"So uh, you do this. . . often?" You cringed at your lack of subtlety in awkwardness, fiddling with the pepper spray you keep on forgetting you had. Maybe you should take Freddie's approach and just start bringing a bat with you wherever, because maybe if it was big enough and in-your-face you wouldn't forget about it.

     You get snapped out of your thoughts when the man before you raises a free hand, flinching as you take a step back. All the while Dabi slowly, painfully slowly makes his way over, quietly removing his gloves as you swallow a lump in your throat. "Uh I take that this isn't your first time?" You tried your hardest not to make your panic obvious, wanting to glare at Dabi to move faster but also not wanting to lose the element of surprise on your enemy. God, you just wanted to eat waffles, like what's a girl have to do to get some food around here without being disturbed with the threat of being killed??

     But it looks like that God doesn't want you to be resting easy that easily.

     Dabi gets right behind the man ready to strike, a certain type of proudness in you for not showing your relief. But it seems you didn't need to, because before you knew it, a sharp pain strikes you in the shoulder. You yelp as you stumble backwards, a part of you thinking that the hit was meant for your face judging by the man's look.

     He wasn't at all incompetent apparently, the only reason he missed being that your 'savior' jumped him before he could do harm to your nose. Gee, thanks for saving my head, but what are we gonna do with my dislocated arm?

     You bite back your sarcastic remark with a literal bite, trying not to make it obvious that you were in way too much pain than you had originally expected. How strong was this man?! Had he hit your face you feared that you would've actually lost your entire head, silently thanking the phoenix who was currently engaging in hand to hand combat with this dude. And. . . in all honesty you couldn't see who was winning.

     A punch on his cheek makes his hood go down entirely, exposing the burnt part of his face in its entirety. His body unwillingly follows, taking a few steps back to get feeling back in his jaw before he can strike back at Dabi. "This. . . this is what you did to me!" The masked vigilante, mercenary, guy, tongue-tango-partner rolls his eyes, giving his hand a few stretches as he did so. "Oh suck it up, you piece of shit." He kicks up a rock, catching it in his hand before throwing it the man. Juan—Juan? Yeah you think that was his name—doesn't dodge it, the pebble bouncing on his chest before dropping to the floor. From the look on Dabi's face, it seems that he didn't do that to hurt him but more-so just provoke him.

     A part of you so badly wanted to interfere and get your own hit on his stupid burnt face, but from the way your shoulder throbbed in pain and how it spread to the rest of your arm faster than the plague, it seems that you had no choice but to just sit back and helplessly watch. Amazing, and to think that back when you were younger—even as recently as maybe a month ago—you fantasized in being situations like this where your hidden badass powers made itself known and you kicked some serious ass. What? A girl can dream!

     The rock seemed to have worked, because the next thing you knew Juan was slashing at Dabi. This made him take steps back, the two men in a weird dance-like trance where the goal was to kill your partner. A weird dance, but hey at least you weren't performing it, right? Your companion grabbed his wrist and pushed it away every now and then, trying to find an opening as he grew more and more agitated. Juan spins the blade in his hand, before pulling his hand back and thrusting forward—aiming for his torso. This of course made Dabi jump back, his own hand fashioning that familiar blue, hot sign that usually meant someone was gonna get hurt. 

     But you weren't expecting the burnt man—not Dabi, the other one—to turn towards you with his blade glinting off your look of horrified realization. You wanted to whip out your pepper spray right then and there, but you thought better of it as your hand clutched it tighter. And to think that no one has noticed this little brawl yet, despite the busy city, loud grunts and arguments—gee thanks New York! 

     It seems that it took Dabi by surprise too, running towards before he could do anything. But by now you were held back, a knife at your throat and your shoulder as broken as ever. Good news! You arm wasn't dislocated; it was entirely detached from your body! 

     "Aw, where's that look of superiority, pretty boy?" The man cackled from behind you, lurching as his breath reached your face that was a little too close for comfort. Dabi clicks his tongue, the fire in his hand lessening but not dispersing just yet, brows furrowed and fists clenched tightly. Goodness, if you lived through this, even if he was your enemy, you should seriously get him a new toothbrush and introduce him to the life-saving concept of mouth wash. "It's fun until it's someone you like, huh?" You suck in a breath as he tests the waters, moving the knife closer to your skin. You tried not to look obvious with how much you wanted to plead for Dabi to do something, but all his focus was translated into a glare directly towards the perpetrator currently holding you captive. 

     This was a man who had nothing to lose but his pride, someone who could take anyone on a fight without having to care if anyone else got hurt. Yet. . . here he was. Risking to back off one if it meant saving someone, someone who wasn't supposed to mean anything. This was a man who found something to hold onto, something. . . someone, he knew he would be willing to die for. Was everything supposed to be this dramatic? This drastic? 

     . . .

