energy you have left. His face falls upon realizing something is genuinely wrong. He knows he can be an ass sometimes, but seeing you look so despondant has him regretting his choice of words. 

“Sorry, I’m just… in a lot more pain that usual today,” you force out. The tone of your voice makes it clear just how much this is weighing on you. Putting up a cheerful facade is too much to bear. You’ve mention in passing how you have chronic pain. It always follows you, remaining as a cemented constant. You’ve made it a point to not bring it up much. Knowing what Dabi experienced just made you view your discomfort as something so miniscule, something not deserving of concern. So you’ve always tried to hide it. It’s worked in the past, and conveniently, he seems to be busy in the times that your pain ramps up. Today is the first times he’s really been around for days like this. “I don’t want to bum you out so if you wanna leave, I understand-”

“No,” he denies, cutting you off. He knows what its like, to be constantly haunted by life’s cruelty. The scars on his skin tell his story whenever he has the misfortune of seeing them, whereas your aches shouts your story. You both carry unavoidable mementos of pain. You’ve done more than you think in bearing his pain. You’ve listened to his recounts of his past, patched him up when he’s come home to you after a mission gone south, and unknowingly held onto him when his thoughts were darkest. He wants to return the favor, in any way he can. “I’m not going anywhere.” He climbs down from the spot on the widow sill and closes the window behind him. He kicks off his boots and lays on your bed, gesturing for you to lay with him by opening his arms. 

You sigh, before saying in a tired and stressed voice, “I can’t Dabi, I gotta clean and then-”

“I’ll take care of it later, c’mere,” he urges. You don’t have the energy to fight him, so you acquiesce. Not to mention, you’ve been dying to just lie in your bed. Dabi being in it is a added benefit you don’t want to pass up. You curl up to his side and rest your head upon his chest. “Where are you hurting?”

You point to the area. In a rare moment of softness from him, he gently traces over the aching part of your body. It’s not a cure for your pain by any means, but the gentle touches both give you something else to focus on and melts your frozen heart. “Thank you,” you meekly whisper and nuzzle closer against him.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. “Anything for you.”

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Dabi has frequent hookups, not because he’s necessarily horny or in need of a good fuck, but simply because he hates sleeping alone and needs a distraction from dreaming about the one person he cares about, who he refuses to let know.