Chapter Text
“No.” You said mouth agape, staring at the blond who was clearly losing her mind outside of your front door. “No. Just no.”
“(Y/N).” She spoke like she knew you would cave. Her voice not even begging.
“Toga what is my one rule. My ONE rule.” You were talking with your hands, refusing to let her in your apartment, neighbors be damned.
“I didn’t tell anyone about your quirk.” She smiled like a toddler finding a loophole.
“And you don’t think he’ll put two and two together when he wakes up?” You weren’t going to cave; there was a reason you didn’t tell anyone about your quirk. You were not going to cave.
“Does it really look like I had a choice?” Toga struggled under the weight of the man slumped across her shoulder; his face hidden behind ink black hair—really all you could make out was his torn leather jacket and the distinct difference in his height compared to your friend. As his legs were trailing the ground behind her. “Look at him.”
“Is he even alive?” You could already feel yourself caving. Maybe it was because of your past life; but you really were too empathetic and the blood pooling at their feet wasn’t helping your resolve.
“He can be.” A coy smile spread across Toga’s face, revealing her sharper than average canines. “For the small price of your saliva.”
“I wish it was that easy.” You groaned, opening the door the rest of the way. You really didn’t have it in you to watch a man die on your doorstep, villain or not—you’d known that from the moment Toga had shown up. And she had too.
You backed up as Toga entered the room; the sound of shoes dragging across the ground following her as she did her best to carry the apparently alive man into your living room. It wasn’t until she tossed him from her shoulder to the couch that you realized how serious this was.
“You brought the fucking Blue Flame into my apartment. Toga.” You didn’t even turn to look at her, quickly searching for the source of all the blood amongst the scarring on his body. It didn’t take you long to find.
The left leg of his jeans was no longer blue to say the least—blood having long since soaked into the fabric. Beneath a rather obvious tear in the fabric was a half cauterized wound. The whole thing was a fucking mess, and you couldn’t tell what you were looking at—but something had gotten a hold of what was likely his femoral artery.
“His name is Dabi.” Toga said like the title Blue Flame was derogatory.
You were barely listening, half in the process of undoing the belt on his jeans—your fingers oddly steady as you tore the pants down to his knees. You tried and failed to ignore the sudden nudity—pausing momentarily before you spoke. “What happened?”
“Shigaraki can’t read a room.”
“Toga.”
“Sorry, some bitch with a scorpion tail sliced his leg open. He started to burn the wound shut but his quirk stopped working halfway through and then he ended up passing out before we got here.”
“So, you told him where you were going.” You said offhand. “Poison?” Is that why his quirk stopped working, you wondered.
“Not anything you need to worry about.”
You just needed to stop the bleeding, you thought with a sense of relief. You’d never tested your quirk against poison on another person; but you had more than a feeling it would work against it regardless. Not that it mattered in this case. “Go clean the blood off my doorway.”
“You sure?”
She didn’t need to clarify her question; you knew what she meant.
You nodded once without turning around.
You knelt on the wood floor beside the half-naked Dabi, yet again trying and failing to keep your eyes from trailing to his dick; which you had to admit was nice even if this really wasn’t the time—blood actively staining your couch and all. You didn’t allow your eyes to linger.
Why did your best friend from high school have to be the one girl in your class to become a villain? Well, aside from you, you thought bitterly.
You swirled your tongue behind your lips, building up saliva as you lowered your mouth to his thigh—his inner thigh—trying to professionally keep his dick out of your way with your freehand that wasn’t bracing you up against the couch. You ran your tongue across his wound, licking the skin hidden behind blood that was failing to coagulate—ignoring the familiar metallic taste and the new, unfortunate taste of burnt skin as you watched for the edges of the wound to come back together. The edges came back together slowly, leaving only the middle portion needing your attention again—leaning back down you ran your tongue across his skin once more.
You couldn’t help but notice the taste of his blood. Your tongue lingering against his wound as a hint of frostbitten fruit, something like icy strawberries danced against your taste buds—driving more saliva from your mouth and onto his leg, diluting the red tone of blood there like you were a damned slobbering dog.
You wanted more. Like it had a mind of its own your tongue lapped back across the still closing wound—like you were dying of dehydration.
Your mind clouded ever so slightly—a feeling you’d long since forgotten—when you noticed that your right hand was now gripping onto the soft skin of Dabi’s cock, almost like velvet under your fingers. Fuck, you thought shaking your head. The unintentional sexual feel of the situation bringing you back from behind the fog.
Your tongue quickly returning to your mouth.
Only you would develop a quirk that required you to lick wounds to heal them. Only you had that kind of luck; you thought with a bitter sense of humor as you stared at his now nonexistent wound, just the hint of a burn scar left behind—nothing like the twisted purple red coating his arms and lower legs. Or even his chest and face you noted as you pushed yourself back off him. All the burns stapled to his pale skin like the scarring might just peel off—it almost seemed more like a style choice. Even if you didn’t really think it was.
The aftermath of your quirk wasn’t so much a problem as it was just annoying. The intensity varied depending on how much you healed exactly; but at the moment cold radiated from your extremities up your arms and legs, verging on spreading across your chest as you stood from the ground, suddenly feeling like you just exited an ice bath—breath coming out in short gasp. In actuality there was a way to avoid this side effect entirely, but you tended to ignore that side of your quirk. Or at least you tried too.
You could still taste something sweet on your tongue, you thought begrudgingly, throwing a glare at the passed out man on your couch like he knew what was happening.
You weren’t even sure if the taste was still in your mouth or if your quirk just wanted it to be to tempt you.
You shivered involuntarily, grabbing the blanket off the back of the previously light blue couch and wrapping it around yourself like a cape as you turned to look for Toga—who was just outside your still open front door attempting to wash the blood off the concrete. Emphasis on attempting.
“I’m not a doctor but he should be fine. Not that he’ll be awake anytime soon.” You said to her back.
She tipped a bucket of water over, spreading now diluted blood farther across the concrete. You slid your tongue across the roof of your mouth, trying to be rid of the taste that lingered there.
“You owe me a couch.”
“He owes you a couch.” She corrected. “I would say that’s a small price to pay for not dying. Do you have a water hose?” Toga turned from her crouched position to look at you. “You look awful; your lips are actually purple.”
“Well you brought a half dead man into my apartment.” You spoke, letting your teeth clatter to enunciate how cold you were—and how much she owed you.
“Just go to back to bed. I can take care of the rest of this.”
That’s right, you were sleeping before this. You’d forgotten. It wasn’t even until this moment that you actually took in Toga’s appearance; her hair having long since fallen out of its usual buns. Her entire being was in disarray, but she didn’t look injured.
