"G'night, Sims!" You watch as the girl's form eventually disappears into the night, one hand waving you goodbye as you return it. A sigh escapes your lips from yet another busy day, the overall going on's setting up a bit of a hectic scenario in your head.

     Great! You figured out that Taro wants to kill Momo because he's a petty piece of shit that wants the company!

     . . .

     Yeah it hasn't been proven right, but the opposite hasn't either. So you had as much of a good guess as anyone else who might've unrealistically heard of this whole ordeal.

     You stared at the open contact, the last message of Momo bidding you good luck on yet another work day greeting you. Your hands hesitated on the message you wanted to ask, that being the possibility of her maybe just giving up the rights to the company to Taro. It made sense in your head, seeing as the guy would have no reason to hate, therefore want to kill Momo anymore. It'd keep her safe, and no one would get harmed. Plus as much as you hated to admit it, Taro knew what he was doing. His thoughts and execution regarding his anger towards his younger sister might've been flawed, but damn was he an excellent businessman. The Yaoyorozu name would no doubt be in safe hands with Taro. You weren't saying that Momo would be bad for business, dear goodness no, but the fact of the matter was that there wasn't really any other choice regarding her safety.

     But. . . then again. . .

     You bit your lip as you backspaced on the message once again, retyping and removing words over and over in an endless cycle of your indecisiveness.

     Even if Taro would no doubt handle the company quite well, that still doesn't excuse the amount of shit he's managed to do all in the hopes of achieving that. The man tried to kill his sister! Sure he didn't do it himself, but he consciously made the decision for it—that's just as bad as pulling the trigger himself! And, to make matters worse, that wouldn't even guarantee anything, much less Momo's safety. Okay yeah, maybe he'd leave Momo alone because he got what he wanted, but this man was. . . was so. . . for a lack of a better word; unpredictable. There's no way that a simple case of wanting something he might've considered a birthright would cause him to pay a shady group of people to send somebody to kill her. He must've had some other underlying issues with the girl, and maybe the fact that he wasn't the named heir was just the last push he needed to decide to do something to get rid of her once and for all.

     . . .

     Sounds from the storage room made you jump, the back-area of the boutique long shrouded in darkness as the grip on your phone tightened. "Devan? You. . . you still there doing inventory, bud?" Oh who were you kidding, he already left! You were alone right now!

     "I should tell you that I'm gonna be leaving soon. . !" You cringe, the sentence already too late to take back upon realizing that that might not have been the wisest thing to call out when there was the very high possibility of whoever this person is being an intruder.

     "Aw, and you're leaving me?" The undeniable smug and downright unmistakable voice of the man you forgot you were waiting for had you taking a deep sigh of relief, your shoulders apparently tensed in the past how-many minutes. "Dammit Dabi why can't you use the front entrance like a normal person!" You cringed inwardly at your attempt at a joke once again, realizing how the last time you spoke yesterday didn't really end all that well, a part of you fearing that that passing comment might've hit different.

     He rolls his eyes, his mask visibly hanging from the confines of his coat pocket as he proudly strides over to you, "As if there's any fun in that. Plus, as stupid as it is, your backdoor's kind of the only place without a camera." You raise a brow, a part of you sure knowing that you damn well installed one there. "Right. Anyway, hey! How you been, what'd you want to talk about?" He stares at you with a raised brow, looking at him in full oblivion. "What?"

     "You haven't seen me in a day and not even a kiss?" Whatever emotion rose in your face, it sure as hell did it so fast that even Sonic might probably be getting himself nauseous. "I—That was so out of nowhere!" His laughter graced your ears like your cat greeting you good morning in a way that wasn't sitting on your face, a part of you hoping that you'd just forget the reason he'd been ghosting you for the past twenty-four hours.

     Before you could ask again or perhaps make another joke, his hand had already made it's way to your chin, shutting you up completely as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze entirely.

     No matter how many times you've stopped to admire it, you could never deny the fact that his blue eyes were a blessing of nature that you could marvel at for days on end. They were so sharp, so piercingly sharp and cold and unfeeling yet the more you look at them the more you could see the stories behind it. Dabi wasn't in any way an easy read, but it just made you want to know more of him—to really get to see who he was and what else lied beneath his cynicism and downright psychotic behavior that he seemed to show in a way that was so intricate and subtle.

     "Your eyes are pretty."

     . . .

     . . .

     . . .

     No you did not just say that out loud—

     His teases were put on a pause somewhat as he kissed you, not being able to ignore the heat on your face—from embarrassment more than the kiss itself—and his attempts at containing his laughter.

     When he pulled away, he had on a cheeky grin, the piece of shit chuckling softly as he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, "Very subtle, babe. I'm so impressed," You whined at his sarcastic comment, earning more laughter and another kiss.

