#dabi x gender neutral reader

[kuwkedits]

☁️Comfy Cozy Monday☁️

Ynie needs help moving LOV edition

Tags: c.c.m☁️ /

⚠️CW: lots of food talk / bad eating habits as in not eating enough or at all, being malnourished, encouraging eating, swearing,

[shiggybrainr0t]

dabi isn’t good at comforting people. aside from the fact that it was never really something he was given as a child up until now, he doesn’t have anyone he cares about enough to actually try. until you.

you’ve only been “dating” for a few months, and he’d rather die than admit it, but you’ve dug yourself a comfy little spot in his heart already. it’s the way you look at him, with understanding eyes. and the way you touch him with your soft fingertips-whether it be across his scars after you two have fucked or swiping a speck of dust off his coat.

dabi isn’t good at comforting people, so whenever you come home after work one day and your jaw is clenched and your hands are shaking, he’s at a loss. you don’t even look his way at where’s he’s sitting on your couch eating your snacks. you kick your shoes off and they land messily next to his (which he always lines up neatly because he thinks its a cute sight, his boots next to your smaller ones, like you live together or something).

whenever you stalk past him into the kitchen, he gets up for some unknown reason because he definitely wouldn’t have followed anyone else when they were this visibly upset. you’re standing in front of the coffee maker, jabbing at it aggressively whenever it doesn’t turn on. brows furrowed, he slowly comes up behind you and settles a hand on your waist.

“it’s not plugged in doll.”

“well why isn’t it?!”

you spin around at this, and dabi is horrified to see tears slipping down your cheeks. he’s never seen you cry before, and to see you reduced to tears is jarring.

he’s unsure, but he raises his hands to cup your face, using his thumbs to swipe away the tear tracks marring your pretty face. (because, he’s noticing, you’re still pretty even when you’re crying)

“want me to beat up the coffee machine for you?”

he’s relieved to hear you let out a wet chuckle, pushing your face harder against his hand.

“go change doll, and we can cuddle while you tell me about it.”

dabi isn’t good at comforting people, but he thinks it’s not so bad when it’s for you.

[corpsekiller]

𝙖 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛 (𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨) — 𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙞

PAIRING. dabi x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, fluff, scars, mentions of violence and blood, mentioned murder if you squint

SYNOPSIS. dabi struggles with a strange longing for softness and peace that feels impossible to reach for someone like him. in a tender moment, you offer him a fragile spark of hope and comfort.

LENGTH. 1.987 words

MASTERLIST

For the longest time, Dabi wanted to be soft.

It's strange, craving to be known, to be seen despite the scars littering his body — the desire for someone to strip away the layers of his unbridled rage and wrap their fingers around his very core, dig their nails into the tender flesh until every gruesome feeling he's ever buried in the darkest corner of his mind oozes out like blood from a fresh wound.

And look—

He tried to lose this longing, really. Dabi doesn't remember how many times he found himself wandering through the depths of the night, how many streets he walked down and how many corners he rounded without looking over his shoulder, hoping it would find someone else to haunt — and yet, it always returns like a lost dog.

On most days, it sits idly behind his eyes and watches through a curtain of cerulean blue. Those days are easy for him. They're quiet, almost placid and he barely takes notice of it, this dog he despises with every inch of his frail body until he sinks into the cold mattress he found in another abandoned building and tries to find some peace where none is left for people like him.

Sometimes though, his want lingers on the tip of his tongue and scratches on the inside of his cheeks, tears at the stitches holding his face together until tender flesh bursts open — barking, growling, begging to be let out.

Dabi only swallows harshly, clenches his jaw and grits his teeth until the endless tension turns into a dull ache climbing through his skull and settling behind his temples. The others notice he's quieter on those days, but none of them care enough to ask. He's glad they don't.

It gets worse in spring.

There's a certain kind of grief that comes with the first days of April, a sadness that mourns what could have been and what will never be as the sun breaks through the clouds and kisses his cheeks with a warmth that doesn't quite reach under his skin. Dabi turns his head, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice humming a familiar tune, and lets his gaze wander to your hands.

Nimble fingers twist the stems of a few flowers you picked and neatly weave them together before plucking another one and adding it to your collection. A cool breeze blows through his hair, tousling the strands that shadow his face even further as if to caress his head and sweep away the dreading feeling of sorrow that has begun to slip between his ribs and settle behind his sternum ever since the days started to get warmer.

His want unfurls in the cavity of his mouth. It paces behind his teeth, claws scraping the inside of his cheeks, whining for release. Dabi only bites his lip, sinks the edge of his canines into the supple flesh until he draws blood and senses the familiar coppery taste on the tip of his tongue.

Nonetheless, his fingers twitch at his sides. It's an unconscious reaction to his want's growling, its restlessness trembling through his chest in violent rattles. He wants to reach out, to test if his hands could hold something as delicate as the crown you're making without crushing it, but he knows better.

This isn't meant for him — not this kind of peace.

The dog snaps at him from inside his own ribs, furious at the refusal, its longing teeth bared against the bars of his will.

He hates it, truly.

And yet, he still wants to be soft so desperately, wants to break himself apart like the flower you hold between your fingers, gently picking at the rose-tinged petals until they descend to the ground and scatter around your legs. You don't seem to notice the agony glinting behind his gaze, don't see the way his hand trembles when he reaches out to caress yours, grazing his fingers over your knuckles almost as if to trade places with the flowers and receive the feeling of your gentle touch instead.

Oh, but that's the problem, isn't it?

This softness he yearns for was never made for his body — like an ill-fitting shirt two sizes too small, it'll burst open at the seams and leave him exposed — every scar, every fracture, every jagged edge laid bare for the world to see.

Truth is, he has always been too hard, too rough, made of nothing but sharp edges meant to cut and violent anger meant to burn everything he touches.

"What's going on in your head?" It's a simple question, a whisper of care that carries away with the wind rustling the branches of the trees above his head. Undisturbed, your fingers continue their work, weaving the stem of each flower into the other one, twisting them into a circle of petals and leaves.

Instead of replying, Dabi lets the silence stretch between you, taut and fragile like a rubber band about to snap, until you finally decide to break it.

"You don't always have to be the fire, you know?" Your eyes leave the task at hand to meet his. There's a tenderness there, a subtle invitation for him to step outside the walls he's built around himself. "You don't have to hurt to feel alive."

A flicker crosses his face, something uncertain and unguarded at the same time — a crack in the mask he usually wears so well, a glimpse of what lies beneath his hatred that passes as quickly as it came. Instead, his gaze drops to the flower crown resting in your lap as if he's regarding the delicacy of each petal and how easy it would be to crush them — oh, how easy it would be to crush you — and lets out a bitter laugh.

"These hands—," he pulls his own back slightly, his scarred fingers curling in as if they could sear anything that gets too close. "You think they’re meant for holding something as soft as this?" Dabi gestures to the flowers with a rough flick of his wrist, but there’s a hollow resignation in his voice. “My hands are covered in blood, they're not meant to hold something gently."

"And yet, they never hurt me," you reply and lean closer, letting your fingers brush against his. The warmth in your touch is oddly comforting, sweet and caring and so undeniably contradictory to everything he embodies that it causes him to flinch, almost as if expecting you to recoil once you realize what kind of abomination he truly is.

You don't.

Instead, you lace your fingers with his. For a moment, you close your eyes and focus on the tension that runs through his tendons and deems it impossible to steady his hands, how he retreats and seems to brace for something that never comes.

