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plush-rabbit · 3 years

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Consumed by Flames

So for the request i was wondering maybe like dabi with really really beautiful and kind s.o, like people always start with her or text her and harass her but she loves him from the bottom of her heart and comforts him , he bascially gets really jealous and they fight in an alley way and a few villains who are after dabi see them fighting and decide to try to attack her infront of him, he toasts them but he is scared that now his s.o hates him and think hes cruel only for them to hold him and tell him nomatter what he does she will follow him to the depths of hell itself if it means she gets to be with him

Warnings: Descriptions of death

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I hope you like it and I’m sorry it took so long!! It’s been a week

Jealousy is an ugly thing. It sticks to him like syrup and sets itself firmly in place. The alleyway smells musty, like mold clinging to the drywall of a place he once lived and he can only give you a sharp humorless laugh that makes you give him a pointed stare. You are everything he is not. You are good, you are free from the lasting sin that settles deep within him, something that he is sure he was born with. You are desired and wanted, and yet you stick with someone who is broken and stapled together. He wants to leave you here alone, to have you go home alone and never contact him again. He wants to be free from the kindness that you give to him, the caring stares and holds that you reserve from him as if he were an injured animal, feral and ready to strike, untrusting and unwanted.

“Dabi,” you tell him with a stern voice, brows knitted together and he already has his back turned to you. “Dabi, come on.” Your hand touches his and he’s quick to yank it away. He can hear you gasp and he hates the sick feeling in his chest. “You promised you would walk me home.” Your voice sounds so small and he can feel heat pool in his hands.

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and he turns his head, raising a brow. “We’re close enough-” he turns to fully face you, gravel crinkling under his boot- “you can make it the rest of the way.” He jerks his head and he rolls his eyes at your pointed look. “Trust me, you’ll be okay.” He continues to look at you, offering no hint of an apology or that he’s joking.

You scoff and shake your head. He can already hear the venom in your voice and you shuffle in your place, crossing your arms. “You’re being immature about all of this, you know.” His jaw itches, and he rubs the pad of his finger over the scarred tissue but it isn’t enough. “I don’t know what I did to piss you off but this is getting old, you know?” He can already hear the resentment in your voice and it’s starting to get tiring. His lids lower and he stares at you with an almost bored expression. “You can’t just shut down every other day. This-” you gesture between the two of you and all he can do is scratch the back of his head- “isn’t some game that you can just care whenever you want to.” You take a step closer to him and he takes one back.

He really doesn’t want to be here right now. He wants to go home and lay in bed. He wishes he never opened his mouth. You continue to talk and it’s just mumbled in his head. He hates everything about tonight. His skin aches and he feels gross and sweaty, he’s standing in the open and you’re in front of him scolding him like a parent. Bile rises in his throat and he’s so tempted to turn around and walk away, to leave you here and have you figure it out. He wants to hear you cry to him the next day so he can make it up with some half-assed apology and hug. He just needs to leave. Somewhere in the distance, gravel is crushed underneath and you stop talking. You both look at each other and turn around and Dabi hates the day more and more. He raises a brow at the four figures who approach from seemingly nowhere.

“Dabi, right?” The one who speaks is tall and lanky, limbs that seem to stretch longer than average and eyes that droop. He doesn’t respond and he can see the way your shoulders tense. “Come on, there’s no reason to be so cold.” His smile stretches and his fingers dance in the air as he waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll keep it short, hm?” He doesn’t wait for a response and instead continues to walk towards the both of you. You keep yourself in front of Dabi, still and cautious. “Oh? I didn’t know you had a special someone. It’s uh- it’s funny. I did too. Well, we all did.” The man gestures to the people behind him, one stocky with minerals that coat his skin, the other almost transparent with a mouth kept shut and black sclera, and one with almost reflective with sharp, jagged pieces that just out from their joints. “You see-”

“Leave.” Dabi’s voice cuts through the monologue of the man. He isn’t in the mood for it right now. He wants the group to leave. Whatever their issue is, is best left alone. You still haven’t moved from your spot.

“Come on, there’s no reason to be so disrespectful. You’re out with your partner so I understand that you want some time alone with them but you know. If you’re going to treat them so roughly-” the group takes steps forward, reflective material shining from the stray street lamps that light up the night- “then perhaps we should just take them home.”

Dabi’s upper lip curls in disgust and his body tenses. “You’ve talked for long enough.” His arm raises and heat pools deep in his arm. But just as blue starts to lick at his palms, long, stretchy arms wrap around you and you’re pulled away from him and into the group of strangers. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and he lowers his hand, an unsettling feeling settling in his chest. “What do you want?”

You wrapped tight with rubber arms around your body and he can see they way your legs tremble and he’s sure that if you weren’t being held, you would have fallen to your knees by now. You look back at him with a scared expression, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling, and he can see his name mouthed by you. He looks away from you and forces his attention towards the presumed leader of the small group.

The man who holds you now has a twisted smile decorating his face. “You see, a while back you burned a couple-”

“I’m not here for your life story.” Dabi holds his hand in the air again. “So hurry up and let them go.” He glowers at the individual who still holds you and his eyes meet yours. He calls your name, you furrow your brows and when he gives you a curt nod, you nod rapidly. Your mouth opens and you immediately bite on the arm that holds you, teeth piercing down and cutting down the rubber, and the arm uncoils and snaps back to its default length, a hand grasping at the wound, while curses fill the dark alleyway. “Get down.”

