the dream never ends

“noooooo, stay” a muffled voice whines in the dimly lit living room, belonging to the most wanted arsonist, unsurprisingly. to others, seeing dabi like this — even hearing him like this — would surely land them in a five minutes craft cremation camp. but to you, it had become a daily occurrence.

“dabi” you poke at his shoulder blade, hoping to get his face from sliding down to nuzzle over your stomach in fear for your bladder that is currently fighting demons as well as dabi himself.

“dabi” you try again, patting him now. still no sign of him making any moves to get off of you. any more longer and your couch will have to be thrown out and replaced and you weren’t looking forward to wasting your paycheck even more than you did this month.

unable to just keep still to indulge in your clingy arsonist, you find a way to forcefully wrangle his lean body off of you before quickly making a mad dash towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you in your haste. behind the bathroom door, you could hear a muffled, dramatized, loud groan. loud enough to be heard over the movie on the tv. sadly, right now, enjoying your bathroom break alone was even more important.

coming out with a hand still drying from your wash, you find the scarred criminal with the biggest, meanest pout on your couch. arms crossed, lying on his back, refusing to even spare you a glance as you enter the room. he looked every bit like some clingy, grumpy cat that got left behind.

“ugh, don’t be like that. i had to go to the bathroom or change my damn couch” you grunt at his refusal to still look at you, walking up to the pouty man and sitting by his legs.

“babe” you try again softer approach, lowering your voice, reaching out a hand to place it over his knee. truly, it felt less like comforting a villain and more like trying to usher a street cat to your lap.

feeling your hand over the material of his pajama pants — still cold due to your bad blood circulation — dabi wants to melt back into your side and offer to warm your hands as he usually does. but being reminded of how you left him all alone on the couch, still feeling the sting of betrayal, he turns his back to you, turning his face to bury it into the back of the couch like some fussy animal.

“..just say you hate me and bring out the divorce papers already” even with his back turned to you, you could just imagine the pout on his face. he had a habit of doing that whenever you couldn’t spare a second to pay attention to him. a clingy boyfriend through and through.

“bitch, you proposed to me with a fucking ring pop” groaning in exaggerated fashion, you forcefully flip his leaner body around to face you again. lo and behold, the infamous pout tugging on his scarred lips.

“just bring out the divorce papers” he repeats his statement, feeling colder with your body not by his side to cuddle with. truly, you were turning him into his worst state, a villain turned into a domesticated boyfriend. if the league were to find out, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

it was embarrassing really, how soft he had grown ever since meeting you. at first, keeping his distance was easy and simple. a few teasing touches there, a note left under your door, but quickly it all melted away when he found out just how nice it is to be cared for once in his life when you cleaned and fixed his staples for him. and just like that, what started out as a simple ‘i’m just here to crash the night’ turned into ‘nice dinner’ before spiraling into a ‘come back to bed before i kill myself’ situation.

“i will if you bring out our marriage certificate” your voice mumbles softly over his temple, leaving gentle kisses that peppered down until it reached his jutted lips. and something in his cold, dead chest gave a painful thud at your words, the thought of having a marriage certificate with you making his pupils widen just a bit as he stared up at you like the lovestruck dork he was.

arguments don’t even usually last long with dabi. you physically cannot keep yourself away from him even for ten minutes without him threatening to do something stupid.

“babe, slow down, you know i have bad lungs” dabi’s voice rasps from behind you as you start to speed walk through the streets, feeling a migraine starting to pulse from his sheer stupidity.

third time this week of dragging his ass away from pro-heroes, lying to the faces of the law enforcers and it wasn’t even wednesday yet. he must have a death wish or was just extremely stupid. your bet is on both of them.

you wanted to shout at him, maybe shake his body around like a ragdoll, but any attention given to the pyromaniac would only fuel his need for your attention. so the best way to make him feel something when having an argument is to give him the cold shoulder. the cold winds of the night air may not bother him but one created from your distance to his definitely would.

and it did. there was a phantom ache in his hand where yours would usually fit so perfectly. one that wasn’t created from his fucked up nerve endings or surgical staples keeping his body together.

“baaabbbeee, my lips feel cold” dabi tries again, staring at your back as you walk a good few steps ahead of him on the sidewalk. usually, such a demanding whine would have you sparing him at least a single glance, but tonight you seem very much intent on ignoring his existence. he can’t have that. he just started to understand the meaning of living again when he met you, he can’t lose that warmth of his heart. or else, he genuinely might end up losing what’s left of his sanity.

noticing the bright lights of a hospital as you pass by, dabi gets an idea. a stupid one, but an idea none the less. anything to have your eyes on him. even if it’s filled with hate or anger, he couldn’t care less. just having your gaze on him is enough.

“better come kiss me before i burn this hospital down, babe” dabi calls out, holding up his hand where blue flames starts to flicker at the tips of his finger threateningly. that got you halting in your steps thankfully, and seeing your face turned to him was as potent as any drug he could ever name. it was the high of feeling your eyes on him, because your attention was on him and his hand felt too cold without yours holding it.

“you wouldn’t”

“i’m a villain, remember?” of course he wouldn’t, he wasn’t some spoiled brat. but he was a spoiled boyfriend and he wanted his attention right now.

seeing the flames still alive on the tips of his fingers, you groaned and cussed under your breath as you walk back to his side. once you were close enough, dabi taps at his lips with his free hand, a shit eating grin growing on them. had you looked a little closely, you would have noticed the way his flames flickered in time with his heartbeat when you leaned in to give into his demands.

“needy little shit”

“you know you love me”

✿ SFW recipes:

fake idgaf-er dabi, the clingiest bf

♡︎ NSFW recipes:

Currently no take outs. Would you like to order?