You faintly wonder if it's rejection he fears or perhaps even worse, abandonment.

"You don't understand... this is all I've got." Dabi lets out a hollow chuckle, a bitter sound soaked in resentment, and gestures vaguely to his hands where discolored scar tissue meets ivory skin. The very same ones that have left scorched marks across entire cities, across people and across every attempt at kindness he's ever known. "I was made to burn. It’s all I know."

"No." It's a simple reply, two letters holding so much weight that he can feel his shoulders cave in under it, and yet, he can't bring himself to move, can't rip his gaze away from your face as you speak. "You weren’t made to burn. You were just… left in the flames too long."

The dog quiets to a mere whimper.

His chapped lips part, but no sound dares to escape, the trace of his unspoken words lingering on the tip of his tongue. No one has ever said something like that to him. No one has ever cared to see him as more than just a villain — as a product of his cruel past — and the realization stirs a long-forgotten ache in his chest, one he's spent years burying under layers of rage.

"Do you ever think about it?" you ask softly. "Who you might have been… if things were different?"

The question slices through him, raw and jagged. Defeated, he drops his head and allows his eyes to drift back to the flower crown still resting on your lap, the image of your fingers braiding delicate stems together with so much caution as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sometimes," he admits quietly and pulls his hand out of your grasp, pressing it to his chest, right above his heart. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? None of that matters anymore. Every choice has been ripped from me and all that's left... all that's left is this hollow shell of who I could have been."

"That's not true," you argue softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek and tilt his head to meet his gaze. "You can't change the past, but you can still choose what you could be."

Abruptly, he goes quiet, eyes tracing over your face like he's trying to search for a lie, like he's afraid he'll find nothing more than betrayal etched into the fine lines of your features. "What would I be, then?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, a quiet confession that seems to surprise even himself.

"Someone worth knowing," you reply, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of his white hair behind his pierced ear before placing the flower crown on top of his head. Your fingers trace over the soft curve of his cheekbone, not quite touching him, but hovering over his calloused skin.

For a fleeting second, Dabi tenses under the gentleness, but then he exhales, the tension melting away like frost in the morning sun. His shoulders slump, the weight of years spent bearing his anger and pain easing just a split fraction. As if on instinct, he tilts his head slightly and nuzzles his nose against the open palm of your hand, the flower crown slipping just slightly askew.

Tentatively, eyes flutter shut, and he leans into your touch as though it’s the only anchor in a storm he’s been battling for far too long. His breath hitches, a quiet sound that betrays the fortress of indifference he’s built around himself and despite his movements, the flower crown stays precariously on his head - a stark contrast to the scars and jagged edges that mark his life, and yet, somehow, it feels like it belongs to him.

"Don't," he finally rasps, his voice hoarse but not as sharp as before. "Don’t make me believe there’s anything left worth saving."

You don’t pull away. Instead, your thumb traces the edge of a particularly rough scar on his cheek, your touch soft enough to feel like an unspoken promise.

"I'm not making you believe anything," you reply, steady and unwavering. "I'm just reminding you it’s still your choice. You know, softness isn’t something you take... it's something you learn."

His lips twitch as though he wants to say something more, to argue, to fight, but instead, Dabi stays quiet. His hand, calloused and hesitant, brushes over yours where it rests against his face, holding it there as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

For the first time, there’s no fire in his eyes — no rage, no resentment, no bitterness. Just a flicker of something raw and unsure, a spark of hope too fragile to name.

"It doesn't suit me,” he finally mutters, his tone almost self-conscious as his fingers ghost over the edge of the flower crown. “But… maybe I'll keep it. Just for now."

Maybe he can't be soft anymore, but he can be kind, he decides.

That's more than enough.

Taglist: @justwolosers @jaerang @dabislittlemouse

[cyberstrm]

metal mouth

dabi x gn!reader drabble

"y/n. cmere." a rough voice caught your attention and you looked up from what you were doing.

"hi." you smiled softly at dabi, who was leant against your bedroom doorframe.

"cmere." he repeated, so you got up from your bed and stood in front of him.

"what's up?" you asked sweetly, reaching a hand up to his face and stroking it softly. he tried not to react, any reaction to your affection was, in his eyes, a weakness. but you could see his eyes soften.

he leant forward and stopped just in front of you, before grabbing your waist and pinning you to the wall in one swift movement. his mouth met yours and he kissed you deeply, and to your slight surprise, the taste of blood and the cold touch of metal met your tongue. he kept kissing you deeper still, hungry for you, his hands roaming your hips. he pulled away, blood trickling from his lips.

"shit." he breathed, wiping it away. "i guess it's still fresh."

"you got a tongue piercing?" you grinned, the metallic tang still in your mouth.

"mmmmhm." he replied. "you like it?"

you kissed him, gliding your tongue over the metal. he moaned into your mouth as more blood seeped from the new wound.

you pulled away, panting slightly, blood now trickling from both of your mouths.

"i love it."

[thatlotuscookie]

could you do for Dabi x villain reader who he has a crush on and one day after a mission he feels like shit so he just goes to his room because he's body's burned and hurting and reader goes to his room and helps him, kisses his scars, treats his injuries, hugs him and stuff. FEEL FREE TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING MORE IF U'LL LIKE

✧･ﾟ: a/n : thank you so much for the request! I absolutely love the idea of Dabi letting his guard down with the reader after a rough mission and getting the comfort he doesn’t usually let himself ask for. enjoy<33

✧ Title: ✧ Hidden Flames ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a mission leaves Dabi battered and exhausted, he retreats to his room to nurse his wounds alone. When you show up, intent on caring for him, he’s reluctant at first. But as you treat his injuries, kissing his scars and reminding him that he doesn’t have to face everything alone, Dabi realizes just how much he values your presence. ✧ Content/Tags: Injuries, Vulnerability, Comfort, Mutual Pining, Scar Kisses, Established Crush, Soft Dabi, Hurt/Comfort WC: 1365 words // 7.4k

The hideout was cloaked in stillness, a hollow silence hanging over the building like a fog after the chaos of their latest mission. Dabi’s feet dragged as he approached his room, a wave of exhaustion nearly toppling him as he stumbled inside. His vision blurred slightly, and he let out a frustrated breath, every fiber of his being screaming in pain.

He shut the door with his shoulder, leaning on it briefly, letting the cool wood press against his back as he caught his breath. His mind was a mess of aches and exhaustion, a hazy reminder of all he’d taken on tonight. The burns littering his skin throbbed persistently, a reminder that he wasn't as invincible as he liked to think.

Finally, he sank onto his bed, shutting his eyes as he tried to will the pain into silence. He hated this feeling—weak, vulnerable. It wasn’t supposed to be him. He’d built his life on fire and fury, not…this. Not whatever this gnawing, hollow feeling was. He exhaled sharply, mentally daring himself to stay conscious, to fight through it. But just as he was sinking into that fog, he heard a gentle knock.

He bit back a curse, forcing himself up enough to glare at the door. “Go away,” he called out, his voice rough and almost pleading, hoping it’d scare off whoever it was.

But the door creaked open, and there you were, a small first-aid kit in hand and concern written all over your face. Dabi's heart gave an unwelcome thud, a mixture of annoyance and—dammit—relief swirling inside him. Of all people, why did it have to be you? It was too much; the last thing he needed was you seeing him like this, all messed up and hurting.

