#but she's not a hero she's a brat so she doesn't do any of those things

[generalluxun]

Revisiting S5 E14 Derision, and Making it Work

It's *easy* to dunk on Derision. I won't rehash all the holes here. What is harder is actually doing better... or so you would think.

What follows is a back-of-the-napkin idea I threw together in about 5 minutes. So I hope it doesn't meet with universal... derision. 🐈‍⬛

Reworking this episode reaches back earlier into S5 and recasts one of the side/new characters... but bear with me it's to good purpose. When you're creating a pivotal pre-canon character moment 5 seasons in, there's going to be a little collateral.

It begins with... Socqueline.

Socqueline was NOT Marinette's savior at FDP. In truth... she was Marinette's bully. She was everyone's bully in fact. She ruled FDP with an iron fist. Teachers were afraid of her, and no not her dad, her. Socqueline is the one who terrorized Marinette and pulled the awful prank. The prank that was bad enough that she was expelled. Marinette meets her unexpectedly at the craft store, and is instantly a yr younger and in shock.

HOWEVER

Socqueline is still the one pretending to be Ladybug. She's still the one trying to help people. She's still kind and helpful and Marinette is so very confused! You see, being expelled, having to be in an entirely new environment, and even just a year of change and reflection has made Socqueline a different person. She has grown and is trying to do good to make up for being bad before. Why is she done up like Marinette? She's not! She's done up like Ladybug. She's emulating her hero and inspiration. (who is of course, Marinette).

This already gives us some really good changes.

1)We have a valid reason for Marinette to not have seen/wanted to see Socqueline until S5. you don't go seeking out your former bully.

2)We have a cover for why Marinette hasn't reacted to stimulus before now. She was 'doing good' until she crossed paths with Socqueline and after that. *bam* right in the Trauma. It doesn't matter that Socqueline has changed, trauma is trauma. Marinette hasn't processed it yet, so it gets stoked.

3)Have Kim think Socqueline's pranks were funny. He's Kim, he's thick as two boards, at least he's not gushing about how hot another girl is right next to poor Ondine. It leans into Dark Humor just fine on it's own. Skip the Adrien/Chloe scene for a Marinette/Socqueline scene where Marinette brings up the event to Socqueline and how much it impacted her. have Socquline apologize(she did back in Jubilation for everything, but have her also for this specific thing) have it end on a hug, how nice.

Already we're doing much better! But wait, there's more!

We cut Chloé out of Derision! What does this mean? If she wasn't Marinette's bully doesn't this mess everything up?

No, not really.

Chloé wasn't Marinette's bully pre-canon in any meaningful way. She didn't rule the roost. She only stepped up once Socqueline was expelled, trying to fill the power vacuum/rule the roost/be the new Queen. She's just really bad at it. This explains why the class and even Marinette react to Chloé even in S1 with a sort of exasperated resignation and Marinette isn't even remotely afraid to snap back at her. It's not 'Oh no she is such a bully' it's 'oh God, Chloé's on her shit again.' She's still a brat, mean, and entitled. We're not rewriting any of that. She'll even be an antagonist in S5, but we're going to lean more heavily into Lila/Gabe/Tomoé actively manipulating her, much like in S3. She's not evil, but she's very easily persuaded to be bad.

you see- What we've done with Socquline is foreshadowing. We've shown someone who WAS a bully, who changed when their environment changed and they found the right motivation/inspiration. So when Chloé is going down in flames in S5 we're going to build organically on the parental abuse into the manipulation by villains. We seek to inspire frustration with her, revulsion with those manipulating her, agony that the manipulation all goes unseen, and of course sympathy for everyone who has to deal with it. However, we've also set up the seeds for a future where her environment changes, where a new motivation/inspiration comes in, and where we get convert her from brat to ... okay maybe not GOOD person but at least a decent little porcupine. 🤣

We've even given Marinette a firsthand experience that change CAN happen. Which is something she didn't have the first time around with Chloé during S2/3.

So, what do y'all think?

[bloodb3nders]

chapter three.

| touya todoroki (dabi) x fem!reader |

wc: 3.40k

summary: reader encounters dabi, but she doesn't recognize him at alllllll.

a/n: i am grinding out these chapters rn fr!!

NOW PLAYING: birds of a feather b. eilish

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

the UA sports festival is the same as it always is. the new kids fight, the older kids fight, heroes send in offers to those they want, and so on. 

you’re proud of the fight katsuki put up against shoto, and you gave his hair a good ruffle when he came by to see your parents and yourself after his final match. 

“maybe if you’re lucky, best jeanist will send you an offer!” mitsuki squeals, and you roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stand next to katsuki, whose sweaty from his fight and smells strongly of caramel beside you. 

“eh, we want todoroki mom, best jeanist said I get to pick this year,” you say with a satisfied smirk on your face, and you watch katsuki’s eyebrows crinkle in frustration. 

“i didn’t want to be at your shitty agency anyways you pimp!” he squeals angrily, and you laugh.

“katsuki! don’t call your sister a pimp!” your mom commands sternly swatting his head, shutting katsuki up. 

in reality, before you and best jeanist had even watched katsuki begin to fight, he told you he was already planning on sending your brother an offer. the fight only solidified it. you were super proud of him, not that you would ever tell him. 

“i don’t know katsuki, some agencies probably don’t want a brat like you,” you chide, and he narrows his red eyes at you, to which you roll your own.  he grumbles incoherently, before mitsuki rushes to give him a hug, your dad simply watching the typical family interaction unfold. 

“we’re still soooooo proud of you ‘suki! make sure to text us when your offers come in!” Mitsuki exclaims, as katsuki tries to force your mom off of her. “whatever, shitty woman,” he grumbles, and your dad pats him on the back, as they begin to walk off. you wave them both off, and soon it’s just you and katsuki. 

“wanna come over friday night for a movie? you can tell me all the school goss,” you say cooly, and katsuki grunts. 

“sure, but you’re buying food. and snacks,” he says gruffly, and you chuckle, ruffling his hair. 

“‘course suki, wouldn’t want it any other way,” you respond, and your brother moves to swat your arm away. 

“do any cool shit lately? I saw your interview from the other day, but news on you has been a bit quiet,” he comments, and you smile, as the two of you start walking around the sports festival arena. 

“faced off with some fire quirk last night, lowkey beat his ass up. he was also like super burnt, it was kinda weird,” you say, and katsuki hums. 

“did you do the shield move?” he asks, masking his excitement, and you nod. katsuki would never admit this, but ever since you went pro, you’re secretly his favorite hero (all might is obviously #2). 

“yeah, it worked pretty well. he was pretty strong, but he ran off right as the patrolling heroes showed up,” you said, sunlight pouring down onto the both of you as you continued to stroll. 

“you ever hear back from that douche earth quirk guy? he sounded like a real piece of work,” katsuki asks gruffly, and you sigh. 

“nah, he ghosted me. i think he just wanted a story to tell his friends or somethin’ stupid like that,” the only downside to being a pro hero, and wearing a skimpy costume, was a lot of guys really just wanted bragging rights to having gone out with the ground zero. it was getting pretty exhausting. 

“I’ll beat the shit out of him if I ever cross paths with him,” katsuki says assertively, and you chuckle. despite you being older, you can’t help but admire katsuki’s protectiveness over you. 

“this dunce-face in my class keeps begging me to get your autograph, says you saved him and shit,” he chides. 

“oh that yellow haired kid? yeah I vaguely remember him ogling me back at USJ,” you comment, and katsuki huffs angrily.

“damn extra’s gotta a stupid fucking crush on you. winter needs to hurry the fuck up so you’ll put a damn shirt back on,” he says, and stifle a laugh.

“not my fault justin timberlake wrote sexyback after seeing me,” you say, smile plastered on your face. 

“who the fuck even is that? another one of your american artists? he chides. 

you spent the summer before your third year interning with electplant in America. let’s just say you had a hard time letting go of the American culture there. it didn’t help that electplant was in with all the boy bands and male singers. 

“yeah, he’s pretty popular. some crazy songs too,” you reply, and katsuki shrugs.  

you feel a buzz against your chest, and you grab your phone out of your utility belt, seeing a notification from sapphire about an interview you have in 30 minutes, accompanied by some paperwork after. you sigh, turning to katsuki, ”okay shit, I gotta go, duty calls,” you say, and he rolls his eyes at you, offering a huff as your feet warm up, and you blast off. 

“DO MORE COOL SHIT BEFORE FRIDAY, YOU PIMP ASS,” he calls out as you propel up in the sky. you simply flip him off as your response, before flying into the blue sky. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

you immediately know something’s wrong as you unlock your door and the faintest smell of cigarettes and burnt rubber hits your nose. your apartment always smells like a combination of vanilla, brown sugar, and whatever the last thing you cooked in there was. 

you cautiously open your door, softly dropping your backpack with a clink, not feeling up to turning on the lights just yet. your arm goes behind your back, and you open your palm, a red arrowhead formulating in your hand, as you use your other hand to turn on the lights. 

“what the fuck are you doing here,” you spit out.

in your living room, seated on your plush, fuzzy white chair, is none other than the patchwork criminal you’d fought the other night. a smirk dances across his face as his palm lights up, a blue flame making its home in his hand. you can see him better in the light, make out the dark, purple flesh that bandages his body in face, held together by silver staples that protrude. he looks painful, like a dull ache surrounds his every move. his dark, black hair shot up in spikes, matching his painfully annoying presence in his apartment. 

“cool it, wonder woman—,” he begins, but you cut him off in an instant. 

“look, if you’re here to try and fight or kill me, can we at least not do it in my apartment? i told my best friend she could have my apartment if I died, and I know my brother would kill me if I got his all might slippers burned up in a fight,” you say agonizingly, and a look of surprise grace’s the criminal’s face. 

a few moment’s of silence go by. “so, is outside an option?” you inquire again, not refusing to move an inch, arrowhead still tucked behind your back.

“i’m not here to kill you, just needed a place to crash,” the patchwork criminal comments cooly, and your face contorts with confusion. 

“so you chose to crash into a pro hero’s apartment?” you ask incredulously, your head tilting to the side as one of your eyes twitches slightly. 

“right on the money, wonder woman. nice digs you got here too, pretty cozy,” he comments, extinguishing the flame in his hand as a sign of peace. 

“good fuck, why me of all people?” you ask, clenching your fist in anger. 

“i ought to report you right away and haul your ass to jail,” you say crudely, and the burnt criminal rolls his eyes at you. 

“i have a feeling if you planned on doing that you would’ve done it by now,” he says, his tone still cool and unbothered, which pisses you off even more. you can’t help but feel royally pissed off with how your body doesn’t feel the need to blast this fucker’s head off. that, and a weird sense of deja vu has washed over you, but you can’t really place your finger on why you’re feeling that way. 

with a dejected sigh, you bring the hand behind your back to in front of you, and toss the arrow towards the kitchen. 

patchwork’s eyes immediately widen as he recognizes one of your bombs. he’s even more alarmed at the fact that you mindlessly tossed it towards your kitchen. surely it’s going to damage your apartment. as he mildly braces himself for an explosion while you start to take off your burgundy boots, it instead fizzles out like a sparkler. it’s kinda cute, and the strong smell of brown sugar graces the air. 

once your boots are off, you slip on your slippers, and pad over to the kitchen, fetching yourself some water. patchwork eyes you lazily, eyes fixed on you as you fill up a glass of water, and put it on the counter. 

“you want water? least I can do it entertain you since you’re so damn set on trashing my apartment,” you spit out, although your voice isn’t necessarily laced with anger. 

“sure,” he responds, and you nod, filling up another glass, before walking over to the couch, handing him a glass of water, before sitting down. 

he notices that you’re still in your hero suit, except you’ve thrown a sweatshirt over it, a dark gray crewneck with a faint UA CLASS OF XXXX on it. of course you went to UA. it checks out. you’re a hero for pete’s sake. you pick up on where his eyes lay, and you roll your eyes. 

“sorry dickhead, I cover up after hours,” you say with an annoyed tone and patchwork’s eyes dart to yours, narrowing as he looks at you. 

“wasn’t staring at your tits, wonder woman, at the words on your shirt,” he spits out in disgust. how dare you assume he’d do such a thing. he literally objectifies women all the time but whatever. your eyes glimmer at him apologetically for a moment, as you try to find words to correct what you said. Instead, you take a sip from your glass of water, finding something to distract yourself with. 

“why are you a hero?” the blue flamed criminal mutters, and your head perks up as your burgundy eyes meet his piercing, blue, and somewhat familiar eyes.  

“why are you a criminal?” you shoot back, a ghost of a smirk gracing your face as you stare him down. he scoffs. 

“asked you first,” he responds cooly, taking his first sip of water from the glass you’d handed him. you sigh in defeat, and shrug your shoulders. 

“fuck it, I guess I’ll just tell you my life story while I’m at it, creep,” you say, and patchwork stifles a chuckle, eyes scanning you over. 

“i didn’t want to be a hero of any sorts til I was eleven,” you begin, eyes drifting to the plant nestled in the corner of the room behind patchwork. 

“why?” he responds fast— too fast for his liking, and you shake your head in amusement. 

“easy patchwork, I’m getting there,” you respond cooly, and his face blanks over. 

“i wanted to be in early quirk development. my younger brother struggled a bit at first when his quirk manifested, and he was always one degree away from blowing the house up. i worked for hours with him to help him control it a little bit. made me wanna explore it more,” you ramble, your voice trailing off as your eyes gleam, a hint of sadness coming to the surface. 

“then, the brother of my closest childhood friend died,” you say grimly, and it takes everything in patchwork to keep his composure. 

“i was pretty close with him too, and he was always babbling on about being better than his dad and all might, who by the way, the dad was a maaaajor asshole and super rude and aggressive. real shitbag,” you continue, and patchwork scoffs in amusement at your comment. 

“but, it was kind of inspiring at times. he worked really hard to control his quirk and control it well, and we were so young at the time. i could see how badly he wanted to just please his dad and do well for him. so, after he died and my best friend kinda crumpled, i thought maybe I could honor him by becoming a hero for him. carry his efforts on,” you say, biting your lip aa you trail off, a sigh leaving your lips. 

“i know it sounds goofy. I wouldn’t expect you to get it. but even though early quirk development could’ve been cool to, i felt so helpless when he died. there was nothing I could do to make fuyum— my best friend feel better,” you speak, stumbling over your words. you knew better than to name drop people in front of criminals, you had no idea what this man would do. 

“all I knew is I wanted to control my own narrative. can’t do shit to protect the people I love if I’m off helping kids,” you say, your voice taking on a softer edge. 

“so, I just started being proactive. studying hero’s with some similar explosion quirks and learning how to actually use my quirk and shit. when I got into UA, my parents were beyond proud. my shitty little brat of a brother even gave me my name,” you continue. 

“and what is it, your name,” patchwork says gruffly, and your eyes snap back to him. 

“ground zero,” you say softly, a small smile gracing your face. 

“anyways, worked my ass off at UA. interned with best jeanist, where I currently work now. did a study abroad in america, got hooked on American pop music. came back, interned with endeavor my third year, and then best jeanist offered me a full time job. climbed up the ranks, put away a shit down of criminals like you, I’m sure you get the gist,” you continue, looking at him, satisfied with your explanation. 

patchwork nods, somewhat satisfied with your answer. however, a part of it itches weirdly at his brain. 

“endeavor’s the current number two hero, no?” he says, trying to mask the anger in his tone with a nonchalant one. 

“yeah,” is all you offer, but patchwork presses on. 

“why him? I heard he can be an ass,” is all he says, and you hum in agreement. 

“yeah, but— oh well, fuck it, I feel like I’ve already divulged too much,” you grumble, and patchwork’s eyes look at you, amused. 

“endeavor’s my childhood best friend’s dad, okay? his son is the one who died, and I don’t know, it just seemed like the final stepping stone to intern for him,” you mumbled, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your crewneck, as your eyes scanned your apartment. 

“he’s an ass but, I did kind of learn a lot and his wife is like super sweet so she invites me over for lunch once a month with their family. usually endeavor’s not there because there’s hella beef but like, you get it, hopefully?” you say, wincing at the end of your sentence, giving him a sheepish look. 

“sounds like you had a fat crush on the son,” is all patchwork responds with, and you deadpan. you reach out, and patchwork braces apprehensively. however instead of possibly sending an explosion his way. Instead, you playfully hit his arm, and annoyed look spreading across your face. 

“obviously I did not, I was just inspired and wanted to like respect his legacy or whatever,” you grumble, as you fold your arms over your chest.  

“anyways, they were  my neighbors too until my mom got pregnant with my brother so I just felt some weird sense of grown up obligation when I was eleven. i was a weird kid,” you continue, mumbling. 

“i’d be moved if I was a sap,” he offers, and you shoot him another annoyed look, lips pursing at his comment. 

“whatever, scarecrow,” you groan, pointing your head away from him. 

“i’m still hooked on the theory you just had a crush but, ignorance is bliss,” he says, amused at how annoyed you look. he props an elbow up on the armrest of the chair, resting his head against his fist. 

“GAH, I did NOT have a crush on him!” you say, exasperated, arms going up in frustration, as you glare a the patchwork criminal. your annoyed gaze shifts into something more mischievous, a smirk gracing your lips.

“okay, now you have to tell me why you’re a villain,” you say triumphantly, and dabi let’s out a chuckle. 

“nope,” he replies, and your face falls instantly.

“nope?” you echo, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I don’t have to tell you squat, wonder woman,” he says with a smirk, and a pout passes over your face. 

“guess this is what I get for letting a criminal range free in my room, offer him water, and bare my soul out to him,” you grumble with a huff.  

“maybe one day I’ll tell you,” patchwork says gruffly, and you sigh, shoulders falling in defeat. 

“do you at least have a name?” you ask. 

“dabi,” dabi replies, and your eyes are suddenly lost in thought, scanning the name in your brain, your eyes suddenly widen. 

“you’re with the league,” you say quietly, too softly for dabi’s liking. 

“yeah,” is all he can muster back. you blink slowly, realization washing over you as you realize who exactly is sitting in your living room. 

you hadn’t encountered many members of the league of villains, save for shigaraki and kuogiri at USJ. you knew they were highly intelligent and extremely dangerous, but you hadn’t encountered them much in your district you patrolled with jeanist. 

“look, if you promise not to burn my apartment down, and to not steal my shit, gods I can’t believe I’m saying this, you can stay here whenever. i know you’re going to anyways,” you say, not daring to look into his eyes. 

dabi tilted his head, confusion and surprise spilling over him. 

“on two conditions,” you continue, and dabi nods for you to continue. 

“one, no talking about hero or villain shit and two, you’re not allowed to try and get in my pants,” you say firmly, and dabi can’t help but laugh. 

“that shouldn’t be too hard, wonder woman,” he says smoothly, and you roll your eyes. 

“whatever, AND you have to cook sometimes,” you add on, and dabi gives you a confused look.

“if you’re gonna crash here you gotta pull your weight,” you say, and dabi shrugs in resignation.  

“you like gossip girl?” you ask.

“what’s gossip girl?” Dabi asks, and you give him his first genuine smile he’s seen in years. the one you used to flash him when you and fuyumi would play out in his backyard with him.  

“oh are you in for a treat!” you exclaim with a giggle, as you move to grab the remote, clicking the Netflix button. 

deep down, you both have no idea why the hell you’re letting him stay at your apartment right now. or why you even invited him to stay at your apartment whenever he wanted. 

but, something about him feels weirdly comfortable, familiar. and besides, he’d probably have tried to kill you by now if he came here to hurt you. so, why is he here? 

dabi hopes you’ll never ask him that question, as his eyes flicker to your console table below your tv, his eyes focusing on a dust photo of you and his siblings, and himself, from when you were super young. you can’t be any older than 8, and you’re smiling with glee at the camera. he even spots a baby shoto glued to your side, you’re helping him stand. fuyumi and natsuo are on the other side of shoto, and there he is, glued to your other side.

except his eyes aren’t on the camera. they’re on you. he never thought he’d see you again.  and here you sit before him, japan’s number eleven hero. and it’s all because of him. 

he silently hopes he won’t have to kill you. it’d be a shame if such a pretty thing went to waste. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

a/n: all likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Dressed (Inappropriately)

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @Lizybeth104-MommaBatte on Tumblr. Dabi joined the League of Villains to kill his father and take down hero society. He did not think that before they even got started working towards those goals he would be dealing with his new boss being a fuckboy and being confronted by the thick cock that is always outlined in the thin sweatpants that he’s always wearing. 

Contents: Sexual harassment/Inappropriate Behavior, Masturbation, Ruined Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Hand Jobs, Facials, Cum Eating, Degradation, Humiliation, Anal Fingering, Puppy Play, Anal Sex, Undernegotiated Kink, Large Cock, Size Kink, Dehumanization, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, Masochism, Penis Humiliation, Cumming In Pants, Creampie, BDSM.   

Word Count: 8,383

For as little as other people would like to believe it, Dabi is actually a creature of extreme restraint. Some might even argue that it is restraint to the point of repression, but he really doesn't have any other choice. Being that his quirk is so heavily reliant on his emotions, and that his quirk is so hazardous to his own body when he is using it, he needs to be able to control his emotions as strictly as he can so he doesn't burn himself out too soon. To that end, he usually tries very hard to make certain that he's not letting something fester inside of him unless he is actively using that as motivation to burn hotter and brighter for an upcoming fight. So he thinks he's, understandably, not very happy that he finds himself taking a lot of ice cold showers at the League of Villain's base as he is forced into cohabitation with an annoying fifteen year old and their far worse brat of a boss. 

Dabi lets the cool water run over his body, the chill taking out the heat from beneath his skin, as he tries to get himself under control. Toga is annoying. She's fifteen, she is new to villainy and to that end, she is on her own and away from her awful parents for the first time in her life. She is a little feral with wanting to do whatever she can within the limits of the League and right now those are fairly non-existent. Their debut job is going to be when they hit the UA summer camp in a couple of months, and when they're not actively at a planning or training session, she's free to come and go as she pleases, supplied with blood from the mad doctor's hospital, and with plenty of yen in her pocket as AFO pays them a retainer to keep them here and not snitching. Her room very quickly becomes a haven of cute things, the most heavily furnished room in the entire bar, and she is always giddy to show off the new clothes, phone charms, or stuffed animals that she picks up while she's out. She mostly entertains herself, but the fact that she's treating this like it's just a cool hangout spot makes him grind his teeth. 

