Dabi Being A Supportive Little Shit Is Soo On Point - Blog Posts

♪ ༘⋆ drawn to you — t.todoroki smau

♪ ༘⋆ vi. cold soba viii. family dinner

♪ ༘⋆ vii. the offer 𝄞 m.list

cw: long ass written part, also reader kinda has an anxiety attack in the beginning

the band had been in in the living room for the better half of the day, plotting potential new projects and writing new material. and you had decidedly avoided all of them. you knew that questions would be asked, with how jumpy you were feeling, so you just claimed to have a lot to work on for class – which to be fair, was only half a lie. you had genuinely painted all day, though less so for studious purposes and more so for keeping your own sanity intact. then of course, your mother had texted. leaving you with no choice, but to return to the house of the person that had raised you. if that was the right term for what your mother had done. and you were also returning to the very same house, where you had gotten a glass thrown at your head, the last time you had been in it. so, it felt fair to say, that you weren't excited about the prospects of returning. 

by now you were pacing back and forth in your room, trying to figure out a plausible excuse to not show up on saturday. with trembling hands you had gripped your phone, every message had been typed with even shakier fingers, than the one before. the longer you stared at your mother's texts, the clearer it became, that she was not intending on letting you off the hook. no, you knew her well enough, to know, that she would not give any excuse the time of day. even if you were to actually fall sick, which given the size of the pit in your stomach, wasn't even that improbable, she was expecting you in her home at 6:30 exactly.

your feet kept moving in circles, like you could out-walk the thoughts that kept popping up in your head. you knew kai was angry at you. even though you had sent back the money and were planning on apologizing to him in person, he'd been pissed off the night that had landed you in the er, too. there was no telling how saturday would go. especially since you and kai both knew, whose side your mother was on. the more you thought about it, the more your mind spiraled. you could feel the air catch in your throat, to the point you almost choked on it. if only you could just continue to paint, push away everything else and for a moment – no matter how futile it was – forget. 

your knees felt rigid, as you tried to bend them to sit back down. your movements were stiff, almost as if you'd done them for the very first time. you huffed out a breath before trying to focus back on the gray landscape you had been painting. you grip on the brush tightened; the white of your knuckles matched the vacant spaces on the canvas pretty much exactly. the bristles connected where you had left off, but you couldn't get them to connect to the surface. they barely scraped the texture surface of the canvas. your hands were still trembling too much. the colors blurred together, unfocused, as your vision tunneled in on the thoughts clawing at the back of your mind. you needed to breathe. to think.

whenever it had come to fight or flight, you had always chosen the ladder. as would you now. the room started spinning. it all felt so small. so tight. 

you pushed back your chair. feet kicking against the easel in frustration. the need to escape overcame any and all sense of space. which was exactly, why your foot connected with one of the easel's legs and snapped it shut within a second. in a futile attempt to catch both the canvas and the easel, you jumped from your chair. it fell back behind you, briefly knocking you off balance. your hands barely grazed the wood of the structure before the easel, along with the still very wet canvas crashed right into you. the momentum sent you stumbling, knocking the air from your lungs as the wooden structure pinned you in place. the canvas ripped, of course, though not without thoroughly sullying your bare left arm and pant leg with varying shades of gray acrylic paint. and as if that wasn't enough already, her phone lit up with a new notification. 

dabi.

at this point, part of you had just embraced laying on the ground covered in paint, bring crushed by your own art supplies. trying not to break it, you shoved the wooden stand off of your body. it wasn't that heavy, but it turned out to be pretty difficult to move something with shaking hands. after a good minute of scooting and shoving the different wooden logs off your body, you finally managed to untangle yourself from them. you unlocked your phone, quickly replying to dabi before examining the sad remains of the tattered canvas, that you had spent the better half of today working on. the fabric had torn right at the center and the paint had smeared leaving whatever the original image had been to be anyone's guess. with a heavy sigh and an even heavier thud, you let gravity pull you back to the ground. your eyes latched onto the ceiling, as if staring at the blinding light would make the mess, that you had created, disappear.

"just dropped something, huh?"

you jumped at the voice. in one swift motion you pulled yourself up, now more or less sitting in the mess of wooden logs, paint and tiny scraps of canvas, that had ripped off. your head turned involuntarily, meeting the eyes of the person you had wanted to see in here the least. you knew, that your position was so easily mockable, but at the very least, if it had been tomura, you wouldn't need to go to the trouble of explaining what had led to it. alas, of course, you had to be staring back at him of all people, as he lazily leaned against your doorframe with a cheeky grin painted on his lips. his bare arms were crossed in front of his chest giving you a full view of the black ink that snaked along almost the entirety of both his arms.

