peril; dabi x reader

xxvi.

"Get up."

Her voice was loud, stern as she stared daggers at him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light before he squinted at her, his eyebrows raising slightly before he pressed his lips into a hard line. He'd been having the sweetest dream about her after the way she'd rolled back into his arms. It was so natural. She belonged there, and whether she knew it or not... her subconscious certainly did, judging by how soundly she'd slept when she was wrapped in his embrace and heat. His dreams consisted of her bare body draped over his again, nothing hiding her figure beyond a string of beads that sat neatly over the curve of her waist, tucked away somewhere safe and quiet on that far away shore from when she'd talked him to sleep.

"Get the fuck up, Dabi." She spat, gripping tighter now at his shoulder and tearing him away from his musings. "Hey, hey, what the fuck?" He shook her off his shoulder before he sat up. It still hurt to use his abdominals, and he was struggling to make sense of the massive difference between where his head had just been with her in his dreams and the way she seethed at him now, her face flushed with frustration and her hands balled into little fists. "What's wrong?" He breathed as he rubbed at the corners of his eyes, stifling back a yawn.

She shook her hands out before she folded her arms over her chest. His eyes flickered from her face to her breasts, and she huffed before raising her arms to further cover her cleavage. "You look so g--" He began, and she cut him off with an ah!, gesturing pointedly with her index finger for him to get up and out of their... her bed. "C'mon, jackass, I made it easier for you by taking the sheets off." She said brusquely, taking a deep inhale through her nose as she tapped her foot imaptiently. Her eyes were full of angry self-possession as she watched him shift in the bed far too slowly for her liking. "What's your fucking problem?" He barked back, and she rose her brows.

My problem is that I love you. My problem is that you are categorically and irrefutably one of the worst options of people I could love. My problem is that every time I look at you, I desperately want to go back to how we were before you betrayed my trust, even though that can't happen. My problem is that each time I wake up next to you, I can feel myself making excuses for why I keep you and why you should stay. I can feel myself slipping away from me and into you instead.

My problem is that I'd do it all for you... and I'm scared that you might let me.

"Look, if this is about last night, you were so cold and if there's one thing I can do with this godforsaken body, it's keep you warm—"

Her eyes widened when it dawned on her that he knew about how he'd held her last night. A part of her was acutely, painfully aware of just how much he must have wanted to hold her that entire time, and it ached. She tried to ignore the way it felt to know he still wanted to keep her comfortable. She huffed again, cutting him off before she spoke.

"You. You're my problem, and I'm solving it."

The words stung to hear. They rolled around in his head, a spiny ball poking at sore spots that he forgot about whenever she was around. He'd been a lot of things to her, and generally speaking, he understood why his presence was problematic, but something about her actively branding him as a curse on her made him itch. It would be just like me to disappoint another person I love, he thought. The thought was selfish, and he knew that, too, but it was reflective of the way he'd felt. The connection between his head, his heart and his mouth waned, thoughts and feelings getting lost in transit to be replaced by venom and vitriol. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He snapped at her, blue gaze coldly burning into her (E/C) eyes.

The noise of her sucking her teeth echoed through the room.  "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear for you? Get. Up. And. Get. Out." She stepped closer to him as he stood. He had a good few inches on her in height, his lanky but still well-built frame looming over her. She tossed her hair to the other side, incensed stare fixed on him. His hand balled up into a fist before the other gripped to her waist. She nearly leaned away from him before he slid two fingers through her belt loop, preventing her from escaping. "Let me... go," she tried to yank herself away to no avail. The hand that had formed into a fist softened, his index finger and thumb quickly coming up to grasp her jaw and squish her cheeks.