But far, far worse than Toga is their stupid fucking brat of a boss who, with even less to do and with bullet wounds to heal, is mostly just lazing about the bar. And whenever his keeper is gone to do things for AFO, he goes from high-strung and always harping on them to actually do something to look like they aren't just taking up space, to doing nothing at all. No, actually, that's not true. What he's doing is pushing Dabi's sanity to the absolute breaking point because Tomura Shigaraki is a brat through and through. 

When Kurogiri and AFO leave them alone for long spans of time, they end up without anything to do, and while Toga shops and Dabi rests between additional arson gigs that he scrapes together for himself, Shigaraki does whatever he wants. Based on their first meeting, Dabi thought that would mean he was doing a fat load of nothing at all. But what Shigaraki does instead is have people over. The first time it happened, Dabi thought the guy with long lashes and a narrow waist had been another villain here to be recruited. And then Shigaraki had disappeared with him into his bedroom and the sounds that started reverberating through the entire base had very, very quickly alerted Dabi to the fact that, no. That was not at all what the man was there for. Dabi is so flabbergasted that Shigaraki even knows what sex is that he doesn't immediately bang on the wall between their rooms to get him to keep that guy from screaming about how good his cock is. It's completely bizarre that happened at all, but when he leaves his bedroom to go get something to eat, he's not expecting that he's decided to leave at the same time as the other two have finished up. Shigaraki is in nothing but a pair of gray sweats and has walked the other man to the door, and as Dabi steps behind the bar to go through that doorway into the kitchen, he sees how badly that guy is listing to the side, his face still flushed. When the door closes behind him, Dabi opens his mouth to say something to Shigaraki about the noise, his taste in men, something to belittle him because Dabi's been taking shots at him whenever he can manage it. But he doesn't get that far, nearly swallowing his tongue when, as Shigaraki turns, he sees the shadow of his cock moving beneath the pale fabric of his pants. The swing of him shows Dabi that he's not just a scrawny fuck, but that he's a scrawny fuck that has a god damn horse cock normally crammed into his skinny jeans, and that he definitely didn't think that underwear were necessary for him to walk his hook-up to the door. Dabi's heat spikes sharply and he goes into the kitchen without comment, abandoning his plan of having something substantial to eat, and instead grabbing a handful of crushed ice and shoving that behind his teeth so that he can try to get his temperature to lower as he tries to shake why that was so shocking to see. 

He tried very hard to put that incident out of his mind, but things only started to get worse after that. With Toga gone so much of the time, Shigaraki went to treating this place like a... bachelor pad for the most part. And that means having more people in and out whenever he feels like getting that massive dick wet, and wearing his pajamas around the place when he's not actively doing things for work. Which also means that Shigaraki is often wearing a pair of gray sweat pants. Ones that always make it so clear to Dabi that he's absolutely not wearing anything underneath. That highlight that his cock is thick and long, the fabric falling around him and showing the outline whenever he shifts. Dabi should not notice that as much as he has been. He shouldn't care at all, shouldn't find himself staring at him whenever he thinks he can get away with it, and shouldn't be having to go back upstairs to take a cold shower every time he does find his gaze lingering there. Shigaraki is a scrap of nearly nothing who only uses obnoxious nerd speak and who is the biggest brat that Dabi knows. He does not want to get up close and familiar with the massive cock that's swinging around under his pants. But he keeps ending up in the icy shower day after day, trying to will that to be true. 

Dabi turns off the water, letting himself shiver in the cold for a second. Thankfully, at this point, he's only taking the cold showers to deal with his quirk, but he is all too aware that burn under his skin will likely turn into something else if he doesn't make himself do this. That is even more disquieting because he absolutely should not be into his shitty boss that isn't anything but an asshole who he's using to get to his own goals. He just... hasn't had anyone in his bed for a while. Certainly not anyone with such a big cock. Definitely not anyone who has ever made him moan like the guys and girls who go into Shigaraki's room do. Dabi is tempted to turn the cold water back on as his temperature starts to creep higher again, but he knows that sound will travel all throughout the base and will definitely earn him attention that he doesn't want to have. So he gets out of the shower and dries off, pulling on his own sweats and a t-shirt, actually wearing boxer briefs so that no one is getting a good idea of what his cock looks like as he walks around, before he steps out into the hallway. He's not expecting to see Shigaraki moving down the hall towards his bedroom, that thick fucking cock swinging beneath the fabric and inviting Dabi's sanity to fray further. 

He's not expecting Duster to pause as he turns towards his door, his lips quirking up into the smallest smirk. "Must be the fire quirk that makes something that cold feel good." Dabi can't help tensing slightly. "Unless you don't actually like freezing your balls off and are doing it for...some other reason." He shrugs slightly, like he's not really all that interested in the answer or not as he opens his door and disappears inside of his room before Dabi can retaliate in any way, or find words to snap at the other for his bullshit. 

Bastard. Dabi should set his room on fire. He stomps his way back to his own room, shutting the door tight and trying to not wonder if that shadow gets even bigger when it's hard. 

///

Another week of freezing showers passes and Dabi is less than thrilled that they are getting... less effective. He usually goes inside and makes sure that his quirk and any ill-gotten arousal stay firmly tamped down, but even when he's freezing cold and shivering under the hail of the shower, he finds his mind putting far too much attention on Duster's massive fucking cock and his body starts to send blood between his own legs. His cock starts to harden despite the chill and Dabi wants to drown himself in the sink. He is not usually all that horny. His skin hurts intermittently, and sex can cause flare-ups of that pain because of how rigorous it can be, so he usually avoids it unless he's really jonesing. He also... doesn't usually end up fantasizing about the one being fucked. He likes sucking cock, and just the thought of how badly his jaw would hurt if he had his mouth around that thick, glorious cock has him biting his knuckles as he tries to will the forming erection away. But in general he usually prefers to top because it's easier on his body if he doesn't have to trust other people to know how to touch him when he is... fragile for the most part. But he hears how the people Shigaraki has been taking to bed howl when they have him inside. He sees the outline of him in those thin pants and knows that he would stretch his hole as well as he could stretch his jaw and Dabi finds himself hardening further as he tries not to let himself think about how good that might feel. He's not even into Duster. He is a jackass nerd whose brain has been absolutely poisoned by video games, and he doesn't want anything to do with that. He's just here to get whatever he can out of the League until he is on the right path to killing his father. It's not a complicated goal. He doesn't need to make it complicated by wanting to find out exactly how big his boss's cock is once it's hard and out of those sweats.

Dabi nearly jumps out of his skin when a knock comes against the bathroom door. Shigaraki's voice follows a split second later, saying, "Stop running up our water bill and masturbate like a normal person." 

"Fuck off, Duster!" Dabi snarls back, hating how his cock doesn't soften at all at the annoying sound of his voice, instead hardening more and making him really want to touch himself. He stays in the shower until he finally softens and avoids going downstairs until he thinks it's late enough that Shigaraki will be in his room for good.

He's right about Duster being locked up in his own place, but as he passes his bedroom, his ears burn as he hears the wet, deliberate sound of a hand pumping along a cock, and the soft tinny hum of porn through bad speakers. 

Dabi gives up on food yet again and ends up taking a bowl of ice shards back to his room to crunch through as he tries his damnedest to not give into the arousal that seems to be seeping into every inch of his mind. 

///

Shigaraki does not stop with his bullshit. He practically lives in the gray sweats when they're not working, and Dabi hates him for it. Especially when his doctor clears him to start working out again and he starts going down to the meager gym they have in the basement to do so. Dabi is down there most days. He has been surviving on so little for so long that he really needs to take the time he has with a roof over his head to try and get his body into better condition. His speed is still his most valuable trait, but agility and endurance training are helpful, and putting on a little extra muscle will also help him make certain that he's not getting completely burned through as fast as he might otherwise. So he makes sure he's eating well at base and training his body. And when Shigaraki is cleared to exercise again, he starts to do a similar routine as Dabi. Only he starts to do so wearing a new pair of sweats. Still gray, still loose enough for Dabi to see every inch of his fucking dick and balls whenever he starts to sweat as the fabric begins to cling to his skin. And he likes to use the machines that have him sitting, his legs spread on the bench as he tries to loosen the freshly healed muscles along his shoulder by stretching them and using the repetitive movements on a low weight to bring back some of their strength. On the machine that just so happens to be right across from the treadmill that Dabi spends most of his time on. Usually he props up his phone on the stand and just runs and reads, but he can't help the way that his eyes keep straying up and Dabi knows that Shigaraki's sweaty dick is disgusting. He is absolutely well-aware of that fact. Nothing in the world could convince him that Shigaraki isn't actually disgusting in general. But every time he glances away from his book and sees the outline of him, some stupid lizard part of his brain can't help imagining what it would be like to be disgusting as he is pinned to the sparring mats on the other side of the room as Shigaraki takes his hot, sweaty cock and pushes it between Dabi's ass, rubbing against his hole as he holds him in place with his deadly hands as he chases his own completion until Dabi's skin is absolutely filthy with his cum cooling against his skin, his own cock achingly hard and pressed to the ground. He lowers cycles slowly until he can grab his phone and hop off of the treadmill, turning to head back upstairs to wash away the sweat and arousal from his skin, trying to ignore the fact that even in the fantasies that are lingering in the back of his mind, he doesn't believe that Shigaraki would actually let him get off. If the snide comment of, 

"I'd tell you to save me some hot water, but I don't think I'm really going to have to worry about that with you," didn't spell out exactly how little he respects Dabi's pride, then the fact that his deciding to head upstairs immediately has Shigaraki going to do a different exercise so his cock isn't on display for Dabi anymore would have made it more than blatant. 

He wants to set the other man on fire. He wants to snarl at him and say something about how he's been mocking his arousal, but that would mean having to own up to it out loud. He can pretend that he still has a scrap of his dignity left if he never admits to Shigaraki how badly he wants him. He is smoking by the time he gets upstairs, and even though he cranks the water as cold as it can go, it doesn't stop his cock from being so achingly hard with the thought of being treated that poorly beneath the other man that he ends up having to put his hand around his aching cock and stroke himself until he's right about to cum--

And then there's a fresh, banging knock against the door that scares away his orgasm as Shigaraki informs him, "Hurry up, my teacher wants us to have a check-in in twenty and I want to shower too." 

Dabi is used to having to try to keep a tight hold on his emotions, but he doesn't know if he's ever wanted to burst into tears more as his erection flags without letting him find the relief that he knows still won't satisfy him as much as Shigaraki's cock in his throat or up his ass would.

///

Dabi is going to lose his mind. He's already losing it in inches, he thinks, but he's absolutely going to go insane if he isn't given some kind of relief from the torment that Shigaraki has been putting him through for the past few weeks. He starts to spend more time away from base, trying to avoid the source of his frustration, and that does help a little. Except for the fact that now that both he and Toga leave for longer periods of time, Shigaraki seems to have gotten even worse, because when Dabi comes back after two days away, he walks into the bar and immediately wants to turn around and walk right back out or set Shigaraki on fire because he's laying on the couch, texting someone, and the first thing he sees on the screen is some girl's entire pussy that she's set to him. He can't read the speech bubble that is below it, but he sees Shig reaching for the waistband of his sweats and realizes exactly what's about to happen. And he explodes, 

"Are you seriously taking a fucking dick pic in the goddamn living room?!" His quirk goes so high that he thinks that he might actually ignite as Shigaraki tilts his head back against the arm rest to look over at him as the bar door falls shut. 

"Why not? I didn't realize that I already had a captive audience." Dabi is going to kill him. He's going to murder him dead, and then he's going to kill himself too.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls, his hands tightening into fists at his side hard enough that it's starting to put an awful strain against his seams."Just because you're used to living alone and fucking around whenever you want doesn't mean you can just-- do this!" 

Shigaraki sets his phone aside and sits up, his legs still splayed wide so that Dabi can see every crease and shadow of the fabric that is outlining his cock, arm against the back of the couch as he watches Dabi with a cool self-assuredness that makes his skin boil. "And what am I doing, Dabi? Wearing comfortable clothes? Fucking people in the privacy of my own room when I feel like it? Sexting a friend when in a common area when I thought I was alone and didn't think that would change since you've been avoiding coming home until well after three to avoid seeing me? I had no reason to think that would change tonight." Dabi opens his mouth. He intends to tell him that it doesn't matter if he thought that he was coming home or not, he still shouldn't have been doing that in a common area. But Shigaraki goes on before he can say a word. "Maybe we should talk about what you've been doing lately. I mean, you can't seem to keep your eyes off of me, especially my dick. You're running up the water bill going to take a cold shower every time you start to get excited, leering at me like I haven't noticed how hungry those desperate eyes are. It would be cute if it weren't so pathetic that you're clearly so desperate to be gagged on my cock, baby boy. Have you never been touched before, or are you just so repressed that you can't imagine just asking for me to give you what you so clearly want?" 

And Dabi hates the both of them all the more when his face starts to heat with a blush, his skin so warm now that he does immediately want to run to get into the shower and avoid the rest of this uncomfortable conversation. 

When he doesn't manage to choke out any kind of retort, one of Shigaraki's hands moves down his chest, over his flat stomach to the low-slung waistband of his pants that is already showing Dabi the v of his hips. But his hand goes lower and Dabi fucking whimpers when he watches the other man cup his cock against his palm, one finger raised to keep his quirk at bay, making him all the more defined for him to see. He strokes himself through the fabric and Dabi knows that he should hurl a fireball at him or snarl and turn around, stomp out the door, and find some other evil organization that won't have the bratty leader sexually harassing him all of the time. But he stays rooted to the spot, watching as Shigaraki's hand moves over his cock lazily, stroking himself through his pants like there isn't any reason that he should stop. 

"You can go upstairs and try to freeze your nuts off, or you can come over here and get on your knees like a good boy, and I'll think about giving you what you actually want."

Go upstairs. Set him on fire. Leave. Each option lights up his brain, trying to spur him into any other action than what his shaky legs manage to do as he walks over to the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch. His throat tightens, his mouth watering as he sees the stimulation starting to make Shigaraki's cock harden, making him even bigger against his palm as he begins to tent the sweatpants properly. 

"I said on your knees, Dabi." He says coolly, haughty. The kind of tone that normally makes Dabi throw punches but that instead has him tasting smoke in the back of his throat this time as he drops to the hard floor so that he's kneeling between the bastard's legs, his mouth watering as he can't keep looking him in the eyes, instead feeling them drift involuntarily lower, until he's staring at his cock as Duster gives himself another stroke before he reaches to the waistband of the sweats instead. Dabi's breath catches in the back of his throat as he watches Tomura roll his hips up, pulling the waistband lower as he reaches inside with his other hand, taking himself out of the confines of his pants and finally letting Dabi see the cock that has been haunting him for the past several weeks. 

Shigaraki is bigger than he looked in his pants, though Dabi wonders if that's just because his skin is starting to flush with his arousal, and if he was somehow already well-endowed and also a grower. The winding veins along his length and the way that his fingers just touch around his base only makes Dabi's mouth water more as he takes him in. Duster lets go of himself and doesn't hesitate to reach out and catch Dabi by his chin with four fingers, making sure that the hold is tight enough that he can't pull away without tugging at his staples as he tilts his head up so that Dabi is forced to look away from his thick cock and has to meet his eyes again. He looks entirely too self satisfied, and Dabi wants to burn him, bite him, do something, but he's already given up every shred of his dignity by getting between his legs. 

"Let's be clear, baby: I'm not going to stop unless you tell me, or you tap out.” He taps three fingers against the couch to make his point clear. "It doesn't matter if you're begging, sobbing, or bleeding. You say stop or you tap out, or I'm just going to keep using you. Afterall, that's all you really want, isn't it? You've spent the past five weeks imagining how good it would be to be absolutely ruined by me, now you're going to get that. Understand?" 

Dabi's throat is so thick that he doesn't think that he can talk, but the grip is too tight for him to nod, so he barely manages to croak, "Yes." 

"'Sir'." He corrects him and waits expectantly. 

Humiliation beyond the word rolls through him as Dabi adds, "Yes, sir," in the hope of just being able to stop talking anymore as Shigaraki stuffs his cock into his mouth. 

But that's not what he gets as the other man instead takes his three fingers, dragging them over his cheek and pressing them against Dabi's lips. "I didn't expect you to be so easily trained after all of that." Shigaraki's voice is cruel with its amusement the way that it has been every time he's spoken to him out of earshot of his keeper or teacher. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that someone as pathetic as you just wants a firm hand to decide what he deserves to have. Now open wide and drool like a good dog." 

He should bite him. He should snap his teeth as deeply into Shigaraki's skin as he can and not let go until the other man turns him to dust. But instead his mouth falls open with a moan and his tongue immediately seeks out the other's skin. He can't help it. He just wants to show Duster that he can be good enough with his tongue so that the other man will replace his fingers with his cock. 

Dabi licks at his skin, not sure if his body is so hot, or if it's Shigaraki's skin that is so cool that he notices the temperature change so abruptly. But he doesn't care as he tastes his skin, licking against fingers that could shatter him into pieces if he wanted to. He moves his tongue across the pads of his fingers, making sure that he's coating them in his saliva, between them, every inch as he catches his fingers on the edge of the couch between Shigaraki's legs so that he can tilt his head back and push into his hand like he's trying to get his cock deep in his throat. He does take his fingers further back, Shigaraki pushing them in like he's testing to see how hard he can push his gag reflex, but Dabi doesn't have that anymore, and he just moans weakly as he stretches open his jaw.

"What a shameless mutt for how desperately you've been trying to hide how badly you wanted to be right here." Shig makes sure his fingers are plenty wet and then he takes them out of Dabi's mouth. He's already panting lightly, and he doesn't care about the words beyond how they make a hot squirming shame take root inside of his gut, because he's too busy letting his mouth open wider and leaning to try to get Shigaraki's erect cock inside of him. He wants to taste his skin, his cum. He wants to make his jaw go numb from being stretched and for him to have to replace his staples from how roughly Shigaraki has fucked his face. 

The slap that blooms pain across the side of his cheek startles him so badly that he yelps as he realizes that his head has been forced to the side. Dabi blinks, the ache sharp as he looks back up at Shigaraki who is taking his wet hand and has reached back to his own cock, smearing Dabi's spit along himself so that he can curl for fingers around his length and begin to stroke. 

"I didn't give you permission to lick my cock, mutt." He tells him cruelly, his expression still so self-assured and haughty as his hand moves languidly. "You're going to kneel right there and drool like the needy little dog you are until I decide that you've earned anything else. After all, how many times have you gone running to the shower and touched yourself thinking about how much you wanted to have my cock? I think it's only fair that I get to watch you fall apart for a little while." 

"Yes, sir." The words are even rougher than they were the first time, his spit-slicked lips and the ache in his cheek making him dizzy with his arousal. He didn't know that he could like being hit like that, but his own cock is starting to strain against his tight, dark jeans as he kneels at the edge of the couch, watching as Shigaraki starts to stroke himself, his fingers practiced and deliberate as he does so. Dabi doesn't think that he's ever thought that watching someone else masturbate was particularly hot. It's definitely not a category of porn that he's ever gone to to find any amount of gratification, but having to look up at Shigaraki as he sits beneath him with his mouth hanging open, his tongue out, face stinging, and smoke trailing out of his throat, shows him just how much this is working for him now. Dabi certainly doesn't think he's ever been this hard this quickly in his life and he's whimpering again when Duster reaches lower and strokes his balls too, rolling the weight of them in his palm so that Dabi has to take in just how big every part of him is even though he is so thin everywhere else. He can't help imagining how awful, how demeaning, how perfect he would feel if Shigaraki bent him back over the coffee table and shoved into his throat from that angle, letting his balls slap against his face as he fucked his throat, and he lets out another strained whimper as his prick twitches in his pants. 

He takes his hand from the edge of the couch to reach for himself, and Shigaraki's other hand lashes out like a snake has been laying in wait to strike. Four fingers knot in Dabi's hair and he lets out a louder moan, stars bursting behind his eyes as Shigaraki yanks at his follicles roughly. "I didn't give you permission to touch yourself, dog." He says, his voice harder and crueler for a moment. Dabi's scalp hurts, his cheek, and every throb of pain along his veins makes him all the more aware of how his arousal is pressing hard against the front of his jeans and the rough, sharp texture of the zipper of his pants even through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. He whimpers, ready to apologize, ready to beg if it means that he'll be allowed to do so. But Shigaraki goes on instead of giving him a chance to speak, "But if you can bark like a good puppy, then your master will let you relieve some of that pressure and open your pants." 

Dabi's head swirls. He has always had to try and control his emotions to keep from overheating, to keep from igniting, but right now he is nearly as out of control as he was when he burned. His whole head feels like it's swimming through his quirk-soaked veins as his arousal sends it so, so hot. He didn't know that he could set on fire not from anger or despair, but from humiliation as it somehow makes his arousal sharper and more all-consuming than it ever has been in his life. He didn't know that he could want it all so badly, but he doesn't hesitate to let out a meager, 

"Arf," as he watches Duster keep stroking his cock with his other hand. 

To scorn him a second time, the other man laughs when he does as he's told. "God, you really are nothing but a pathetic little mutt. Not a scrap of a backbone, hm?" He mocks, "Oh you're lucky that I'm here to train you puppy, or you would just have spent your life in cold showers and humping your pillows. You can open your pants, dog, but if you touch yourself, I'm going to have to kick my puppy while he's down." Duster makes certain that there's no mistaking his threat by shifting to press his sock-covered toes against Dabi's cock, and he nearly loses it, having to bite his lip hard and clutch onto the couch to keep from bucking his hips up into the touch, desperate to have friction against himself. That only gets the other man laughing again, taking his foot away as he reiterates, "Humping pillows, legs, anything you could get if someone didn't teach you where you belong. Open." 

Dabi's hands fumble down to his pants, his fingers shaking with his arousal he wants it so badly as he unthreads his belt and tugs his button and zipper open. He shifts so that he can make sure that the fabric is pulled open and away from his aching prick, his erection immediately straining the pale blue of his boxer briefs. 