“There’s a wanted villain on my couch.” You said, pointing lazily over your shoulder at said villain—who’s blood taste unusually sweet.
“He’s not an axe murderer.”
“I’m sure he’s some kind of murderer.” Whether he was a murderer really wasn’t the issue here.
“Does it really count as murder if the person is trying to kill you too?” Toga almost sang as she walked past you like a bored cat and into the kitchen with her now empty bucket to get more water.
“Yes.” You deadpanned.
“He’s harmless really.” She laughed to herself before spilling another bucket of water across the concrete.
And what about me?
Having silently evaluated your own self-control you turned from her, tossing your blanket over Dabi so you could stop averting your eyes from him and heading to your bedroom door on the right—closing it behind you.
“Hey.”
The bed shook beneath you like someone had kicked it.
“Hey.” A disinterested voice resounded again.
Half-asleep you mumbled. “Toga go away.”
The same voice cursed roughly under their breath. You were too tired to care, eyes yet to open. You rolled over, farther away from the voice trying to wake you up—cheek landing on the cool glass of your phone screen. A phone which suddenly went off right in your ear; the sound reverberating painfully against your eardrum.
You jumped away from the noise, sitting up abruptly in bed; your hands flying to your face in frustration, fingers peeling strands of hair back as you groaned.
Before you even had a moment to get your thoughts together a scarred hand silenced the phone on your bed—apparently by answering it.
“Toga what the fuck; where am I.” He asked a question, but it sure didn’t sound like one—annoyance heavy in his low voice.
You couldn’t make out what Toga said but it most likely wasn’t helpful you figured—your friend never was. Your eyes moved from your hands to Dabi as Toga had called him, standing over your bed. His white shirt was torn and dirty, the lower half of his body was only covered with the now stained blanket you had left on him last night—his fingers gripping it closed aggressively, grip tighter than was at all necessary. It wasn’t like you were going to tear it off—you’d already seen it anyway. You found yourself holding back a laugh.
You hadn’t caught the rest of Dabi’s conversation with Toga, but clearly one of them had hung up as he was now scowling at a black phone screen, sharpening the angles of his face.
You pointed to the door, which was now behind you, as you swung your legs off the side of the bed between you and him. “Go take a shower.”
He didn’t look particularly pleased about being told what to do, his left eyebrow rising against his forehead. The staples of the scarred skin beneath his eyes straining to hold his skin together with the movement.
“You are half naked and covered in blood in the middle of my apartment, and I am not a morning person—go shower.” You stood, putting your hand on his chest in an attempt to push him back out of your way; instead, his free hand latched itself around your wrist—heat radiating from the touch.
“Hey miss ‘not a morning person’ I’m ‘just woke up covered in blood in an apartment I’ve never been in’ it’s nice to meet you.” Despite being obviously angry, his voice was almost seductive in its false politeness.
Part of you felt like you should apologize for being rude; he probably hadn’t had the most pleasant morning—the other part of you was mad. That part won out. “Actually.” You yanked your wrist from his. “Call me ‘the only reason you’re alive right now.’”
You didn’t back away from his keen blue eyes as they lightened ever so slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips. He raised his hand as if to concede the argument, walking to the bathroom instead as he remarked. “Be a doll and find me a change of clothes.”
“Why? I’ve already seen you naked.” You sang back.
“Oh?” A smirk played across Dabi’s face as he turned around just inside the bathroom. “Then I guess I don’t need to bother with this.” He dropped the blanket to the floor.
You refused to look down, to even break eye contact with him felt like losing; so instead, you both stood across the room locked in a staring contest. Part of you debated dropping your own pants, just to see if he’d lose. You thought he might.
The sound of the front door opening had both of you turning your heads; the sound of Toga yelling finding you both: “Y’all haven’t killed each other yet have you?”
When you turned back to Dabi he had already turned, hands pulling his shirt over his shoulders as the muscles in his back flexed with the movement—tugging along the stapled rim of his scars in a way that looked painful. You felt safe to assume his own quirk burned him, but you couldn’t help but wonder at the details. His shirt fell to the floor with an audible swoosh of air; his hands falling back against his hips. As he took a step forward, you found yourself eyeing the toned muscles of his ass which jostled slightly with the movement. You couldn’t stop the tendrils of heat that began to pool in your stomach against your wishes—all this man had done all morning was piss you off.
“Don’t worry.” Dabi said without turning. “I don’t mind if you stare.”
Did he have fucking eyes on the back of his head. “No. But I’m getting ready to.” You yelled in reply to Toga.
Dabi laughed, a rough sound you didn’t imagine he made often—you felt your own lips pull up ever so slightly as you turned and left the room. What an insufferable asshole, you thought without any real malice, the curve of a smile still on your lips.
“Please tell me you brought him clothes.” You spoke as you entered the living room, finding Toga sitting on the half of the couch not stained with what looked like still wet blood. But at least the floors were clean, likely at Toga’s expense.
“I did.” She kicked a bag at her feet toward you. “Couldn’t you just lick the blood off the couch?” Toga added, smiling at her joke.
“Ha ha.” You deadpanned.
“You already got a mouthful off Dabi.” She continued to tease.
And you were glad that taste was gone. “Don’t remind me.”
You paused in front of the couch, quickly flipping the second stained cushion over to hide the rest of the aftermath before sitting down too.
“Whatever happened with the scorpion chick.” You added.
“Nothing. Shigaraki didn’t do jack shit to her. He still wants information she has, so even with his ill temper him and Kurogiri just left.” Toga spoke calmly, causally flipping a knife between her small fingers—but her eyebrows twitched in an annoyed fashion.
“What does he want to know so bad.”
“What’s got you so curious.” Toga’s cat eyes flipped to you. “Didn’t you swear off the underworld.” Nothing she said was a question; the knife never stopped its path across the terrain of her hand.
She wasn’t wrong; you’d never pried before. You’d only met Shigaraki once or twice, nothing he did really mattered to you. Like Toga said, you’d sworn off involvement a few years ago. But what Toga didn’t know was you’d never stopped keeping tabs, you couldn’t.
And for all you say you swore off villains, weren’t you constantly around them? Weren’t two in your apartment right now.
You knew that girl—the one with the scorpion tail. You knew her well. Didn’t like her, but knew her. “Why is he looking for Miya?”
The knife paused on Toga’s knuckles for a brief moment.
“Toga I use to be in charge of Sting.” Even if she never had listened to your criticism on her name.
“Nothing you need to worry about. He just started a fight is all.” Toga’s eyes fell back to the knife in her hand.
“Miya never just starts a fight.” You leaned forward, rubbing your hands across your face and into your hair—tugging slightly.