     Apparently not, because the feeling of the little cylindrical object in your pocket snapped you out of your thoughts, not wasting a second at grabbing it and securing it in your shaking free hand. As free as it could be of course, seeing as you were being held a little too tightly and your other arm was out of service. "Tell me, little lady, do you look good in red?"

     "YOU TELL ME, CREEP," You elbowed him in the stomach before spraying the small spicy bottle directly into his eye, making sure to really get it in there as his screams resound throughout the entire island of Manhattan. He manages to slash one last time blindly before falling to the concrete and succumbing to his defeat, screaming, crying, shrieking like a banshee as he desperately tries to wipe off the contents off his already deteriorating vision. That last desperate attempt at victory hit across your chest, starting from your collarbone just up until the top of your right boob. Fucking jerk, he ruined your sweater. 

     It stung, managing to cut through the layers you wore and staining your clothes a light red, but the wound seemed like it stopped at the skin. "Why haven't I called the fucking cops yet," You mumble to no one in particular, making sure to jump away and put some distance between you two to avoid his flailing limbs that kicked around harder than a horse. "Well," Dabi finally says, walking up behind you as you both observe the hissing mess of a man on the floor. "That sure made me useless. You good?" He lands a hand on your shoulder, your not-so-fortunate shoulder, inhaling sharply as you toppled over faster than your most previous attacker, "Fucking ow," You send him a glare, earning a look of apology and sympathy as he retracts it, "Oops."

     You shake your head, standing up straight as you sigh and look off into the lone entrance of the alley. "Well, we better get out of here. My lunch break's almost over and my employees are broke," He nods as he turns to you, but his eyes remain on Juan. "Should we just leave him here?" You nod at his twitching and aggressively shaking body, "You're right," You lift up your weapon of choice, whom you've wished you'd remembered sooner, "I should spray him some more."

     "Not what I meant," He grimaces as he lowers your hand with a nervous chuckle, patting your not-in-pain arm as he did so. "Oh so you can burn people but I can't pepper spray them?" You look at him in disbelief as he shrugs, managing to hide the small bottle in your pocket once again as you sigh. "Alright, fine, whatever. Let's just get out of here, I'm—"

     "I'm gonna kill you. . ." You click your tongue, "Is it so much to ask to just let me finish a damn sente—"

     "We won't stop until we get you, L/N. . ." You groan quietly, turning to glare at him before being taken aback. His eye was now red, and swollen, unfocused and blurry yet filled with such seething rage towards your person that it even made you shiver. God, you were starting to feel bad. Propaganda, he attacked you guys first! AGAIN!

     You shut up as you stare at him, mouth slightly agape and wanting to say something but not having the courage and right words to do so. "It may not be today, or tomorrow, or anywhere in the near future—but mark my words!" Dabi's movements at making sure he stayed in front of you were subtle enough, arm extending ever so slightly in front of your bleeding and, quite beaten-up form. "That man's paying a shit ton of money, and I'd be damned if I don't get my share. . . We're killing you, L/N! You hear me? KILLING YOU!" The moment he starts cackling was when you two decide to just leave, both of you agreeing that dealing with his manic episode on the ground wouldn't be all worth it, especially because any time now someone would be inspecting the commotion and most likely be calling the cops. 

     "Don't you think you should be worrying about. . ." Dabi shrugs, vaguely gesturing to your sweater that was slowly getting more and more soaked with red, "This whole situation?" You look down, your eyes now wide as saucers as you look past the collar of it and glaring at the slash mark that went through your shirt as well. Because. . . because duh. "No points for subtlety," He whistles with a far-off look, putting his gloves back on after the realization that he wouldn't be needing it that much for now. "Oh my God my shirt!"

     "Still not what I meant, babe," He sighs, leading you to the front of the building and standing just behind the still-existing line for the entrance. "Shouldn't you be dealing with that? You're bleeding out pretty badly." You groan, only now noticing how it stung ever so slightly with each inhale you took. "No shit, Jirou's gonna pound my ass into powder if I come home looking like this," You go and eventually grab his hand, leading him straight inside as he raises a brow, "I need a drink, you're obligated to be drunk with me." It takes a moment to hit him, before chuckling softly as you take seats at the bar. "Thought your lunch break was almost over?"

     "Well I just remembered that I own the shop where I work at, therefore I can set my own lunch hours, thank you very much," He laughs, situating himself next to you as you turn to the booth where your employees still sat. They looked normal enough, and probably hadn't noticed that you even left, so you could at least enjoy this before you had to go answer any of their inevitable questioning. You go and order whatever you could with the bartender, a man who looked to be in his late twenties' or so, a look of confusion evident on his face at the slowly-drying blood that spread throughout your chest. "Uh, happens to the best of us, eh?" You send one of your awkward boxy smiles, earning a shrug in return with a look that said he's seen worse. New York; what a town!