"Good boy." Shigaraki tells him, "Keep your mouth open, doggy." He leans back against the couch, his hand moving over his own cock more rapidly. His expression is so unmoved that Dabi doesn't know if he would have even guessed that he was masturbating if he'd walked in on him with the couch blocking his view. "I want to see if you make a puddle from your tongue or your pathetic little cock first." 

Dabi whimpers, his mouth falling open again and a drop of spit almost immediately slipping off his tongue as he lets it loll out across his chin. His head is too hot. His body is too hot. He's burned up any scrap of sense and sanity left in his body. 

It takes another agonizing few minutes of watching Shigaraki stroking himself before his flushed head starts to leak pre that he smears along his length with every stroke, his grip tightening and the movements coming faster. His raised finger never wavers and neither does the stare that Dabi can feel burrowing into his skin, but he can't take his eyes off of that gorgeous, monstrous cock that is centimeters from his face, but that he's not being allowed to put in his mouth. He wants it, needs it, but it's denied to him again and again each time Shigaraki strokes himself instead of pushing into his mouth that is drooling badly as he waits to be made full the way that he wants. 

The hand in his hair stays tight, the constant pressure against his scalp mingling pleasure and pain across his nerves that only makes his need higher beneath his skin, and allowing Duster to easily bring his face even closer. He holds Dabi still, his tongue hovering so close to his head, and when his mouth waters this time, his saliva drools off his tongue and drips onto Sir's cock. It wets his palm further and as he smears it along himself, he starts to pump his cock faster. 

When the other's breath hitches, his rhythm falters, Dabi whimpers, and a second later he's rewarded when his cum streaks from his cock, painting stripes of it over his features. It coats his cheeks, his nose, and of course falls over his open mouth and tongue, the salty, bitter fluid staining his form as he's reduced to nothing in the wake of the other finding his own pleasure. He shouldn't, Dabi knows that if anything, he should be disgusted, angry that he's been treated like this, but watching Shigaraki's head fall back, feeling his fingers in his hair as his cum stripes his face, it makes Dabi whimper as his own cock twitches inside of his pants as... his pleasure overtakes him too, spurred on by the humiliation that the other man has put him through. He moans and whimpers and when there is nothing left inside of him, he feels Tomura petting his hair again. 

"Was that really all it takes for you, puppy?" There's mockery in his voice again as Dabi blinks up at him, swallowing away his release before his tongue flicks out to catch more of it from his lips. "And here I thought my needy mutt would need to be filled--"

Dabi doesn't even wait for him to finish speaking before he's barking weakly to show that is exactly what he wants. Sir laughs at him again, but he pets his hair. 

"We'll see if you've earned that. For now, let's put that tongue to better use." And after all of that, after how badly Dabi has wanted to have Sir's cock in his mouth, it's only now that he pulls him forward. Dabi whimpers as he's finally able to run his tongue along his length. He's soft, but it doesn't matter. His skin is wet with his pre and cum and Dabi knows that he is supposed to clean all of it away as he moves his mouth along the length of him. He sucks and licks, swallowing down every bitter streak eagerly as Shigaraki watches him unwaveringly. Dabi isn't sure if he should like this so much, but he can't make himself hate it either. He just wants to be a good dog for Sir and earn what he wants so badly as his own cum dries in his underwear. 

It takes long enough that his jaw is starting to ache and Sir's cock doesn't taste like anything other than skin, but eventually, Tomura starts to harden again. Dabi sinks him deeper into his mouth, tempted to have him here instead. But he doesn't get to choose that and the fingers in his hair tug on it lightly and make him pull him out. 

"Alright, mutt, on the couch, present yourself like a good bitch." 

Dabi scrambles to comply with his shaky limbs, getting onto the couch, reaching to his waistband. Sir bats his hands away and one moves to the front of his pants, wrapping four fingers around his crotch and letting him feel how his arousal is starting to swell again and the cool damp patch he's left on his underwear from how good it felt to be degraded and used the first time. Shigaraki chuckles again, but he doesn't linger for long enough to give him the pleasure he wants there as he pulls his hand away before Dabi can try to grind himself into that deadly palm that could bring him ruin. He leaves his underwear over his crotch as he pulls it down in the back to expose his ass. 

"Can't have you making such a big mess all over the couch, puppy." Sir tells him as Dabi hears him rustle with something before there's a soft tearing sound. He's not expecting it when icy lube gets dribbled over his hole, but the chill and the fluid is a welcome surprise that makes him keen with his humiliation. How long was Sir planning on having him like this to have that in his pocket? Did he know from the first time he wore around those low-slung pants that Dabi would be falling apart just looking at him? 

He doesn't get a chance to make much more sense of Sir's intention beyond that because his fingers are spreading that lube. They smear it around his hole, making his nerves tingle and ache, and then answering that awakening sensation by pressing the first one into his body abruptly. He does it roughly enough to make sure that his muscles burn and Dabi knows immediately that he meant to do so, that he wants it to hurt enough to make certain that Dabi knows that he isn't anything but the most convenient hole that he has available to him right now. 

The humiliation and need that are curling through him has more smoke trickling out of Dabi's seams and moans spilling out of his lips. He didn't know that he could feel so small, so pathetic, so worthless, and not want to die or kill the person who made him into that.He is falling apart but he likes it as it burns through him while Sir pressing in a second, third, fourth finger to make sure that he's spread wide enough that he'll actually be able to take the long, thick cock that he's about to get after weeks of longing for it. Shigaraki gives him another few thrusts of his fingers to ready him, and then he takes them out. 

"Are you ready, puppy?" His dry hand runs up his back, over the shirt that is sticking to Dabi's skin as he sweats. Death asking him if he wants to continue the dance he was lured into seeking out, and Dabi can't do anything now but follow his lead further. 

He barks again, whimpering at the end as he dips his shoulders as low as he can go like he really isn't anything but a needy animal as he pushes his ass back so that Sir will fill him up the way he's been craving for days now. He needs it. He wants it. He hasn't wanted something like this so badly in all of his life. 

Tomura tangles his hand back into his hair as he starts to push his cock inside his eager body. Stars explode behind Dabi's eyes as he feels the stretch of his head as it pushes in. He knew, he knew that his cock was big. Of course he knew that. It's the reason that he ended up here in the first place. But he can't help how feeling that pushing inside of him shatters any remaining shard of sanity that he had in his mind. He can't help how this all makes him feel like he might fall apart entirely as the other man groans softly as he feels how tightly Dabi's insides cling to him too as he makes room for himself in his body. Dabi is choking on smoke and embers as his eyes begin to prickle with tears, like that's the only way beyond igniting for his body to make sense of what exactly he is feeling as this comes for him. 

Pleasure doesn't seem like a strong enough word to describe how all consuming this feeling is as he's filled. As Sir holds his hair tight and brings their hips together so roughly that the slap of their skin splits the air almost louder than the moan that comes from Dabi and echoes against the walls, Dabi knows that he wouldn't have even been able to imagine being fucked so thoroughly as he is now. That even knowing how large Shigaraki's cock was beneath those sweats, that his imagination couldn't have ever conjured this because he isn't even capable of dreaming of something feeling as good as this does. Sir groans lowly as he is seated fully inside of Dabi's body, and he isn't sure which one of them is trembling, but every muscle in his body is tense as he tries so hard to not combust. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, puppy." The words might as well be the greatest compliment that he's ever gotten from how they sing through his body and make him mewl as his prick drools fresh pre into his underwear. 

Sir doesn't tease him much more after that, instead starting to move inside of his body more surely, his hips fucking into Dabi's hard enough their skin is slapping together and he can feel his heavy balls hitting his ass as he moves. The hold on his hair twists when Dabi tries to rock back into him and he takes the message, instead  letting his body be used by the other like he's nothing but a toy. That shouldn't feel so good, none of this should feel so good, but Dabi can't stop himself from moaning as he goes over the edge again from how roughly he's being fucked, his insides aching like he'll be bruised from how large Sir's cock is as it pounds into him. 

Duster groans himself when it happens, surely feeling how it makes his muscles clench around him even more tightly, but he still keeps fucking him through that. He brings every thrust inside of him to one long note of overstimulation as it stings and screams across Dabi's spent nerves. He goes until Dabi is crying bloody tears into his arm as his body is used so thoroughly and he still doesn't ask to stop. He should be used. For Sir's pleasure, because he's nothing but a worthless drooling dog who spent so long wanting this and fighting that desire every step of the way when he could have had this so, so much sooner. He could have, could have, could have. Now he does, and he keeps it for an agonizing eternity until Shigaraki pushes in one more time and Dabi is moaning as his insides are forced even wider from the cool splash of his cum flooding his hole.

His head is very hazy when Shigaraki uses his hair to tug him back up, reaching to pull his pants back up over his hips as well. He looks at him, his searching red eyes the same color as the bloody tears that are drying on Dabi's cheeks. He doesn't say anything, but when he makes Dabi get up from the couch, his legs are unsteady and shaking beneath him. He whimpers, feeling the mess in his pants, the cum smeared all over his soft cock and the trickle of it as it spills down the back of his thighs, but he makes his legs work the way that Sir wants them too. He is still very careful with his dangerous hands as he takes him up the steps and down the hall into the bathroom.

Sir turns on the shower and then turns back to him and starts to gently strip Dabi out of his clothes. He tries to help, but his limbs feel weak and uncoordinated as he does so. But eventually he is naked and Sir follows suit, tossing his clothes aside before he coaxes Dabi into the shower with him, holding him tight with his chest against Dabi's back, his lips pressing along the nape of his neck, as he lets the warm water of the shower run across his skin. Dabi hasn't had a shower that felt this good since he joined the League and he finds himself closing his eyes beneath the spray, letting his body sink into Sir's as it washes away all of the cum and smoke from his skin. 

///

Shigaraki doesn't magically stop being an absolute dick after that. He just stops showing his off all the time. Instead of bringing people around to fuck or listening to porn loudly enough through the walls of his room so that Dabi is forced to confront the desire that was driving him insane, he only wears the sweat pants around when he wants Dabi to know that he feels like having him in his bed. And while he tries to resist the pull to go back, to let the other man treat him so terribly the way he had the first time, the way he had found he'd so enjoyed despite his thin tatters of sanity and good sense that he used to believe he still held onto, Dabi would go back, again and again. And after the third time, when he was still trying to catch his breath in the other's sheets, Sir had started talking about what they were doing, about how he wanted this to work so he was sure that he was never hurting him in a way that he didn't intend to. Dabi had barely been able to understand all of that, not having the experience that the other man clearly did with 'dynamics' like this, but doing his best so he wouldn't lose this. 

Tomura wants to hurt him, wants to make sure that he feels good, wants Dabi to know that he's nothing when he is laying under him-- but he doesn't want that hurt to linger for Dabi. He wants to be able to make him feel good as well. He wants him to know that he's doing all of that to bring him pleasure, and that when they're done with the hurting, he can just linger in that good place and trust Sir to make sure that he's okay in the aftermath. He wants Dabi to know that he won't be that broken creature who is useless outside of their 'play'. And Dabi takes in what he's being told, the control that Shigaraki is asking to have over him, and he lets go of it so quickly that it almost seems to make the more experienced man's head spin. Dabi has always struggled with controlling himself, his emotions, his quirk. He can't give up the last one, but the other two have caused such a strain on him over the past decade that he's more than happy to let someone else have that responsibility for a little while. And if that means he gets his relief on his knees, with his master's cock in his mouth or sunk deep in his hole, then Dabi is happy enough to have that and he doesn't need anything else. 

It is nice when Tomura starts to press kisses to his temples, his cheeks, his lips, when he's not wearing those gray sweatpants that always tell Dabi that it's time for them to play though.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/ask. If you'd like to get a commission, consider checking out my guidelines, which can be found right here!

[thebunnednun]

Toast 4.

But do I look,

Like Him?

Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time. And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will. Especially after meeting your secret daughter.

Who has his exact eyes.

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki, meeting ex's (you).

Part one right here. Part 2 over yander Part 3 is here

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Songs:

Full list on the ao3 chapter

Like Him <------ Tyler the Creator (Asuna over hearing everything.)

“My daughter.”

Katsuki felt his soul try to leave out his ass. 

You were still turned toward Asuna, smoothing down her hair and examining the dip-dyed tips of her braids as you fussed over her, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding just behind you.

“You’ve got bring your coat with you to school,” you said, your tone equal parts affectionate and chiding. 

“And what did I tell you about after school junk food?”

Asuna grinned up at you, her sharp red eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“ Not to,” she said sweetly, though the giggle threatening to burst free ruined any attempt at sounding remorseful. You glanced down at the girl as her giggles finally started to subside, and her mischievous grin turned into something softer as she looked up at you. 

You ruffled her braids gently, your fingers lingering on the dip-dyed tips. The two of you looked almost like twins under the glow of the streetlights—same face, same posture, even the same teasing glint in your expressions. 

But then there were the eyes. 

Yours held warmth and wisdom, tempered by years of struggles and triumphs. Hers burned like twin embers, sharp and unrelenting, filled with the boundless energy of youth.

Katsuki couldn’t stop staring.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny. It wasn’t just the shared features; it was the way you both carried yourselves, that same blend of confidence and playfulness. The way her grin mirrored yours, the slight tilt of her head, even the way she gestured with her hands—it was like watching a younger version of you.

But it was her eyes that pinned him in place. 

Those sharp red irises locked onto him, and for a split second, the lightness in her expression dimmed. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied him. Katsuki felt the air shift around him as recognition dawned in her gaze.

She knew who he was.

Her glare was quick, a fleeting moment of defiance that made his chest tighten. 

It wasn’t hostility—not exactly. It was more like a warning, a challenge wrapped up in a teenage girl’s unimpressed stare. Katsuki, for all his brashness and bravado, found himself breaking eye contact first, scowling as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“ Brat ,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Asuna didn’t let up. She leaned slightly toward him, the bouquet of flowers cradled in her arm like a shield, before quirking an eyebrow in a way that screamed the fuck you gonna do about it? Then, as if deciding he wasn’t worth her time, she turned her attention back to you, her expression softening once more.

You, oblivious to the silent exchange, gave the flowers in your hands another glance before passing them back to her. “Not bad,” you said with a teasing smirk. 

“You’re learning.”

The girl pouted dramatically. “I’ve always been good at picking flowers.”

“Sure you have,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Just don’t think this gets you out of trouble.”

Her pout melted into a grin as she hugged the bouquet to her chest. “You’re not really mad, though,” she said confidently.

You sighed, shaking your head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Behind you, Kirishima, who had been openly gawking, leaned over to Izuku and whispered loudly, “It’s like they cloned her, but gave her Katsuki’s eyes!”

Izuku blinked rapidly, still processing, before mumbling, “She really does look like them both, huh?”

Katsuki shot them a glare, his teeth grinding as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Katsuki felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He stared at you, then at her, then back again, his mind scrambling to piece everything together.

Asuna, however, seemed completely unbothered by the tension. She beamed up at you, then spun toward the others, her energy as infectious as ever.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she chirped, giving a little wave with her free hand.

Kirishima, still looking like he’d been hit over the head, managed a weak smile and an awkward, “Uh… hey there.” He squatted down and was still a little taller than the girl.

Izuku’s lips parted as if to say something, but he just nodded dumbly, his cheeks tinged pink with surprise.

Todoroki’s gaze lingered on Hikari, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal the faintest flicker of confusion. “She really does look like you,” he murmured.

“Yeah, well,” you said lightly, brushing a strand of hair from Asuna’s face.

“ She’s got good genes.”

Katsuki’s stomach churned. His hands twitched at his sides as he stared at the girl again, his mind flashing back to earlier that day. He hadn’t known then who she was, but now—now it made sense. Every sharp word, every defiant glare, every moment she’d stood her ground against him.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. 

She really was your daughter.

And as the girl’s mischievous grin returned, Katsuki realized with a jolt of clarity–

He wasn’t ready for this.

Kirishima lay frozen for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly as he watched his best friend struggle to breathe. His eyes darted from Katsuki to you and Asuna, then back again, panic setting in. Finally, as Asuna let out another giggle, Kirishima made a snap decision.

“So, uh,” he said loudly, his voice almost too cheerful as he stepped forward, blocking your line of sight to the commotion. “Asuna, right? Cool name! So, uh, when’s your birthday?”

Asuna blinked, momentarily distracted by the question. “April 21st,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

You could’ve heard a snowflake drop.

“Nice, nice,” Kirishima said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite color?”

You glanced up briefly, arching a brow at Kirishima’s sudden interest in your daughter. “Bloody purple,” Asuna answered without missing a beat, her grin widening.

“Uh, cool, cool,” Kirishima said, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he glanced nervously over his shoulder at Katsuki, who was still clutching his chest like his heart might explode. “And, uh, favorite food?”

“Mapo tofu,” Asuna said proudly. “Extra chili peppers. Gotta have the heat.”

Katsuki fell to his knees. 

His entire body trembling as if the world itself had flipped on its axis. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and one hand was clutching his chest so tightly his knuckles were white. 

Izuku, with his ever-watchful eyes, was the first to react, darting forward with a panicked, “ Katsuki! ” He crouched beside him, gripping his arm to steady him.

Todoroki was right behind him, his calm mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. Without a word, he grabbed Katsuki’s other arm, hoisting him back to his feet as though the blonde weighed nothing. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Todoroki whispered, his voice quiet but insistent.

You almost turned around to hear the commotion but Kirishima forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You like spicy, huh? You and Katsuki have that in common—he’s all about the spice.” That had your attention back on your twin. 

Asuna's eyes flicked briefly toward Katsuki, who was now leaning heavily on both Izuku and Todoroki. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she added, 

“Oh yeah. Mom, I’ll be taking my hero license exam before Christmas break.”

“Really?” Kirishima said, trying desperately to keep the conversation going. “That’s awesome! Who’s helping you prepare?”

“Gramps,” Asuna replied casually, shrugging one shoulder.

“Gramps?” Kirishima echoed, blinking in confusion.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Asuna clarified, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s more like a hobo uncle, but I call him Gramps ‘cause he’s old and has the attitude to match.”

At that, Izuku’s head shot up, his eyes wide with realization. 

“ Wait ,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.  “I’ve seen her before.” His face turned an alarming shade of red as the pieces clicked into place, and he stammered, 

“She’s—she’s your—”

Todoroki, who had been silently observing, gave a slight nod, his expression as composed as ever but his eyes betraying a hint of smugness.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

Katsuki, however, couldn’t get a single word out. 

His breathing was shallow, his chest heaving as he struggled to process the scene in front of him. His gaze flicked from you to Asuna and back again, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with the girl earlier that day. 

Her sharp tongue, her confidence, her fiery glare—it all made sense now.

“She’...,” he choked out, barely above a whisper.

Asuna, who had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, turned fully toward him. 

For a brief moment, her playful demeanor faltered, and she regarded him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and challenge. Her wine red eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she were debating whether to say something.

Then, with a tilt of her head and a knowing smirk, it was like her eyes said, 

‘You’re slower than I thought.’

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like he might argue. But before he could say anything, you finally turned around, noticing the way he was sagging between Izuku and Todoroki.

“Katsuki?” you asked, frowning as you stepped toward him.

“Don’t,”

He managed, holding up a hand to stop you. His voice was rough, strained, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Just—give me a minute.”

You hesitated, your concern evident, but Asuna tugged lightly on your sleeve, drawing your attention back to her. “He’ll be fine,” she said casually, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her gaze.

You sighed, ruffling her hair again before glancing back at Katsuki. 

“If you say so.”

As you turned your focus back to Asuna, Katsuki’s eyes lingered on the two of you. 

In the bright streetlights, the resemblance was undeniable. The way you fussed over her, the way she leaned into your touch—it was like looking at a version of you he’d never imagined but couldn’t look away from.

And for the second time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t know what the fuck to do.

The night air felt sharp against your skin, but it didn’t bother you as you glanced at the bag of snacks Asuna opened. She tilted it toward you with a casual shrug, revealing your favorite comfort snacks nestled among hers. You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You even got mine?” you teased gently, cupping her face in your hands to study her more closely.

Asuna shrugged again, feigning indifference. 

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying when you’re hangry.”

Her deadpan delivery earned a soft laugh from you, though your hands lingered on her cheeks. Her warmth was a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, but it only made you notice the absence of a coat on her even more.

“Kirishima,” you said, turning slightly to glance at the redhead still hovering near Katsuki. 

“Can you give us a second?”

Kirishima perked up immediately. “Yeah, no problem!” he said, stepping back with exaggerated cheerfulness before noticing Katsuki still sitting on the pavement. He muttered something under his breath and quickly leaned down to help his friend up.

But Katsuki wasn’t cooperating. 

The moment Kirishima hauled him halfway to his feet, Katsuki’s knees buckled again, and he collapsed onto Todoroki, who let out an audible grunt and staggered under the unexpected weight.

Todoroki’s expression didn’t change much, but the slightly widened eyes and twitch at the corner of his lips screamed discomfort. He looked like a disgruntled dog toy that had been stepped on.

“Bakugo, get ahold of yourself,” Todoroki said flatly, trying to nudge him off without much success.

Izuku hovered nearby, looking like he wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure how. Meanwhile, Kirishima alternated between fretting over Katsuki and apologizing profusely to Todoroki.

You ignored their antics entirely, turning your attention back to Asuna. “Where’s your coat?” you asked, your voice dipping into that firm-but-gentle tone you always used when nagging her.

Asuna rolled her eyes but grinned. “I run hot, you know that.”

“Not good enough,” you muttered, already shrugging out of your own black coat. She groaned in protest as you draped it over her shoulders, immediately beginning to fuss with the sleeves. 

“ Moooom , seriously, I’ll overheat—”

“Too bad,” you interrupted, brushing off her complaints as you buttoned it up snugly. The veil you’d been wearing came off next, and you wrapped it around her neck as a makeshift scarf, your braids slipping free to frame your face in intricate, thick ropes.

“Thermals?” you asked, squinting at her. She sighed, defeated.

“Yeah, I’ve got them on.”

“Good,” you said, finishing the last button and tucking the veil securely under her chin.

It was then you noticed something new in her hair—a small, blue butterfly clip tucked into the braid nearest her face. You tilted your head, running a gentle finger over it. “What’s this? I don’t remember seeing this before.”

Asuna’s grin widened. “Eri gave me a matching set. She said butterflies are good luck.”

Your smile softened as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“It suits you.”