“Dabi,” you said, your voice soft, cutting through his haze like a breath of fresh air. “You look awful.”

He wanted to snap back, deflect, say something snarky to keep you at a distance. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he just let out a low huff, rolling his eyes as he mumbled, “Glad you’re as blunt as ever.” He tried to sound annoyed, but the truth was, he was a little relieved to have you here. That was the damn problem—he was starting to like it too much, having you around, and it was messing with his head.

You ignored his attempt to play it off and stepped closer, your eyes searching his face with that worry that he could never quite get used to. His chest tightened as he watched you, that soft look in your eyes making him feel exposed in a way he’d never felt before.

“You’re hurt,” you said quietly, kneeling beside him, so close he could feel your warmth against him. Your voice held a tenderness that made his throat tighten. “Let me take care of you.”

Dabi felt something inside him give way, the part of him that was tired of holding up walls and pretending he didn’t need anyone. He looked at you for a long moment, the vulnerability in his gaze unguarded, and he finally muttered, “Fine.”

You set to work, gently cleaning his burns and cuts, your touch careful and precise. As you dabbed at his wounds, he hissed, the antiseptic stinging like hell. “Shit, that hurts,” he grumbled, half expecting you to laugh or roll your eyes.

“Sorry,” you said, glancing up at him, your expression apologetic but unwavering. “But it’ll help, trust me.”

Dabi tried to look away, to focus on anything else, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. The way you were so damn focused on him, so damn tender… it made him feel something warm and dangerous, something he’d been fighting down for too long. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, wasn’t supposed to let anyone this close. But you were different. You made him feel human in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it scared him how much he liked it.

Once you finished cleaning his burns, you leaned down, pressing gentle kisses along his scars, your lips soft against his raw skin. Dabi’s heart skipped, a rush of heat flooding his chest that he couldn’t ignore. “You…you don’t have to do that,” he stammered, trying to sound unaffected, but his voice was shaky, a little breathless.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “I want to,” you whispered, your gaze steady and sincere. “You need to know that you’re not alone, Dabi.”

Those words struck something deep within him, a part of him he’d buried long ago. He looked at you, his walls crumbling with every second, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. It was terrifying and exhilarating, a pull he couldn’t resist. His chest tightened with feelings he wasn’t ready to name, but he knew one thing: he didn’t want you to go.

He let out a shaky breath, meeting your gaze. “Why…why do you even bother with me?” he asked, his voice softer than he intended. “I’m nothing but trouble.”

You paused, looking at him with a tenderness that left him speechless. “Because I care about you,” you said simply, your voice gentle but unwavering. “And no matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dabi’s heart raced, a blush creeping up his neck as he took in your words. This wasn’t just some passing crush; it was more than that, something deeper that scared him more than any wound ever could. He reached out, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the comforting scent of you as he let himself relax, for once, in your warmth.

The hug was clumsy, awkward, but he didn’t care. He wanted this, wanted you, and that realization hit him with a force that left him breathless. He didn’t want to lose you, not now, not when you were the one person who made him feel like he was worth something.

“You know I’m… I’m not good at this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible against your shoulder. “I’m not good at letting people in.”

“I know,” you murmured, your hand running gently over his back, soothing him in a way that felt like home. “But I’m here. And I’m staying.”

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, the depth of his feelings clear in his gaze. “You’re…too good for me, you know that?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was a tremor in it that gave him away.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Maybe,” you teased, your eyes warm with affection. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Dabi’s heart swelled at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but you were the light in his dark world, the one thing that made him feel like he could be more than just fire and destruction. He reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on as if letting go meant losing the only good thing in his life.

“Just…don’t leave, okay?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Not going anywhere,” you promised, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. You stayed there, holding him as the silence settled around you both, a comforting weight that wrapped around them like a warm blanket.

As sleep began to creep in, Dabi felt a strange peace settle over him, a feeling he hadn’t known in years. For the first time, he felt like he could finally let go, to trust that someone cared enough to stay. With you beside him, he could finally breathe, letting himself fall into a sleep that, for once, wasn’t haunted by nightmares.

In that quiet moment, Dabi knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you close, to make sure that, somehow, he’d find a way to deserve you. Because with you, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could be more than what he’d been before.

[sandiaarts]

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

[dabixcompress]

I am here to remind you of the beauty that is noncon face sitting and oral. (Reader receiving)

Yandere!Dabi is my test subject >:) TW(S): Noncon, face sitting, gender neutral reader ( both amab and afab friendly), kidnapping implied, sleepy sexy, very short (144 words)

He's the type to grab his darling when they're sleepy and force them to sit on his face. Poor darling is groggy and confused before being brought back to reality at the feeling of his tongue on their clit/balls. At first, they try to close their legs, hoping to get him off but it only makes him continue further. He loves the way they sleepily whimper and try to kick him off. It makes him wish he could stay under them, eating them out / sucking them off. Is his poor baby upset? Too bad, he's craving their cum and he needs it now. Whine all you want he's had a bad day and just because he keeps you locked up in his house without your consent doesn't mean it comes without a cost. Let him feast unless you'd prefer his dick inside you.

[the-dawn-star]

Dabi with teen reader who some times will stay up for too long at a time and when they can’t sleep they kinda lay next to dabi, on the floor beside his bed because his presence comforts them so he’ll wake up and roll over and there’s just reader, asleep on the floor :3

A/N: This became more of "Reader is an insomniac but Dabi's presence comforts them" but I hope this is fine. Also, I don't really know how insomnia works, so be aware of nontrue depiction of it. 

-S

+300ish words.

Dabi had always thought that he was the night owl of the two of you, but he soon realized how he was completely wrong in that regard.  

Some mornings when Dabi would wake up, he would see you sitting in the exact same place as before, eyebags formed under your eyes.  

Dabi isn’t going to question you for the first few times but slowly the pattern becomes too noticeable to ignore.  

It was a random evening when both of you were sitting on the couch. You had a few really bad nights behind and you were exhausted. And the sleep came to you when you were sitting with Dabi.  

~~~ 

You thought about it for weeks. You were able to sleep perfectly fine leaning on Dabi’s shoulder.  

It took two more weeks after awful insomnia when you broke.  

You grabbed your pillow, duvet and an extra blanket from your bed before walking to Dabi’s room as quietly as possible.  

You laid the blanket down and dropped yourself on the floor. Sleep took you in minutes.  

~~~ 

Dabi woke up a few hours later. The night was warm, and he generally ran a bit too hot for the weather of Japan.  

Dabi turned to his other side trying to find a new comfortable position to fall asleep once again.  

But there you were on the floor, sleeping peacefully (for once) and covered by a blanket that only the top of your head could be seen.  

Dabi was annoying and a bit of a brat, but he would kill anyone if someone were to wake you up.  

So, instead of waking you up he smiles before falling back to sleep.  

Feel like you want to support me via Kofi? No preasure tho!

[http-tokki]

Do you want me to kiss you?

~ dabi x reader ~ tag/cw: mha spoilers, fluff, friends to lovers, they kiss!!! ~ wc: 300

Dabi not wanting to kiss you because of the staples and skin but you just want to love him staples, burnt skin, and all so you just grab ahold of his face and pull him close; nose to nose, forehead to forehead and ask one final time.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

You can see the hesitation flicker in his eyes so you repeat the question. “Do you want to kiss me? do you want my mouth on yours? is this something you want and would do ?”