“I really wouldn’t have brought Dabi here if I had had anywhere else to go.” Toga spoke once more, voice losing all its teasing grandeur it normally held.
“What does Shigaraki know?”
“Not enough to ask questions.”
“Toga, if Miya started a fight there’s another reason for it. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with you or Shigaraki or the league.” You were trying to tell her to be careful—not that it would change anything. Toga had never been the careful type.
Before Toga had a chance to reply a different, drier voice resounded from your bedroom door. “You know Miya?”
You didn’t even turn to look his way before replying. “No. Get out of my apartment.” Your eyes fell harshly on Toga. “Take him and go. I have to go to work anyway.”
You stood from the couch, not looking at either of them as you walked around Dabi into your bedroom—closing the door behind you. You didn’t want to think about any of this.
Work sucked. The head of the newspaper was in a foul mood when you got there; a few people hadn’t turned their articles in on time and the whole editing apartment was behind because of it—leaving you to pick up the slack.
By the time you left it was well past working hours—verging on morning really as you finally left the tall glass building heading to the parking garage a few streets over.
You’d hardly made it a street when a man’s voice called a name you wished you could forget entirely. “Hey Bloodlust, long time no see. Miya’s been looking for you, you know.”
His voice was kind, but his face was twisted, half hidden in the shadows cast from the building behind him. He stood entirely outside of the streetlights. Not that it mattered, you could see in the dark. Nothing in his face stood out to you—he could’ve been any random man on the street. You didn’t know him, but it didn’t matter—you knew where he was from.
“Sorry, don’t know a Miya.” You cast him a smile without slowing your pace at all—continuing on your way to the parking garage.
The man was silent for a moment, it was less likely you tricked him and more likely he hadn’t expected you to try. Your past reputation preceding you.
He only needed to take a few steps out of the shadows to grab your wrist, jerking you back toward him and the alley. The moment his hand connected with your wrist you felt warm metal coil itself around your arm like a snake. Looking down you saw the iron uncoiling itself from the man’s wrist beneath his sleeves.
“Don’t worry he doesn’t want me to take you back. He just wants me to make you remember who you are.”
Before you had a moment to decipher what he meant he’d already pushed your back against the grime coated brick wall of the alley—some unknown liquid seeping into your shirt and cooling your skin. The metal around your left wrist made its way across your waist to your right hand methodically pinning both of your arms to your sides. The man’s knee was in your stomach, holding you forcefully against the wall as he dug a knife from his waistband unceremoniously. Without the slightest hint of fear on his face, he sliced his left wrist open in the next moment—the scent of blood hitting your nose harder than the wall behind your back.
Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you tried to slide your arms free of the metal intertwining around you—it only seemed to tighten. It didn’t matter, in the same moment the man shoved his bleeding wrist against your lips, pinching your nose closed with his right hand so you had to open your mouth.
His fingers smelt like smoke.
You’d always thought Miya would find you eventually. But this—you hadn’t been expecting this. It was so, just bold. Between the knee pressing further into your stomach, pushing the air from your body, and the uncomfortable feeling growing in your chest from the lack of oxygen, you didn’t see any way around it. You opened your mouth.
Blood poured in faster than you thought it would against your gasps for air; you had to swallow to breathe around his wrist, tendrils of blood making its way into your lungs at the same time causing you to cough. The taste was bitter—stronger than dry red wine, not at all your type. But it didn’t matter. It had been almost three years since you truly drank blood and you only had so much self-control.
Your canines physically ached with desire—a familiar almost drunk haze fell across your mind, except it didn’t impair you at all. The man no longer had to hold his wrist against your mouth; before you had even consciously thought of the action your teeth were already buried deep into his skin, increasing the flow of blood that you lapped down loudly. Your saliva would do nothing to heal this wound—because you didn’t want it to. You only held onto consciousness by a thread, one shot away from blacking out. And then your arms tore free of the metal without you telling them to, fingers digging into the man’s arm so hard you thought you heard a bone snap before your mind went black completely.
Dabi hadn’t been particularly pleased when Shigaraki told him to follow Toga’s friend, but he hadn’t been particularly surprised either—considering he had been planning to anyway. If nothing else other than for the fact he was bored, and she seemed entertaining. He had not however been expecting her to stay in an office building all day and then well into the night—finding it next to impossible that any friend of Toga’s took their work that seriously. If he had been following her on his own accord, he would’ve left long before he fell asleep in a tree outside.
Needless to say, Dabi woke up with a foul mood and a sore back. Trying to decide the chances of said friend still being in the office vs. already having gone home and not really caring to break into either to find out.
“Fuck Shigaraki.” He huffed to himself beneath his breath, watching it condense on the cool night air almost like smoke.
Just when he was deciding on calling the whole night a bust and going back to his apartment, an undeniably pain filled scream ended faster than it began less than a street away. Likely from the alley around the corner, Dabi thought.
With a nagging sense of intuition that “the girl from this morning” was involved, Dabi hopped down lightly from the tree, feeling the impact on the soles of his feet before he jogged lazily around the corner and then some to the mouth of an alley. An alley he could not see into at all it was so damn dark. Instead of feeling any real concern or weariness, Dabi found himself slightly annoyed that he didn’t even know the name of the chick he was essentially stalking.
He stepped forward with no regard for the lack of light, lighting a blue flame in his left hand—the warmth curling around his fingers in a familiar way before his eyes focused on the two figures in the alley
A man stood with one arm pressed against a woman’s mouth; likely why she’d stopped screaming, he thought. Her hands were roughly gripped around his arm, probably trying to free herself. The man’s other hand had a hold of something metal, maybe a knife; it was hard to tell in what little light his hand emitted currently. Dabi couldn’t see either of their faces, but he still felt like the woman was “you”.
Regardless he wasn’t particularly fond of people who attacked women in alleyways; not that he wasn’t a villain too, but he’d never had to force a woman to have sex with him. So, naturally he had no sympathy for the man in the alley. He decided to step in. Silently Dabi moved forward, grabbing the man’s right hand with his own, jerking him back away from the woman—allowing his fire to light her face. Your face.
Shit was I wrong, being the first thing to cross Dabi’s mind as his eyes fell on your face.
His gut was right, as it had been Toga’s friend “pinned” against the alley wall; but, your fingers only dug deeper into the mans bruised arm as Dabi had tried to pull him away, refusing the let his skin leave your lips at all—teeth obviously buried there. Dabi wasn’t one to be startled, but he would be lying if he said he was unfazed.
He never would have thought that the girl who helped him last night was the once famous gone radio silent Bloodlust. Or as most people called her Miya’s vampire. Of course, she wasn’t really a vampire; that was just the name of her quirk.
But she had to be; he’d never heard of another girl like Bloodlust. There was only one.