Satisfied that she was as bundled as she’d allow, you tilted your head, your voice dipping lower. “How was school today?” Asuna hesitated, the bravado dimming slightly as she fiddled with the itchy edge of the veil. 

“It was okay . I stayed in the office with Nezu and Hound Dog most of the day.”

Your frown was immediate, though she quickly continued. “Aizawa let Midnight test me in the teacher’s lounge so I wouldn’t have to deal with people staring. She even paused the timer whenever I cried.”

You stilled, your chest aching at the thought. Without hesitation, you cupped her face again and leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers.

“I’m proud of you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. 

Then you kissed her forehead, holding her close as your quirk instinctively warmed her.

Behind you, Izuku was visibly tearing up, his hand twitching toward his pocket. Katsuki, despite his earlier stupor, noticed and smacked Izuku’s hand down before he could pull out his phone to call his mom.

Katsuki barely registered the pain in his chest as he clutched at it, staring at you and Asuna. The sight of her—your daughter—was like a punch to the gut. She looked so much like you, but her sharp red eyes glared at him with an intensity that mirrored his own.

For a fleeting moment, recognition sparked between them.

He’d seen her before, hadn’t he? In a fleeting memory, a face in the crowd… 

And now, here she was, standing beside you like a living reminder of everything he’d lost.

“ Mom ,” Asuna whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

You held her tighter, your warmth enveloping her entirely. 

This wasn’t about Katsuki, or even about you. 

It was about a girl who’d just lost her grandmother and was desperately trying to keep it together for her mom.

Katsuki’s throat tightened, and he looked away. There was no way he’d bring up the past now—not when it was so painfully clear how much healing still needed to happen.

The rustling of plastic bags broke the quiet hum of the evening as you reached into the convenience store bag. Pulling out a pack of tissues, you handed it to Asuna, who immediately sidled closer, using you as a human shield. 

Her eyes darted past your shoulder, scanning the guys as if they might jump her with questions. You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you fished out an unopened water bottle next, passing it to her.

“Drink,” you urged softly, tucking a stray braid behind your ear.

Asuna unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back, draining the bottle in one go. The hollow crackle of the plastic bottle echoed briefly before she sighed, lowering it and pressing her forehead against your shoulder. 

“Can we dip, please ?”

Her deadpan tone paired with her abrupt word choice made you laugh. “Selective vocabulary strikes again,” you teased, but nodded, rubbing her back gently. Turning to the group, you called out, 

“Alright, we’re heading out. Good night, everyone!”

Kirishima, who had finally managed to get Katsuki upright, grinned, his arm slung securely around the still-unsteady blond. But the moment Katsuki registered your words, he surged forward, his movements stiff but determined.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said firmly, his voice quieter than usual but still carrying that telltale grit.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Izuku all moved in unison like an impenetrable wall of intent.

“Not happening,” Kirishima said, his voice chipper but resolute. “Too late for that,” Todoroki added coolly. Izuku, ever the diplomat, gave you an apologetic smile. “It’s safer this way.” You huffed in mock frustration, rolling your eyes.

“You guys act like I can’t handle myself,” you said, throwing them a playful glare.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Kirishima countered, his voice kind but firm. He stepped forward and hit the button for the crosswalk with his knuckle, grinning back at you like he’d done you a great favor.

Asuna sidled in front of you, linking her arm with yours as the walk signal lit up. 

The small group fell into step behind you, their quiet chatter blending with the distant sound of traffic as you made your way to the ramen shop across the street. When you arrived, the warm light spilling from the restaurant’s windows revealed a familiar figure standing outside. 

Aizawa was leaning against the doorframe, his ever-present scarf hanging loosely around his neck. Before you could say anything, Asuna lit up and bolted past you. 

“Eri!”

The teen barely had time to react before Asuna scooped her up, spinning her around in a hug. Eri laughed, her arms wrapping tightly around Asuna’s neck, her pink butterfly clip catching the light.

Inside, the members of Class 1-A were seated at a long table, their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they stared in stunned silence. You followed Asuna into the shop, offering a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, I forgot to introduce y'all,” you said casually, gesturing to Asuna. 

“This is my daughter.”

The room fucking exploded.

Chopsticks clattered onto plates. Spoons hit the floor. Forks slid from bowls of ramen. Questions flew at you from every direction.

“Wait, what?!”

“You have a daughter!”

“She’s so cool!”

“She’s so pretty !!”

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!”

“Does she have a quirk?”

You let Asuna field most of the questions, stepping back and observing her with a quiet sense of pride as she answered effortlessly, dodging the ones she didn’t want to answer with a quick wit you knew she’d inherited from her….

Anyway.

When the questions began veering toward you, you expertly deflected them with a smile. “Thanks for the fun time, everyone. I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” 

Aizawa stood with Eri as you turned to leave, but not before Kirishima elbowed Katsuki so hard you heard the thud of contact. 

Katsuki let out a series of sharp, hot pops in response, glaring daggers at the redhead.

“Dude, say something to her,” Kirishima hissed, leaning closer.

Katsuki shot him a look that could melt steel, but before anyone could intervene further, he stepped forward, his gaze fixed firmly on you.

“I needa talk to you,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Alright,” you said, turning to Asuna. “I’ll be right back. Eri, keep an eye on her for me?” Eri nodded eagerly, her smile wide. 

“Got it!”

Asuna rolled her eyes playfully, catching the purse Aizawa handed you with an effortless snatch. “Egg rolls for home?” she asked, already fishing through the bag for cash.

You chuckled. “Go for it.”

Her cheer echoed behind you as you stepped outside with Katsuki. He held the door open for you, his movements a little stiff, and you bit your tongue, holding back a quip as you followed him toward Kirishima’s truck.

The cool air wrapped around you again, but the tension in the space between you and Katsuki burned hotter than any flame. He stopped a few steps away, turning to face you fully. His crimson eyes bore into yours, raw and intense, like he was trying to read every secret written on your face.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fiddle with your braids as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

The air between you both felt electric, tense with everything unsaid.

 Katsuki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands flexing open and closed as if trying to grasp for words that refused to come. 

His chest felt tight, his heart hammering like it wanted to punch its way out. Danger, danger, danger, his instincts screamed, but he was already too far gone to retreat.

“I...” His voice cracked slightly, and he grit his teeth, frustrated at his own hesitation. 

“I want to say first—I’m sorry. Again. For making this about the past when... when you’re goin’ through so much grief.”

You tilted your head, your brows knitting together slightly as you studied him. 

“But...?” you prompted, the single word cutting through the cold like a blade.

Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He wanted to ask, needed to ask, but the words stuck, heavy and stubborn on his tongue. 

“I... didn't know you had a daughter...” His voice faltered, and he clenched his fists at his sides. 

He couldn’t even say it.

You caught the hesitation, your expression shifting. Slowly, you reached up and flicked one of your braids over your shoulder, the gesture calm and deliberate despite the fire sparking in your gaze. 

“No one knows,” you began, your voice steady but low. “Except for Aizawa, Eri, some UA staff, and Hitoshi.”

“ Hitoshi? ” 

The name hit him like a shockwave, bringing a flood of memories rushing back. “Bag check, Shinso ?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You nodded, and Katsuki’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Memories of a younger Shinso flashed through his mind—a quiet, sharp-eyed kid who always seemed to linger around you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

Katsuki closed his eyes and swallowed hard while a shuttered breath passed through him. 

“Oh. Is he—”

“No.”

Your answer was immediate, cutting him off sharply. 

His mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way you said it, the edge to your tone, the fire now blooming in your irises. It hit him all at once, the realization of just how much you’d been holding back.

You stood there, staring at him, your patience visibly fraying. Katsuki could see it in the set of your jaw, the tightness in your shoulders, and the way your gaze pinned him in place. Your quirk always revealed itself in moments like these, when your emotions ran too high to be contained, the fiery glow in your eyes a warning as clear as any explosion.

“No,” you repeated, quieter this time, but no less firm. “He’s not her father.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if daring him to push further.

Katsuki’s throat worked as he tried to form a response, but he came up empty. He could only stare at you, his crimson eyes searching yours for something—answers, forgiveness, clarity—but finding nothing he could grasp.

You took a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling as emotions swirled hot and heavy inside you. 

The weight of the last few days, the confrontation in the ramen shop, and now this conversation—it was all too much. Your fingers twitched at your sides as you fought the urge to fidget, knowing full well that he was watching every little movement.

Fucking annoyed you as much as the last time it happened. 

And yet, as much as you tried, you couldn’t read his expression. His eyes, normally so fierce and direct, were shadowed with something unreadable. 

Indifference ? Regret ? 

You couldn’t tell.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the cold air biting at your skin as the silence stretched. Katsuki finally took a small step forward, his hands still clenched but his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Then... who?”

The question hung there, fragile and uncertain, and you blinked, the glow in your eyes dimming slightly. But you didn’t answer—not yet. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze hardening.

“That’s not a question you get to ask,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to crack through. “Not tonight.”

Katsuki flinched at your words, but he didn’t argue. For once, he didn’t try to push past the boundary you’d drawn. Instead, he just nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly as he stepped back, giving you space.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of a distant car horn. “Alright.”

You turned away first, heading back toward the restaurant where Asuna and Eri were waiting. But Katsuki stayed where he was, staring after you as if the cold air might carry the answers he hadn’t been brave enough to ask for.

“WAIT!”

The cold night air pressed in around you, biting at your skin as you turned back to Katsuki. His voice had been sharp, desperate enough to cut through the haze of your exhaustion. You were so tired, worn to the bone by the last few days, and yet here you were again—caught in another conversation that you weren’t sure your heart could handle.

Katsuki stood a few feet away, his shoulders squared but his eyes uncertain. There was something raw in the way he looked at you, something that almost made you falter. But you didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze narrowing in a way you knew would keep him at arm’s length.

“Why didn’t you tell the group about her?” he asked, his voice low but carrying the weight of every unspoken question he’d been holding back.

Your jaw tightened, and you let the silence hang between you for a moment, tapping your foot against the cracked pavement in that telltale rhythm of frustration. It was a habit you couldn’t break, one that Katsuki clearly recognized. His crimson eyes flicked down to your tapping foot and back up, watching you like a man waiting for a storm to hit.

Finally, you let out a sharp breath and answered curtly, 

“Because of who her father is. It was for her own safety. I didn’t know she was going to pop up like this, so I hope that answers any follow-up questions.”

Your tone was clipped, leaving no room for argument, but Katsuki didn’t back down. He breathed out slowly, the hot cloud of his breath dissipating into the cold air. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. Then, he took a step forward.

Instinctively, you stepped back.

It was a sick, familiar dance, one y’all hadn’t realized you’d both fallen into so easily. 

He moved closer; you retreated. The space between you felt like a battlefield, charged with old wounds and unspoken truths. Katsuki’s frustration was palpable, etched into every tense line of his body, but he didn’t push harder. Not yet.

He just watched you, his crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. And for the first time in a long while, he saw a reflection of yourself in him—of every time you’d tried to get closer, only for him to shift the goalposts, to move just far enough away that you couldn’t reach him.

It hit him like a frozen bread slice. 

That’s what this was. 

That’s how you’d felt every single time he’d held back. He could feel it now, the weight of emotions he couldn’t name sitting heavy on his chest. Feelings weren’t just fleeting thoughts—they were messy, tangled things that married the mind and the heart together.

Married.

The thought struck him, sharp and sudden, and his eyes darted to your hands, to your neck, as if searching for proof he already knew wasn’t there. 

Still, the idea clawed at him, refused to let go. 

Finally, he lifted his head again, his expression open and almost lost.

“ I didn’t know you got married ,” Katsuki murmured, his voice rough and cracking like dry wood.

The neon lights of the ramen shop cast a soft glow over you both, their warm colors a stark contrast to the icy air around you. Him, in the dark glow of the windows and green of the convenience store. You, bathed in the red and purple of the ramen shop. 

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath catching audibly. And then silence fell, heavy and unyielding. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the weight of his words settled between you.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Katsuki thought he might have been wrong to ask.

But then, finally, you spoke, your voice steady and clear despite the whirlwind of emotions behind it.

“I didn’t.”

Two words. That was all. 

But they hit like a detonation, shaking the fragile ground you both stood on.

Katsuki’s mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no sound came out. He stared at you, his crimson eyes wide with shock, confusion, and something else—

Something deeper.

You stood firm, your feet planted on the cold pavement as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. Despite the chill, your cheeks felt hot, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch against your skin. 

And yet, you didn’t back down. 

You couldn’t.

For the first time since this conversation started, it felt like the roles had shifted. Katsuki was the one left floundering, scrambling to make sense of what you’d said. And you... you were finally the one holding your ground.

But as you stared at him, as the silence stretched on and the distance between you felt both infinite and nonexistent, you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest. 

Because no matter how much you tried to steel yourself, there was still a part of you that remembered—remembered how warm and safe he used to feel, how easy it had been to curl up in his chest and let the rest of the world fade away.

And yet, here you were, the space between you wider than it had ever been.

The cold nips at your skin, sharp and unrelenting, as Katsuki steps closer. You could feel the heat of his presence, the weight of him pressing into the fragile boundaries you’d erected between yourself and the rest of the world. 

Step by step, he closed the distance, and step by step, you backed away, your arms crossed tighter against your chest like armor.

You didn’t realize you were nearing the curb until the edge of it bit into the heel of your shoe. 

The stumble was slight, but it jolted through you, a stark reminder of how close he’d pushed you to the edge—literally and figuratively. Katsuki noticed, of course, his crimson eyes narrowing with the sharpness of a predator, but he didn’t stop.

"Hey, I just..." His voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled heavily, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I need to know. Is her father—"

"Stop." 

Your voice came out like a whip, sharp and cold. Your arms tightened further across your chest, and you held your ground despite the gnawing urge to retreat further. 

"You’re going too fucking far, Katsuki."

His jaw worked as if grinding down his words, his teeth clenched tight. But the frustration in his eyes only grew hotter. “I just want to know if he’s even—”

“Enough!” 

You snapped, and your voice rang out louder than you intended. For a moment, you saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, but it didn’t last.

“Does he even know?” Katsuki shot back, his voice rough and biting. 

“Does her dad even know she exists?!”

Your entire body stiffened, the heat of anger flashing through you like a wildfire. The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them, burning like acid on your tongue.

“That asshole doesn’t deserve to know.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Katsuki froze, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. His crimson eyes searched yours, wide with shock and something else—something softer, something heavier. 

Katsuki was lost.

Your throat tightened, and you turned your face away, a trembling hand swiping quickly under your eye. The motion was small, almost imperceptible, but it betrayed you nonetheless. The vulnerability of it all—of him seeing you like this, of him pushing you so far—made your chest ache with an unbearable weight.

Katsuki took advantage of the moment, of your gaze pulling away from him, and closed the distance. 

You could feel him stepping closer, his warmth drawing nearer, and the air felt too thick, too suffocating. 

Your eyes shifted to where Asuna and Eri were sitting at a table near the ramen shop window, their little faces glowing in the neon light as they giggled and shared egg rolls.

Hitoshi placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of Asuna, ruffling her hair as she swatted his hand before giving him an eager grin. Aizawa lingered by the doorway, looking half-exasperated as Denki animatedly gestured with wild abandon, no doubt recounting some chaotic tale about frozen bread. 

The scene was warm, domestic, and far too normal for the tempest swirling inside you.

“ You don’t get to come back and ask me things like this ,” you said, your voice quieter but no less firm as you turned back to him.

Katsuki’s gaze lingered on the scene for a moment longer before snapping back to you. His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line as if he wanted to argue. But something in your expression stopped him, something in the way your eyes glimmered with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.

You wanted to take another step back. 

You wanted to keep retreating, to put as much distance as possible between you and this man who had once been your everything. 

But the curb was at your back, and the thought crossed your mind to step into the street, to show him just how far you were willing to go for a sliver of space.

Before you could act on the impulse, Katsuki did something unexpected.

He stepped back.

It wasn’t a stumble, wasn’t hesitant or unsure. 

It was deliberate, a single step backward that left a noticeable gap between you. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting, but he didn’t close the distance again.

You stared at him, your breath coming in uneven puffs of condensation, and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was a fragile kind of silence between you.

The frigid air bit at your skin as you stared at Katsuki. It wasn’t just the cold that made you shiver, though. 

The weight of his gaze, the anger barely hidden behind his furrowed brows, and the way he seemed to tower over the moment—it all made you feel exposed in ways you couldn’t afford right now. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, a flimsy shield against everything unraveling between you.

Katsuki wasn’t moving. His boots were planted firmly on the ground, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as though anchoring himself. You could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the frustration and confusion tearing him apart. You could practically hear the words he wasn’t saying.

"Tomorrow," he said finally, his voice rough and strained. "Park. Noon."

You blinked at him, your lips parting to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

Katsuki’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding audibly. "For the pictures," he added, his voice sharp but quieter.

You felt the tightness in your chest ease ever so slightly, but only because it gave you something concrete to grasp onto, something simple. "Fine," you replied curtly, nodding. "During lunch."

For a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like you were standing on opposite planks, balancing on a precarious structure. The slightest shift from either of you could send the other tumbling, and neither seemed willing to make that first move.

Katsuki’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and raw. "You’re trying to do everything on your own, aren’t you?"

Your lips tightened, and you looked away, your gaze drawn back to the ramen shop window where Asuna and Eri were laughing. Their hands were messy with soy sauce, and Hitoshi was playfully nudging Asuna’s chopsticks toward the bowl while Aizawa kept one eye on the scene and the other on Denki, still ranting.

"I’m her mother," you said finally, your voice low but firm. 

"It’s my job to protect her, to do what’s best for her."

"And what about you ?" Katsuki snapped, taking a single step closer, the plank beneath him groaning under the weight of his frustration. 

"What about what’s best for you ?"

Your eyes whipped back to him, narrowing. "I don’t have the luxury of thinking about just myself," you shot back, your voice trembling with the effort to hold steady. "Not when I have her, not when I have everything else to keep in line."

"That’s bullshit," he growled, his fists trembling at his sides. "You’re—"

You cut him off, your voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. 

" Don’t . Don’t pretend to understand what it’s like to juggle all of this, Katsuki. You wouldn’t get it."

He flinched, just barely, but you saw it. His expression shifted into something softer, more raw, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.

"You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re gonna snap under the weight of it all?" he said quietly, his voice dropping into something almost pleading. 

"Ya think I don’t know how much it hurts to have to hold everything together when all you wanna do is fall apart?"

Your throat tightened, and you looked away again, your arms uncrossing just enough for your hands to rest at your sides. You clenched your fists, willing your resolve to hold, but his words burrowed under your skin.

"I don’t have that option," you whispered, barely audible over the hum of the city around you.

Katsuki exhaled hard, his breath clouding the air. He didn’t argue this time. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

"You deserve better," he muttered, almost too low for you to hear.

You glanced back at him, your gaze steady but weary. Then, your lips curved into a sad smile as your eyebrows pursed together in grievance. A bittersweet chuckle escaped your breath,

“Yeah, I should’ve chosen better, huh?”

Katsuki’s heart stopped.

The weight of your words settled heavily, neither of you willing to move or send the other crashing. It was a delicate balance, but at least for now, it held.

"Tomorrow," you repeated, your voice softer this time. 

"Noon."

Katsuki nodded, stepping back finally, giving you the distance you craved. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still thrumming in the air, like the strings of a song left unfinished.

The sudden burst of energy from the ramen shop felt like a pressure valve had been released. 

Kirishima, grinning but clearly on a mission, bounded out first with Aizawa close behind, his sharp eyes scanning the street. Behind them, Eri and Asuna trailed, the former clutching a half-eaten egg roll while Asuna looked around with wide, curious eyes. Shinsou followed last, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze keen, observing everything.

You barely had a moment to gather yourself before Asuna caught sight of you. Her face lit up like the neon signs above, and she sprinted toward you, arms outstretched. 

You tensed instinctively, catching her as she all but threw herself into your arms. The warmth of her body against yours was grounding, and you clutched her tightly, spinning her once to hear the delighted giggle escape her lips.

Aizawa approached with a measured pace, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. 

“Everything alright? ” he asked, his tone low but concerned.

You nodded, not trusting your voice yet, and pressed a kiss to Asuna’s temple. She squirmed happily, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. 

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the words felt heavier than you intended.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Izuku step out, his gaze flitting between you and the rest of the group. “Mina wanted to know if she could sleep over tonight,” he said, his voice gentle. 

“To keep you company.”

You hesitated for just a second before nodding. “That sounds nice,” you said, offering a small, grateful smile. Izuku nodded back, his concern evident, before he ducked back inside to deliver the message.

Todoroki stepped closer, his expression neutral but his eyes studying you intently. “Is there anything I could do for you?” he asked. 

You nodded again, this time with a little more conviction. “Yeah. Could you let everyone know goodnight for me? I’ll see them later.”

Shoto inclined his head, ever the picture of grace. “Of course.” He turned, but not before casting a pointed glance toward Kirishima, who had Katsuki in a firm grip, dragging him back up the street. Katsuki’s expression was dark, his jaw set tight as he fought against Kirishima’s determined hold.

With a polite bow, Todoroki said goodnight to Eri and Asuna before slipping back inside. The door swung shut behind him, muffling the warm chatter from within the ramen shop and leaving only the chill night air between you and the others.

You adjusted Asuna in your arms, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. Eri stood by Shinsou, who offered her a lazy smile as he handed her a paper crane he’d folded from a receipt. Aizawa lingered nearby, his gaze flicking between you and Katsuki as if assessing the situation.

Kirishima finally reached you, his grip firm on Katsuki’s arm. “Got him,” he said lightly, trying to inject some humor into the tension, though his smile faltered when Katsuki pulled his arm free with a sharp jerk.

Katsuki stood there, his breathing uneven, his crimson eyes locked onto yours. There was something raw in his gaze, something unspoken that made your chest tighten painfully. You didn’t want to do this—not now, not in front of everyone.

‘I’m gonna pack my things and leave you behind,’ 

You thought bitterly, the lyrics echoing in your head as you stared him down. The words felt like they were burning through your veins, but you didn’t dare say them aloud. Instead, you kept your voice steady. 

“I told you we’d talk tomorrow, Backugou.”

