Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Bloodstains

You had put the ruined cushion cover and the bloodied cover on the couch seat in the washing machine, not wanting to rub the blood in and spread it even more trying to wash it by hand. You can hear it spinning in the kitchen as you scrub at the floor, your knuckles white as you hold onto the sponge tightly, as if the tighter grip on it would magically make the bloodstains that had somehow seeped their way into the wooden floor disappear like you wanted.
"For fucks sake." You hiss under your breath, leaning back into a kneeling position, the back of your head meeting with the feeling of a body behind you.
You freeze.
"Watch it doll." Dabi's raspy voice comes from behind you, and a little pissed off with the stains in your floor as well as his hot and cold mentality, you mimic what he said silently while pulling a face, the action a little childish even by your standards.
Ignoring him, you get back onto your hands to scrub, trying to ignore the immediate perverse thoughts that pop into Dabis head almost the second you do so.

The thoughts do nothing to soothe your temper, your face scrunching up more and more in anger the longer he stares down at you, creating more and more scenarios in his head.
You almost consider telling him to shut up. It was a 50/50 chance you were coming out alive anyway, and you were getting sick of the stream of lewd thoughts he had about you as well as other people. If he wasn't whining about how hot he was, or lost behind the walls of his mind, then he was likely thinking about sex, or violence. Sometimes even both mixed together.
The sound of him flopping onto the sofa stops you before you can open your mouth, thankful when his mind goes elsewhere. But the feeling of the backs of his calves resting over your back immediately made your blood boil again.
You snap your head around at him, only to catch him smirking lazily at you on the side of his face still fully stapled, his sapphire eyes sparkling playfully. Instead of feeling relieved that his mood had clearly shifted, you were almost a little angrier.
"You're going to give me whiplash." You hiss under your breath, returning your attention back to scrubbing at the floors.

You knew it was probably ridiculous to expect a villain to have a stable mindset. You'd gone your entire life trying to give everyone an equal chance, knowing what it was like to feel pre-judged by people going off appearances alone, and by the law's views, you too, were a villain. Your Quirk was unable to be trained in a way that would stop you from being able to use it in a regulated way, the lawful way. You liked to give people a chance.
But clearly that mindset was hard to break out of for you, still expecting the best out of someone that had broken into your home and used their Quirk on you, even if he had a few soft moments with you.
"What was that, princess?" Dabi asks, no spite behind his voice as you continue scrubbing at the floor, you see his black mop of hair tilt slightly from the corner of your eyes.
You knew he probably heard. He was pretty sharp, and it wasn't like you kept your hissing that low.
You stop scrubbing, sighing and sitting up quickly, making Dabis legs slide down your back and land loudly on the floor, his smirk tugging up even more.

"Keep your feet off me." You reply simply, giving him a cold look. He hums thoughtfully in return, his gaze moving away for a second before returning, the smirk still sitting on one side of his lips.
"What about my hands?" He teases, raising one eyebrow, his pale pink tongue sticking out slightly to run over his marred bottom lip.
His mind flashes back to what he had done in the kitchen, and subsequently, travels to the image he'd fantasized about as he caged you in against the counter.
"Shut up." You mutter, the heat rising to your cheeks again, making you want to curl up into a ball of shame even more from the fact that you didn't hate the idea at the time.
"Sure thing, doll." He croons sarcastically, looking down at the damp patch on the floor and releasing you from his intense stare. "Baking soda."
"Huh?" You reply, frowning slightly at him.
"Baking soda. And a little white vinegar. Usually works."
His cold blue eyes move to meet yours again, a look of sincerity behind them as you hold each other's eye contact for a second, his face the most serious you'd seen it for a while.

"I suppose you would know." You relent after a few seconds of silence between you both.
Dabis eye twitches slightly, and you're immediately met with the image of a silver haired woman almost identical to you with her back turned scrubbing at the wooden floor in front of her, with the sounds of quiet sobbing faint in your ears.
The walls go up immediately, snatching the image away with you with such force that you let out a small, almost winded breath. Dabi's face is set in stone again as he gives you a once over.
"What's wrong?" He asks.
"Nothing." You reply a little too quickly.
His eyes dart away from you, and he takes a deep breath before gripping your collar and pulling you up to the sofa with a lot more ease than you'd expect for such a lanky frame. Your heart picks up momentarily, uncertain as to what was going to happen next, until he stands, picking up the bowl and sponge left on the floor.
"W-what are you doing?" You ask, a little dumbfounded.
"Cleaning it up." He replies simply, standing back up and turning his head to rest his cold blue eyes on you again. "Probably shouldn't strain yourself if you're knocked up, right?"

You blink at him in disbelief, remembering the lie but not understanding why he's suddenly remembered the fact you could be pregnant.
His eyes move away, a glimpse of the same silver haired woman, this time with a rounded belly, pops up before disappearing almost instantly again.
"Don't want you puking cause of the smell either. I'll clean my mess up but I'm not cleaning yours up." He states gruffly, beginning to walk off.
You remain sat on the sofa, your mouth dropping open and closed like a fish out of water for a minute before you turn and look over at him as he clatters around in the kitchen, likely looking for the ingredients he stated.
"What about your injuries?" You ask, thinking back to the hastily dressed slashes on his stomach.
Slamming one of the cupboard doors shut, he turns over to look at you with narrowed eyes.
"What did I say?" He asks, entirely too calm for your liking. Your shoulders sink as you feel the air change around him again. You decide not to push it, sinking into the sofa slightly as you watch him continue to search your kitchen.

'Fuckin' ridiculous.' Dabi's internal voice comments, drawing your attention. 'What are you doing?'
You decide to keep quiet as he works, internally berating himself the entire time.
"Thank you." You mumble, wanting to simmer his internal anger down, tired of hearing it, and unsure what else would soothe him.
He pauses, his hand tightening on the sponge, making the staples around his wrist flex along with the muscles of his hand, a vein becoming apparent as he does so.
"Yeah. Sure." He replies bluntly, beginning to rub at the floor again.
Your mouth remains downturned, until you realize there's complete silence between you both.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and for the first time since Dabis arrival, you allow yourself to relax into your sofa.