Momentarily unsure, Dabi let go of the man’s hand remarking: “I’m sorry, do you want this back?” Only to feel his left hand be sliced open from his index finger down his palm in the next moment, as he couldn’t peel his eyes from Miya’s little vampire.
“Fucking piece of—” Dabi cursed, flame stuttering out throwing the alley back into the seemingly pitch dark for a moment before his right hand took up the torch instead. The metallic scent of blood steadily growing stronger all the while.
Dabi didn’t even have to do anything, the knife had already been twisted out of the man’s hand by you in the moment of darkness. Casually you tossed the man aside, leaving him to quickly scurry from the alley like his plan had worked to distract you with the newcomer’s blood.
He had no way of knowing if it would work. Had no idea you’d already tasted Dabi’s blood before—
Dabi didn’t move as your fingers slid across the back of his left hand slowly, gently turning his palm toward your face. “I didn’t know the Blue Flame rescued girls in alleys.”
The girl’s voice was nothing like Dabi remembered it. Her entire demeanor was different.
“Or did you just know it was me.” Your eyes flashed in the light coming from his right hand, almost like they could see in the dark, as he watched you lower your lips to his hand.
Once again Dabi found himself at a loss, not moving a muscle as he felt your lips ghost across the tip of his index finger, tongue sliding across the cut there in a way that could only be described as sexual. Your tongue hotter than fire on the palm of his hand as you continued to trace the wound. In a matter of seconds not only was the burn of the cut gone, but it was like the wound had never been there at all. The only thing left was trace amounts of blood on his hand and a tightening in his pants.
You didn’t stop there though, your tongue curled back around his finger removing any trace of blood from his hand slowly like you were fucking savoring it. Dabi’s mind went blank watching you, fighting the urge to push you back against the alley wall—wondering if you would even resist.
Your low laugh jerked him from his thoughts before they could even coherently form. “What flame boy, did that turn you on?”
Yet again, before Dabi could reply you took his entire finger into your mouth slowly, sucking on it methodically as your tongue ran beneath it. You let the digit fall from your mouth with an audible pop before laughing again.
Dabi refused to miss a beat again—even if his tone was off. “I see why they call you Bloodlust.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea flame boy, not everyone gets that kind of treatment. You didn’t see me healing that man’s wounds, did you? But hey, play shitty games win shitty prizes.” You laughed at your own joke before continuing. “Go ahead and run back to Shigaraki, let him know you found his way to Miya.”
“Oh.” Dabi resumed his usual sarcasm. “And you’re not going to try and stop me?”
“Who’s to say I haven’t been already.” You took another step toward Dabi, a coy smile on your face. “It really doesn’t matter now. Miya clearly knows where I am anyway. It’s out of my hands again.”
Dabi grabbed your wrist before your hand could reach its destination at his belt, not wanting to lose control of the conversation again. “Just what is Miya to you.”
“A mistake.” You replied easily, voice not shifting in the slightest. “You should leave. It’s not like you don’t know where I live, and you couldn’t drag me to Shigaraki right now if you tried.”
Much to Dabi’s surprise you pulled your wrist from his hand with ease as if to demonstrate your point. For all the stories he heard, Dabi had a feeling he didn’t understand your quirk at all—or you.
He couldn’t help but be interested, even if only slightly.
“All I want to do right now is bite you. But for some reason I seem to have just a little more control than I remember having. Or maybe it’s just around you.”
Dabi didn’t want to leave at all. He didn’t even want to take you to Shigaraki; rather, he just wanted to take you. “What if I gave you permission to.”
Fuck it, Dabi thought, he was more than a little interested in you.
He took a step forward, clearing the small distance between you both as he backed you into the brick wall. He felt your hands slide up his chest slowly, arms wrapping around his neck to bring his ear to your lips. “Then I would say you’re playing shitty games.”
Dabi felt your teeth graze his ear roughly, just barely keeping from breaking skin. He forced his knee between your legs—splitting them so he could press his erection into you.
Dabi wasn’t thinking at all.
“I think you might just be bolder than the man who shoved his bloody wrist into my mouth.” You spoke again against his neck, the heat from your breath landing against his skin.
“Stop talking.” Dabi rasped as he grabbed your face, pulling your mouth to his in the next moment. Dabi couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone this badly, shitty prizes be damned. He’d always been one to roll the dice.
And you didn’t seem to mind as your fingers curled around his sides, pulling him closer against you as he slid his tongue across your lips, tasting the rusty remnants of blood there.
Dabi wanted more—his hands moved from your face to your ass, jerking you higher against the wall so he could grind into you—every small movement rolling pleasure through his cock.
Dabi was about to strip you right there, fingers tugging at your waist band when he felt your teeth dig into his already scarred lip. The pain was sudden, causing him to moan for reasons he couldn’t even place as he tasted his own blood in his mouth, felt you sucking on his lip.
He wasn’t deterred, if anything he felt more turned on trying to peel your too tight pants from your body with your legs wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t even place when they had gotten there. Dabi couldn’t care less about you damaging his body, he was already covered in scars anyway—why not let you add a few.
And then Dabi heard a voice from the end of the alley. “(Y/N).”
Fucking Toga. He felt your teeth slide back from his lip as your head turned to face her.
“Toga.”
“Three years.”
“I told him to leave. He said I could bite him.”
You weren’t wrong, Dabi thought, realizing in the same moment his blood was still leaking into his mouth—sliding quietly from the corners of his lips.
“Sounds familiar.”
Dabi noted the sharp edge to Toga’s voice at the same time he felt your tongue lick the blood pooling at the corner of his lip.
“Your point.” You sang sweetly.
“Get off him.”
Dabi hadn’t expected you to listen.
Regardless, Dabi felt you untangle yourself from him, his grip on you meaning nothing compared to whatever weird strength you had right now. All he could do was watch as you waltzed toward Toga—draping an arm across her shoulder as you spoke. His blood still fresh on your lips.
“He found me you know.” Dabi noted the hostility leave your voice. Had you been angry this whole time? He hadn’t noticed.
“I know.” Toga replied as you collapsed on the ground.
Dabi felt himself take a step forward before realizing you were too far away for him even to attempt to catch you. Confusion clouded his arousal as he watched Toga pick you back up off the ground like you weighed nothing. Dabi had never really considered how strong Toga was—even after all the time’s she’d drug him places half conscious.
“Did you see him?” Toga’s voice was quiet like she didn’t want to wake up the girl in her arms.
“Miya wasn’t here.” Dabi couldn’t explain why he felt like giving more detail than would normally feel necessary. “There was some man in the alley with her. He ran off.”