Katsuki clenched his fists in his pockets, his lips parting as if to argue, but then his gaze flicked to Asuna in your arms. Her face half buried in your coat but one ruby eye watching him carefully. Your hand rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Then he thought of Rita. The fight seemed to drain out of him, and he exhaled sharply, turning his head away as if the sight of you hurt.

‘Let me go.’

‘Let me go, so I can let you go.’

‘Let me go, so I can finally get you out of my head.’ 

‘Let me go, so I can finally let you free myself.’ 

'Let me go, so I can finally be free.'

'Please don't let me go.'

You wanted to scream. 

But you stayed silent, clutching Asuna tighter, using her steady warmth to keep yourself from crumbling. Eri tugged at Shinsou’s sleeve, asking something in a soft voice. Shinsou nodded and guided her toward Aizawa, murmuring something about getting her home. 

Aizawa hesitated for a moment, his gaze heavy on you before he finally nodded, giving you space.

Kirishima cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll head back inside,” he said, his usual cheer muted. He gave you a nod before dragging Katsuki back a step, though Katsuki didn’t resist this time.

You watched them retreat, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. Asuna leaned back to look at you, her hand cupping your cheek. 

“Mama, are you okay?”

You kissed her forehead, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you lied. You glanced back at Katsuki one last time before turning toward her fully, determined to leave the broken pieces of this night behind you.

The tension hung thick in the air, clinging to your every breath as you tried to steady yourself. A hand landed lightly on your shoulder, and you turned to see Shinsou, his violet eyes steady but kind. 

"I'll drive you home," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Aizawa will probably call you later.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you smoothed a hand over Asuna’s hair. “Alright,” you murmured, pulling yourself together. Shinsou reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a takeout bag. 

“Got your usual,” he said, offering it with a slight smirk. “Figured you’d need it.”

Your stomach clenched, not from hunger but from the way Katsuki’s gaze flared at the sight of the bag. His jaw tightened, and you could almost see the flicker of heat behind his eyes. Shinsou, unbothered, simply handed you the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for Asuna to catch on. She rattled the convenience store bags on her wrists, drawing attention away as she chimed, “I got the drugs.”

You smiled at her, grateful, before lightly pinching her side as she squealed, and then made the mistake of looking at Katsuki again. 

He was still standing there, his chest rising and falling with a deliberate slowness as if he were forcing himself to breathe. His crimson eyes met yours, holding them for a beat too long before he nodded curtly.

“Goodnight,” he said, the words low and controlled. He glanced at Asuna, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly.

Now they were staring at each other. 

Katsuki’s eyes roamed over Asuna’s face, a mosaic of features that mirrored yours and yet held something wholly her own. Those bright vermillion eyes—the same shade as his—caught his attention, and for a moment, he looked almost lost, like he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know he was holding.

Asuna’s expression, on the other hand, was a mix of defiance and thinly veiled disgust. Her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line, but she held his gaze, committing it to memory as though it were a necessary evil. The air between them was electric, charged with unspoken questions and tangled emotions neither seemed willing to voice.

It was strange.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Goodnight, Kirishima,” you said, turning to the redhead who stood a few feet back, trying to look inconspicuous but clearly on edge.

He smiled warmly, a balm to the tension. “Goodnight. All of you,” he said. Then, looking at Asuna, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hero card, passing it to her with a reassuring grin. 

“Call if you need anything, alright?”

Asuna stared at the card for a moment before taking it with a light nod. 

“Thanks,” she said sweetly, turning to leave with you. But as you walked toward Shinsou’s sleek black Mustang, her hands shot behind her back, and she flashed both middle fingers toward Katsuki and Kirishima.

You barely caught the motion, her defiant smirk fading into feigned innocence by the time you glanced at her. Shinsou, already at the car, opened the door for you and Asuna. 

“Ladies first,” he quipped, gesturing with a mock bow.

Asuna climbed in without hesitation, sliding into the passenger seat and tossing the bags beside her. You followed, settling into shotgun as Shinsou closed the door with a quiet finality.

Katsuki and Kirishima were still standing there as Shinsou pulled onto the street, the Mustang’s engine purring like a contented cat. You didn’t look back, but Asuna did, her gaze lingering on the shrinking figures in the rearview glass.

The silence in the car was thick but not suffocating, and you let your head rest against the cool window, the takeout bag clutched in your lap. Shinsou glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you. 

“ Yeah ,” you whispered, the word carrying more exhaustion than you intended.

As the city lights blurred past, you reached back to squeeze Asuna’s hand, grateful for her warmth and resilience. Whatever this mess was, you’d figure it out. For her. 

For both of you.

The Mustang’s tail lights disappeared into the night, leaving Kirishima and Katsuki standing under the dim glow of the ramen shop’s sign. The street was quiet except for the occasional rumble of a passing car and the faint hum of city life in the distance. Kirishima let out a low whistle, his hands on his hips as he turned to look at Katsuki.

“ Damn ,” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “That kid’s got some fire in her. Just like you, man.”

Katsuki didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the spot where the Mustang had vanished, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands hung at his sides, twitching with leftover adrenaline and something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep this up,” Kirishima said gently, stepping closer. “C’mon, man. Let’s get you out of here. My truck’s right here. You can crash at my place tonight.”

Katsuki finally turned his head, meeting Kirishima’s steady gaze. His eyes burned with exhaustion and something deeper—something raw and unspoken. But he nodded, his shoulders slumping just enough to show he was done fighting, at least for now.

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring shake before heading toward the truck. “I already took care of the squad's bill,” he called over his shoulder, trying to keep the mood light. 

Katsuki followed in silence, his legs feeling like lead as he climbed into the passenger seat. He slumped against the seatback, his head resting against the window. His skin felt tight, his throat dry. He didn’t say a word as Kirishima slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The truck rumbled to life, and Kirishima glanced at him before pulling onto the road. “You good?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“ Yeah ,” Katsuki muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing. He didn’t feel convincing either. His body ached, and his head was a mess, tangled in thoughts he couldn’t untangle if he tried.

As the truck rolled through the city, Katsuki stared out the window. The neon signs, the glow of streetlights, and the occasional flash of a passing car reflected on the glass, blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. The city moved on, oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

The last 24 hours replayed in his head like a movie stuck on a loop. 

You. Asuna. Shinsou. The confrontation. The questions. The overwhelming emotions that had left him spinning. And those last two hours—those played louder than anything else. Your face. The way your voice cracked when you spoke to him. The way you looked at Asuna, at Shinsou, at him. He couldn’t shake it. 

Couldn’t shake you .

His fists clenched in his lap as he thought of you with someone else, of the life you’d built after him. The idea that you’d given your heart, your trust, to someone who had burned you. The father of your child. A child who shared his crimson eyes.

Asuna

‘Did Asuna have siblings?’  

Katsuki didn’t think so. 

But he didn’t know anymore. 

He didn’t know what to think about anything.

Katsuki let out a long breath, his gaze shifting upward, past the skyline and the glowing city lights, to the faint glimmer of stars above. They seemed so far away, so out of reach, like everything he wanted but couldn’t have.

Kirishima’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

Katsuki grunted, his head tipping slightly in acknowledgment, but he didn’t answer.

As the truck turned onto the highway, the steady rhythm of the tires against the road filled the cab, a soothing backdrop to the chaos in his head. Katsuki blinked slowly, his eyes heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

He let his gaze drift back to the stars for a moment longer before closing his eyes. The last thing he saw was the faint shimmer of light on the horizon. Then he let the darkness take him, the sound of the road lulling him into a restless sleep.

—

The house was warm and alive with the gentle hum of the washing machine and the faint sound of a true-crime podcast Shinsou had absentmindedly put on. He sprawled across the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed, one eye lazily on you as you bustled around with a basket of laundry.

Your home in one of Japan's well known volcanoes had an ever-present, soothing warmth that could only be found in a place tied so deeply to your quirk. The low hum of molten lava flowing beneath the house was almost like a heartbeat, steady and comforting. Soft, golden light filtered through the high windows, casting gentle shadows over the sleek, maximalist furniture that adorned your living space. 

Every detail was intentional, from the geothermal-powered appliances to the vibrant, living plants that thrived despite the volcanic heat. It was secluded, a haven tucked away from the chaos of the city, and the perfect place to recharge—though it did make visitors rare.

Perfect place to raise a fiery young upstart too. 

Asuna was perched on a stool by the kitchen counter, her oversized black hoodie swallowing her frame, paired with Hello Kitty pajama pants that spoke of her half-hearted rebellion. Her hair was tied back in a silk scarf, messy strands framing her sharp, youthful face as she absently scrolled through her phone.

You stretched with a groan, your back cracking audibly. “ Finally ,” you muttered, tossing a few shirts into the washer with a little more vigor than necessary. Shinsou snickered from the couch, his tired, amused gaze tracking your movements.

“You look like you just lost a fight with a dryer sheet,” he teased, pulling a throw pillow under his head.

“Stuff it, Hitoshi,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself. Asuna snickered, shaking her head as she grabbed the jacket draped over the back of a chair.

“Mom,” she said suddenly, holding it up for you to see.

“ Whose jacket is this ?”

You froze mid-step, turning to face her. 

For a second, the sight of it didn’t register—the familiar black fabric with bold orange stripes along the sleeves—but then it hit you. Katsuki’s jacket. The one he’d draped over your shoulders earlier, his gruff voice saying, “You’re shivering, dumbass. Take it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you let out a half-strangled noise, a mix between a gasp and a yelp. 

“ Oh my god!”

“ What?!” Asuna asked, her eyes wide and freaked out as she clutched the jacket tighter. Her question only deepened your horror.

“ Nothing! ” you said quickly, your voice pitching higher than you’d like. “It’s nothing. A... a friend let me borrow it because I was cold.” You plastered on a smile, praying she wouldn’t dig deeper.

To your relief, she gave you a knowing smile that was somehow both sweet and teasing. 

“Oh, a friend ,” she said, emphasizing the word with a sly lift of her brow.

“ Don’t ,” you warned, pointing at her dramatically. 

“Don’t even start.”

Asuna chuckled, her red eyes— so much like her father’s —dancing with amusement as she turned and carried the jacket to the washer. She dropped it in without a second thought, closing the lid with a satisfying thud.

You exhaled deeply, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly. 

Tomorrow. 

You’d just have to return it tomorrow when you saw Katsuki at the park.

No big deal.

From the couch, Shinsou arched a brow at you, his smirk bordering on smug. “You’re gonna ‘borrow’ his jacket now, huh?” he said, voice low and teasing. You quickly looked from him to Asuna, who was too far into the hallway to hear, thankfully before you shot a look at the wonka haired shit talker.  

“ Go fuck yourself, ” you groaned, throwing a sock at him. It missed, landing limply on the floor, but the effort made him laugh under his breath.

“Sure, surrre ,” he drawled, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “I’ll just sit here and quietly judge.”

“Good,” you shot back, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Asuna reappeared from the laundry room, already yawning as she stretched her arms over her head. “It’s past 9, I’m going to bed,” she announced, giving you a soft smile. 

“Love you, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave you a tight hug that you returned before she just as quickly scampered off. You didn’t take it personally though, knowing she had a set schedule and would wake soon enough at 5am to train.

“I love you too, baby,” you said, your voice warm as you watched her shuffle toward the stairs.

Asuna paused at the base of the steps, turning to glance at Shinsou. 

“I tolerate you,” she said flatly, though her lips curved into a small, mischievous grin.  “Might see you tomorrow, if you’re not dead after patrol.” 

Shinsou laughed dryly, raising a hand in mock salute. “Nice to know where I stand.”

Asuna’s grin widened, and with that, she headed upstairs, her footsteps light as she disappeared into her room.

The apartment fell quiet again, save for the faint whir of the washer and the muffled sounds from Shinsou’s podcast. You sighed deeply, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders as you finally let yourself collapse onto the floor.

The coffee table screeched against the hardwood as you kicked it aside, sprawling out on your back with your arms stretched overhead. The cool surface of the floor felt grounding, and you stared up at the ceiling, letting the stillness wash over you.

“You good?” Shinsou asked from the couch, his voice softer now, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.

You nodded without looking at him. “Just... processing.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured, turning his attention back to his phone.

For now, you let yourself breathe, focusing on the steady hum of the washer and the faint flicker of light from the living room lamp. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Hours had gone by and you were going crazy. 

Focusing on the TV was becoming more and more difficult. The ramen Hitoshi bought you was already eaten, you placed both bouquets of flowers into water through sheer reluctance. Mina still hadn’t shown up yet and you were dying for her company. Hitoshi ate the eggrolls from earlier, which you didn’t mind because you didn’t have the appetite for them anyway.  

Shinsou was sprawled on the plush gray sectional, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, while you folded laundry at the coffee table. The washer hummed softly in the background, and you worked in companionable silence, the volcanic glow giving everything an otherworldly warmth.

“Christmas plans?” Shinsou asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious as he set the book aside.

You glanced up, folding the last shirt and setting it down. “I want to make it special this year,” you admitted, your voice soft.

He raised a brow. “For Asuna?”

You nodded, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you leaned against the counter. “She’s been doing so well. Top 1% in her school, passing all her exams. And Mirko accepted her as an intern! She’s been over the moon about it.”

Shinsou smirked, resting his head against the couch. “Can’t blame her. Mirko’s no joke.”

“She’s been training so hard, balancing school and the pressure. I’m just... so proud of her,” you said, your voice filled with warmth and pride. You picked up a stray sock, absentmindedly rolling it into a ball as you continued. “I want this Christmas to be perfect for her. She deserves it.”

Shinsou nodded, his expression softening as he listened. “Sounds like she’s lucky to have you. Most parents would just toss some gifts under the tree and call it a day.”

You chuckled, though the sound was tinged with nervousness. “You know I couldn’t do that. She’s my one and only.” You turned away, placing the folded laundry into a nearby basket. The pause lingered, stretching the space between your words.

Shinsou noticed. 

He always did. 

He tilted his head, watching you closely. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling as you gripped the edge of the counter. “I just...” you started, then faltered, unable to find the words.

Shinsou sighed, setting his mug down and standing. He walked over, leaning against the island across from you. 

“It’s about Katsuki, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name felt like a jolt, and you looked up sharply, your eyes meeting Shinsou’s.

The lights around you seemed to flicker, their glow dimming and brightening in sync with the fiery pulse beneath your skin. For a fleeting moment, crimson sparks danced across your veins, crackling like embers struggling to ignite. The air around you felt heavier, charged with a tension that wasn't entirely your own. You clenched your fists, willing the heat to subside, but the surge of emotion refused to be ignored.

He knew the rules here—every unspoken boundary, every landmine that had been laid in the fragile aftermath of your past. It wasn’t like your ex’s name was a curse, but the weight it carried might as well have been. It was a spark to kindling, an uninvited ghost dragging its chains through the carefully rebuilt calm of your life.

His gaze flickered to you, cautious but steady, the silent question hanging in the space between you both.

“I’m not judging,” Shinsou said gently, his tone understanding. “But if he’s going to be part of this picture, you need to figure out where you stand. For yourself. For Asuna.”

You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair. “I know,” you whispered. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up. For her. For us.”

Shinsou crossed his arms, his gaze steady but kind. “You’ve done a good job raising her, even with all the craziness. She’s strong, smart, and honestly? She’s a little terrifying in the best way possible. You’ve got this.”

His words settled over you, grounding and reassuring. You managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence.

“Thanks, Hitoshi,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

The familiar chime of the door alert snapped you out of your thoughts. 

You wiped your hands on your pants and checked the cameras, exhaling when you saw Mina’s pink, flushed face staring into the lens. She was sweaty but smiling, giving a little wave as if to say, I made it, finally.

You opened the door, and before you could say a word, Mina enveloped you in one of her bone-crushing hugs, squeezing you tight as if she could physically inject you with her endless energy and warmth.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she blurted out, pulling back slightly to look at you, her golden eyes glinting with concern. “We had to stop a villain trying to rob the city bank a few hours ago. It was a mess, but we got them!”

Your eyes widened, and you felt Shinsou shift behind you, his sharp intake of breath mirroring your own. “Mina,” you started, your voice thin with worry, “why didn’t you—”

She cut you off with a reassuring smile, holding up her hands. “You couldn’t have known, okay? Don’t blame yourself. We handled it.” Her tone was light, but her gaze flicked over you, taking in your exhaustion and the faint tremor in your shoulders.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. Everything Mina said blurred in your mind as the memories hit, triggered by her presence, by the safety she brought even in the chaos.

It wasn’t just the fight a few days ago that had left you physically and emotionally battered. It was waking up to a world that had shifted without you, to news plastered everywhere about your grandmother’s death—a beacon of your life suddenly snuffed out. The hospital TV hadn’t stood a chance against the projectile vomit that came up when you’d seen it, the molten heat of your quirk melting the screen to slag.

You remembered waking up disoriented, Asuna at your bedside, her face etched with an anguish you’d never seen before. That was what broke you more than anything. 

Seeing your child so lost. She had only ever known you and your grandmother.

And now it was just you.

A sob rose in your throat as Mina hugged you again, her energy softening, her arms anchoring you as you let yourself cry. The memories rushed over you like waves.

Your grandmother had been there when Asuna was born, cutting the cord with steady hands and a teary smile. Aizawa had brought flowers when he visited your hospital room, his stoic demeanor hiding the tenderness in his gesture. Mina had declared herself Asuna’s godmother with absolute authority, showing up with the most delicious post-birth meal you’d ever seen. Shinsou had brought cat-themed pajamas for Asuna, holding her like she was made of porcelain, his normally dry humor replaced with quiet reverence.

And your grandmother had known everything. She’d known the truth about Asuna’s father. She’d told you she’d handle it if you didn’t. “You take care of your baby,” she had said, her tone unyielding as steel, “and I’ll take care of mine.”

And now she was gone.

You felt Mina’s arms tighten around you, her cheek resting on your shoulder as if to shield you from your own grief. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice warm and steady, “We’ve got you. We’re your village.”

“You’re not alone.”

You cried harder at that, the weight of the past and present colliding in your chest. Mina held you, her vibrant presence grounding you as the grief poured out, a release you hadn’t let yourself have until now.

Behind you, Shinsou stood silently, his gaze softening as he gave you space to lean on someone else. In this moment, you weren’t the one holding it all together. You were just you, surrounded by people who refused to let you fall.

And then you fell in the doorway, taking Mina with you. 

The second Shinsou saw you break down in Mina’s arms, he stood from the couch without hesitation. His steps were deliberate but gentle, as if moving too quickly might make things worse. Without a word, he crouched beside you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form from the other side.

It wasn’t long before the three of you slid down to the floor in the doorway, your back against the cool frame as your sobs filled the space. Shinsou’s hug was firm, steadying, while Mina’s was warm and grounding. They didn’t try to shush you or tell you it was okay—they just held on tighter as you unraveled.

The tears came harder, your chest heaving with the weight of everything you’d been holding back. You weren’t just crying about today. It was everything—years of pain, fear, and exhaustion crashing over you all at once.

“I failed her,” you choked out between sobs, your voice thick with guilt. “I’ve failed Asuna. I’ve failed her so many times.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mina murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “You’ve done so much for her. Look at her—she’s thriving.”

But you couldn’t stop the flood of memories. 

You cried at the thought of all the times you felt like you couldn’t measure up, couldn’t be enough for your daughter. Mina had been there during your pregnancy, covering for you when your body gave out, when the world was demanding you be more than you could. She’d gone to battle for you, doing hero work in your name so you could recover without the public eye dissecting your every move.

You remembered your manager, Elle’s, tireless efforts to shield you. She’d blocked contact from the outside world, pretending to be you for photoshoots and promotional materials if it came down to it, ensuring that Asuna stayed your best-kept secret.

The nights Aizawa sat up with you played in your mind, his quiet presence keeping you company as he shared his parenting books and advice. He never judged, never questioned your decisions—he was just there, steady as ever. Shinsou’s midnight drives surfaced too, his dry but loving humor making the miles pass faster as he indulged your spicy cravings, no matter how absurd.

And then there were the tokens of your grandmother’s love. The tiny hats, socks, and blankets she made for her great-grandchild, each stitch a testament to her pride and care. You thought about the Christmas gifts still waiting at her house, already wrapped, waiting for a holiday she wouldn’t see.

Your sobs became more ragged as a new wave of grief surged through you. “Katsuki,” you whispered, his name slipping out unbidden. Saying it felt like tearing open an old wound.

Mina and Shinsou didn’t need to ask. 

They just held you tighter.

You wept harder at the thought of him—his stormy eyes and the memories that refused to leave you alone. The way he had once been your world, and the way he unknowingly left you with the greatest and most complicated gift of your life. The idea of seeing him tomorrow, of returning the jacket, of carrying the truth that you still couldn’t share—

It was too much.

Your fists clenched in their holds, your body trembling as you sobbed into the quiet. Mina rested her chin on your shoulder, rocking you slightly, while Shinsou pressed his forehead against the top of your head, his grip solid and unwavering.

“We’ve got you,” Shinsou said, his voice low and steady. “We’ve always got you.”

You let their words and presence anchor you as you cried until there was nothing left.

Eventually, yo exhaled shakily as your breathing finally steadied, and Shinsou rose to his feet, pulling you and Mina up with him. His grip was firm but gentle, his sharp eyes scanning your face to ensure you were truly okay. Satisfied, he gave a small nod, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the door.

“Call like usual,” you reminded him, your voice still a little hoarse.

He paused, throwing a lazy salute your way. “Always will.”

Mina leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Don’t worry about her, Hitoshi. I’ve got her covered. You just go terrorize the villains like the grumpy cat you are.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “And you try not to melt the place while I’m gone, Pinky.” She stuck out her tongue at him, and with a final wave, he disappeared into the night.

Mina shut the door and turned to you, her expression softening. She didn’t say anything immediately, just made a beeline for your fridge. The quiet hum of the appliance filled the air as she rummaged around before pulling out a can of her favorite strawberry soda. She pressed the icy metal to her flushed cheeks with a sigh of relief.

“I love your place, you know that?” she said, her voice light but tinged with teasing. “But seriously, would it kill you to crank the AC? It feels like I ran a marathon to get here.”

You chuckled softly, leaning against the kitchen island. “I keep it cool in Asuna’s room. She can’t stand the heat.”