     "So, uh," You cleared your throat as he got busy looking around your shop, no doubt probably trying to admire it seeing as it was most definitely his first-time inside. "What'd you wanna visit me for?" He shrugs, going over to sit on one of the round seats you had just arranged and fixed earlier tonight. "Got bored, and I guess I wanted to make up for leaving you in the dark this entire time."

     It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, but in return it dropped to your stomach.

     "Hey, it's fine, I understand, you really don't have to if you don't—" He shakes his head, effectively cutting you off, "No, it's fine. I want to tell you. It's just. . . I guess I never thought I'd ever be reminded of that life again when I tried so fucking desperately to get away from it." You stood in front of the front desk where Millie usually sat and did her work, awkwardly fiddling with your phone as the city lights outside the glass doors peered through to shine on his form dramatically. This was a serious moment, dammit! He was opening up to you and all you could do was shift your weight one leg to the other in a weird dance associated with people who had social anxiety!

     "Yeah, I'm Touya." He seems to have shuddered at that name, a while later scoffing in disbelief, "I don't know, that name's kind of been nothing but trouble to me. Ever since I left that God-awful house I realized pretty quickly that being associated with my shit-show of a father had a bit of a bad rep. Yeah he's famous and well-known and a lot of people like him for some reason, but say that name on the streets and you'd be the easiest to prey on." He scoffed once again, almost glaring at one of the displayed red sweaters. "So I changed my name. Dabi was kind of just a street name, one that I'd use to tell people that I met every now and then and shit. I didn't really think it'd be here forever. But it stuck because. . ."

     He extends a hand that was once again surprisingly gloveless, a small blue flame the size of one on a matchstick crackling to life.

     In a panic you reached out a hand as if that'd stop him, eyes worriedly flickering up to the smoke alarms. He got the message easily enough, quickly dispersing it with a hesitantly apologetic grin, "Yeah, this. Sorry. Uh, yeah." He shakes his head. "That's kind of it really. I don't hate the name Touya, I just. . . hate that its associated with that old life I guess." He stands up and makes his way over to you, his form casting a shadow over your body as you looked at him sympathetically. "Hey, that name doesn't have to stick if you don't want it to. And," You paused in search of a proper way to express it, finding solace in your phone acting as an emotional crutch, "I'm sorry that I ended up reminding you of that just because it idiotically slipped my tongue."

     He chuckles, waving it away with a simple flick of his wrist, "Please, don't get all serious with me now. It was a mistake and it's not your fault, I'm just being dramatic."

     "But still. . !" You reasoned, grabbing hold of his—surprisingly cold—hands, "It obviously doesn't hold good memories for you, and it just makes me feel guilty that I accidentally reminded you about it. I know I'm starting to sound annoying but I won't stop until you accept my apology properly!" His laughter graces you once again, eventually sighing as he got to messing with your hair. "Alright fine, I accept or whatever. But, for what it's worth, I'm sorry too for ditching you." You snort, (very unladylike and painful to the cuts that opened today, get ahold of yourself) poking his chest with an index finger, "Now who's getting serious between us now?"

     "Wow dollface, you'd really rather I don't apologize?" You both share a quiet laugh, more or less a comfortable silence befalling your shop.

     . . .

     . . .

     . . .

     "I think your eyes are pretty too," He mumbles, still twirling fingers around your hair and running them through your scalp every now and then. If it weren't physically impossible your face probably would've lit up brighter than your average New York night already, from both the compliment and your—embarrassingly unfiltered—comment that just slipped out on it's own. "Now come on, I'm gonna walk you home."

     "My, what a gentleman, thank goodness me, I've got a knight in shining. . ." You stared at his attire that never really changed—ew does he even shower?—save for the subtle differences, "Leather. I know my voice sounds sarcastic but I'm being completely genuine, it's just that my body betrays me sometimes," He snickers as he eventually shuts you up with his lips once again on yours, this ordeal probably no doubt ending a lot longer than it should be.

• • •

     Walking home with Dabi presented itself to you as a time where you could relax, that even if you walked through a dark street or a narrow alleyway nicknamed anything with the word 'Death' in it you'd still feel safe for the sole reason of being next to him. It was cheesy, you knew it, but goddamn would you be lying if you said it wasn't true.

     It was a safe space, his height and overall energy posing a bit of a threat to the rest of the world as you walked through hardly-lit sidewalks and blocks leading to your massive building that always seemed to loom in the distance of wherever you were in the city. The possibilities of danger never registered in your head when he was just with you, casually talking about whatever as cars sped past and occasional drunks laughed and cursed in various corners. It was peaceful.

     It was supposed to be peaceful.