“Yes, I want it more than anything” he admits, voice breathless as his hands come to rest on your waist. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad but I don’t want to gross you-“

“Shut up” you sigh and press your mouth against his.

Dabi’s breath hitches in his throat as his hands grasp the flannel of your shirt. His lips are still against yours for a second but as you tilt your head, he kisses you back. Melting into your touch his mouth opens under yours, love pouring into him. He tastes of cigarettes and toothpaste, the tang of blood from stretched skin lingers as you slide your tongue along his bottom lip. Dabi groans and opens his mouth wider, his tongue flicking back against yours. The grip he has on your clothes is iron, holding you against him afraid if he loosens his hold you’ll disappear. There’s so much in that kiss, so many unspoken thoughts and feelings, so much passion and love and lust by the time you pull apart, you’re both panting.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea” he breathes, fingers now stroking along your forehead.

“I’m gonna do it again” There’s a hint of questioning in your tone. “you ready?”

Dabi nods eagerly. “Yes please.”

[shigaraki-housewife]

Imagine getting fucked by Dabi and he’s fucking you so good that you starting to close your eyes from the pleasure. And suddenly Dabi grabs your face to make you look at him while he fucks you and he leans down while holding your face and says “Keep your eyes on me, doll.”

[mika-writes-fanfics]

As It Was

Dabi x Reader Angst

Warnings/tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of burns, major character death, pre-established relationship, reader cares for flowers

Synopsis: Dabi returns to you after completing his life's mission, his body now badly burned and damaged. He wonders, will you accept him with open arms? Will you take what is left of him?

Author's note: I've been on a Hozier binge. "As It Was" from Wasteland, Baby! was giving me major Dabi vibes. This is kind of different from the content I usually like to write and read, but I felt so inspired I just had to write it. Word count: 1.1K

He’s now thankful your home is on the outer reaches of the city, tucked in a secluded pocket between the border of the forest and the concrete hell of the city. After what he’s done, there’s not a person in Japan that wouldn’t recognize his face. Had you not lived in the middle of nowhere, he’d already be arrested by some weak police officer or jumped by some rookie hero. 

It’s ironic, the thinks, that his opinion has changed. He hated it, at one point. You lived so far away from his shitty apartment at the time, meaning that every time he wanted to see you, he had to take the agonizingly long train rides. It was like you lived in a fucking retirement community since all the elderly would take the same train, giving him judgemental stares all the while. It pissed him off to no end. And if that wasn’t enough, being in the forest always reminded him of Sekoto. 

But still, he bore it all for you, back before he let his rage consume him. 

Before he devoted himself entirely to revenge. 

Before he started burning himself all over again. 

Before he fucked it all up.

Despite the way he left you, he hopes you’ll be kind enough to him to accept his return, to not instantly slam the door in his face.

If he even makes it to your doorstep, that is.

Each step he takes feels like a battle between life and death. These heavy and labored movements exhaust him, made worse by the state your driveway is in. Of all the days for it to rain, it just had to be today. The torrential downpours make the path harder to traverse. Mud clings to his boots with every trudging step he takes, threatening to suck him into the earth, burying him at his final resting place. 

The puddles of water settling in the tire tracks of your car show him grim reminders of his appearance, showing him glimpses of just how ghastly he’s become.

He’s a burnt husk of what he once was.

Nothing is left of him now that he's achieved his life’s purpose. 

The only thing that remains of him is this homing instinct to return to you.

To go back to the start. 

To give you what’s left of him.

To feel his final sensation of comfort.

To feel loved again.

He’s faced with the reality of how long it’s been when he finally catches sight of your home. In the year he was by your side, he never saw those Foxgloves bloom once, as he met you in the late summer. But now, judging by the towering violet, bell-shaped flowers framing the sides of your window, it’s been three years.

It’s in this moment that his mind replays the memory of the following summer, the one in which he noticed you agonizing over the flowerless plant beds. He remembers it, with surprising clarity amongst the mental fog. 

“Why do you bother taking care of those stupid flowers if they never fucking bloom?” He asked you, critically. 

“They’re foxgloves,” you answered. 

“So?”

“So, they do bloom, just biennially, and their flowering season just passed. You’ll see why I keep ‘em around in another year,” you explained.

The fact you even implied he’d still be in your life a year from then filled him with a sense of security. Whether you meant it or not, he took it as a promise, and kept it tucked in the darker reaches of his heart. 

Three long years have passed since he left you, since he abandoned you without a word. But he has known you have a patient side to you, he’s seen it in the way you always gave him space in his darkest days, how you allowed him the time to come back to you when he was ready, how you never took his frustrating habit of pushing you away to heart, weathering his toxicity with love and carefulness. Maybe, since you’re so patient, you have been waiting for him. If you welcomed those flowers despite their long absence, maybe you’d accept him, too. 

Normally, he’d sneer at the thought of you turning him into such a hopeless romantic, a weaker version of himself, but considering how there’s nothing left of him anyways, he’s fine with the idea. Maybe the positivity you give him would turn him into something beautiful again. 

He finally climbs up to your doorstep and stumbles against the door. When his shaky and weak hands turn the knob, expecting to be met with a locked door, it turns easily without resistance. Your door is unlocked, which in his state of hopeful delusion, he interprets as you waiting for him.

Maybe you knew he would come back.

You had made it easy for him to crawl back into your life.

Or maybe you just forgot to lock it. 

He swings open the door as he leans against the door frame. Any other time, the sound of the groaning hinges would grate at his ears, but right now, the sound feels familiar and comforting. It feels like nothing has changed, everything is as it once was.

He trudges deeper into your home, shambling past your living room and tracking mud all over your floors. There’s a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach the longer he walks through your home without seeing a glimpse of you. But it’s when he approaches the kitchen that he hears you humming, the sound calming his mind. 

His boots thud on your tiled floor, loud, and uneven. He sways as he walks, bumping into one of your dining chairs, the movement scraping the chair against the floor. Your humming abruptly cuts off at the sound and you turn to the source, on high alert, only to see him propping himself up against the walls.

A sharp gasp escapes your lungs. 

All he can see is you as the edges of his vision grey out. Against your better judgment, you rush over to him as his legs start buckling underneath him.  

He starts to collapse on the spot. You close the distance and open your arms around him, catching his fall and attempting to bear the brunt of his weight. 

Despite what he’s done, despite how he left you so suddenly, he can still feel your love for him.

It’s in the way you try to make sure he doesn’t fall, despite tripping being the least concern to him given his injuries.

It’s how your voice sounds frantic as you ask him if he’s okay if he can hear you, if he’s still in there.

It’s how you start to sob at seeing the state he’s in. 

You’re so worried about getting him to lie on the ground safely and checking his pulse that you fail to see him softly smiling at how you fuss over him, what’s left of his burnt face forcing out a peaceful expression. 

The last thing he hears, the last thing he feels, the last thing he thinks about, is you.