Mina nodded, cracking open the soda and taking a long sip. Then, setting the can down, she shuffled over to where you stood. Without a word, she reached out, taking one of your hands in both of hers. Her fingers were cool from the soda, and the simple gesture made your chest tighten all over again.

“I know things have been… rough this past week,” she began, her voice unusually serious. Her golden eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I really didn’t know Katsuki was going to… do that.”

You felt your throat tighten again, but you squeezed her hands back, managing a small laugh. 

“It’s okay. I don’t think he knew he was going to do that either.”

The two of you fell silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. Finally, you pulled away gently, opening the fridge to retrieve a bottle of green tea. The cold glass felt grounding in your hands, even if you had no real desire to drink it.

Mina perched herself on one of the kitchen stools, swirling the remaining soda in her can. “He’s always grumpy around this time of year, you know,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the countertop. “The night you two broke up… it was Christmas Eve. And technically Christmas Day was when you moved out.”

You sighed heavily, nodding as you unscrewed the cap from your tea. “I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just…” You trailed off, words failing you as memories threatened to resurface.

Mina reached out, resting a hand on your arm. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she said gently. “But you do need to let yourself feel it. Whatever it is.”

You nodded again, staring into the pale green liquid as if it held the answers. The two of you stayed like that, quiet but connected, as the soft hum of the volcano-powered home wrapped around you both like a warm, steady heartbeat.

Mina lifted the soda and took a sip before looking at you, her expression softening. “How’s Asuna holding up?”

You sighed, setting the tea bottle aside and hoisting yourself onto the counter, crossing your legs. “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s my little rock. She’s always been so strong, but I’m really worried about her.”

Mina frowned but stayed quiet, letting you continue.

“She’s only cried once since everything happened—at the hospital,” you said, your voice faltering slightly. 

“And she told me herself that she broke down during exams a few times. I think Kayama-sensei even emailed or texted me about it, but I never got around to checking.” 

You rubbed your temples, frustration and guilt creeping in. “I think she’s trying to be strong for me, which is exactly what I don’t want. She’s sixteen, Mina. She should be able to express herself, to fall apart… at home, where she’s safe.”

Mina nodded, her pink brows furrowing in thought. “Everyone processes grief differently, you know? Maybe Asuna just needs time to work through it her way.”

You nodded, but your shoulders slumped as you added, “I know, but her temper…” You trailed off, your lips pressing into a tight line. “When Asuna loses her temper, it’s like a nuke exploding. She’s been asking weird questions lately, too, and I don’t want a ticking time bomb on my hands.”

Mina tilted her head, curious. “Weird questions? Like what?”

You looked at her, hesitating, and she immediately pieced it together. Her expression softened, and she murmured, 

“Oh.”

You nodded, your voice quieter now. “About her father. She’s been asking more and more. I’ve never given her much to go on. Just that he’s a man I went to school with, that things didn’t work out, and he was always more into his work than anything else. We… we parted ways. That’s all I told her.”

Mina’s eyes held a mixture of understanding and concern, but she didn’t push. Instead, she waited as you stared off, lost in the memories that began to wash over you.

The first time you held her. That tiny, warm bundle laid gently on your chest after hours of labor. She was so small, her full head of hair damp against her delicate skin, and her cries—soft but strong—rang out. The sweet, almost otherworldly smell of her. When she opened her eyes, red as fire. 

Those same eyes you had tried so hard to leave behind.

It had been so much. 

Too much. 

The breakup, the media frenzy, being surrounded by old friends constantly. Then, just as you were piecing yourself back together, the nausea hit. That grilled fish someone offered you after a patrol had you puking onto the office floor in front of a dozen horrified colleagues. 

At first, everyone thought it was some concussion reaction. You’d been rushed to the hospital by your manager for every possible test—scans, bloodwork, everything—until one very specific blood test confirmed it: 

Five weeks pregnant.

You’d felt a rush of something indescribable when the nurse handed you the results, congratulating you with a warm smile. “Are you sure?” you’d asked, almost breathless.

She laughed, nodding. “Very sure. Congratulations, Mama. Your follow-up with the OB-GYN is already scheduled.”

You’d walked out of the hospital on cloud nine

Until reality hit. Your life was no longer just yours. You were 21, at the very start of your hero career and life as a young woman. No husband, no boyfriend, no partner. In a world that was dangerous on the best of days. Literally employed to kick ass and possibly get your ass kicked in the name of justice. 

Without thinking, you called Aizawa. The groggy sound of him waking up still echoed in your memory. He’d mumbled something incoherent, but when you said you were at the hospital, needed a ride, and, oh yeah, you were pregnant—there was a loud crash. You’d later learned he fell out of bed, taking the cat tree with him.

He showed up, though. Of course, he did. He always had. From that night onward, he was there for every moment, a steady presence as you figured out how to navigate the chaos.

Mina’s voice brought you back. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… thinking about everything. Aizawa’s always been there for me, you know? Like a dad. But he has his own kid to finish raising, and he’s already done so much for me.”

Mina tilted her head, watching you carefully.

You sighed. “He thinks Katsuki has a right to know. About Asuna.”

Mina didn’t say anything right away, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. Finally, she reached for your hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think he’s ready to know?”

You exhaled shakily, unsure of the answer.

You shook your head slowly, staring down at your hands. “I don’t think so,” you admitted quietly. “But I don’t know if that’s because I’m scared of how it’ll affect Asuna. She’s doing so well in school right now. I don’t want to ruin that for her.” You paused, your voice faltering. 

“Or if it’s because Katsuki… he’s different now. Changed.”

Mina’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, he has been a little off lately. Like, really off. More than usual. He’s in a slump, even if he won’t admit it.”

You glanced at her, curiosity mingling with concern. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, tipping her head back as if to gather her thoughts. “He came into the office this morning, right? Had all these random frozen things we forgot about—bread, soy sauce, and stuff. He just started throwing them at us.”

You blinked, a soft, “Ah,” slipping out as you remembered Denki and Sero recounting the same ridiculous story earlier to cheer you up.

“Exactly,” Mina said, pointing at you. “Then he went into Kirishima’s office, and the two of them stayed in there for almost two hours. No one wanted to get in or figure out what they were talking about. When Katsuki finally came out, he just… left. For the rest of the day. No one could reach him.”

You frowned, worry gnawing at you.

“Kirishima ended up tracking him down and bringing him to the ramen place,” Mina continued, crossing her arms. “When he got there, Katsuki looked like he’d been crying. Like, actual crying.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“After that, they hit up a convenience store with Izuku and Todoroki. By the time Katsuki came back to the office, you’d already shown up, and then you two disappeared outside for hours to talk.”

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together your emotions. Mina didn’t press, though you could tell she was dying to ask what had been said. Instead, you filled the silence. “We’re meeting tomorrow. At noon. He’s bringing back some old pictures of mine.”

Mina’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re meeting with him? Are you… are you ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted bluntly, trying to muster a smirk and failing. “But I’ve been through worse.”

She shook her head at you, her gaze unwavering. “You’re still not over him,” she said quietly, but there was no judgment in her voice. 

Just the undeniable truth.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very small as you sat there, trying to sort through everything churning inside you.

Your kitchen was cozy, a mix of soft colors and warm woods that made it feel like a sanctuary. Potted herbs sat on the windowsill, their fresh scents mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from a nearby diffuser. 

A large window dominated one side of the kitchen, offering a breathtaking view of the sky and ocean, with greenery swaying gently in the breeze below. The moonlight streaming through painted everything in a soft glow, making the plants look even more vibrant. A few hanging planters dangled above the sink, their long vines brushing against the backsplash tiles like a living curtain.

Mina glanced outside, a hand dramatically fanning her face. “This view is gorgeous, but why does it feel like a sauna in here?” You laughed and got up, heading to the freezer. “Need some frozen chocolate?”

She shook her head but eyed you skeptically. “No thanks, but maybe some ice would help before I melt into a puddle.”

With a grin, you popped open an ice mold, revealing perfectly shaped rose cubes. “Here, delicate as you are.” You handed her a few, and she took them with exaggerated reverence, gently pressing them to her temples before finishing her soda with a satisfied sigh.

“This is why I come here,” Mina said, leaning back against the counter. “Cozy kitchen, ocean views, and rose-shaped ice cubes. You spoil me.”

“I aim to please,” you said, tossing a few frozen corn bits at her before closing the freezer door with your hip. The pinkette yelped in mock indignation. “You and Katsuki both have this terrible habit of attacking your friends with frozen food. Is this a tradition or something?”

You smirked, about to fire back a retort when something clicked in your mind. 

“The will!”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “The what now?”

You rushed into the living room, almost took out your coffee table, phone snatched in hand, scrolling furiously through your messages. The airy, open space was just as homey as the kitchen, filled with bookshelves and soft throws draped over furniture. Lavalight spilled through another set of large windows, highlighting the TV and a small jade tree perched on the side table.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Texting Katsuki felt daunting, a weight you weren’t quite ready to carry tonight. Mina followed you, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“What’s going on?” she asked, plopping onto the floor beside you as you sat down in frustration.

With a groan, you explained, “My cousin’s contesting the will. It only mentions Asuna and me, so if I don’t get the original document, the judge might split everything fifty-fifty. I can’t even get into the house because the sheriff put a lock on it.” You covered your face, sliding further down until your back hit the floor.

Mina sat cross-legged beside you, shaking her head. “Why don’t I just call him? Katsuki doesn’t have to know I know about Asuna.”

“No,” you said firmly, sitting up with a glare. “If he found out you knew and didn’t tell him, he’d never speak to you again.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “How would he even figure that out from a phone call?”

You groaned, making a faint, frustrated noise as you flopped back down. Mina, clearly undeterred, grabbed your phone. “Hey, your voicemail box has something.”

Curious, you let her play it. Katsuki’s voice filled the room, calm but tinged with his usual gruffness. “Hey, uh… I forgot to give ya that binder after all that stuff earlier. I’ll bring it to the park tomorrow with the other things. Just lemme know if that works.”

The relief hit you like a wave, your chest tightening as you nearly sobbed. “Oh my God, thank you,” you breathed, staring at the phone like it had just saved your life.

Then your eyes widened in realization. 

“Tomorrow’s the last day of school before winter break. Asuna gets out at noon.”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “So? Text Aizawa to watch her for a bit.”

You winced. “He and Eri are going straight home to nap and then going Christmas tree shopping. I don’t want to mess with that. Eri’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”

“Fair point.” Mina tapped her chin, then grinned. “What about Mirko?”

Your face lit up as you immediately texted the six-foot-tall bunny hero. Not even a minute passed before your phone rang, Mirko’s name flashing on the screen.

Mommy Rabbit 🤤🥰   is Calling 

“Don’t tell me you’re asking for babysitting favors,” Rumi teased the moment you answered, her tone light but curious. “Would you believe me if I said it’s a long story?” you replied, half-laughing, your heart easing at the sound of her familiar voice.

The warm lava light cast a soft glow as you leaned against the sofa, phone cradled to your ear. Mina sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping the last of her soda, while Rumi’s voice boomed from the speaker with her usual energy.

“Long story, huh?” Rumi teased. “Didn’t take you for the fairy tale type.”

“It’s not like that!” you said with a laugh. “Asuna gets out of school early tomorrow, and I’ve got to meet someone. I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” Rumi replied, her tone softening. “Of course, I’ll watch my favorite stinker! How’s she been doing anyway? Still blowing things up, or have we learned some self-control?”

Mina grinned, joining the conversation. “She’s actually been amazing! Aizawa’s been working with her on technique, and she’s gotten so good at regulating her quirk. Like, scary good.”

You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s not just controlling it; it’s like she’s physic. She’s using her quirk in ways I hadn’t even considered.”

“That’s my girl,” Rumi said with a laugh. “Sounds like she’s got a little stone-cold killer in her, just like her mom.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to hide. “Aizawa’s been incredible too. He’s agreed to keep working with her over winter break, which is such a relief. He really gets her.”

“Yeah, Eraser’s good like that,” Rumi agreed. “But don’t give him all the credit. You’re the one raising her, and it sounds like you’re doing a damn good job.”

Mina raised her drink in a mock toast. “Hear, hear!”

You chuckled, grateful for their encouragement. “Thanks, you two.”

“So, what about you?” Mina asked Rumi. “Got any Christmas plans, or are you just winging it like always?”

Rumi snorted. “You know me too well. I’ve got nothing concrete, but Taishiro and I were talking about maybe checking out the light displays. If you and Asuna are free, you should come with us.”

“Asuna would love that,” you said instantly. “Let’s do it.”

“Perfect. I’ll let you know when we figure out the details,” Rumi said. Then, her tone turned serious, though her warmth remained. “And you, missy—keep hanging on. It’s easier to fall apart than to put yourself back together, but I know you. You’ll be back to being the woman I know and love before the year is out.”

“If not,” she added with a playful growl, “I’ll happily kick your ass into shape.”

The three of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the cozy living room like a balm for your soul.

Love you, you big bunny,” you said, making exaggerated kissy noises into the phone.

“Love you too,” Mina added, joining in with her own obnoxious smooches.

“Alright, alright, enough of that!” Rumi laughed. “I’ve got to get back to patrol. Catch you ladies later.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mina sitting in the lingering warmth of her encouragement. The sound of the waves outside the window and the rustling leaves in the breeze seemed to echo her words, grounding you in the moment.

Mina tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait, what did Rumi mean about Asuna blowing things up? I thought her quirk didn’t work like that.”

You sighed, setting the phone on the coffee table and crossing your arms. The lava streaming through the windows danced across the warm wooden tones of the floor, highlighting the cream carpet and photos arranged neatly on the fireplace. A pothos plant spilled its green vines down the wall, and the faint scent of rosemary from the herb garden lingered in the air.

“Well,” you began, leaning your hip against the table's leg, “Asuna got Rita’s quirk with... traces of Katsuki’s and mine. Her main ability is creating energy fields for offense, defense, and protection. At first, she could only make force fields, basic stuff, ya know? And my grandma was the one who helped her figure that out.”

Mina nodded, leaning forward, her interest piqued. “Okay, that makes sense. Force Fields are practical. Useful.”

“Right. Then she started producing powerful energy blasts, and that’s where I came in,” you continued, gesturing with your hands. “I helped her learn to control the intensity and precision of her blasts. But then Asuna realized she could channel the energy into these tiny, marble-sized balls... and set them to explode.”

Mina’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, running a hand through your hair. “The results were... disastrous, to say the least. One burnt-down baseball field and two houses later, I went full paranoia mode and bought everything fireproof. Just in case.”

Mina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” You gestured toward the corner of the kitchen, where a fire extinguisher hung on the wall. “Even this place is prepped for the worst. I give Asuna credit, though. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s sweet and loving most of the time. But then there’s that other side of her—the gremlin side she inherited from Katsuki.”

Mina snorted, doubling over in laughter. “You mean the ‘short-tempered, explosion-prone, gremlin’ side?”

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Her temper flares, her quirk sparks, and... boom. Sometimes it’s an energy explosion, sometimes it’s a fiery mess hot enough to rival the lava I can conjure from my fingertips. And the scariest part? She’s fireproof to an extent, but not completely.”

Mina sobered, her smile fading. 

“That sounds... tough. For both of you.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice softening. “She’s getting older now, and I can tell she gets frustrated with that side of her quirk. She’s trying so hard to control it, but sometimes she loses herself in it. Aizawa helps however he can—he’s trained Katsuki, after all—but I know she doesn’t talk to me about it because it reminds her of her mystery father.”

You sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the endless blue sky meeting the ocean in the distance. “I hate that she feels like she has to navigate that alone.”

Mina placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her expression serious but kind. “She’s lucky to have you, though. You’re doing everything you can, and she knows it. Kids are resilient, and Asuna’s got your strength—and your heart.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Thanks, Mina. It means a lot.”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Mina said firmly, squeezing your shoulder.

“You both are.”

You nodded, the weight on your chest lightening just a little as you glanced back at the cozy kitchen—the plants, the lava light, the safety you’d built here for Asuna.

Maybe Mina was right.

Maybe you were doing okay after all.

Upstairs, Asuna perched silently at the top of the staircase, earbuds dangling loosely around her neck. 

She had been about to head down for a snack and a bottle of water when she caught the tail end of your conversation with Mina. Her chest tightened at the words that drifted up.

"So I do get that part of me from him," she murmured to herself, barely audible, her fingers gripping the banister. A dull ache spread through her chest as realization settled in, heavier than she expected.

The sound of her name crackled through her earbuds, snapping her out of her thoughts. “’Suna, you there?” Eri’s voice rang, sweet and full of concern, in her ear.

Asuna pulled the earbuds back in and forced a smile. “Hey, Eri. Yeah, I’m here.” She rose from her crouched position and tiptoed back up the stairs, her socked feet silent against the wood. Her door clicked shut behind her as she whispered, “I gotta take a waz, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“Okay, don’t fall in!”

“Pfft, you wish!” she replied with a small laugh before the line disconnected.

Asuna sighed, tossing her phone onto the bed before padding over to her window. She pressed her forehead against the icy glass, the cold biting at her skin but doing little to calm the storm inside her.

The moon hung high, its glow illuminating the cityscape stretched out before her. Over the dark lava flow in the distance, the twinkle of city lights blurred into the horizon. She stared at the expanse, her breath fogging the window as memories and unanswered questions churned in her mind.

She didn’t know which of the famed men from Class 1-A was her father, but she had her suspicions. She’d pieced together fragments over the years: the photo she’d found in Aizawa’s desk drawer, you standing next to two boys with fiery red eyes; the limited internet access she’d used to match the faces to names. 

Red Riot and Dynamight —long-time best friends and heroes. The same men she’d met at the ramen shop not long ago.

She closed her eyes, the memory of their faces replaying in her mind.

Asuna hate’s the winter. The cold seeped into her bones, reminding her of her frailty as a child. Born at just five months, she had struggled with health issues, asthma attacks brought on by overheating being the most persistent to her underdeveloped lungs. You had kept her home most of the time, worried and protective. She had understood, even appreciated it then, but as she grew older, the isolation became suffocating.

It wasn’t until high school loomed that she had pushed to attend UA, determined to experience the world beyond the walls you've built around her. Aizawa had homeschooled her for years, and though she adored the time spent with him and Eri—her only true friend—she craved more.

Eri had understood her like no one else, the two of them often staying over at each other’s homes. But even with Eri’s companionship, the lingering questions about her father never faded. 

Why wouldn’t you tell her? What were you hiding?

The bracelet tracker on her wrist felt heavier than usual as she traced her finger over its edges. She knew where you would be, thanks to it. She knew where Rumi had told her to wait. She also knew she wasn’t supposed to leave—

But the need to know burned too hot to ignore.

Her forehead remained pressed to the glass as she closed her eyes, wishing the cold would seep into her and numb her thoughts. She wished it would snow, a blizzard so thick it would shut everything down. 

Then, maybe, you’d stay home. Just you and her, curled up with junk food, watching movies, and stealing moments of warmth in a cocoon of blankets.

She thought of her grandmother, her gentle hands tucking her in, rubbing her head as she drifted off in front of the fireplace. She missed her so much it hurt, a hollow ache that never truly faded.

She pulled back from the window, her breath leaving a foggy imprint on the glass. “I just want to know,” she whispered into the silent room. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry. The moonlight bathed her hair in silver as she stared out at the distant city, the question she never voiced echoing in her heart, 

‘Who is my father?’

The cold outside pressed closer, a stark contrast to the warmth she longed for. She hugged herself tightly, retreating to her bed. The city lights twinkled far away, just beyond her reach—much like the answers she sought.

Asuna sat on the edge of her bed, phone clutched tightly in her hand. The glowing screen displayed Eri’s contact, but she couldn’t bring herself to press call. Her thumb hovered for a moment before she sighed, tossing the phone onto her pillow.

Restlessness gripped her like a vice, her thoughts racing too quickly to catch. She wanted to storm downstairs and demand Mina spill everything. She wanted to grab the card the big red guy—Kirishima, or whatever his name was—had given her and call him up, demanding answers. She wanted to thank Rumi for covering for her, for always having her back.

She wanted to thank Aizawa for finding her and letting her sit quietly on that rooftop instead of sending her straight home. She wanted to call Uncle Shinsou and make him tell her everything, the way he always managed to pry the truth out of others. 

More than anything, Asuna wanted to march into your room, confess that she’d tracked your location and followed you, and apologize for breaking your trust. 

But she couldn’t. 

The weight of her emotions was too much, pressing down until she felt like she was suffocating. She stood abruptly, the movement sudden and jerky, and stumbled out of her room.

Her feet carried her to the bathroom in a blur. She slammed the light on, the harsh brightness stinging her eyes, and barely made it to the sink before doubling over. Her stomach heaved violently, the remnants of egg rolls and ramen she’d forced herself to eat earlier spilling out. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles red, as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

Finally, the retching stopped, leaving her trembling and dry. She spat into the sink, reaching blindly for the faucet to rinse the mess away. The rush of water was loud in the small space, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She grabbed her toothbrush with shaking hands, furiously scrubbing her teeth as if she could erase the sour taste of guilt and frustration along with the bile. The bristles scraped against her gums, her motions more aggressive than necessary, but she didn’t care. She wanted the germs gone, wanted to feel clean, even if it was just superficial.

As she rinsed her mouth, her mind drifted to her grandmother. She wished, more than anything, that the older woman was still alive. Her grandmother had never lied to her. She would have told her the truth—about her father, about you, about everything.

Her thoughts swung back to you, the image of your face etched into her mind. 

How could she be mad at you? 

You were her mom. The person who raised her. The one she had always reached out to, even as a baby.

Her first memory was of your lips—soft, warm, and comforting. She drew them in the margins of her notebooks, a small comfort when she felt overwhelmed. She thought of how her classmates whispered about you, how they admired your strength, beauty, and the private life you fiercely protected. Some speculated you’d gotten married in secret, building a family in the shadows.

Asuna turned her focus back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth thoroughly. She braced her hands on the counter, staring at the water swirling down the drain. She felt a lump rise in her throat, but she forced it down.

Finally, she raised her head and looked into the mirror. 

Her reflection stared back, drained and tired, with stormy eyes that didn’t quite belong to her but felt achingly familiar. A piece of him, whoever he was.

She traced her fingers lightly over the edge of the mirror, her voice barely a whisper. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

Asuna’s eyes lingered on her reflection in the mirror, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned closer, the fluorescent light above flickering slightly, casting a cold, sterile glow over her face. 