You run until you’re against the side of the building, and immediately crouch, hands covering the top of your head and face hidden. The men look at you and back to Dabi and there is a fear in their eyes, pleas that start and hands that raise in surrender. Immediately, blue and heat fills the small space, flames that burst out of his hand and encasing the four people. His arm starts to sting, a slight pinch that starts biting in different areas to spreading and consuming his arm in an unbearable pain that feels as if he is being set on fire from inside. Blood seeps between his staples and his hand lowers, steam rising from him and the smell of burnt flesh filling the alley way. He stares at a bundle of charred remains, limbs stretched and faces morphed into a horrific nature, eyes white and black, bloated and exposed, staring into the sky above where a plane drones overhead.

“Dabi?” Your voice is muffled, hidden between your legs and chest. “Are you okay?” He looks over at you, and he sighs. “Dabi, please answer.” Your voice comes out shaky and there’s a crack in it, your hands clench and your hand knits into your hair, muscles tense and you jerk randomly.

His steps are quiet, the bones creak from the deceased and he gives a mere glance towards the pile, watching you as you slowly twitch from your position. He stands in front of you and he wonders if you can smell the burnt flesh from him. You’re shaking, huffed breathing that escapes your lips and he frowns. His hand reaches out to grab at a wrist but he hesitates and lets his hand hover over you. Heat emanates from him and warms your skin and the smell of death is increasing, filling his lungs with something foul and smoke. He pulls his hand away from you and clenches it into a fist.

He calls your name in a soft whisper only to clear his throat and call it out louder. “They’re dead.” there’s no use beating around the bush. He just wants to go home now. “You can get up now.” The smell never grows old and a warm trickle of blood curves over open scars on his arm.

You rise shakily, spreading out and when you look back at him, tears have stained your face. You watch him and he can only stare at you with a blank expression. You knew who he was, what he’s done, the crimes that he’s committed but you have never witnessed it first hand until now. Your hands press into the filthy floor and he worries that you’ll get cut. You push yourself up and he stares at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows the acid and saliva that has pooled in his mouth. His mouth opens and he’s ready to call it off before you have a chance to.

“Are you okay?” His eyes widen. “Your- I know that you get hurt by your flames and I-” your eyes dart to his arm and your shoulders jump- “you’re bleeding,” you whine, hands reaching out towards him and grabbing his hand, your other hand grabs his under arm, pulling it close to you. “Does it hurt?” You lean forward and hesitate, only to look up at him and lower your head, your lips kissing at the scar that has reopened, and when you pull back, blood has smeared across your lips in a lipstick mark that makes his throat close.

You aren’t disgusted by him. You don’t run away and you stay close to him, holding his arm tenderly, his blood on your lips and his hands held tightly. Perhaps you just haven’t realized how monstrous he is, the disgrace of a person that he truly is must not have been realized as of yet. You hold him like an injured man rather than a murderer of people. People that he never knew of. People who held you and the underlying of a threat thick in their words all because of him. You hold him as if he is the victim, caressing him and your arms around him in a tight hug and he’s slow to return it, his head held high with a steely look as blood coats your shirt and he’s sorry.

“Can we go home now?” You ask in a small voice, hands clutching the jacket into fistfuls.

“You still want me to walk you home?” You still want him around you? You still trust him to step foot inside your home and lay beside you? It has to be a trick. Something so wicked that you would have picked up from him. His hands tighten around you and his muscle tense, blood leaking out and it’s warm.

“Please?” You ask in a soft beg, stepping closer to him. “I don’t- I don’t want to be alone.” And you trust him to be with you? You trust a man who murdered people in front of you to keep you safe?

“Why?” Second to everything, the afterthought to society and people. Only first in what a failure he is, in the body count that he holds, the shame embedded deep within him. But he is still a person, still yearning for the warm embrace of another, still desperate for the validation that he will never receive.

He feels you tense around him. The staples in his abdomen are pressed deeper into him and the pain, once sharp and agonizing, has now grown accustomed to a dull pain. “Because I want you to be with me.” Your voice is tight and he hates the sudden urge to press you closer, but he does so anyways. “Dabi, I- This was a scary situation but you protected me still. You waited until I was out of the way and I- Dabi you have to know that by now, I’d follow you wherever you go. I’d walk into the depths of hell, flames and all, if it meant that you would be with me.” Your voice cracks and he’s sure that his blood has now stained all of your back and the blood on your lips has dried.

The smell of the bodies lingers, thick in the air, blue that still crackles against charred flesh. It’s filthy here, his body burns and aches, you cling to him as if he might disappear, pulling him close to you and mumbling how you want him to come home with you, how you need him to be with you. You concealed your feelings with different words, told him you’d stick by him if that’s what he would wish for. You’d walk into hell and in the alleyway, you’ve already entered the domain, the screams that still echo against the walls, the sirens that sound far away and he smiles down at you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, smoke lingering against your hair and he pulls away, grasping your hand and leading you away from the fire that has begun to die down, fading into sparks and disappearing into the night. He wants to keep you close, to keep his body against yours, to make you follow through your promise and stick close to him, to never let you go and have your touch given to him freely, wanted and desired, hands that will trail his body and lips that will kiss his and remind him how he is yours till the pain in his wounds and flames make him combust.

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