“What was he doing?” Toga prodded, probably knowing Dabi wasn’t one to spare details.
“She said he shoved his bloody arm in her mouth. I wasn’t here for that part; all I saw was the aftermath.” Dabi continued, wanting to know what Toga knew.
“I’d believe her.” Toga answered his unasked question. “Miya wants her to know he found her.”
“Have you met him?”
“Only once.”
“Miya’s vampire…” Healed me. Dabi finished his thought in his head—not that Toga could hear.
“Much like you, she has an actual name.” Toga remarked casually, but Dabi didn’t miss the aggression laced in.
“No one ever told me.” Dabi remarked in a similar fashion.
“You can ask her then.”
“She doesn’t appear to be with us at the moment.”
“Happens.”
Does it? Dabi was curious, but not enough to ask.
“Miya’s just starting to play his cards.” Toga spoke more to herself than anything. “It doesn’t feel right to take her anywhere he would think to look. I bet Midoriya would watch her.”
“I can take her with me.” Dabi spoke before he thought about it, not wanting to listen to another one of Toga’s rants about the wannabe hero. “Shigaraki wanted me to follow her anyway.” He amended.
Toga’s eyes tightened. “Take her. I’m going to talk to Shigaraki about killing two birds with one stone.”
Dabi nodded, walking over to Toga to take you from her. Your weight feeling entirely different in his arms now that you were unconscious.
“And don’t let her bite you again.” Toga’s voice turned cold as she walked away, leaving Dabi in the alley with you in his arms wondering what his boredom had gotten him into.
You woke up with a deep seated feeling of dread; you didn’t know where you were, but you sure as hell knew it wasn’t at home. Everything after the sound of the man’s arm breaking the night before a big sea of nothing.
At the very least, even without opening your eyes you knew you were in a bed—surprising. You didn’t want to open your eyes. You didn’t want to know. You found yourself wondering if you could somehow leave wherever you were without even opening your eyes, when you heard the light sound of someone breathing—not quite a snore, more like verbal breathing. Like someone was bragging about being peacefully asleep.
You opened your eyes—you were in an apartment you were unfamiliar with, no surprise there; not much bigger than your own, but definitely bigger. You were in a bed on the far side of the room, a bed which was level with the floor around it. You were on an elevated portion of flooring, the wooden platform held the bed and had maybe two steps to go down to get to the rest of the room—which consisted of a small kitchen area by the door, a wall of windows opposite that on your right, a bathroom directly to your left and a couch and a TV in front of you.
A couch with someone’s feet dangling over the side, an arm slung across the back.
You sat up, blankets falling from your body, only to realize your shirt was ruined with dried blood like you had slit your own throat last night—when more than likely it was someone else’s. But, the dark blue sheets were clean, so the blood must have dried before you got here. You tried to piece your night together.
Regardless, it didn’t help the anxiety from the unknowns rolling through your stomach. What did you do last night?
You found the bed awkward to get out of, crawling from the bed to the wood floor level with it before standing and walking down the two steps lightly—not particularly wanting to wake whoever was on the couch.
To your surprise, Dabi was the one sprawled on the couch in grey sweats and a loose black t-shirt. His eyes were closed peacefully, no wrinkles across his face—only the scars disrupted his smooth skin. With his eyes closed—the staples didn’t seem to pull at his skin.
Did he bring you here? Maybe Toga was involved.
The fact that you at least knew who’s apartment you were in calmed you down somewhat; at the very least he wasn’t concerned to have you here, so you couldn’t have attacked him—but just as the thought crossed your mind Dabi’s mouth fell open slightly, enunciating the sound of his breathing as you noticed the gauze packed behind his lower lip. Noticed the dark color of dried blood staining the white material.
And just like that your stomach dropped again, causing you physical pain. It wasn’t just the man who cornered you that you hurt last night. Not to mention—your three year streak was clearly more than up.
You didn’t know if you should wake Dabi up or if you should just leave. There was also the part of you that wanted to heal his lip; but that would require you sticking your tongue in his mouth while he was asleep, and you couldn’t imagine that not waking him up. Regardless, you wanted to know how bad it was; so, you walked around to the front of the black couch.
You placed your hand on his lip, pulling it back slightly so your other hand could slide the gauze from his mouth. It stuck slightly to the skin there as it was pulled free—causing the inside of his lip to bleed again. Dammit.
You knew it could be worse, he could be missing a lip, but even still the deep gash across the inside of his lip looked more than slightly painful. You again, found yourself wanting to heal it—never stopping to consider how you’d gotten so close to him last night anyway.
Dabi’s lips slipped from your fingers as his eyes opened lazily, blue eyes focusing on yours. “This feels familiar.”
You didn’t respond, a thousand questions in your head.
“What’s your name again was it ‘just woke up covered in blood in an apartment I’ve never been in’?” A relaxed smile played across his face as he sat up, causing you to back away from him, giving him room to do so.
You couldn’t help but smile at his joke. “What—”
Before you could even ask what happened he cut you off, continuing his fun. “Go take a shower.”
“Are you going to be a doll and find me a change of clothes?” You couldn’t help but repeat the conversation.
“Only if I get to see you naked first, doll.” Dabi didn’t miss a beat, enunciating the word doll like you didn’t say it right. You hadn’t.
“As it doesn’t seem like Toga is going to interrupt us this time with a timely explanation, will you please tell me what happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Dabi’s eyes narrowed slightly watching your expression.
“The last thing I remember is breaking some dude’s arm.”
“You didn’t know him?”
“No. But it was clear enough where he came from.”
“How.”
“He told me.” Your past with Miya wasn’t generally something you wanted to think about, let alone discuss; but you had a feeling Dabi wouldn’t offer up any information if you didn’t.
You were right, Dabi didn’t respond immediately—instead his eyes roamed across your face, waiting.
“In essence he said Miya didn’t want him to take me back, just that he was supposed to remind me ‘who I was’.” You didn’t know why Miya was being so damn ominous.
“And then he shoved his bloody arm in your mouth?”
“Pretty much.”
“And that makes you forget everything else?”
“Welcome to the wonderful world of my quirk.” You replied dryly, tempted to take a bow.
“How does that work?”
“Why do you get to ask all the questions.” You deadpanned before continuing anyway.
For some reason, you didn’t seem to mind talking to Dabi. The usual anxiety your past brought you didn’t seem to be raising its ugly head.
Maybe because he was a villain? Because he’s also killed people?
“’Vampire’ is pretty much like it sounds. Whenever I drink blood, I get all the benefits you’d associate with a vampire, strength, speed, heightened senses even. But I also completely black out and lose conscious control over my actions. When I don’t drink blood, I can still see in the dark and my saliva heals wounds. The seeing in the dark thing is pretty passive; but if I use the healing aspect of my quirk without drinking a substantial amount of blood, I get… cold I guess you could say.”