Those eyes… they didn’t feel like hers. 

They burned too brightly, smoldering like embers in the depths of a fire that wasn’t her own.

She raised a trembling hand to her face, her fingertips grazing the skin beneath her eyes as if touching them would confirm they were real. 

But they weren’t really hers. 

Someone else owned them.

The thought gripped her chest tightly. Her face wasn’t hers either. It was yours—your famed cheekbones, the soft curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips. Everyone said she was the spitting image of her beautiful, powerful mother. 

And while she admired you endlessly, it made her feel like a ghost of her own life. 

A shadow.

Her nails dug into the counter’s edge as the familiar weight of frustration and resentment bubbled in her chest. She didn’t feel like herself. 

To most people, she was a reflection of you—a legacy, an extension, a continuation. 

But who was Asuna?

She turned the faucet on, the rush of cold water snapping her out of her thoughts. She splashed some onto her face, hoping the chill would help ground her, but it didn’t. Her fingers pressed against her temples as she tried to stop the spiraling thoughts.

The only person who seemed to see her, really see her, was Eri. But even with Eri, there were times Asuna felt like she was walking a tightrope, trying to prove she was her own person. It didn’t help that, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t escape being compared to you.

“Just like her mother,” they’d say, dismissing her achievements as though they were inevitable, as if her hard work was predestined because she was your daughter. Asuna always worked twelve times harder than everyone else just to carve out a sliver of her own identity, but even then, the credit felt hollow.

Ironically, the one thing people agreed was entirely her own was the one thing that made her feel most alien. 

Her eyes

Those piercing red eyes that weren’t yours, that didn’t come from the warm, loving person who raised her. 

Eyes that clearly belonged to someone else

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She had seen those eyes before, hadn’t she? Earlier today, when she surprised the two men at the ramen spot. Her stomach churned at the memory. They had been so stunned, so caught off guard. She’d taken a dark, petty satisfaction in startling them.

And yet, the thought of it now filled her with guilt. 

She hadn’t known it was him back then, the first time she’d seen them at the convenience store. She’d been overwhelmed, lost in grief and confusion.

But afterward?

She let them have it, throwing every ounce of her anger and frustration at them, even if they didn’t fully deserve it.

Bits and pieces of the story had come to her over the years, from whispered conversations and the few snippets she’d managed to overhear. You and her father had a terrible breakup—one that had clearly left scars.

But you never spoke about him. Not directly, only when Asuna had asked, in the way children do, with innocent curiosity.

Not even a negative word. 

Asuna’s fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as her mind flashed back to the stolen moments of research she’d managed to conduct. Parental locks on devices made digging nearly impossible. She didn’t trust anyone at school enough to ask, and the school computers were out of the question.

It wasn’t until Rumi had entered the picture that things had changed. A single Google search on the bunny hero’s phone, a quick scroll through old and recent news articles, and Asuna’s world shifted. The headlines spoke of heartbreak, of public fights and private betrayal.

Your hero name intertwined with his.

Asuna felt sick all over again, not from the ramen or egg rolls, but from guilt.

She shouldn’t have looked. She should have come to you first.

You must have had good reasons for keeping it from her—reasons rooted in love and protection. 

And yet, the need to know clawed at her insides.

Her powers were growing faster than she could control them, each surge of energy feeling like a scream she couldn’t silence. It was like her body was trying to tell her something, trying to fill in the blanks her mind couldn’t comprehend.

Asuna stared into the mirror, her red eyes glinting under the flickering light. 

‘Who do these eyes belong to?’ she wondered again, a lump rising in her throat.

The weight of isolation pressed down on her. 

She felt utterly alone, trapped in a mental prison built from secrets and half-truths. She wanted to cry, to rage, to throw something and let the dam break. 

But she couldn’t.

Instead, she reached for a towel and dried her face, her movements slow and deliberate. She glanced at her reflection one last time, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need answers,” she whispered to herself.

Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist—the one with the tracker she’d given you. For her safety, you’d agreed. And yet, tonight, it had brought her somewhere you hadn’t wanted her to go. 

Somewhere that had only raised more questions.

She turned and left the bathroom, her steps quiet but purposeful. Back in her room, she grabbed her phone, staring at the screen. She thought about calling Eri.

Or maybe Rumi. Or Shinsou. Or even Aizawa.

But no. 

There was only one person she needed to talk to.

Sliding under the covers, Asuna clutched her phone to her chest. She’d wait until noon. 

And then she’d confront you.

How we feeling chat?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756.

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the list!

So sorry about the hiatus between chapters. I hope you all accept this as a late Christmas/New years present. I'm also working on the poster for this fic so I can finally add it to my construction zone of a master list.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and other mha) here in the master list. (Ao3 account is pretty sexy too.)

Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[envy-of-the-apple]

ok I'm SO glad you love to answer questions bc I have so many. First of all, how will gojo act when Ms moon is completely under his thumb as a pregnant housewife? Will he be kind until she hurts his domestic fantasies (by having breakdowns from being trapped in a golden cage, for eg), will he put up with her pregnancy mood swings and try to spoil her or will he leave all that to the servants and just come home for the sex or wtv? And omg what kind of a dad will he be?? Basically, will he maintain any actual intimacy (beyond sex) w her after he "owns" her or will he be typical neglectful rich husband and father? And omg will we cover any of this in part 2?? Love ur writing btw ❤️

Gojo will definitely be the MOST romantic. Yeah, he basically bullied you into becoming his subservient partner, and you can’t ever leave him, but that doesn't mean you can't have fun together. After your 'reunion,' he'd definitely drag you out to ride those swan boat things. And pictures! He's big on pictures.

I feel like now, when he’s older, he’ll find other ways to keep you in line other than pure bullying. He’ll probably threaten to financially ruin you. Ruin the lives of everyone you love etc etc. Technically, your new life isn’t horrible enough for you to break completely. You still have some semblance of freedom. Just don't ever run from him, again.

Satoru would definitely be a bad dad. He’ll see any kids you do end up having as “collateral” or an inconvenience he has to put up with you staying with him. Again, he doesn't truly want kids but if it'll make you stay....I think the one good thing would be that he won’t be obvious about it. He’ll smile at them, ruffle their hair, the occasional “good job buddy!”. Behind closed doors, when it’s just you and him, he’d definitely complain about the brats and the rising hints of sending them to a school overseas. He’s DEFINITELY petty enough to get jealous of his own kids. Especially when they’re babies and really dependent on you, he’ll often say things like “again? Can’t it just sleep it off?” or “you’re really lucky I’m willing you share you with them”. It’d get better as they grow older and less and less dependent on you.

He provides for them, financially at least. Gojo will hire Nannies and whoever you want to come care for your kids. If it’s the middle of the night and your child wakes up crying, with enough begging from you he MIGHT reluctantly get up to rock your kid back to sleep. But mostly, you and the nannies care for the kid.

He’s not completely heartless. Once the kids get a tad bit older and start relying on you a little less, his relationship with them may change. It entirely depends on the kids, though. If they consider him their personal hero he might develop a soft spot for them. If they don’t, then he’ll just tolerate them for your sake.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

*inhale* 🗣 Okay, listen, I'm going to rant over this moment again, but this time in a post so the world can read about it 🗣

It doesn't matter how many times I've watched Graduation part 2... But THIS HERE.

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE MOMENT. THIS IS WHAT THE ENTIRETY OF THIS SERIES HAS BEEN BUILDING UP TO FOR DRAKKEN AND SHEGO AND I JUST--

HE'S SO VULNERABLE IN THIS MOMENT. Look at that FACE. YOU KNOW WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS?! YOU CAN SEE SO MANY THOUGHTS GOING ON BEHIND THOSE EYES. THE EYES ARE THE WINDOW TO THE SOUL AND OH MY GODS IS IT FRAGILE NOW.

THE MAN FEELS INSECURITIES, DOUBTS, WORRIES, A HINT OF BASHFULNESS BUT HE'S ALSO SCARED, ASHAMED, TERRIFIED EVEN; HE WANTS TO RUN AWAY, BE ANYWHERE BUT HERE! his face SCREAMS: "What am I doing here?" and/or "Do I even deserve this?"

BUT MOST OF ALL: "What will others think of me now?"

And then ALL of his questions get answered in the form of his partner in crime's expression: A genuine heartfelt and sincere smile that says "You deserve this."

Shego, the femme fatale who is wanted in 11 countries. The villain who insisted by all means necessary that she's evil through and through and will NEVER be a hero or want to be associated with heroes STILL stands by his side. Do you know what the most important aspect of this very moment is? Shego doesn't stand on 'equal' grounds as him and she doesn't mind it, she lets it happen.

Shego and Drakken's dynamic throughout the story has been Boss-and-Sidekick for the longest of times. Both of them fought: Drakken for wanting to feel superior over EVERYONE and Shego wanting as much power (and/or more) as Drakken would have when they had taken over the world.

However, the happenings in graduation changed everything and now the world recognizes Drakken as a hero, a world savior, and a protector of peace. But if it weren't for Shego flying all the way with Ron to the Lorwardian ship, Drakken couldn't have possibly stopped the invasion.

Look at Shego's expression. She genuinely feels happy for Dr. D. She could've stepped in at ANY point before or during this (press)conference, demanding her own medal and telling everyone that it was in fact her who helped Drakken save them all. But she doesn't. Shego knows how important this moment is for Dr. Drakken. After years of hearing his stories and knowing how much recognition means to him; she lets him have his moment in the limelight, the sun, and she's going to let him bask in all of it for as long as he needs to. Because the most important thing is that she knows what she did and that's enough: She went into space to bring back the man she wanted to rule the world together with. Never ever again would she let Dr. Drakken think, for even a second, that she'd abandon him.

Again, look at the distance between them in this shot.

Yes, the distance is closer but then

As close as they can possibly get in public

They're on even grounds now. Drakken wants to let the world and most importantly Shego KNOW that they are a team and that they saved the world together.

I once saw someone pointing out that they looked very uncomfortable in the last image, but let me put it like this: - Prior in the episode Shego and Drakken almost flew into each other's arms but became VERY reluctant, why??? Because Kim and Ron were there! What must those brats think of them!? Certainly, they cannot show any weaknesses in front of their arch nemeses!

And now let me show this again:

They're embracing each other... in FRONT OF THE WORLD LEADERS. OF COURSE IT'S A BIT AWKWARD, YOU'D BE AWKWARD TOO, but the KEY here is that They're NOT looking away from each other like they did before.

In the previous scenario, they avoided each other's eyes: no connection, desperately trying to show no weaknesses, trying to change the subject matter at all costs.

Now they lock eyes, and they read each other. How I read it (both facial expression as body language): Drakken: Hopeful, nervous, apologetic "Did I hurt you? I hope I did not", kind of embarrassed because his foliage acted out so assertively by his thoughts of wanting Shego to be at least on the same level as him for the world to know. Shego: Surprised but not at all distressed, disgusted or upset about this sudden change. Most of all, I think she's deeply moved: Drakken always called her a 'sidekick', but now? She's recognized by him and the world as his partner. If you look at her face, those eyes seem to be on the verge of tearing up and that smile, how shy and embarrassed it may look holds warmth and happiness.

Both of them acknowledge each other's worth and in a certain way, they took over each other's world.

[princess-of-the-corner]

I know we're supposed to be suspending disbelief and all that but like, I still find myself wondering why anyone in Paris wants anything to do with Chloe like, y'all say you hate her so much and then go and supposedly join her online community? Vincent and Ray I get cause who knows how much they know/care but Nora and Aurore? Goes the same way too like you'd think Chloe as admin would start just banning people from Paris

I mean I do think that Season 6 is a soft reboot so I'm rolling with changes like this in stride rather than questioning it

But yeah let's question it a touch and genuinely the answer might be that no one knows?

Like sure Chloé was a brat before but everything major she did was either behind the scenes or blamed on Monarch? As they should be but it-

What I mean is

In general, anyone outside of the school may not know anything about Chloé and her more bully-esque actions. They'll see her in more public events as the Mayor's Daughter™ where the focus isn't on her or maybe on her public social media accounts and she might get mean on those, but the bullying doesn't leave the school.

Queen Bee, on the other hand, was made very public. And though her first foray went.... sideways. She later appeared as a legit Hero and someone Ladybug considered 'worthy of being on the team'.

The public doesn't know about Miracle Queen. That was never told to anyone. Hell I don't even know how much the temp Heroes involved know about it. And it's not like Ladybug would tell everyone 'she turned against us and revealed a lot of identities to Hawkmoth' because that'd cause mass panic.

At best they know Chloé was akumatized again. Since the bees/wasps were the same as Queen Wasp

They know Queen Bee got replaced by Vesperia, but no information on why. If anyone speculates it's probably because of the identity thing even though Ryuko remained/

Queen Banana and Penalteam were Akumas people probably heard about, but have little context for and certainly no knowledge of her being willing or not.

Again: All bullying doesn't make it out of the school so the public at large doesn't know about it.

And finally we get to Queen Mayor. Where Chloé /was/, in fact, Akumatized again. The public, and maybe even the Heroes, don't know that she was willing at points. Just that she was Akumatized.

So a lot of what she did either isn't public, was something good actually(Queen Bee), or was while she was Akumatized and thus not counted just like they don't count anyone else's Akumatization against them.

So I can totally see Chloé getting plenty of online followers despite everything that happened.

ALso bonus points for the 'it's the internet and any internet celebrity still has a massive following even after it comes out they did a fuckton of horrible shit"

[rikomoriyama01]

🗣️ (also sorry this got long, turns out i have thoughts) so like riko is one of the weirdest fandom cases i've ever seen. i've been in fandoms where characters who commit actual war crimes and genocide are badass babes or uwu soft bois, and even spoiled mafia brats who commit terrible crimes against the heroes for daddy's attention that get love and redemption. it's so weird to see just how isolated from all that riko is to me.

i do think it's partly how aftg is written, and that's also partly because niel's pov is not at all forgiving of riko, while is entirely forgiving of people like andrew. but i also think it's because of how riko himself is written. he's one of these characters that's better on paper than he is in the book to me. because he's never presented as smart enough to fall into the magnificent bastard trope where everyone applauds how devious his plans are, but he's not outright hammy enough to just be a fun read, he doesn't even get the same stupidly dramatic flare as andrew. and while we're told he's powerful and doing dangerous stuff, he's presented on page, more often than not, as a petulant child that neil is just done with or a guy who likes to torture people who neil is also done with. neil is never actually scared of riko, or even particularly threatened by him, and i think that hurts him and makes his position in the narrative weaker. especially when nora is trying to play him as a villain and a threat in a mafia story rather than a good old fashioned rival in a sports drama. for example, his first impression on the kathy show should live up to the hype of this imposing charismatic villain who broke kevin's hand, but instead loses him temper, forgets all of his media training and lets a nobody like neil goad him into losing control of the interview, and then his payback, things like shoving neil around and seth's death, are basically brushed off because neil doesn't really care that much. it's not given the weight to be a seriously omg this guys a threat first impression. and this isn't uncommon, lots of media hamstrings their villains at the start by making sure we know the main character is too sassy for them and can humiliate them, without thinking about how weak that can make the villain seem. it feels sometimes like nora wanted riko to be this chess master villain or tragic child who's lashing out at the world, without committing to it fully to either, or was just not an experienced enough writer to have known how to write either of those things in the pov of someone who hates riko's guts, which is understandable, writing is hard and that sort of nuance takes practice, especially if you just go by the books and not the extra content, and i do wonder how differently nora would have portrayed riko if she rewrote the main trilogy now with presumably a lot more practice under her belt. in the end riko ends up in this weird grey area to me where i understand why he's not popular, given he has none of the usual obvious traits that fans like to latch onto when redeeming a villainous character, and even the ones that are there are glossed over pretty quickly because of neil's pov, and a lot of his more interesting pieces are on paper not actively presented in the book, and not everyone reads super deep, but i also don't understand the amount of hate. i have literally never seen a character in any other fandom i've been in have this much fandom wide hatred.

See I have nothing to add here because you single handedly dropped the best analysis of Riko's character in the series I had pleasure to read so far and summed up all my feelings about why and what of the fandom. If the goal was to write a character that is impactful yet easy to hate then that goal was achieved but for me it real takes away form the magnitude of feelings Riko could evoke in reader and questions he could provoke in narrative if he was given bit different presentation that woudl still align with the lore we already have.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

What did you think about fourth wing??? I'm dying to know. There isn't enough hate (coherent analysis) about these US Air Force Propaganda books. Please share your thoughts ☕ if you feel like it of course. I just really love reading your analysis about character building and romance 💋

HOOBOY. Brace yourself for the negativity. And for those of you who enjoyed Fourth Wing, turn back now and preserve your peace!

Firstly, I lowered my expectations going into this book. Not so much because I thought it would be bad, or I wouldn't have bothered, but because I've been burned before (I liked ACOTAR but hated ACOMAF and quit it about 3/4 the way through... I try to keep my negativity to a minimum but maybe some day I should post my full rant on that series, too). For the most part, I can be satisfied with a proactive heroine and a brisk pace.

And for the first half of the book or so, that's what I got. I liked Violet and the way she used her wits and studies to overcome obstacles, and I was charmed by her friends and dragons. Xaden struck me as kind of a cookie-cutter Sexy Emo Bad Boy, but that's okay. As long as Violet was having a fun adventure, she could have a steamy romance with the tattooed hottie, too. Dain sucked, but to his credit, at least he was written as sucking from the jump instead of like Tamlin who was character assassinated in the second book...

But then, once Xaden decided that he needed to personally oversee Violet's protection instead of just Liam, I started to notice that our heroine had stopped driving the action. Suddenly, she was reacting to things that happened instead of making plans and following through. She stopped using her wits and her book knowledge, she didn't pursue the obvious mysteries that should have intrigued her, and she just generally retreated into more of a helpless damsel than she had started. And here was Xaden, being JUST as controlling and protective as Dain, but because he's sexy and has a magical justification for his protectiveness, he gets a pass.

And then the worst part. It's revealed that Xaden's not ACTUALLY a bad boy at all. In reality, he's secretly noble and generous and self-sacrificial. Just like Rhys, this guy with the Dark Prince aesthetic is actually secretly perfect, and he's also been obsessed with the heroine since he first met her. So there's not REALLY any way for him to grow or any conflict for him to overcome, because he's already this perfect, flawless, blameless hero. And Violet doesn't figure out his secret on her own through clever sleuthing, doesn't defy expectations to do something no one else will do, she just discovers Xaden's noble crusade and decides to go along with it. Because why wouldn't she? He's already done all the hard moral work (or so we're told) of risking everything for an enemy. Now she just gets to go into battle and nearly die so that Xaden can have Man Pain.

It was just deja vu. Once again, a proactive heroine became passive when confronted with the perfect sexy man with the bad boy aesthetic. So BORING.

And lest you think I'm being too critical, I want to point out a variation on this story that I actually love: The Folk of the Air series, by Holly Black. In that story, Jude is similarly a proactive heroine who meets a sexy bad boy, but there are two key differences in her story: one is that she never STOPS being proactive. Take a look at all of the major plot points in that trilogy: nearly all of them are created by Jude herself, and frequently when she's taking action in opposition to what other characters (even allies) want. Jude makes plans, she follows through, she takes risks, she defies convention. The other major difference is that Carden is ACTUALLY a bad boy at the start of his story. He's a selfish, vindictive brat, and it takes him a long time to grow to a place of maturity (at which point he's still not perfect, but he's better). So he doesn't just have the Dark Prince aesthetic while being secretly perfect - he's actually a real antagonist to Jude, which makes their story much more compelling.

So yeah, those are my thoughts. Hope you enjoyed this rant.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Even more thoughts on my Jack and Omi alignment swap AU mostly Wuya related (other posts are here 1, 2, 3 and 4)

So Wuya tries to discourage Jack's shen gong wu making, especially when he succeeds and she lived through Dashi's shen gong wu making process (only barely) she doesn't know if she can do it again (especially because Kimiko and Rai are enablers and keep giving Jack ideas, Clay is the only one with the common sense brain cell a lot of the time)

Only then Raimundo notices which leads to this

Raimundo: So you seriously not letting Jack try anymore experimenting

Wuya: Nope and whatever your planning isn't gonna work brat

Raimundo: I'm not trying anything

Raimundo: I just was curious why you wouldn't let Jack make more Wu, I mean him making Wu that overshadows even Dashi's wouldn't that be something you could really rub in his face

Wuya:...

Dojo:WUYA NO IT'S A TRAP

She is so very proud of him for being so sneaky.

Before they leave some of the older monks try to get Wuya to use the old methods, teach the monks how are they are 'meant' to be trained and Wuya goes off on them, because those methods was what broke her forcing the fate of the world on children, making them be perfect or else the world fails, that they cannot fail and must be perfect in the way they want them to be, that they have to legends and have legacies and be heroes or else everyone doomed, that they can't be themselves and have to be an ideal.

She's like oh no I don't want a 2 out of 4 success rate I think i'll try something new so 2 of the don't become the biggest threats to the world because of your teaching methods and bullshit.

She pretty much scares any lingering monks off after that, she's gonna make sure these kids are great xiaolin dragons (just so she can rub Dashi's face in it) but she's gonna let them stay themselves they're gonna good heroic chaotic brats and if they are stuck having to save the world she's gonna go along with them... she's not letting them go off my themselves. She'll be there so she can lighten the load to make sure it doesn't crush them, like it did her and Chase.

[rozonrozark]

Looking through your Blog I found the start of !feralCheshire AU which would just mean Bread having an way worse childhood.

What would need to happen to get an feral bread is that during the early and important development years there is no positive Interactions with humans and plaggs' positive Interactions are just gonna turn her into a cat-like feral state. Let me put it story wise:

When bread was around 8 (;9,;10) her parents went overseas again for work but stayed. Maybe the buisness was well enough that they opened many bakeries maybe one with an house attached and when you work and work and work everything is kinda forgotten. It's all just routine.

Besidess maybe it becomes routine to send money to some Bank Account so that you forgot why you did it in the first place. Or not and you accidently starve someone but how would you know, right?

