Blue Flame |Dabi x Reader|

in the swing of things.

Dinner with Overhaul was an experience. Not necessarily good and not necessarily and, but certainly an experience nonetheless.

It was just the two of us sat at either end of his long, dark mahogany dining table, the room warmly lit from the ornate chandelier dangling overhead. Some calming orchestral music played softly from speakers set into the wall; we were served our plates in silence by two willowy dark-haired men in plain white plague masks. The man setting my plate in front of me hesitated with his hand still on the plate, looking into my eyes and raising his eyebrows as he flashed a vaguely apologetic and almost pleading look.

I thought about greeting him, but Overhaul cleared his throat and the two quickly shuffled out of the room with their heads down. He watched them leave, turning his head and patiently sitting with his hands clasped on the table in front of him. When the door softly closed behind them, he turned to face me again and gestured broadly to the table. I stared at him as the steam rose off our panko-fried pork loins and curled into the air.

"Please, eat."

"I- thank you."

I tugged my mask off and set it aside. As I picked up my fork and knife, I looked back up at him and froze, my mouth falling open as he gingerly removed his ornate red and gold mask. Hidden behind the mask he had rounded cheeks and a narrow, pointed chin. His small, light pink lips were rounded, slightly parted as he took a deep breath. He looked up at me from under his long, dark lashes with his strange golden eyes as I let out a little gasp. I would be lying if I said that he wasn't almost supernatural looking. He had a sort of unearthly, handsome intebsity to his soft features.

He smiled softly at me, leaning his head slightly to the side. "The air in here is very clean." He narrowed his eyes as he studied my face before straightening in his seat and picking up his utensils. "I don't remove my mask often. I suppose this must be a bit unusual for you - not many who know me know my real face. The world is so...dirty." He glanced down briefly as he started to cut into his food, his tone gentle and amicable. "I figured that if I was going to be researching and experimenting on you and your quirk," he paused as he took a small bite, swallowing before speaking again, "that you may feel more comfortable if I felt like less of a stranger."

"That makes sense, I appreciate the gesture," I clumisly began to cut my food, my cheeks burning, "you've been very kind."

"You keep saying that," he said softly as he continued to cut his pork loin into bite-sized pieces, "does Shigaraki not treat you with kindness like he does the others?" Something in his tone was vaguely mocking.

"I don't see Shigaraki very much," I replied quickly, looking down at my plate, "Dabi tends to keep me at the hip-"

"I imagined as much." His response was curt, his voice icy. He took another bite and gently tapped at his mouth with a satin napkin. "He seemed oddly possessive of you. Almost acting like he owned you-"

"He thinks he does," I mumbled as I stuffed my mouth with rice. Overhaul watched patiently as I swallowed my bite, his expression unreadable. "He makes me feel more like a prisoner than anything."

A slow half-smile spread across his face and my stomach jumped. "Is that so?"

"Well, I mean-" I stammered, suddenly anxious from his response.

He set down his fork and knife and leaned forward over the table, clasping his hands together once more. "He seems to care for you...and yet you feel like a prisoner?"

"He kidnapped me, remember?"

"Ah." He leaned back and resumed eating. I watched him blankly, my cheeks blazing. After a few minutes, he looked back up to me. "I feel there is more to your," he paused again, raising his eyebrows and smiling smugly, "relationship with Dabi than I realized. Would I be incorrect in this assumption?"