But Toga was a villain too. And I never offered up information for her, even if she lived through it, your inner monologue continued. Was it because she lived through it?
“You said you remember everything up until you broke his arm. So, you can drink some blood without losing control.”
You just nodded your head; you figured it didn’t hurt to explain your quirk considering not only was the jig of hiding from Miya up, but Dabi had seen both sides of it at this point anyway.
“Toga wants you to stay here.” Dabi remarked abruptly—with no emotion. His face as uninterested as ever, even after all the questions he threw at you.
“So… Miya doesn’t know exactly where I am? At least for the time being.” You didn’t imagine it would take him long to figure out.
This time Dabi only nodded in response.
“Was she there last night?”
“Only at the very end before you passed out.”
“Happens.”
“Why?”
You just shrugged. You weren’t sure yourself; there really wasn’t a reason for any of it. It just was. Your best guess was all the blood you consumed worked its way out of your body, but that was a theory you’d never put to the test. “Are you ever going to tell me what actually happened.”
“Nothing. You didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re concerned about; the man ran off and Toga showed up.” You couldn’t tell from his face, but you knew Dabi was lying in some form or fashion.
You held the gauze that you still had in your hand up. “I bit you.”
“Happens.” Dabi replied in the same disinterested tone. “Clearly I’ve had worse.” He gestured with his left hand to the scars across his body. “Go shower; I’ll find you some clothes.”
You still wanted to heal him.
Dabi started to stand, but you leaned forward, quickly putting your hands on his shoulders to prevent the movement. “Wait, just let me—”
You weren’t sure how to word it, so you stopped talking. It could be all in your head, you thought; yet you couldn’t help but feel that from the moment he woke up, he’d been trying to comfort you in his own snarky way. Maybe that was why you’d felt comfortable talking to him—utterly at ease.
It wasn’t something you were used to, being comforted. Toga was your best friend after all. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—more so that picking up on people’s moods wasn’t her strong suit, and expressing your emotions wasn’t yours.
All you needed to do was pull his lip down and lick it quickly—but that wasn’t what you did.
Your lips crashed into his suddenly, almost causing your teeth to hit before you caught yourself at the last moment, parting his lips with yours. Even with the scars they were softer than you expected them to be, textured—but not rough against yours. You kissed him once, twice, melting his lips against yours for a moment before you slid your tongue into his now parted lips—delving down toward the bite, ignoring the taste of blood as you made sure the gash closed. Dabi’s tongue found yours, teasingly sliding across it as you tried to check your work. He didn’t seem to care whether his lip was healed or not—drawing your tongue further into his mouth as he deepened the kiss in a way that felt premeditated—like he’d been thinking about this.
Your forehead pressed into his parting your lips as you caught your breath, which mixed with his as you both tried to slow your breathing—almost panting as you spoke. Your grip on his shoulders tight.
“Sorry—” You paused not really sure what to say still. “I just—”
“Didn’t want to leave a scar?” Dabi’s voice inflected as he laughed lightly.
“Wanted to heal it, what I did—"
“Bullshit.” He cut you off again. Before you could respond he continued. “You had to kiss me like that to heal me? Don’t tell me you didn’t just want to kiss me.” He growled.
His hands found your waist, pulling you down into his lap in one swift movement—your arms naturally wrapping around his neck only encouraging his behavior as he continued. “Don’t tell me you don’t like this.” His grip tightened above your hips, exciting the nerve endings there—causing your breath to catch.
“I’m sorry I bit you.” You clarified. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
“Good, because you sure weren’t last night.” Dabi paused. “That’s twice now you’ve jumped me, and I don’t even know your name. Here I thought you were a good girl—all concerned about murder.”
“(Y/N).” You responded, lips subconsciously nearing his once more—not caring to decipher his hint about last night.
“It’s a pleasure (Y/N).” Dabi responded before he closed the space, lips nothing short of urgent.
Dabi’s hands pushed against you, encouraging you to roll your hips against him. You didn’t need to be told twice. You complied, grinding down against his groin with the movement of his hands as your hands went from his neck to his hair.
You pulled your lips just far enough away to say: “Did you wake up this hard?”
Your fingers pulled him closer to you as you drug your teeth across the lip you just healed threateningly—not allowing him to respond with words. Instead, his tongue forced its way back into your mouth as he bucked his hips up into yours—his cock roughly pressing against your clit, only for a moment. Edging your arousal. Leaving you wanting more.
Your hips moved against his with more urgency, chasing that feeling as you used your grip in his hair to pull his head back revealing his neck to you. Keeping one hand in his hair, your dominant hand slid toward his ear—fingertip sliding lightly along the rim, glancing across cool golden piercings. At the same time your mouth found its way to the scarred skin above his collarbone, tongue exploring the grooves lightly before your lips danced along the skin—sucking. At first you were gentle, but as Dabi bucked his ever hardening erection into your heat once more you bit down; a rough moan escaped his lips. Your teeth left his neck as your hands tugged at the rim of his t-shirt—wanting it gone.
Dabi complied, raising his hands for you as you tore the offending cloth from his body—hands finding whole new ways to tease him as his lips found yours again. Now it was his turn to bite. His teeth no more kind to your lips than yours had been to him as your hand slid up his abs—searching for his nipple, getting distracted by the feel of his muscles.
Your fingertips ran across the bud lightly, teasing the already hard skin before you pinched it between your fingers—causing another moan to leave Dabi’s mouth. You’d just started, but Dabi had apparently had enough of being teased; his left hand sliding from your waist in between your legs. His fingers rubbing roughly against you through the fabric, riling your arousal. Your lips fell from his. Head leaning back, a moan on the tip of your tongue as your hips moved with Dabi’s fingers—your hands falling to his belt.
Dabi stood taking you with him as he walked to the side of the couch, before bending you over the arm. You weren’t even sure how you got there—your pants and underwear torn down to your knees in the next moment. You didn’t bother to try and look, cheek laying against the couch cushion as the cool apartment air hit the moisture drooling across your legs, raising chill bumps on the skin there as you heard Dabi’s belt come undone. His own pants hitting the floor in the next moment.
Dabi’s hand found the back of your neck, pushing your face further into the couch as his other hand smacked your ass audibly.
“Dabi.” You yelped just to give him the satisfaction, the sting of pain on your skin fading slowly.
His hand fell across your ass once more before his fingers slid down easily through your folds. Two of his fingers pushed against your clit without rubbing, leaving it to throb.