What to do when your alone at home? You haven't heard, seen or smelled your parents in months. How should one act? You know you shouldn't act like the other people at school, they're all mean but then how should you act? Your best doesn't act and look like you but their so nice and seem to enjoy live so much more than you, maybe that's how you're supposed to act? (Maybe your parents wouldn't have left if you acted like him)

Plagg doesn't know why his kitten bestest human friend decided to mimic his cat behaviour and why he has heard nothing from her parents for nearly 8 months but if push comes to shove, his first kitten will deserve the name the most.

(Didn't expect this angsty word vomit but yeah. If I remember right it was stated that Catalysts' features like fangs are just trust features that appear because more magic in the body but with like actuall !PapaPlagg I think the trust between them would increase greatly. Also just realized this could fit the shitpost with plagg taking Tom and Sabine to court over breads custody.)

Ah yes, the feral!Cheshire AU

You are on the right track with Tom and Sabine just leaving Marinette from like 8 or 9 onwards. They just head out and slowly just get used to working for events and cruises. They slowly forgot the last time they went home while still sending money all while telling themselves that after this event they will check in on Marinette. But then the next event comes and surely their daughter would understand. Time keeps passing and the thought becomes more and more normal.

Meanwhile Marinette slowly becomes more and more dependent on Plagg. You are right about her not knowing how to act 'human' but she has TV and the internet! Who needs the two people who left her anyway? After the first year alone she got used to only having Plagg. Yeah, he is not the best to help her with homework but he is there for her. So she somewhat knows how to act as Marinette but Cheshire.... Well Cheshire is a hero and who could be more heroic than Plagg?

This leads to Cheshire becoming more feral like and Plagg sees nothing wrong with this. Even at her worst (Stealing food from the brat's restaurant) she is miles better then any of his past holders. It's not like Trixx helps. Trixx thinks that it is hilarious and encourages it so Cheshire sees nothing wrong with how she is acting. She will bite, hiss, and do whatever she wants. After all who cares about people having divided opinion about her. Plagg likes her and that is enough.

Plagg though is glad when Marinette starts getting more kwami because he needs HELP! He is not used to having to do anything required to take care of a small human child! Like whenever Cheshire steals food or steals robbers money after stopping them that is because they actually need those things to restock the house's empty cupboards. Unfortunately they are just as bad as him and Trixx, Mullo, and Pollen see nothing wrong with stealing from villains. Let's just say they were lucky when Sass arrived and helped them to do things somewhat normally.

[phoenixremix69]

Idea making a Ganondorf centric Zelda game

Ok, to start of with, this is way farther in the timeline, like, after TOTK, after everything. The cycle has repeated itself so many times that it's become rote. You can literally pick any history book off the shelf and see what's going to happen. And the current Queen Zelda doesn't like this at all.She likes her Hyrule nice and stable with her at the top and everyone else firmly below her. After all, isn't it natural? Even if it wasn't specifically her per se, she and her loyal knight have saved this country a million times. In fact, she thinks, why not save them all some time and make all the other tribes in Hyrule her vassal states? make an easier time for if General Link has to go save them. But why make him save her at all? just to make sure, she orders the chief of the Gerudo to slaughter any voe born to their tribe

The game opens with 15 year old Ganon and your mom Tween-Ravah(See what i did there?) in a shack in the middle of the desert, miles away from Gerudo town. Her tribespeople might be willing to bend the knee to that tyrannical brat but NOT HER. She's sick in bed and your tutorial is going around the desert with her old scimitar collecting herbs and food for her. But when you get back, there's a bunch of Gerudo guards around the burning wreck of your home. Here's where the game really starts

The general plotline stays the same, go to each tribe, do some shit, slay something, go to big bad's castle and kill them. Except things are different in this Hyrule. Here, you have no friends, the monsters have no master to unify them so they just go wherever, and all the tribes are gunning for your head. Or at least, most of them are. Instead of just saving them from a big monster, you have to convince and help the tribe stage a coup. Maybe because this Zelda is paranoid, she's making all the Goron craft only weapons and only for her royal guard. So you have to find the Gorons who either don't want to forge and want to heal instead, or just want to make jewelry, and work together to take out the forges or drive out the royal guards. shit like that. Instead of a monster, you have to fight the leaders of the tribes. The hardest Boss is Link, who you have a few encounters with at various points in the game and is the final boss for one ending(I'll explain later)

Now, the gameplay of this is a bit different, because unlike Link, who gets nothing but a sword, Ganon has both huge magic and unlimited evil on tap, just waiting for you to tap into your triforce. So let's Undertale this shit. The "pacifist" route has you playing like Link, you just have a sword and you go around collecting artifacts from various dungeons and upgrading your skill. The other route involves a special ability to tap into your tri-force. When you do, you get a huge strength boost and access to magic attacks like fireballs and summoning gloom hands. The downside to this is that if you use it too much it starts corrupting you. After using it too much or too often(there's a meter you can check), you start only being able to use those powers. you lose your ability to use your mom's sword, just magic and your bare hands. Where in the pacifist route you could collect allies to help you liberate the people, now you have to go at it alone. if you wanna commit to being evil, you don't get to have friends. Where you could spare bosses if you liked before, now you only have the option of killing them. the biggest change is in the final battle.

If you go pacifist, Link slowly realizes that being a hero means more than just being Zelda's lapdog. it's just, he's a Link, and she's a Zelda and he's meant to serve her. But seeing you liberate the people, seeing how happy they looked, it's given him a change of heart. Ganon and Link team up to defeat the witch queen Zelda(not her title, i just wanted to de-notate that she's a magic using boss). Once you defeat her, you and Link manage to overpower her will, and with all three pieces of the tri-force, you wish to end the cycle. permanently. No more Links, no more Zeldas, no more ganons.

In the Genocide however, Link sees none of that, all he sees is a ruthless brute destroying her majesty's country, killing her allies, and proving all her fears right. For the sake of all that is good, he must destroy this monster. Once you manage to knock him unconscious, you grab his limp body and Zelda by the neck and make your wish. A new world of chaos. No more empires, no more rules, just strength to determine what is right. The cycle continues, another link in the chain

[quickspinner]

"I would really love to know what you are trying to prove or accomplish with these questions, since it seems like you don’t actually read the work of any of the authors you petition."

Just wondering how you or other authors would fix the show.

Well, that really depends on what you mean by "fix." I'm not sure how Luka and Adrien being friends would fix anything because they ARE friends in the show.

If you want a love square endgame, I think you have to go all the way back to Despair Bear, which is where the LS peaked IMO. Up until that point it seemed like Marinette and Adrien were inching closer to each other. I would've reversed the love square at that point, with Adrien becoming more interested in Marinette and Marinette being more torn between him and CN, preventing her from confessing while she tried to figure out her feelings.

With no hate to Kagami, it's her introduction and more importantly, Adrien's reaction to her, that really tanked any believability for the LS for me. When contemplating moving on from LB, he consistently chose Kagami without even a thought of Marinette as an option, and that was just completely it for me. It's not just that Adrien is interested in Ladybug, it's that he is totally *uninterested* in Marinette, and that's where all the "he's socially awkward"/"he doesn't understand his own feelings" completely fall apart for me. The show doesn't generally let us inside Adrien's head the way they do Marinette's, so if there was any internal conflict there, they completely failed to convey it. They could have had him think for some reason, possibly through Chloe or Lila's manipulation, that Marinette wasn't actually interested in him and so he pursued Kagami and Marinette then thinks she would have to give up on him, and go at the alternate love interests to keep the drama going, and there could have been some interesting ground to explore there. Imagine how Frozer would be with Adrien going, well, Marinette would have good advice and I know she's not interested in me so it can't hurt to ask her about Kagami instead of being blatantly oblivious.

I also have beef with the way Adrien handled the hero team becoming more prominent; given his background it is reasonable for him to be upset and think that he has to shine above the rest to get LB's attention, but instead of sulking around and not showing up in fights (which, up until this point, was an aspect of salt fics I thought was comedically far-fetched) I would have had him seek out Su Han for training, potentially giving him a mentor figure/someone to talk to about it his relationship with LB, AND give him something solid and specific to contribute to the battle and relieve the burden on LB. (Who did they end up having do this though? *Luka*. Who had every reason to legitimately consider himself out of the fight. Just saying.)

Yes, I'm aware that was a really long sentence. Wordy bitch don't care. 😂

This would also require Su Han to be less of a dick, but there you go. Fix those things, and the godawful speech about "I can't help disrespecting your feelings because my own are so strong," and I would be nicer to Adrien. Give him some narrative accountability instead of acting the spoiled brat.

Oh yeah and also fix the speech where the rich white male supermodel teen icon tells Nino that asking out girls is easy. I've never forgiven him for that. And have him apologize in Frozer for letting his feelings get in the way of teamwork and leaving LB in danger without backup.

[sapphic-agent]

There's one thing I wanna ask Hori about the narrative that I'm surprised isn't talked about more.

Why weren't any of the characters allowed to question their society and heroes function as a whole?

Because when kids start off with hating heroes (Kota and those brats from the second movie), they're treated to be in the wrong and has to see how great heroes can be.

Which given the context that this is a society that turns a blind eye to it's corruption and how the minority suffers, it just comes across as putting rose tinted glasses on them to keep them away from the truly bad stuff.

Like, I get it with Kota, because his hatred of heroes stems from watching his parents die and believing they chose work over him, and that this hatred could grow into a problem later to where he might end up as a villain.

But at the same time, how come this didn't let Izuku to think about the society that shunned and berated him for being born different from everyone? How come no one else stop and think that this society is on the path to collapsing on itself if nothing is done?

In a story like this, characters should be allowed to question things around them and wonder if there's anything they can do make it more bearable for others, to seek out the change they wanna see so others wouldn't have to suffer like they did.

Kota is a great example, but I raise you Stain and the LOV.

Stain made sense. He went about it in entirely the wrong way, but he was right about false heroes and how much of a problem they were. But he's a murderous psychopath so we're supposed to take his words as out of touch rambling because he attacked Ingenium who was one of the good heroes.

(We're also given no proof. He says heroes are corrupt but we aren't shown why he thinks that and we don't see it beyond Endeavor. Even more reason not to take what he's saying seriously)

Hori could have really sold this by making Tensei perhaps not so virtuous. Maybe he had or started with good intentions but ended up contributing to toxic hero society in some way and Iida was blind to it because he was the big brother he admired. That would have made Tenya's character development hit harder in my opinion. Having Tensei confess this to Tenya would have made the Stain arc even better.

Which brings us to the LOV.

I feel like Hori forgot that Dabi and Toga also joined the LOV because of Stain, not just Spinner. They, on some level, absorbed his words and wanted what he did even if they were also fueled by other motives.

That's why a lot of Dabi's later character doesn't make a whole lot of sense. For those who knew he was Touya, it was implied that he was abused similarly to Shoto and was angry at Endeavor's treatment of his children. And then was inspired by Stain to call out his father as a false hero and take down the system that (indirectly) destroyed his family.

But no, he wants to kill Shoto, doesn't give a shit about Rei or Fuyumi, and almost got Natsu (the brother he was close to and presumably cared about) killed. And all to get back at Endeavor and make him suffer. Dabi's motives were a major let down and it reduces him to a one-dimensional villain, one who only wants to hurt people for the sake of hurting them. There's no hint of the influence Stain apparently had on him.

Toga is the same. She, presumably, admired Stain because of the similarities in their quirks. It's implied she joined the LOV to be with people like her (which is why she- as Camie- asks Izuku what kind of hero he wants to be, she's trying to see if he's one of those people). Who were outcasts and wanted to be able to do what they wanted with no persecution from others. She wanted to be free, even if she had a warped perception about what that meant. But over time, Horikoshi made her a creepy, predatory yandere type (seriously, what the fuck was the point of having her grope Uraraka??) with no depth to her actions.

Both Dabi and Toga never mention Stain or his ideals again. They're just psychopaths who need to be stopped. It dehumanizes them and uses mental illness for further antagonize them.

Spinner is the only one who still attempts to embody Stain's ideals. But of course, he never gets any focus. He's a "coward" who never stands up the the LOV (except when he stopped Magne from killing Izuku) even though he feels guilty about what they do. So most of the time, he isn't portrayed in a way that makes us stop and think. It's all too easy for the audience to dismiss or forget about him.

Anyone who (rightfully) questions or criticizes or openly despises the corrupt society in this universe is portrayed in a negative light. Even if what they're saying is technically right, we throw it away because they're doing something bad.

Really, there's only one character who's the exception. I'm, of course, talking about Lady Nagant.

Listen, me and Hori got beef all day everyday. BUT Nagant is one of the most exceptional characters I've ever seen in anime.

What I love about her is that she's someone who genuinely started out with good intentions and wanted to do the right thing but was torn down by society. It destroyed her from the inside out. The actions she took aren't even that extreme, they make sense considering everything she went through. Her problems with society aren't inane or hypocritical ramblings, she's 100% correct in her assessments because she was an unwilling participant in the corruption.

The problem with Nagant, however, is that she's with us for such a short amount of time that we don't get to take a deep dive here. We don't get to dissect why, exactly, society is so corrupt or find a solution to it.

It sucks because Hori was SO CLOSE to hitting the mark with Nagant. I think introducing her- or someone similar to her (missed opportunity with Hawks)- a lot sooner would have really improved the story

[bethanydelleman]

I was thinking about your Edmund vs. Frank poll and it made me revisit Frank's arc. I'll go straight to it - this guy exhibits massive red flag behavior at times.

The worst of it was the box hill episode. The day before, Jane had refused to walk with him (for very reasonable reasons though I'm sure she was also acting more out of frustration at Frank than any actual caution there). He outrageously flirts with Emma the next day in Jane's full view knowing she dislikes it. It's obvious he's doing it for revenge - to hurt Jane or get a reaction out of her. He brings up marriage completely out of the blue, brings up their engagement and makes a veiled threat to break up with her, and - this is what I can never forgive him for - he makes the comment about women in their "own set" which I'm sure is a dig at Jane's family's poverty. (please correct me if I'm wrong). And when Jane says something along the lines of "maybe we should break up" he loses it again and makes a dig at Jane's appearance and personality this time - asking Emma to find him a wife who is "lively, with hazle eyes", the opposite of Jane basically. And he wanted JANE to apologize to him after that.

Now the whole thing is very delightful to read as a reader. We can very easily see through Frank and his actions as those of a spoiled brat who has never been denied anything in life; with very little emotional regulation or control over his reactions. But imagine how horrible the whole thing must be from Jane's perspective - to be insulted like that by someone you love and plan to marry.

Frank's greatest redeeming quality is that he loves Jane. He really does love her, there is no denying that. But you can still be horrible to people you love. I also keep thinking about Andy's comment that Frank subconsciously resents Jane for the power she has over him, which makes him act out on her - the premise of the concealment allows him to hurt her, slander her character, criticize her personality and appearance all under the cloak of hiding the engagement. The ABC game is the greatest example - he already believed that Emma knew about the engagement by then, so there was no point to it except to harass Jane with a tasteless joke at her expense that he knew she didn't find funny.

The thing is I can totally see Box hill and ABC game becoming a pattern in their marriage later on. Whenever Jane doesn't do something that Frank wants her to, I can totally see Frank going unhinged, make veiled barbs at her in company accusing her of having married him for money and making digs at her for coming from a poor family; or express regret at having married too fast and young; or even making slight fun of her with their other guests like he had done with Emma. Later he is going to apologize profusely, love bomb her and buy her lavish gifts. But that doesn't change the fact that this is abusive behavior. You may say I'm overthinking it but consider - all of the future behaviours I noted is based on things he has already said or done canonically in the book.

One of your anons said that Frank had the potential to become Arthur Huntington in the future and unfortunately I can see that. Though I agree with you that Arthur had never loved Helen and Frank does love Jane, but you can still be abusive to people you love. I think of all Austen heroes Frank has the potential to become abusive in the future - because the abusive traits are already in his personality. Although I'm sure this dark side of his character probably appeals to a lot of Frank Churchill's fans.

I know this turned out to be Frank hate rant but I do like Frank. He is super fun to read on the page, and his love for Jane is endearing inspite of everything. And unlike the actual villains like Wickham and Willoughby, he doesn't have harm in his heart and all the harm done is because of his poor emotional regulation and lack of situational empathy. But my point is that a novel from Jane's perspective would be a lot darker than Emma is, and I doubt we will like Frank as much as we do then.

I don't regret voting Edmund because he annoys the fuck out of me, but I doubt he would ever make digs at Fanny's poverty, or make deliberately hurtful comments at her when he loses his temper, or make fun of her socially.

I know you like Frank so sorry if this comes off as hate, I promise it's not. Just a new perspective on "the worst Frank did was not talk to his father." Jane loves him inspite of everything and I can also see why. I hope she fixes him and they have a very happy married life.

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes.

Your English looks perfect to me. This question is in response to this question.

I don't know if Frank is as bad as you present him or as Andy thinks (I heartily disagree with him). Frank is a spoiled brat and he doesn't have much emotional regulation, but I think a lot of his acting out at Box Hill and the day before is due to his frustration at the engagement taking so long, not at Jane herself or her situation. He talks about how his aunt has only ever denied him a few times, one being going abroad. I think when Frank entered the engagement, he thought he would win his aunt over and it would be done and he'd be happy. The separation is wearing on him.

I think he has a bit too much fun "keeping" (he is not good at this) his secret but he also does not take the secret as seriously as Jane. He's annoyed with her because he wanted to walk her home and she said no. He's desperate to spend time with her but he can't. I think his problem at Box Hill is he takes Jane's rational secret keeping as a rejection of him (it's not). He thinks Jane's love is wearing out.

I could see them having a very happy marriage now that the moral dilemma facing Jane (secret engagement) is gone and Frank is more free to do as he pleases.

[lochlogie]

OMG YES EXACTLY and i feel like people were manipulated by saxons “development”. he read two books because a girl wouldn’t fuck him… because he wanted her to like him… his motives doesn’t make him progress at all he’s still the same in my eyes and he’s still a creep. people dont want to admit that because they like him and think characters they like reflect how they are in real life so they will defend his innocence with their life instead of embracing that hes not innocent at all and its okay to still like the character despite that.

The entire point of the show is that these rich people live complacent lives and do not have to grow or change because their money insulates them from consequences. Now, you may be thinking, but the Ratliff's lose everything! However, Saxon didn't know that until his last scene.

His "growth" was predicated on two things: Chelsea wouldn't fuck him, and Lochlan stepped in to get him off. Saxon's entire persona, predicated on being a success (whether that's at work or the gym or with women), crumbled into dust. The girl he wanted wasn't interested and his virginal gay brother had to "generously" give him the orgasm he was chasing. His response to that? He gives Lochlan the cold shoulder and is content to chalk up their weird incestuous dynamic to hero worship. He attempts to mold himself to Chelsea's interests in the vain hope of still hooking up with her. That's it. That's how much he "changes."

Saxon doesn't display any real introspection or desire to self improve. None at all. He can't even connect with Piper when she notes he's reading a book (something he bullies her about all the time). It's an interesting connection that Saxon keeps saying "I'll be whatever you want me to be, I'm a blank page baby," but he will never be a true people pleaser. Leave that to the professionals, Saxon. His attempt to be spiritual is just foreplay to him, and his attempt to read books is turned into an opportunity to brag about his Duke education. His attempt to turn down a deranged threesome only comes after he's already had an even more deranged threesome.

His attempt to "apologize" to Chloe for not indulging Greg's cuck fetish is not a real apology, because he did nothing wrong. There's nothing to be held accountable for and no growth he has to do. He said "no thanks," and that's it. This is Saxon putting on the performance of humility and growth. This is a Saxon who apologizes! Saxon 2.0 new and improved! But he never apologizes for bullying Piper, for pushing Chelsea's boundaries, for fucking up Lochlan's head, probably forever. He only apologizes for something that's not his fault.

I really don't understand why that flies under the radar for most fans. Saxon is putting on a face. He hasn't really changed. None of the Ratliff's changed. Victoria is exactly the same as before. Tim has accepted the consequences of his actions but those were inevitable, so the change is extremely minor and he's also coming down from ingesting benzos like vitamins. My point being does he deserve that much credit for walking back from the precipice and not crashing out? He was never a murderer so choosing not to kill his family in the end isn't exactly growth. Lochlan still doesn't know who he is or what he wants, he's not more confident or assured by any means. Piper has accepted that she's rich (for now) but she still doesn't have a greater purpose.

It's not a coincidence that around the same time people started whitewashing Saxon they started coming around to Parker Posey's legendary performance. Gone were the takes that the accent was over the top, that the character was ridiculous and a huge bitch. Victoria was funny, iconique, Posey's accent was spot on. And what happened next? The fans suddenly started saying that Piper was a phony bitch, a white savior fake Buddhist, annoying as hell, a privileged brat. They had been calling Piper the normal one and pretty down to earth prior to that point.

Hmm, weren't Victoria and Piper kind of diametrically opposed for most of the season? Weren't they kind of foils in the same way Saxon and Lochlan were? Hmm... this seems like more than a coincidence.

I don't know if these people relate to Saxon, but they relate to the idea of him. They want their initial assumptions about a handsome(?) heterosexual(?) masculine rich white man to be proven wrong. They want there to be a hidden heart of gold within the jerk. Is that because of real life attitudes or just the kind of media we all consume growing up? An extremely similar thing was going on with fans' perception of Rick.

There's a prevailing thought in this fandom that "things are set up a certain way but your expectations will be subverted later," even though that's not really true with this show. There's another prevailing thought, that none of these characters are black and white, that there's nuance. That one is true for this show. But the fans are not actually capable of engaging with that. They can only see things in black and white. And they're expecting the big reveal that the character set up to be black was actually white, and vice versa. Even though they espouse that all the characters are gray, they don't believe it.

Piper starts off unimpressed by her family's casual bigotry and being earnestly spiritual. But by the end of the season she shows nuance and shades of gray and suddenly she's been a fake rich bitch the whole time. Lochlan starts off easily led and completely unsure of himself. But by the end of the season he shows self awareness and agency in his own terrible decisions and suddenly he's a master manipulator and a sexual deviant.

Saxon starts off a complete douche in every way. But by the end of the season he shows that he's not a one dimensional frat bro and suddenly he's been a nice guy the whole time, he's a victim! Victoria starts off a barely lucid judgmental harpy. But by the end of the season, she demonstrates a certain astuteness and while she's definitely a narcissist, she doesn't gloat in her "victory." Suddenly everyone thinks she's a good mom??