[kuwkedits]

☁️Comfy Cozy Monday☁️

Reader is sad the villains make it worse before they make it better

Tags: c.c.m☁️ / hurt⛈️ & comfort🧸

⚠️CW: v angsty before comfy sorry, lots of swearing, shigaraki is very mean and so is dabi but they both get better, mentions biting into flesh, miscommunication, mentions bleeding out, bad families, murder

📍Authors Note: I apologize for how angsty I made this weeks post but it’s kind of one of my favorite Monday posts since I’ve started this doing it this way to make sure you all got something new at least once a week um how are we liking it? Do we fuck with the good vibes I’m trying to send all of you? Anyways love u all have a good meal stay hydrated get plenty of rest 🖤 xoxo Rinnie

[mirukosbitchywife]

dabi x reader | huggles mc'cuddles

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DABI!! ITS FINALLY HERE!!! i got a request for a dabi x reader cuddling fic and that is exactly what this is. just pure fluff. completely sfw it's literally just what the title suggests. this is also FOUR THOUSAND WORDS. this is my first proper fanfiction ever so it probably isn't the best but i worked really really hard on it so please be nice! i am not an actual writer i do this for funzies, constructive criticism is appreciated though! if this seems out of character for him just know i'm holding a gun from the abyss right behind him the whole time forcing him to be soft and have feelings. also there's a lot of himiko in this can u tell i love her... ive got a himiko request coming out soon! also tysm to my friend @ko-konutty for helping me edit this!! thank them for all of the capitalization and correct punctuation lmao

It's movie night at the league. The main TV is set up in the living room and the tables are filled with pizza boxes along with various snacks catered to everyone's individual tastes (Like the blood pouches Himiko demands). It's finally your turn to choose the night's movie. And you, naturally, pick your favorite. It results in some groaning over having to watch it again, which you so diligently ignore.

Quickly pressing the play button, you all start grabbing your food and get settled into your seats to watch. The arrangements end up with you and Dabi on a couch together, Toga and Twice squeezing themselves onto one chair- and Shigaraki, who claimed an arm chair at his own corner where he played with his switch. Not even pretending to pay attention to the movie since he's seen it at least three times already. Spinner and Magne are sat right next to him on two bean bags, which are actually facing the TV. And lastly, sat further away from the group, are Kurogiri and Mr. Compress. Chatting in low voices. You can see as Kurogiri makes Sako a drink at the bar; making an effort to not disturb anyone who is paying attention.

Really, everything should've been fine. You're surrounded by the people you dare call friends, with food and snacks along with your favorite movie playing. But you just can't help but be stuck in a bad mood.

Your entire month had pretty much been shit. Well- your entire year really. And you just. Really really needed a hug right now.

As much as you tried to pay attention to your favorite movie and try to eat your meal before it got cold, you just couldn't focus for a second. Normally, you'd be eating and chatting with everyone else. You're typically giving commentary on the movie and/or reciting lines, but this time you just couldn't drown out your thoughts.

As a matter of fact, you'd been so deep in your own head that you didn't even notice the concerned glances thrown your way from multiple members of the league over the fact that you've been quiet throughout the entire movie.

Hell, you didn't even notice the curious bright blue eyes burning holes onto the side of your head from the opposite end of the couch. Not 'til a rough voice startled you from your thoughts.

"You alright?" Dabi asked lowly.

He had leaned closer. You had never been so close to the man before- his face just a few inches from yours in order to not be heard by anyone else, giving you the illusion of privacy. You could clearly see the concern in his eyes while asking, despite the rest of his face seeming blank.

He'd never admit to concern. But in all honesty you'd all been getting quite closer these past few months together. And you knew he actually cared about everyone in the league.

Especially you.

Who so far has been the most resistant to the "Family bonding time" as Himiko liked to call it.

Despite him asking you a question- you couldn't stop yourself from admiring just how pretty he was. Especially this close up. His beautiful blue eyes, his facial piercings, the little frown he sets when he's trying to put on his blank expression.

He watches as you start to zone out in real time, but just before you can get completely lost in your thoughts again- he snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“Mmmmhmm" you hum.

You're still distracted looking at the staples lining his skin, not paying much attention to his words. Surveying the room in order to continue to not make eye contact- you easily spot two heads already peering back at you. Making both Himiko and Jin freeze while they were 'sneaking' you concerned glances from their shared chair.

Ignoring them for now, and having let the silence stretch a little too long, you eventually bring your eyes back up to meet the intense blue ones of the man at your side. You watch as he huffs at your lack of an answer, flopping back on the seat he claimed as his own.

He wants to let it drop there, it's clear you don't want to talk about whatever's bothering you with him. He should just go back to watching the movie. So, that's what he does. … For a few minutes.

But he just can't stop the concern he feels over your odd behavior tonight. He's debating on whether or not to question you again- only to notice he's been unconsciously bouncing his leg. Deciding to just bite the bullet, he chooses a different approach.

Making sure he catches your eye this time- he asks again. "Seriously. You alright? You're completely out of it today."

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, he can literally see the cogs turning in your mind. It's as clear as day you want to ask him something, it's written all over your face. And in a surprising act of patience- he stays quiet. Allowing you time to fully form your thoughts.

This turned out to be the right move as you start speaking after a moment of silence.

"Could you.... could I get a hug?" you ask hesitantly.

Looking up at him from under your lashes, fidgeting with your hands, clearly nervous about his answer. But trying to appear unaffected. He can't even focus on your face though, because as soon as you asked, his eyes blew wide, his heartbeat picked up, and he was speechless. He's absolutely floored by your question as people don't tend to just ask him things like that.

At his silence you were starting to feel disheartened. Opening your mouth to quickly backtrack and apologize for asking but he interrupts that train of thought with a soft sigh before you can get the words out.

"You...want a.. hug?" He asks in a voice you've never heard from him before.

He's unable to look you in the eye to hear your answer- even if he's sure of what it's going to be since it is what you asked afterall. But It doesn't change the fact that his heart is racing just at the thought.

Lifting his eyes up to keep them from going back to your face: He spots Himiko and Jin on their shared chair. Right behind your head to his view on the couch. Both vigorously nodding their heads along to your request- encouraging him to agree.

…

As if he would deny you anything.

You may have only known each for a few months, but he's developed quite a soft spot for you over that time. This fact goes unnoticed by you, but not the rest of your friends as he's frequently teased about it by Himiko damn near daily. The teasing often leading to him storming out of whatever room he's in with a light pink blush dusting the healthy parts of his face, only to get teased by other members as soon as he's spotted fleeing Himiko.

He only meets your gaze again when he sees Himiko miming stabbing him if he refuses.

Turning back to face you- he sees your face is fully lit up by the TV. Bringing his attention to the dark circles under your eyes. He's honestly unsure of how he hadn't seen them before. Now that he's paying attention, he also sees the exhaustion in your body language. You've slumped into yourself, looking incredibly tense. He has no clue how long you've been like this without any one of them noticing.

But in their defense, you're not particularly close to anyone here. Always staying on the sidelines, always by yourself- Even when invited to hang out by the more friendly members of the league, You've made sure to keep your distance from them, your walls built up high around you. They can see it though. The way you're hurting yourself more by keeping a distance from them, refusing to get attached to anyone. They can see how you're suffering alone.

They see it so clearly, they've all been in your exact position. They WERE in your exact position right before they found the league. And they know that as much as they want to- they can't just force it. They can't force you to open up to them and be part of the family they’ve made. They have to wait for you to be open to reaching out. To want to form bonds again. And- here you are. Finally starting to break out from the hard shell you have around them, seeking comfort.

And you're asking for it from him of all people?

"Yeah.. if it's okay with you? You're just.. really warm." You explain in a soft voice, afraid of him denying you after you barely managed to find the courage to ask in the first place.

"Uhh.. Yeah. Sure. Of course." He rambles nervously, heart racing in anticipation at the idea.

