(should I make a mini series?)
In the shadowy depths of an alleyway, Dabi stood with his back against the cold, graffiti-covered brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling up into the cool night air. He had just finished another dull day of plotting and scheming when his eyes fell on a figure walking along the street—Hawks, the confident and charismatic hero, known for his speed and wings.
A wicked grin spread across Dabi's face as he exhaled a plume of smoke. The idea of messing with Hawks was simply too tempting. A flick of his wrist ignited a flame, which he sent spiraling towards the hero. The flames erupted, catching Hawks off guard, enveloping him in a fiery embrace that then knocked him out cold.
When the hero finally awoke, reality hit him harder than the impact he'd suffered. He was bound to a chair, his arms tied tightly behind him and his legs secured, a blindfold shrouding his vision and a gag muffling his protests. The damp air of the basement filled his lungs as he squirmed, trying to find a way out, but to no avail.
Dabi sauntered down the creaky steps, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw Hawks finally awake. The flame-user reveled in the hero's fury and confusion as he removed the blindfold and gag, his playful grin contrasting sharply with the restrained anger in Hawks's eyes.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Dabi teased, leaning casually against the wall. "You'll be staying with me until the League's plans are done."
Hawks, bristling with defiance, spat back, "You think I'd stay here willingly? You'll regret this."
Dabi's laughter echoed off the walls. "You don't have a choice, birdie."
Days turned into a week, and while the initial fire of defiance smoldered in Hawks's heart, he slowly found himself adjusting to the strange new reality of his captivity. He remained watchful, careful of every movement, but Dabi's casual presence became a peculiar constant in his life.
On one particular day, Dabi left for what he claimed was an important errand. Boredom settled over Hawks like a heavy blanket, and in a moment of mischief, an idea struck him. He couldn't just sit idly by while his captor roamed free. With a determined spirit, he wriggled out of his confined restraints. Stealthily, he made his way to Dabi's room.
He found the hoodie, oversized and dark, embodying Dabi's chaotic energy. Grinning, he slipped it on and waited on the couch. He knew Dabi would be shocked.
Hours later, the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the house, and Hawks stifled a grin, trying to hide his excitement. Dabi walked in, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief as he took in the sight before him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dabi stammered, his eyes widening at the way the hoodie engulfed Hawks, a stark contrast to his usual heroic attire.
Feigning innocence, Hawks shrugged playfully. "I got cold. Your hoodie seemed like the best option."
Dabi's eyes narrowed, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Cold, huh? Because it certainly looks like you're very cold—" he gestured subtly towards the unmistakable bulge straining against the hoodie. "You know, it's not just the hoodie that keeps you warm, right?"
Hawks flushed a deep crimson, stammering for words that seemed to evade him. "I—"
"Do you have anything underneath, or are you just baring it all for me?" Dabi cut him off, his voice dripping with teasing dominance.
Hawks hesitated before admitting, "No."
A charged silence filled the space between them before Dabi, fueled by mischief, surged forward, pinning Hawks against the wall in one swift motion. There was an electric spark in the air, an unspoken tension that had been brewing between them for days. Dabi closed the gap, kissing Hawks fiercely, his dominance evident as he overwhelmed the hero in the moment.
Hawks melted into the kiss, caught off guard by the rush of emotions that bubbled beneath the surface. It was reckless, thrilling, and something that felt incredibly right, yet utterly wrong.
The next morning, Hawks awoke to a new kind of discomfort—far beyond the remnants of his captivity. He couldn't walk properly; his body betrayed him in the wake of their passionate entanglement. The realization hit him, mixed with a hint of embarrassment and a lighthearted acceptance of the unexpected twist in their perilous game.
Dabi would always be trouble, but perhaps—just perhaps—there was something more to that trouble than mere captivity. A smirk broke across Hawks's face as he thought of how to tease Dabi when he returned, already plotting his next move in this twisted game of cat and mouse.