Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

An Unwanted Guest

You pause your wiggling for a bit, your brain buffering what he just said to you, your face twisting in confusion.
"Eh?" You manage to huff out.
"Don't play dumb." He warns, his grip on your arm tightening, and his breath seeming to get hotter against your ear.
"I'm not playing dumb." You snap back defensively, beginning to wriggle under his grasp again. "How the fuck did you come to that conclusion?"
"Your tattoos." He replies bluntly, shoving your body a little harder against the door.
You pause again for a split second before you burst into genuine laughter, something you hadn't done since his first visit to your home. It's so intense it almost sounds crazed, and the only thing that forces you to try to calm yourself is the gradual building up of heat on your uninjured wrist, and the increasing anger and frustration that begun to cloud Dabi's mind even as he remained wordless behind you.
"My tattoos?" You manage to splutter out between giggles. "Are you living in the past?!"
He shoves you again, a frustrated grunt catching in the back of his throat as he does.

The shove is nothing compared to what you knew he was capable of, which told you that despite your behaviour he was still trying to be mindful of a child that didn't actually exist.
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot." Dabi warns, squeezing your wrist.
"Don't act like one then." You snap back.
Your eyes widen as he yanks you back, only to spin your body around so you're facing him, one of his hands moving to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together firmly, one of his knees moving between your legs, much like it had when he had cornered you in the kitchen, his blue eyes narrowed and boring into you as though he could see straight through your eyes right into your soul.
"Talk to me like that again." He challenges, moving your face backwards so you're forced to look up at him properly. "Go on. Call me an idiot."
Your lip twitches, but you remain silent, not wanting to push your luck too far. His face read calm, unbothered besides the slightly more narrowed eyes. But his mind was thunderous, full of anger, not liking being mocked at all.
"They're flowers." You offer instead.
"There's a snake on your other arm." Dabi counters.

His mind travels back to a time where your sleeve rose up slightly, revealing the head of the snake on your other arm for a split second before it lowered again.
"A snake is a snake." You say simply, only resulting in him getting frustrated once more, his grip tightening on your face.
"Get off me." You manage to hum out, the force of which he was holding your face stopping you from being able to get the toxicity you wanted behind the words.
"Explain them." He says calmly, and it may have been enough to soothe you if it hadn't been for your ability to hear the storm going on inside his head even still.
"Let go then." You say through smushed cheeks.
He lets go of your face, but only slightly, his cold stare still piercing straight through you as he awaits an answer.
You mull it over for a second, contemplating the reaction if you tell your uninvited guest that your brother was a tattoo artist. Would he believe you? Would he go to check out if your story was legitimate? You didn't want to pull Sota into your mess, or have him end up in trouble because of you.

"I like snakes." You reply, your breath catching in your throat as Dabi's face changes from his usual look of indifference. His nostrils flare, his eyes narrow, his jaw clenches enough to make the staples in his cheek buckle, and his grip on your face gets hotter and hotter as you practically see a red aura around his thoughts, which were rapidly going through ways to get a real answer out of you without too much violence.
"Okay! Okay!" You squeak as his hand reaches an almost unbearable heat. "Just-"
His shoulders fall, his jaw still clenched as he looks at you, his hand cooling slightly.
You apologise to Sota mentally, as though his Quirk could pick up on it, before sighing and saying: "My brother's a tattoo artist."
Dabi's eyes scan over your face silently.
"Please don't go over there." You beg, hating yourself for doing so. "It's a proper business, I swear. Heroes and police go around all the time to check for drugs and stuff, they're just trying to do what they love."
"That the one that came here?" He asks, his hand cooling down even more, his thoughts turning from a loud buzzing to something more manageable.

"No, it's my other brother." You explain, your voice calming itself now that Dabi was a little more relaxed with you.
"Where?" He asks, and you shake your head, which only succeeds in getting his hand to heat up again. "I don't think you understand your little predicament here, princess."
"Please." You beg again, your knees beginning to feel embarrassingly weak. "They work so hard- They've had so many shit things happening to them recently. I promise, I'm not Yakuza and neither is he."
"Where?" He asks again, his voice holding a lot more grit to it.
"His boss is dating Hawks, if there was something to investigate over there, he'd already know about it and have shut it down!"
"I don't trust heroes." He says simply.
Exasperated, you give up. You describe the alleyway where your brother's studio is, tears prickling in your eyes the entire time as you apologise to him over and over in your mind.
Dabi's expression changes, a thoughtful look on his face as his grip loosens more and more on you. His sapphire eyes slide to their sides before he lets go of you entirely, you immediately letting out a shaky breath as he does so.

"They had a fire there a little while ago didn't they?" He asks, his eyes finally meeting yours again, a hardness behind them that told you everything you needed to know.
"Please don't." You repeat, for the third time this night, the word almost becoming like a chant to you.
He hums, pushing himself away from you finally, allowing you the air you felt you couldn't get with his body pressed so close to yours.
"Y'know..." He pauses, cocking his head slightly and running his thumb over his bottom lip, revealing the pink of his gums against the dark purple hue of the scarring there that would have been almost artistic had you not been so stressed about what he was going to do with the information you gave him. "They killed a friend of ours."
You remain quiet. You weren't going to verbalise your understanding that it probably really had hurt for them all to lose a friend, an ally. Loss was always hard, and as much as you didn't want to empathise with a group of murderers, you finally understood the accusation and anger behind it.
"I find out you're lying, and it's game over princess."  He says, the threat rolling off his tongue like honey as his hand reaches out, tracing over your bottom lip in a way that resembled how he had done it to himself seconds before.

"You're lying." You say instinctively the second you're met with those lewd images of yourself projecting from his head into your own.
His hand stays on your chin for a second before he chuckles to himself, shaking his head and moving his hand away.
"That's a real annoying Quirk."