peril; dabi x reader

xxviii.

Dabi laid in bed that night, one hand rested on his stomach, the other supporting the back of his head as he tried to focus on his memories. The little potted plant sat next to the old, creaky metal bed frame, happily growing new leaves in its own spot of sunshine. He'd specifically chosen the room with an east facing window for it. He was sure it was silly, but he had an attachment to the green and pink leaves, the strong burgundy stems, and he'd make sure that they were well looked after before he left. It was an easy plant to take care of, a "real drama queen" as (Y/N) had told him when she'd originally propagated the stems.

He hadn't a clue what she'd been talking about, but he listened nonetheless. She was ever so chatty and his room felt deathly quiet in comparison, despite him being able to hear Spinner's soft breathing on the other side of the space. He had watched her placing the plant that was now flourishing with him in a little cup of water. "These root super fast, even just in water," she'd said with her lip tucked between her teeth. It broke his heart that all he really had left was those memories- moments where she'd just been around him. He missed the sound of her voice. The closest he'd come was when he had been walking past the clinic once with his hood over his hair, the zipper pulled up to where the bottom half of his face was obscured. She had walked one of her patient's out with their child. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her lean down to kiss the top of the little girl's head.

"Be careful on that scooter, okay?" She'd chirped, and he slowed his steps. His stomach tightened and he felt the hairs on the unburnt skin of his arms stand up.

These memories swirled like the milk he used to pour in her chai in his head as he drifted off to sleep. The next morning, he'd be out recruiting, listening and learning, though she always sat in the back of his mind. He'd made it a point to go and see her from his 'reasonable' distance at least once a day, just to make sure that she was safe. He'd stay for an hour, watching her do laundry in the living room. Once, he got a particularly pleasing view of her doing yoga before bed in nothing but her panties and a tight tank top. He knew it was a massive infringement on her privacy, but so was watching her, period, and he wasn't about to stop doing that, either. He sighed as his half-lidded gaze fell on her again, reminiscing about how she felt to hold, and how strangely cool and calming she felt against his hot skin.

He'd thought about it far more than he cared to admit to anyone but her. He knew exactly how he wanted to make this time apart up to her if she ever gave him the chance to work his way back into her life again. He swore he'd do it. He still felt like there was a thread between them, and despite how tangled and mangled he'd made it, gnawed on by the jaws of his thirst for vengeance, they remained connected.

The feeling only strengthened as time went on. Days turned to weeks, which turned to months of him watching over her, her personal dark sentry that guaranteed her safe passage through each day. It turned out that life was relatively domestic and calm for (Y/N) when she didn't have a murderous villain boyfriend and his ragtag group of friends hanging around her clinic. Her life had gone back to normal with the exception of the hole that had burst through her heart with Dabi's departure. She'd crammed it full of busy clinic schedules, brunches and coffees with her friends, even a few dinner dates set up by Rumi once she'd been convinced that a few nights out at someone else's expense would cheer her up a bit. Rumi insisted that at least one of the gentlemen she'd asked would charm her.

Despite Pro Hero Mirko's assurances, none of them had gone over particularly well. (Y/N) found herself becoming increasingly irritated with heroes in general. She wouldn't go so far as to say that she agreed with the League of Villains, as they were so aptly named, but she became more disillusioned with hero society and their actual efficacy by the day. Each date she'd been on was with men who thought far too highly of themselves and seemed to enjoy bragging about their abilities and their stature rather than having any real convictions. She knew they weren't all like that, and she'd always had a thing for men with ambition and resolve, but there was no real resolve that she could sense among those she dated.