“What a pretty sight (Y/N). Your cunt soaking wet and practically begging me to fuck you.” Dabi said just before his fingers started a rough pace against your clit—causing your legs to tremble, unwilling to support your weight at all. You further collapsed against the couch, feet leaving the ground.
You tried and failed to hold back a moan, pleasure rippling through your body as he teased. Dabi’s fingers slid from your clit to your entrance; a single digit slipping inside in the next moment—curling upwards into you as he slid it in and out.
Suddenly his mouth was at your ear, tongue dancing on your skin as he spoke. “I bet you taste good.”
Anticipation shivered down your spine as his mouth disappeared from your ear. His hands warm between your thighs as he pushed your legs apart—tongue sliding across your heat slowly. Mmmmmhhh, he groaned against you like he was fucking savoring it. The vibration from the sound impious.
He slid his tongue into you, lapping against your moisture loudly as his fingers found their way back to your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves slowly. “Fucking delicious.” Dabi said just before his tongue and fingers switched places—sucking on your clit with ungodly pressure. His tongue brushing against your clit with the same rhythm as the fingers he fucked you with.
Dabi kept this up for more than a hot minute before you even found the voice to say. “Shit Dabi.”
You didn’t even try to hold in your moans; fingers failing to find purchase on the leathery texture of the couch as you looked for something to grab hold of—your arousal quickly approaching its limit.
Your entire body was hot.
“Don’t tell me you’re already about to come doll.” You thought you felt the huff of a laugh against your thighs.
You were. You really were.
But Dabi wasn’t going to let that happen—not yet. His mouth was gone from your heat in the next moment—only a single hand left behind to ever so slowly slide across the wet mess between your legs. His other hand trailing from your hip beneath your shirt aimlessly.
“As much as I’d love to just fuck you right now, it’s really no fun if I don’t get to see your face.” Dabi whispered against your ear. Both of his hands sliding to your hips as he stepped back from you—giving you room to turn around. Your ass sliding from the armrest down onto the couch.
Dabi’s eyes were a living flame. His spiky hair trying to stick to the light sweat on his forehead. “Take this off.” Dabi tugged on the hem of your shirt.
You did, and your bra too. Not even noticing the cool air on your skin as he pulled your pants the rest of the way from your body.
Dabi’s dick curled upward lightly, the tip oozing with precum—one pronounced vein running under his length. He stepped closer to you, knee falling between your thighs on the couch as he leaned over you—eyes trailing up your body to your face. His right hand found your cheek, thumb sliding across your lips roughly, momentarily slipping into your mouth giving you a chance to lick his finger suggestively. Dabi’s eyes tightened and he pushed his thumb farther into your mouth, pulling your cheek out, parting your lips like he was going to spit in your mouth.
Your eyes didn’t leave his face—didn’t miss the way his own lips parted as you closed your mouth on his thumb—dragging your teeth across the top, and your tongue across the bottom. His thumb fell from your mouth trailing moisture. You leaned up toward him, kissing him again, arm lazily wrapping around his neck as you sat up farther; directing him to sit on the couch instead.
Lips still hungrily on his you swung your leg over his lap—lining your entrance up with his cock. In that same moment, without warning Dabi thrust up into you, the wet sound of him hidden by yours and his moans both. The head of his cock momentarily pressing into your g-spot as he entered you. He didn’t pause, immediately picking up a rough pace. His hands finding a firm grip on your thighs, holding you in place. With each thrust his dick all but disappeared inside you, hitting sweet spots you didn’t know you had. Your forehead falling against his. Your mouth failing to stay closed as he fucked you.
It was like he’d wanted this since the moment he saw you. Maybe he’d even dreamed about you.
You wanted to grab a hold of something, anything as your arousal built farther—your fingers digging helplessly into Dabi’s sides. “Fuck Dabi, you really do wake up hard.”
You weren’t going to let him have all the fun, taking a moment to take control of the pace. Dabi’s hips stilled; hands sliding to your ass, grabbing your flesh as his head leaned back on the couch—letting you ride him, hands on his shoulders.
You weren’t much slower than he had been, it felt too damn good.
“That’s fucking hot (Y/N).” Dabi commented out of breath, head leaning back forward to watch the way your mouth gaped open at the feel of him in you. You were so close to coming it was painful.
You didn’t last much longer before your eyes threatened to close, blurring Dabi from your field of view as your orgasm blindingly tore through you like a white light—not even noticing your hips stilled as the walls of your cunt clamped around Dabi’s thick girth, leaving him to groan almost as loud as you.
“So fucking tight doll, you’re going to make me come.” Dabi’s voice was rough.
He buried his dick further in you, relishing in the feel of you coming around him before sliding out quickly. His hot release landing against your cunt and thighs as Dabi came too—cursing your name—grip only growing tighter on your ass.
You closed your eyes, head falling against Dabi’s shoulder which rose and fell with his fast pace of his breathing. You tried to catch your own breath with the image of Dabi’s aroused eyes burned into your skull—it wasn’t easy.
Dabi’s grip loosened, fingers lightly trailing down your legs and then back up. You opened your eyes, reluctantly removing yourself from Dabi’s lap. Assuming he wanted you to.
Something like a laugh fell from Dabi’s lips as he glanced at you before standing up—giving you a nice view of his ass. You didn’t move, instead relying on your hearing to decipher his activities around the room: you listened as a drawer slid open, as another door opened, as a shower turned on. At some point while listening to this you grabbed your already ruined shirt from somewhere on the ground beside you—using it to somewhat wipe Dabi’s release from your thighs. And then Dabi was back in front of you.
“Do I need to carry you to the bathroom.”
“Are you offering?” You joked.
You noticed he was holding a stack of his clothes, which he silently handed to you before walking off to the kitchen—assuming you could find your way to the bathroom.
You showered quickly by your own standards, pleasantly surprised by the hair product situation in his bathroom. Conditioner was a rare find in a man’s bathroom as far as you were concerned, much less not only conditioner but actual face wash as well. And not just a bar of soap.
You were now sitting on the bed in Dabi’s t-shirt and boxers, trying to collect your thoughts on a multitude of subjects. The first of which you thought it was odd you hadn’t heard from Toga yet. And morning distractions aside you were going to have to do something about Miya—not physically. You’d long sworn off any real involvement with villains. Even if you were staying at Dabi’s for the time being, Miya wasn’t so dull as to take more than a few days to find you again. Really staying at Dabi’s wasn’t too far from staying at Toga’s—it just came down to how seclusive Dabi was about his apartment.
You didn’t want to join Miya. You didn’t want to fight Miya. Really all that left you to do was disappear again. It worked well enough the last time—gave you a few years. But last time was different. You liked living in this city. You liked living near Toga—and all the chaos it brought into your life. You even liked your job. Fuck.