He's quick to move. Settling fully on the couch in a position that'll be comfortable for the both of you. As soon as he's found it, he opens his arms in invitation- making it so that his lap is completely free for however you want to place yourself.

Despite his easy acceptance, when you easily slide yourself onto his lap- he can't help but tense up. He's reeling over being the recipient of such attention; despite him having expected it. However, he's no where near uncomfortable with the closeness.

You clearly already had an idea of how you wanted the hug to go before asking him as you wasted no time situating yourself over his lap to face him, chest to chest. Your knees bracketing his hips on the couch and wrapping your arms around his waist. You slump forward against him, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and nuzzle into his neck slightly before settling down. Completely comfortable on his lap now.

Once you're still; you feel hands that are almost too hot wrap around your back, pulling you forward the last bit so you're both pressed flush against each other. Those hands then move around your waist to form a light hold.

He's been tense the entire time. That is until you snake your hand up to the top of his head- lightly running your fingers through his soft white hair. Gently scratching his scalp with your nails. The sigh he lets out as he melts into your touch ruffles your hair, but you pay no mind to it.

What you do pay attention to is the fact that this is the first time you'd ever been this close to him. Hell, this is the closest you've been to anyone in years. And the main thing that captures your attention is his surprisingly nice scent. You can easily smell the scent of smoke and nicotine that clings onto him at all times, but even beyond that- you notice the smell of the strawberry shampoo Himiko uses. Along with the faintest scent of snow. You never would've guessed it but somehow it fits now that youre smelling it on him.

Being chest to chest with him you also note how warm he is. You've already known this but being this close? It makes it entirely different. You can just feel the heat seeping into your bones. Relaxing your muscles even further. The thought of seeking him out again after a fight to use him as a personal hot pack crosses your mind briefly and you huff a laugh into his shoulder at the thought.

He didn't even feel it, since unknown to you: Dabi's mind has been running wild since the moment you asked him for the hug. And in all honesty, he didn't really know what he had been expecting after asking if you were alright. But this situation definitely was not it.

Still, he's stuck on one thing, he just doesn't really understand why you chose him to request a hug from. Sure he was questioning if you were alright and was right there next to you, but if you just wanted a hug- Why not approach Himiko any of the times you saw her this week? Or even Jin or Spinner? Hell, maybe even Compress!

They're the more welcoming members of the league. Not him. He's not exactly what he'd call approachable. People are usually so scared by his appearance; or at the very least put off at first. He's not really a person most people would look to for a hug. Yet here you are- cuddled up on his lap.

He's not exactly a stranger to being hugged- everyone in the league is aware of Himiko's clinginess after all. But the fact that he was your first choice? Now that added a lot more impact. It's not as if you deny hugs from the other members, you've just never initiated them like you did with him.

That's never happened to him.

He's never been picked first for nearly anything, let alone comfort.

He's not even anyone's first choice of comfort in the league. It's not like he holds it against any one of them, but they all do have members they're closer to than him, and he's fine with that. He's content on his own most of the time, even if he does secretly treasure when the entire league is together the most. Even despite acting as if he didn't enjoy their company.

But, here you are. Taking a wrecking ball to everything he's used to and making him feel warmer than he has in a while. And not in a way relating to his quirk whatsoever. The revelation hits him hard as he unknowingly started to grip your shirt tightly in his fists, balling up the material, but you don't feel it. Already having fallen into a sleepy half asleep state against his shoulders- completely unaware of the way you've made his thoughts race.

You're enjoying the comfort from him as much as possible, especially since it's been over half an hour since the hug started and he still hasn't pushed you off. You're determined to stay here as long as he'll let you. You want to see if he'll let you stay on his lap long enough for you to fall asleep. You're fine sleeping right here, you just want to see if you'd finally be able to sleep for a whole night without nightmares if there's someone with you while you rest, craving just one night with a full 8 hours of sleep.

He only snaps out of his thoughts when he can physically feel Himiko glaring daggers into his head. To put it simply- If looks could kill, he'd be dead. Confused as to what he did, he looks down at you and sees you. Struggling to keep your eyes open, lightly rubbing your face against his shoulder. You had moved to rest your cheek on it instead of your chin, facing his neck, while he was zoned out. He was so out of it he hadn't noticed the soft breathing against his skin until just this second.

Having now been roused from his thoughts, he looks at the time. Taking note of the way you're quickly losing your fight with sleep- he moves for the first time since you climbed on his lap. He's intent on bringing you to your bed, as he doesn't know if he'll have the heart to wake you if you fell asleep on him, and he doesn't want to pick you up while asleep either, in order to not disturb you. He doesn't know how light of a sleeper you are and he's not willing to find out.

He also didn't want you sleeping on the couch anyway. Especially now that they finally have a hideout where everyone gets their own rooms; therefore you have your own perfectly fine bed. Which is much better than a couch. He easily slides his hands under your thighs to lift you up, making it so that you won't have to detach from him until you get to your room, and allowing you to rest against him for a little longer. You let out a quiet yelp in surprise, making a couple members look over at you two when he stands. But- other than Himiko sticking her tongue out at him when he passes her- there's no reaction from anyone else when he starts walking towards the hallway that'll lead to your room, with you, of course, still in his arms.

Your door is unlocked, as it always is because even if you're not close to the league, you trust them. That makes it much easier for Dabi to get in without needing to move you or put you down. Walking in, he can't help but notice the somewhat sparse decorations in your room.

He's not the kind of guy to snoop, but he's interested to see the parts of your personality that he'll be able to pick up from your room. He is the first person you've ever allowed inside afterall. And looking in just from the doorway- he notices a couple posters on your walls. Mainly musical artists and video games from the swift surveying glances he gives them. He also notes one poster ripped at the corner, but keeps walking until he passes your vanity, where he stops for a moment, he sees pictures scattered across the mirrors borders, some having people cut or scratched out of them. He also takes note of the little things you have there on the surface, like the necklace you made with a bead Mr. Compress gave you, along with your collection of makeup, some of which he knows you use in costume, some of which you got from Magne.

Not wanting to spend too much time looking about, making you question why he stopped. So, he continues on towards your bed where he admires the fairy lights you've set up. On your pillows he also spots the bunny plushie Himiko gave you when she found out they're your favorite animal. In all honesty- seeing you having so many gifts from the other members makes him feel a little jealous. He didn't even know you were friendly enough with some of them to receive gifts from.

He wants to give you something that you'll keep with you too, the issue is: He has no idea how to pick out gifts. Maybe one day he'll suck it up and swallow his pride for you to ask Himiko. He knows she'll help him- he just doesn't know if he could take the teasing that would come.

Dismissing that line of thought with a quick shake of his head, he approaches your bedside, bending over it slightly so that you'll fall over it when you release your hold on him.

Except-

instead of releasing and getting into bed, you surprise him for a second time that night by gripping his middle tighter and whining softly. He freezes in place as soon as you do and you start to tense up, worried that maybe you pushed too far by doing that, but before you can move, he speaks up. However, all he does is whisper quietly to you:

“Y’sure you want me to join you, Sweetheart?”

and you can swear you heard his voice break in the middle of asking that, but you don't point it out. You're too embarrassed over your request to actually verbally ask for him to stay with you until you fell asleep, so you just nod against his shoulder, hoping he'll take that as your answer and you won't have to speak up.