     "I'm gonna guess I'll be paying for my own?" Dabi snickers with his hand on his cheek, his head tilted towards you in a playful manner as though. . . whatever just happened a mere few minutes ago never happened. Weird how you two could play off whatever your weird lives threw at you, managing to survive through certain situations and being able to make jokes out of it already not even half an hour later. "No, no you're not just. . . sit your pretty ass down and drink with me, I'll pay for it." He scoffs with as much humor as he could from beneath his signature black face mask, shaking his head the best he could without having to lift it off his gloved hand. "Not even gonna question that. But seriously princess," He points to the splash of red, looking like he was just pointing directly at your tits if anyone were to ever look from an outside perspective. "You're gonna bleed to death."

     "Oh don't be so dramatic," You snort, thanking the bartender as your respective glasses arrive in front of you both, "I've been through so much worse!" He stares at you. "Okay maybe not—but I'll be fine," You got to work on your own beverage, earning a sigh from Dabi as he got to his own. "Well aren't you acting a little too optimistic for this," He shrugs, "Don't you think?" You ignore him, only turning to him as you swallowed as much as you could from your glass. "Oh! Yeah! Shouldn't be worried more about Juan's threat earlier?" Sighing at your obvious attempt at changing the subject and it actually working, he takes a much needed swig from his small shot glass that had the American flag printed on it. God, he just had so many of these earlier but it never ceases to make him sigh in content at it's familiar and addicting taste. "Don't think you're safe from my pestering," He points a finger towards you, still holding the glass as only his index is extended, "But. . . you're right."

     "Of course I am. So, start spit-balling, because I am about to go full conspiracy theorist on yo—Okay so I say that this is still Taro behind all this," You turn to him, your glass already empty as only the dying remains of ice melting on the bottom had lasted. "Think about it; he wants to kill Momo, I stop him by managing to stop you, and Raven's the smartest girl I know so obviously it's hereditary that means he's probably smart enough to connect the obvious dots which means all the previous times I've almost been kidnapped was obviously orchestrated by him which in turn would make what Juan said earlier make sense when he said," You raise a finger to, one, take a breath, two, take a small burp and excuse yourself, "When he said something something about money and unless there's some other generous donor out there willing to give as much money as he had said just to get rid of me to kill his sister, then that'd be a pretty big coincidence because that sounds like bullshit, AKA my point is it's Taro." You turn back to the bar, "It's Taro, it's Taro, it's Taro," tapping and slamming your finger on the surface aggressively, repeatedly to emphasize each repeat of the same two words, as Dabi stares in both disbelief and with a look that you could only describe as someone trying to understand if he was having an aneurysm.

     "Okay," He slowly tries to take all that in, shrugging in return as you went to go order another drink, "I warned you."

     "Okay so. . . as weird and mind-boggling your reasonings are, you do make some sort of sense. So," He bites his bottom lip, trying to process and form his sentences properly before anything else, "If. . . so the plan would just to be keep you safe until he gives up and goes someone else?"

     "What?" You look at him in disappointment and surprise, shaking your head. "No. No, that's stupid. The most reasonable plan would be to get rid of the one behind all of this and stopping all that's there to it—I say we kill Taro! Then, I wouldn't have to deal with his bullshit at wanting to kill me because he wants to kill his sister, and you don't have to be bothered. Boom! Win-win!"

     "My plan might sound stupid but yours is just a crime,"

     "Yeah like you're one to talk."

     He shrugs, "Touché." 

     "But whatever! Sounds great, right?!" He chuckles as he works on his second shot, shaking his head. "Okay, let's just pretend for a second that I agree and that we finalize the decision of killing him—how would other people react?" You raise a brow, "His family, his fans, people he influences, heck, your best friend you're so desperately trying to protect. How do you think they'd feel?" You scoff as if it's the most obvious answer in the world, turning to him with a smug look, "Why, they'd be happy of course! He's a bastard, and he deserves to burn in hell."

     "Well that's not how they see him." You scrunch up your nose at that, as if asking him to elaborate further, "Remember, as far as we know, only we know the truth about him. To others, he's still the same guy they see on either TV or real life. I don't think they'd be so happy to see their idol, or son, or friend, or brother announced dead on live television." He shrugs once again, turning to the muted screen that showed some sort of sports commentary. "But you do you, I guess."

     "Fuck I hate it when you're smart. . !" You cry into your folded arms as you laid on the bar, earning both a laugh and a reassuring pat on the back, two things you thought should never be worked together, "Told you. Let's think about this later."

note ; HI I TESTED MY ADHD ON THIS CHAPTER BY LISTENING TO MUSIC WHILE WRITING HAHAHAHAHA i failed. LOVE U GUYS WE'RE SO CLOSE TO 300 READS AHH THANKS A BUNCH LMAORBwcbtzsv