My job, you thought. Shit what time is it.
One glance around the room told you Dabi wasn’t an avid keeper of time. There were no clocks to be found. You also didn’t have your phone to check either. You jumped up, heading to your discarded bloody clothes to check for the missing technology.
“What’re you looking for?” Dabi spoke up from behind you as you dropped your pants back to the ground, having found them empty.
“My phone.” Mild panic seeped into your voice like your boss was somehow your biggest issue right now.
Along with a towel tucked around his waist, Dabi also wore a smirk on his face as he pointed to a phone plugged into a charger next to the bed. How had you not noticed that?
You walked around Dabi to your phone; the screen lighting up to reveal that it was well past noon, and yes, your boss had called. “Shit.” You groaned. “I was supposed to be back at the office this morning.”
“You were there until 3am.” Dabi deadpanned, something like mild disbelief in his voice. “And you’re worried about being late today.”
“I’m the editor and we’re discussing the next issue today.” You were barely listening to him, scrolling through the rest of the messages on your phone, having found one from Toga: Don’t leave the apartment.
“Also, Toga told me not to let you leave.” Dabi added with amusement. You could practically hear the smirk on his face.
You turned around, finding the very same smirk you heard on his face. “And you’re actually going to stop me?”
You pocketed your phone about to walk around him when he grabbed your wrist, halting your progression. “You do realize you’re wearing my underwear as pants right now. Or were you going to put your Carrie outfit back on to leave the apartment?”
You paused and he let go, walking over to his closet to change. You had in fact, not considered your current outfit in your panic at the time.
You flopped back onto the bed with your phone, swiping to call your boss back. He answered in one ring.
“Where are you.” He practically yelled. You wished your phone would lose reception.
You moved the phone farther from your ear. “Listen J. I just woke up; I was at the office until 4am finishing the paper for you; and I got mugged walking to my car last night, so I have to go file a police report today. I’m not coming in, just email me the plan. I’m sure it’s fine. I don’t really need to be there Saturdays anyway.”
He huffed like he was going to be able to find a good reason to tell you to still come in, but then thought better of it. He was your boss, but really your position on the paper was more important. “Are you okay?” He feigned concern.
“Yeah; I’m fine. I’ll see you all Monday.” You hung up as soon as he responded—not feeling the need to prolong the conversation.
You were sure you made him mad. But what was he going to say?
You tossed your phone away from you on the bed, sighing aggressively over the sound of it hitting the sheets. Really if you stopped to think about it, if you were going to leave, your job here didn’t matter anymore. So why worry about it? Because it was in your nature.
“Where’s Toga.” You spoke to the ceiling, but your intended audience was Dabi.
“With Shigaraki.” Dabi’s voice was closer than you expected it to be, so you sat up—finding him standing in front of you as you crossed your legs beneath you.
“Does she have some grand plan she’s not sharing with me.”
Now in a white t-shirt and black jeans, Dabi shrugged. His hair was still wet, lying flat against his head. You couldn’t help but think it was a little cute.
“Uhm Dabi.” You spoke at the same moment you noticed a foggy black hole appear in the middle of the room just behind him. The fog mimicking swirling coffee in a mug like creepy cappuccino art.
Dabi’s eyes widened ever so slightly before you pointed behind him and he turned. “Speak of the Devil.”
Toga waltzed out of the hole and then it swirled closed behind her.
“Why’re you wearing his clothes?” Toga tilted her head to the side like a curious bird as she spoke, before she glanced around the room—probably noticing your clothes discarded on the floor along with Dabi’s.
“Because hers are covered in blood.” Dabi responded indifferently.
You pointed toward him in agreeance.
Toga didn’t press the issue. “So, Shigaraki is willing to work with you.”
“Work with me to what?” You were confused.
Toga rolled her eyes like it was obvious, bouncing over closer to you. “Deal with Miya.”
“Deal with? Toga I’m not fighting Miya.”
“Then what are you going to do.” Dabi spoke with some level of interest in his voice, eyes a little wider than normal.
“Same thing I did last time. I’ll leave.” You shrugged. “Should give me at least another three years.”
You were expecting Toga to respond, but instead it was Dabi; who almost sounded mad, his voice fast and sharp. “Then what are you going to do in three more years, move again? And then after that?”
“Why do you care?” Your voice harsher than you really intended. His change of tone catching you off guard.
“Why let him dictate your life like that.” Dabi’s voice was back to indifference. He shrugged slightly readjusting his cool façade.
“I swore all this off three years ago.” You weren’t going to change your mind now. You directed your gaze to Toga. “I can’t fight Miya without using my quirk; and I can’t use my quirk without hurting anyone and anything around me.”
“What about last night?” Toga argued.
“What about last night.” You met her tone.
“Aside from the man who shoved his own bloody arm in your mouth, looks like everyone came out unscathed to me.” Toga’s eyes tightened as she challenged your decision about yourself. She stepped closer again, hands tucked in the invisible pockets of her plaid skirt.
“Not true—I bit Dabi.”
“Because he was being kinky and told you to.” Toga didn’t miss a beat, rocking back on her heels.
You didn’t miss the glare Dabi shot her, but he didn’t say anything hands folding across his chest.
“How do you really know you can’t control that side of your quirk if you’ve only really used it with Miya.” She continued falling back on the soles of her feet.
“What does he have to do with it.”
“Maybe nothing.”
You started to say exactly, before she cut you off. “Or maybe everything.”
“And if you’re wrong and I just end up hurting all of you?” Your voice turned sour.
“You never turned on Miya.” Toga sang sweetly, taking two steps back as you stood up.
“He has nothing to do with my quirk.” You walked around her toward the door. “I’m leaving. I’m going home; I’m getting a bag of clothes and I’m leaving.”
Before you could even get close to the door Dabi laughed, a bitter sound. “Are you forgetting my underwear again.”
You were about to scream. “Fuck it. I’m leaving anyway.”
“And what if I want them back.” Dabi continued.
You whirled around to look at him. Toga laughed sitting down on the bed behind him, crossing her legs. Dabi looked entirely serious, but you didn’t miss the amusement in his eyes.
“Then come to my apartment with me and I’ll change and give them back to you.” You said through your teeth.
You found your shoes by the door, shoving your feet into them as you heard Dabi walk up behind you. You turned to look at him just as he dropped a long leather jacket over your shoulders—long enough to hide your outfit you realized instantly. You felt your face softened, but he didn’t look at you.
“(Y/N) think about it. You’re not as suspicious of Miya as you make yourself sound to be. I’m going to look for the man from last night. Don’t leave.” Toga’s voice lightened at the end.
You still all but ignored her. It was your quirk, your problem and Miya had nothing to do with it.