"it's all part of my creative process." 

you laughed awkwardly before attempting to wedge the wooden logs of the easel back into place. dabi hummed in response. you didn't look back at him, assuming that he would just leave you to wallow in your own misery. but he didn't. something moved just outside your peripheral and before you knew it, dabi was squatting across from you. he swiped the easel from your hands and easily lodged all the pieces into place. wordlessly he stood back up and placed the structure back where it had stood before your nervous breakdown. you didn't say a word either, when he continued to help you pick up the pieces of your painting and loose brushes, that you had knocked across the room. 

once your room had returned to its usual amount of chaos, dabi spoke up again.

"any particular reason for this specific 'creative process' of yours?"

he let himself fall into your desk chair; his eyes never quite tearing away from you. it must be pretty amusing to him, to see you covered in paint and cowering on the floor. but his expression seemed less amused, though if you were asked to describe it, you would probably not be able to find the right words. the way he had asked, sounded so casual. the teasing tone in his voice came so naturally to him, that it was easy to overhear, the genuine curiosity, that his words were laced with. for a second, you even entertained the idea of telling him, but quickly decided against it. after all, what good would it do? so you just shrugged.

"what are you still doing here, anyway?"

himiko and spinner had left a bit ago and tomura had gone to his room to stream a new game, that a friend of his had recommended, so you had just assumed that dabi would have left, too. obviously you had assumed wrong.

"was about to leave, when i heard you." 

his fingers absentmindedly tapped against your chair's armrest. you nodded, picking at the slowly drying spots of paint on your pair of sweats. you could feel his stare burn holes in the back of your head and the more you tried to ignore it, the more aware your body seemed of it. as if turning away from him, could hide you from his eyes chipping away at the front you tried so hard to keep up. 

he stopped looking at you for a moment. using that time to look around the room. he had been in this very room countless times before. slept on that very bed, though the blanket and pillows on it were different than he remembered – yours, he assumed. the pattern of the duvet cover was hard to make out under the countless sketches that were scattered on top of it. you had hung up a few on the wall as well and even some paintings, that he assumed to be yours, as well. 

something about the way, that he so shamelessly occupied your space, looked at the paintings you had created, made you feel so much smaller. as if every brushstroke, every decoration choice you had made was scrutinized under his curious eye.

he must have noticed your growing unease, when his eyes found you again, amidst the space you had created for yourself. "i like what you did with the place." his tone was more playful again, but his eyes betrayed him. he was obviously gauging your reaction, though you didn't know what he would do with it. you offered up a timid smile followed by a quiet "thanks" and dabi decided to leave it at that.

"not gonna tell me, huh?" you huffed out a quiet laugh before finally pulling yourself back on your feet. 

"nothing to tell."

he hummed, his eyes still busy with dissecting you. it was more than obvious, that he didn't buy it for one second. 

"fair enough." you were about to say something, when he continued. "anything i can do to help with whatever you have nothing to tell about?"

your eyes widened. it didn't make any sense to you. why would he care so much? nobody was that kind to somebody, they barely knew. and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to believe, that he was entirely selfish in asking. maybe a part of you hoped, that it was genuine. and exactly that part of you answered, before the rational part had caught up to it. "can you make saturday not exist anymore?"

the confusion in dabi's expression was palpable. his eyebrow raised and his face pulled into a half-smile, unsure if you were joking. it was clear, that he was waiting for you to add something, anything, to make what you had just said, make at least a little bit of sense.

"this saturday specifically or the whole concept of saturday as a whole?"

and yet, he answered, as if your words had made perfect sense and were to be taken seriously. either that or he was just anticipating to right moment to mock you for it. not that you could've blamed him.

"only this one." you said, a chuckle catching in your throat.

dabi grinned, leaning back in your chair. "oh well, if it's only this one, i'm sure something can be done." by now you were almost entirely sure, that he was making fun of you. the way his grin kept growing was also a dead giveaway. 

he didn't laugh, though. almost as if he understood, that the joke, silly as it was, had come from the same place as the breakdown you'd had only moments ago. you sighed. defeated and unsure of how to avoid saturday without doing something drastically stupid, – like fling yourself off the building. your eyes found dabi, again. he was still grinning. you just noticed, that it was a bit lopsided. his arms crossed in front of his chest again. this time, for some reason your mind specifically registered the very defined muscles ripping along his forearm up to his bicep. involuntarily a thought snaked its way into your mind and before you knew it, against your better judgement, you opened your mouth.