Thankfully for you, after that confirmation, he silently stands back up, with you still hanging onto him, and begins to shuffle into your bed, getting the both of you under your plush comforter, one arm wrapped around you the whole time he's moving. He doesn't say another word, he just lies on his back, with you now straddling his abdomen.

Still slightly embarrassed about the situation despite his easy acceptance to your request, you choose to not say anything for now. All you do is readjust yourself and get comfortable. Since he got in bed with you still on top of him, you assume it's alright if you don't get up from where you are.

Because you really don't want to end the most comfortable hug of your life so soon, that's the main reason you didn't want him to leave. But you'll also secretly admit to yourself that you asking him to stay was a bit selfish, as youve wanted to spend more time with him as well. Even if you haven't talked much to each other tonight, this entire ordeal has been a big experience for you. Tonight is the first time you've let your walls down even the slightest bit around another person in years. But what you're not anticipating is the fact that this move is also the first step to joining the makeshift family the league has formed. .

The family they've been trying to bring you into for weeks.

You're lying on top of him in a very similar position to the one y'all were in in the common area. The only real difference now is how you've fully stretched out your legs, and that your face is pressed into his neck instead of his shoulder, fully facing him now.

Once you're done moving about, his arms come back up around you to rest his warm hands against the dip of your back, which makes you release a sleepy sigh. Fully content to surrender to the darkness calling you to rest; there's something bothering you, keeping you from giving in yet. There's one more thing you need to do before you fall asleep. Moving your head up so you can make eye contact with him nstead of his neck, you mumble in a low voice:

“Thank you for this… G’night Dabi."

He doesn't give a response, he just hums and tightens his arms around you. But he doesn't need to say anything, as you're fully asleep within a minute after having said your parting. The heat of his body was making the call of sleep even more irresistible, and now that you said what you wanted to, you were able to give into it. As you fall asleep, you've started to unconsciously grip Dabi’s shirt tightly, curling the fabric around your firsts; as if subconsciously afraid he'd leave you right after you drift off. But of course he doesn't do that.

He would never do that to you.

Instead, he waits until he's sure you're deeply sleeping, listening to the soft sound of your even breathing against his skin, before his eyes find your face. Soaking up every detail he can make out in the low light of your bedroom, he lets himself appreciate your beauty. The only light in the room being from the string of fairy lights within the room; but that's enough for him right now.

In the stillness of your bedroom, with the only movement coming from you contently sleeping over him in your huddle, he finally allows his tears of blood to fall from his eyes. The ones he's been holding off ever since you let him into your room. The urge had only increased as you continued to cling to him, then shocking him by allowing him on your bed with you, to provide you the comfort you've been craving through the night. It had all become too much for him to hold back now that you're unable to see him.

The show of trust hits him hard as he lies there, crying silently as he grips you tighter, as if you're the only thing keeping him from floating away. The fact that he's the first person you've ever let into your room, and probably the first person to hold you like this in a while, if ever, makes his heart beat erratically in his chest. Your show of vulnerability to him of all people is doing something to him. He didn't even realize how cold he had grown until he was shown the lightest bit of sunshine and immediately began to thaw.

You choosing him to be vulnerable with already has him craving being vulnerable back. Already considering how he might initiate the hug next time- desperately wanting this to become a common occurrence.

And under the bed of night, as crimson tears still flowed, he whispered back to your sleeping form.

"Thank you too.. Goodnight.." as he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

For the first time in maybe his whole life, he doesn't fall asleep in pain or to the deafening noise of his thoughts screaming at him, which are filled with intrusive thoughts that sound suspiciously like his father. No. Instead, he falls asleep under you, feeling truly appreciated and wanted for the first time. The smile that spread across his face before falling victim to the lull of your gentle breathing stays on his face the entire night, never even once interrupted by the nightmares of his past he typically deals with every night.

[corpsekiller]

𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. dabi x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, mentions of blood and death, pre!dabi dance

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. dabi finally opens up about his past and much to his surprise, you accept him as he is. even more you give him a choice of who he wants to be when he's with you.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm finally getting back into writing after a quite long hiatus and i couldn't be happier that my motivation and my inspiration is returning. i'm still pretty busy with my studies since my exams are coming up in a month or so, but i'll try my best to write whenever i find the time. so enjoy this fic, my loves <33

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.363 words

MASTERLIST

"What do you want me to call you?"

The question hits him like a train at full speed, crashes into his ribs, and punches the air out of his lungs until his head spins with the lack of oxygen. His fingers have gone numb around the cigarette he’s holding and although he thought he grew accustomed to the cold after years of living out in the streets, lurking in the shadows of dark alleys most citizens of that shithole avoid at night, his entire body shivers under the thin layer of his torn clothes. And yet, even as the wind lashes around him and seeps through the seams of his sleeves to lick over his scars, he makes a point of pretending he isn’t freezing to the bone.

You, on the other hand, seem to sink further into your sweater, hands buried in the thick material and legs pulled tightly to your chest to keep yourself warm — a pathetic huddle of clothes hunched against an old tree, desperately trying to make yourself as small as possible to press yourself further into the crevices for some sort of shelter. As he watches you from his spot a few feet away, he feels a sharp sting of guilt for bringing you all the way here, away from the liveliness of the city and the hope it holds despite the war that has been raging through the streets.

But he owes you this, he thinks as he shrugs off his coat and closes the distance between you, carefully draping it over your shivering figure. The small smile you give him in return makes his heart ache with an unknown feeling of warmth; he isn’t quite sure how to call it, this sense of comfort that washes over him whenever your eyes meet, but he knows it’s something akin to love. Perhaps that’s why you deserve to know what really happened to him all those years ago, he supposes, a confession of the trust he has in you.

It would've been easy to get rid of you here; he could've burned you to a crisp without a single witness, slashed your throat before your mouth could've opened to release a treacherous scream, or simply broken your neck to watch the light inside your eyes die slowly. No one would've known where you went if there’d be anyone who cared enough about you and your miserable life.

On that count, you’re both very similar.

There was no other place he felt safe enough to talk about his past, though — about the boy he was for his father and killed mercilessly when he learned he’d never be good enough to meet his expectations. It felt fitting to return to his own grave, deep in the woods, where his fire consumed every living thing in a haze of cerulean blue and left a wasteland of solitude between trees shedding thick layers of ash and soot.

He remembers the pain of the flames melting the flesh off his bones, how they swallowed him whole and spat out something far worse than any monster he could ever imagine — a demon in the shape of unbridled rage and hatred, clawing his way out of scorched earth with a new thirst for war in his eyes.

“Y’know, doll,” he finally speaks, crouching down in front of you to pull the heavy leather tighter around your body before he leans forward and gently cups your face, caressing the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Instantly, you nuzzle into the palm of his hand, chasing the warmth of his touch and smiling softly when he breathes out a low chuckle and presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

It’s strange to see how he’s capable of such tenderness when all he’s ever known was violence and anger — these very same hands that have murdered and tortured mercilessly before have grown soft in your presence. Even if he would want to, Dabi doubts he could ever hurt you. It sounds fuckin’ stupid, he notices now that he thinks about it, but you changed him. “I never thought I’d hear someone ask this question.”

And look, he didn’t expect you to stay. It wouldn’t have been a surprise to him if you’d jumped to your feet and made a run for it as soon as he revealed his past, his true identity to you, but instead, you stayed right where you’re sitting, wrapped in his coat that smells faintly like days without a proper shower, like cigarettes, like him.

