He almost laughed out loud the first time you came into the tattoo shop, wearing bright pastel ribbons, cute platforms, and shimmery lipgloss -like some type of pretty princess- gazing around at all the different designs out front. But that childish image was wiped clean after the various pieces he did for you. In his opinion, it was just an act, a shy smile hiding small facts like the tramp stamp on your lower back -one of his favorites.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Princess.” Dabi comments, hint of a smirk on his face as you sit back in the long leather chair, flickers of excitement going off deep within his chest.

It used to be just a speck in the back of his head. A picture of the unassuming face that walks into the shop every few months. Until now, a constant thought that festers and festers during work until it suddenly burns its way into his entire brain, scorching every other thing he should be thinking about. You’re definitely his favorite client.