"remember when you said, that you owe me?" your eyes shot to the ground. regret was already settling deeply within you.

"what do you need?" there was a brief flicker of confusion in his eyes, but you were surprised all the same, that he didn't immediately shoot you down.

your fingers fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater. dabi had noticed, that your eyes seemed glued to the floor now. you were glad, that he gave you the time to sort out how the fuck you were going to ask that without sounding like a completely lunatic. a deep breath left your lungs before catching in your throat, letting you almost choke on it. one horrendously embarrassing coughing fit, later, you looked at him. he was still calm, appearing as nonchalant as ever; had you not noticed it. the faintest shake in his left leg. 

"so, keep in mind, that this is probably gonna sound crazy to you–" you started. eyes darting back down the second they made contact with the intense blue, that was staring back at you. "– and you can totally say no and probably never talk to me again, once you realize how insane i am."

"y/n." 

you didn't notice, that he pulled himself up from the chair.

"actually, you know what, just forget i said anything, i'm just gonna crawl in a hole and die."

you turned and fully planned to bolt out of the room, on your way to never be in the same space as dabi, ever again, but dabi was faster. 

"y/n." he grabbed a hold of your wrist and turned you back around to face him. "spit it out."

his eyes didn't waver away from you for a second. they were as stern, as the tone in his voice, but not as demanding as the words would lead to believe. you ignored the urge to look back down. it would be much more embarrassing, if you shied away now.

you took a deep breath, taking a step back from him. dabi noticed and released your wrist, that you hadn't even noticed, he was still holding. "can you come with me to my mom's for dinner on saturday?"

the second the words left your lips, you could feel your feet begging you to run out the door, but they stayed planted. a brief flicker of surprise was in his eyes, before it hid behind a smug smirk.

"meeting your parents already?" his eyes briefly flitted up and down your body. "moving a little fast there, aren't we, doll?"

"that's not–" your ams crossed in front of you almost instinctively, as you stared up at him. he was a good bit taller than you and thoroughly enjoying that particular fact right now. again, you could only sigh, as he continued to be amused by the annoyed pout, that had taken over your features. "that's not what i meant."

you choked out another awkward laugh, realizing that now you actually had to find some kind of reasonable explanation for why you had even suggested that in the first place. he seemed equally as curious to hear you explain, given his now more relaxed smirk and the slight tilt of his head.

"my mom invited me to family dinner and i really don't want to show up there alone."

judging from the knit that depended between dabi's eyebrows, that explanation was less than satisfactory, but you were not ready to reveal the real reason. not to him, especially. you were aware, that there were already question marks surrounding your sudden reappearance in your brother's life – especially by his bandmates, but you didn't want them to change their view on you. especially not someone, who was as close to tomura, as he was.

"wouldn't shigs be there anyway?"

you scoffed. the sound left your throat entirely involuntarily and too fast for you to gain the conscious ability to stop it.

"nope." you just shrugged. technically, neither of you made a secret out of it, but you hadn't explained it in so long, that it felt a bit weird to rehash the family constellation in your mind. "she's not his mom and she really does not like him." the awkward smile on your face did little to play off the energy in the room, that lingered around your question.

"huh." was all that left dabi's mouth for a while. 

he stared at you and the way your feet shuffled into the wooden floor below you and the way red patches formed around your cheeks from how embarrassed you were. it was almost cute, he thought. though not as endearing as the gray paint, that you had yet to notice was smeared on the tip of your nose.

"i would love to, but i'm worried we might give your mom the wrong impression." you had expected a straight up no or for him to just laugh in your face. but you had to give him credit for entertaining your dumbass as long as he had, even if only because he pitied you.

"believe me, if i tell you, that i'd rather she think, i brought my boyfriend, than deal with being on my own in there."

just the thought of being stuck there again with him sent shivers down your spine. you tried to hide the tremble of your fingers by gripping onto the fabric of your sweater. there was something about the way you had answered. how you had reacted specifically to the idea of being home alone, that reminded him of something. or rather someone. and maybe that was why the next sentence left his mouth.

"i'll do it."

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