Instead of leaving him, you stayed and listened patiently to every word that spilled past his lips like blood gushing out of an open wound — watched how the tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he recalled his father’s rage towards him, reached out for his hand to give him some sort of reassurance whenever his voice broke, encouraging him to continue despite the horror that seemed to grow in your eyes with every passing second.

And when he finally stopped talking, when the wound stopped bleeding for the first time in years, you gave him something he never had before: a choice of who he wants to be, regardless of the horrors he committed. and the blood that clings to his hands after so many lives he took just to quench his thirst for revenge.

And that—

That must be love, right?

The realization comes crashing down on him when you gently grab his wrist and pull him away from your cheek, instead lifting it to your lips to brush a kiss over his bruised knuckles as you repeat the question, softer, more careful this time. “So, what do you want me to call you?”

His eyes search yours in fervor. It’s a desperate attempt to find any doubts that you might not accept who he truly is, that this love you have for him was only a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’s just been so scared all this time to open up to you because he was waiting for you to realize he’s just not worth it, that he’s better suited for the edge of a knife driven between his ribs than any kindness, but your gaze holds nothing more than pure adoration for him.

“Touya,” he finally replies, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You can call me Touya, sweetheart.”

“Touya,” you repeat slowly, delicately forming every syllable of his name on the tip of your tongue. His breath hitches in his throat as he listens to you say it again and again, trying to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar ring of his real name — it sounds like a fuckin’ prayer falling from your lips and any resentment he ever felt for his old name seems to simmer down into reluctance.

With every whisper of his name, Dabi shuffles closer to you, until your face are only mere inches apart and he can feel your breath ghost over his parted lips. It’s addicting, to hear you say those two little syllables, and it buzzes through his veins like some sort of drug, like he's getting high on fucking heroin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so present in his stupidly frail body, doesn’t think he’s ever felt this fuckin’ alive before until this very moment and when the corners of your mouth curl into a smirk and your tongue darts out to repeat his name once again, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

He surges forward and crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that coaxes a whimper out of you and Dabi swears he’s never felt like this before as he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip and hotly licks into your mouth, devouring you with everything you can offer. Your hands sink into his hair. A moan in the shape of his name escapes your throat and his stomach jumps into his chest because this—

This must be love, right? It has to be.

Because he never felt this fucking addicted to the sound of his name before until it fell from your lips.

[thatlotuscookie]

hellooo👋👋 could you just write something for dabi and reader, just something that involves him giving reader backhugs. you can add anything you want to it. i just need a hug🤕

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hiii thank you for requesting! sorry for the wait. i have been a bit busy the past few days but im hoping that ill be able to get yalls requests done faster since its the weekend! enjoy<3 and i hope you feel better after reading this, anon. hang in there, you're doing great! you can always vent in my askbox if needed<3

✧ Title: ✧ Silent Embrace ✧ ✧ Character: Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Dabi isn’t one for words, but when he finds himself wrapped around you in the quiet, there’s no need for them. He lets his guard down, revealing the warmth he usually hides. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Cuddling, Established Relationship ✧ WC: 1002 words // 5.6k characters

The room is dim and quiet, the sort of silence that feels heavy with unspoken things. You’re lost in your own thoughts, hardly aware of anything around you, when you feel a presence just behind. You don’t hear his footsteps—they’re soft, almost silent—but the door creaks ever so slightly, announcing his arrival.

Dabi’s there, standing close but still holding himself back, like he’s not sure if he should cross that last step. You catch his reflection in the faintly tinted window in front of you, and it makes your heart skip. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between distant and thoughtful, like he’s warring with something inside. Before you can fully turn to him, you feel his hands brush over your shoulders, drifting down with the barest pressure, and then his fingers spread across your waist, pulling you toward him in one smooth, decisive motion.

He’s careful but firm, like he’s finally decided there’s no reason to hesitate. The contact is warm, surprising you with its gentleness, his hands slipping around your waist and linking just above your stomach. His breath brushes against your ear, warm and steady, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. There’s an ease to it, but you can tell he’s still tense beneath the surface, his fingers curling just a bit, testing his own grip, making sure it’s real.

“Needed a break,” he mutters, a little hoarsely, as if that explains why he’s standing here, arms wrapped around you in an embrace that feels both foreign and oddly natural for him.

His hands shift slightly, thumbs brushing in slow, aimless circles against your waist. You’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it, but there’s something mesmerizing in the quiet rhythm. The way his fingers occasionally graze your sides, the warmth seeping through your clothes, feels like a secret he’s letting you in on—some part of him he doesn’t show anyone else. It’s like he’s telling you something in silence, his words unspoken, his expression hidden against your shoulder.

You start to lean back into him, letting your head rest against his collarbone, surrendering to the quiet comfort of his hold. Dabi lets out a breath, one that seems to release some of the tension in his body as he relaxes further into the embrace. You feel his chin nudge down a bit as his head drifts, his forehead now resting gently against your shoulder. He’s steady, unhurried, his fingers tracing slow, reassuring patterns that make you feel like he’s grounding himself as much as you.

For a while, it’s just the two of you in this space, his arms wrapped around you in a protective circle. You can feel his heartbeat, a slow and calming pulse against your back, and it’s oddly soothing. He tightens his hold every now and then, almost like he’s afraid to let go, a silent admission that he finds as much comfort in this as you do.

Minutes pass, and the silence deepens. He shifts his head, his forehead brushing your shoulder before nestling his face into the curve of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you feel the warmth of his breath, slow and even, ghosting over your collar. His grip loosens just a little, his arms settling into an easier hold as if he’s melting into you, and for a moment, you’re not even sure if he’s awake.

It’s in that quiet moment that you feel his breathing become deeper, each exhale warmer and more languid as he rests against you, his weight leaning just enough to let you know he’s drifting off, surrendering to the softness he doesn’t usually allow himself. His hold tightens one last time, and you hear him mumble something unintelligible, a soft sound against your neck as he nuzzles closer, unwittingly snuggling in.

You’re holding him up, bearing his weight in a way that feels intimate and right, and as he sighs, you can tell he’s truly comfortable, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him. His breaths deepen as he falls into a light sleep, his body heavy but reassuringly close, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his warmth.

It’s only when he stirs, his eyes fluttering open slightly, that he realizes how close he’s gotten, his head still resting against you, his arms locked around your waist. For a moment, his eyes meet yours in the window’s reflection, and you catch that rare, unguarded look—almost like he’s not fully awake yet. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets out a soft chuckle, still a little dazed, and buries his face back into your shoulder, clearly unbothered by how vulnerable he looks.

“Guess I got too comfortable,” he murmurs, voice husky and amused, though he makes no move to let go. There’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, a look so genuine it catches you off guard.

Then, after a moment, he lifts his head just enough to press a light, almost tentative kiss to your shoulder. It’s soft, a wordless confession that lingers in the air between you, and before you can say anything, he steps back slightly, though his arms stay firmly around you.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, his voice still thick from sleep as he takes your hand in his, leading you with that same soft but steady grip toward his room. You don’t resist, letting him guide you, feeling the warmth of his hand enveloping yours. When you both settle on the bed, he pulls you close once more, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking you into his chest.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as his hand rests on your back, tracing lazy circles that lull you both into a quiet, peaceful state. His heartbeat, slow and steady, thumps in your ear, and the last thing you hear before drifting off is the soft murmur of his voice, promising to hold you close for as long as you’ll let him.

[sandiaarts]