     Another noise from an alley made you uneasy once again, thoughts flashing back to the taxi and the warehouse. Nothing severe happened to you, but the mere reminder of it made your heart race and your cuts hurts. That Taro wannabe did a shit ton, not only to your skin but your mental health as a whole. Who'd know what'd happen if that thing ever got to injecting the pink goo into you, what if Layla had missed something and that, not only would it mean getting rid of your humanity, but your life as well! You couldn't risk that! Maybe you can get on living your life as a non-human, afterall, Dabi and the others don't seem to mind it as far as you could tell. So why should you? Oh that's right, they were born that way! As much as you'd like to think that you were open-minded, you didn't exactly welcome the idea of—

     You stop in your tracks as Dabi holds out an arm, your heart racing all the more as you saw his fingers twitch in anticipation. "What is it?" You whispered, not being given a response of his own as one familiar face converged from seemingly out of nowhere. More and more people showed up slowly, each one looking more sadistic than the last as your grip on the phoenix's arm tightens. "I told you we'd get you, Y/N," came the surprisingly recognizable voice of Juan—the man Dabi had already kicked and beaten at least twice now.

     "Dirty, coming for a rematch unannounced," Dabi spat, trying to draw as much of the attention to himself with you being slowly pushed behind him. You saw the growing numbers, how this didn't exactly do anything but expose you to the rear of their slowly encasing circle. You were outnumbered, and you were on the verge of hyperventilating.

     Juan rolls his eyes—if he even could at this point, his face looked fucked-up beyond repair and you couldn't even see it that well—a snap of his fingers putting a start to the brawl you didn't sign up for.

     Not being given much of a choice, you were thrusted into a fight against your will.

     A curse escapes Dabi's lips, his hands quickly swiping forward as large blue flames roared in the night. Several of the men yelped, but it could only cover so much ground as you were left unguarded behind him. A grip on your wrist didn't even solicit so much of a scream from you, quickly trying to force yourself out of your daze to kick your perpetrator and huddle closer to Dabi. You didn't want to, knowing that this wasn't exactly the right time, but hey, cut you some slack, you've never been in a street fight before.

     A hand on your waist and with a quick twirl—that didn't exactly fit tonight's situation—out of the way, Dabi had made a quick circle, the fire disappearing quickly but dealing enough of a damage and panic to make some of the idiots back away.

     But apparently, all except Juan. Motherfucker probably didn't learn his lessons as he charged right at Dabi, getting a closer look of his teared up and melting face. You cringed, but froze as you saw a familiar sight.

     A syringe hanging on his pocket filled with pink.

     You cursed, everything clicking into place as you feel another hand grab your leg. You were quickly swepts off your feet in a way you didn't want, landing directly on your back as you cried out in pain. Kicking desperately was all that you could do, making sure to aim what little of a heel you had towards the eyes directly.

     It worked enough for you scoot away, before once again being tackled by another one. Dabi was on his own fight against a number of people, punches and burning hands in a frenzy as you couldn't help but feel pathetic getting overpowered easily by a simple pin to the floor.

     "Let go of me!" You wiggled and tried to cause as much ruckus, kicking his balls a failed attempt as he kneeled on your legs. "Fucking hell!" You screamed again, rocking side to side as fast as you could to try and create some sort of momentum. Maybe it was from the confusion, but it gave you enough of an opening to completely swing yourself sideways and throw the man off.

     You got up before you could be taken advantage of once again, giving him a quick kick as you looked around in search of an exit. With Dabi still distracted taking the brunt of the beatings and you out in the wide open with zero self-defence skills save for the usual kicks and—

     "Pepper spray!" You quickly grabbed that before the next piece of shit could make a move on you or even just question what you said, giving it a good shake before aiming it directly at his eyes as he moved closer.

     His screams easily got drowned out by the rest of the ruckus, taking quick, shaky breaths as you quickly took note of any other that might start walking or running in your direction. It was going great so far, safe and left unbothered as the spicy liquid imbedded itself into the guy's eyes. Before you could even prematurely celebrate your small victory, you got jumped from behind.

     Landing on your chest with a knee pressing down your back was in no way anything you'd want to be experiencing again any time soon, if possible, ever. It hurt like a bitch, and Juan knew that.

     It seems that in his distracted frenzy, Dabi had left Juan unattended. Being in a position where you could hardly breathe, much less defend yourself, trying to get him off of you was a tough experience. "Get. . . get off of me!" You choked out, gasping for whatever scrape of breath you could take. But what really set you off was the feel of a stab on your arm, your neck cranking towards it in horror as little by little, the pink ooze drained from the syringe and into your system.

note ; hi i hit a writer's block and ended up with this cursed image

what did we learn from this? easy;
i need sleep and i can't draw guys
...
okay au revoir