a game (dabi x reader)

Who Needs Morals Anyways

Your clock on the nightstand read 11:34am. Time to get up.
What the hell was last night? Did he really just confess to me that he killed a guy? The guy was a creep, but still he was a person. Right? Why am I not more angry about this? Why does this feel like a regular Sunday? Why don't I care?

You got out of bed and began your morning routine. A cup of coffee in hand, you turned on the tv for some background noise. It was left on one of the various news stations. You started on the dishes you said you were gonna do yesterday.
"A body has been discovered-"
Oh brother
The lady on the news went on about location and how this was the works of a fire quirk user. She then continued on about previous works of this quirk user. They didn't have any leads on his appearance, instead she advised the viewers of the program to stay safe and be careful. You turn off the tv after hearing the whole report, holding your mug more tightly. You knew exactly what happened. And that body was in fact Larry.

I could report him, but why would I, what good would that do. If I don't have proof and they let this go. I'll just end up dead. Besides what good has the hero industry done for me?
They haven't done you wrong personally, but you didn't care for them either. You went by what you thought was best for you and the few you held dear and if that meant a couple people dying in the process you accepted it. You drank the rest of your coffee and finished getting ready for the day.

Weeks had gone by...

You and Sharon came to an agreement that if Dabi came in it was you that got to serve him. And he did. Each night he would come into the bar and take a seat in the same spot, order the same drink, and asked if anyone was bothering you. Don't get me wrong You weren't weak. You could definitely take care of yourself. In fact you have, for practically your whole life. Although, you would never tell him if someone was bothering you. It was still comforting. Knowing someone had your back.
Every now and then you'd have scenarios play through your head of you pointing out someone that pissed you off and him fucking them up. It made you feel a certain way. Satisfied? No no. Aroused? But then again it'd be best to stray away from those imagines. Right? With that there was still a feeling you got anytime he'd ask you that question. An itch if you will. An itch that was ignored by turning him down. Even so, he'd still walk you home each night, just in case something happened.

You were on your break outside when two dudes walked out of the bar laughing. One of them was clearly drunk.
"Did you call for a ride yet."
One belched.
"I am your ride, dumbass."
The other responded.
You made eye contact with the drunk friend.
"Hey cutie, whatcha lookin at."
He laughed, starting to walk towards you. His friend was to focused on his phone to even register what was happening.
"You look like you could use a fun night, how about you come with me and my buddy here and we can have a fun night together. What do you say huh?"
He had his arm placed on the wall behind you.
"I'm good thanks."
You respond, trying to be polite. Next thing you know you were faced to face with this mess of a man. His tie was loosened and there was sweat dripping from his brow.
"Aww come on. You're no fun."
He pouted.
You could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"Like I said I'm good."
You spoke back, trying to side step your way back to the bar when the other came about. This guy was more put together.
"Steve let them go back to work. We gotta find my car."
Wow thanks sober friend
"Besides they probably got all sorts of offers to turn down tonight. We don't want anything to do with that."
I take that back sober bitch
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You questioned as the drunken friend removed his hands from the wall behind your head.
"You can't be serious? Working in a place like this. We wouldn't want to catch anything from a whore like yourself."
You laughed to yourself before retorting back.
"Whores like me are the reason the two of you ugly bastards can go out and get shitfaced."
The drunk friend laughed as him and his sober cab got closer to you. Sober bitch bent down now eye to eye, while drunk crossed his arms standing behind him.
"The fuck did you say to me?"
He questioned more furious than ever.
"You need hearing aids or something. I called you an ugly bastard."
You made sure to drag out the words to sink it in his brain.
He looked at his drunk friend with an eyebrow raised and an annoyed expression.
"Pfft let's go."
The drunk friend spoke.
"Yeah yeah."
The sober one waved to his friend and looked back at you. Taking a step back from you, your arms folded and a pout expression on your face showed just how "sad" you were of them leaving.
It wasn't until sober hoe back handed your cheek, causing you to stumble over and the two of them ran.
"FUCKING CUNT!"
You screamed, as they left. You could faintly hear the drunk say let's go to The Night Owl to his buddy, another bar down the street. His buddy agreed.
That's all you needed.

Maybe it was just the mood of the night, but you were especially mad after that encounter. Usually you can handle the snide comments but him hitting you sent you over the edge. Everything began to piss you off. The sounds of chattering voices, the laughter, the music, the lights. It all was bothering you. This sensory overload was causing your mind to get clustered.
Shut up. Shut up. Everyone shut up. Everything shut up.
"Hi y/n, is anyone bothering you tonight?"
The question was asked, breaking your thoughts. You looked over to see Dabi leaned over the bar island, with his hands on his cheeks, and a cocked eyebrow.

You made your way over to him and before you knew it you told him everything. Everything that had been bottled up from weeks of ignoring. Everyone who made you mad. Even if it was just a petty comment or glance that made you uncomfortable. You told him everything. The fantasy was coming to life as his eyes lit up with every confession. You ended your rant with the douchebags from tonight and where they said they were headed. You let out a deep sigh after you finished.
The itch was finally scratched.