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corollaservant · 5 months ago

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Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley.

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said.

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat.

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat.

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic.

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen.

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant.

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human.

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service.

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him.

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you.

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo.

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it.

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time.

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too.

#yandere mha #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #yandere touya x reader #dark content #my hero academia #mha imagines #todoroki touya x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #tw noncon #tw delusion #tw violence

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stunies · 11 days ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 29 — DUBCON. dabi x f!hero!reader ﾉ nsfw + dark content warning ﾉ return to masterlist & view tag list

what happens when your curiosity takes you to the league of villains’ hideout? luckily enough, there’s only one of them there to greet you— and the world seems kind enough to let you off with a sweet deal. fuck him just once to guarantee his silence, or so you thought.

contains ﾉ tw dark content: dubcon- very heavy dubcon to be safe, mentions of murder, brief mention of being his pet, fear play, reader has a support quirk that is not fit for fighting alone, forced orgasm, temperature play- kind of, hints of manipulation ﾉ corruption

The day you held your hero ID in your hands for the very first time also happened to be your first instance of being told to stay far away from the League of Villains.

You only vaguely remember the reasoning being that they were too dangerous for a support like yourself (especially one with zero experience under their belt) along with another thing that went in one ear and straight out the other.

A part of you has always wondered why the heroes you worked under had gone through so much trouble to ensure you stay back. Keep you hidden from the spotlight, perhaps- because how could you improve if you were always being protected? It was frustrating to see everyone besides yourself on the news.

Ironically, it’s the same reason why you’ve never been faced with the realization of how weak you really are until your head is being pressed into a table, arms easily held tight behind your back- and an infamous villain right behind you. A real one.

Not a simulation today- not one monitor in sight.

“Shigaraki would have loved to meet you,” his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel danger- a concept someone like you is entirely unfamiliar with. “He’s always had a thing for types like you.”

He pushes back inside- this time slowly, as if trying to brand the moment deep into your mind, and you only manage to weakly whimper when his hands tighten around your wrists, the heat emitting from his body acting as a cruel reminder that he has the power to kill- and you don’t.

“N-no,” the desperation in your voice is painfully obvious, “not him, okay? That wasn’t part of the deal..!” You can feel your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of meeting this man’s leader, breathing short and labored as different images flash across your mind as to what being ‘his type’ would imply.

You feel him throb inside you, and a whimper slips out.

“Ah, of course,” his hands land on your hips before he holds you still, letting himself push deeper inside you until you’re stuffed to brim- full of him. “I just wonder about what would happen to that fragile body of yours.”

“Just think about it…”

You think your body definitely shouldn’t be reacting like this. Underneath the trembling and shivering- your cunt flutters around him. Eagerly and hungrily, as if it’s been waiting for someone like him for years.

“Or… actually, how about this, hero?” He grunts- rougher now, pace picking up enough to make you gasp and lock up underneath him. “Forget the deal. Pay me a visit every week, and the League will never hear about you. How about it?”

“B-but—” You halt as soon as you feel his palms heat up against your skin.

“We both know that muscle-head would have a field day with you.” You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your temples, clammy hands struggling to keep your grip on the table. Your whole body feels numb- disobedient, but he feels good.

Too good for you to register exactly why your core suddenly feels so tight at the suggestion. “And if I remember, Compress likes types like you too. That guy’s got a mean streak,” Dabi leans to press his chest against yours- cold staples making you gasp, and he whispers against your neck, “he’d break you, you know.”

Your eyes widen- knees locking up, and your heartbeat rises to pound in your ears. “P-please— please slow down—”

He ignores you, only giving you a laugh in response. “What a pitiful state you’d be in. Think about it. I’ve been pretty nice, haven’t I?”

“W-wait!” You’re desperate now, reaching back to push at his hips and rising onto your toes to escape him. “I feel— feel weird—”

Something inside him seems to snap at this. You’re yelping as soon as your head is back on the table the next second- big hand roughly pushing you down and you sob. “What a hero you are,” he’s laughing loudly now, “cumming and crying on some League dick. Where are those pathetic bodyguards of yours now?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he moves to clamp his palm over it- roughly pulling you back in one swift motion until you’re flush against his chest. “Those ones drooling over you? How about I just kill them so you don’t have anywhere left to go? I’ll take you in as my pet,” you feel him smile against your neck- sick and twisted, and your cunt only clenches in response. “Be a good little hero and cum if you agree.”

Your eyes shoot open the same time he slams against a deep part inside you, body betraying every single shred of morality you have left when you cum, hard. It takes you by force, leaving no chance for it to go unnoticed by him when you’re clenching, shaking, and dripping underneath him like this. He has the heart to let go of you, let your weak body collapse onto the table beneath you as your chest heaves up and down for air, tears brimming your eyes and he only throbs inside you once more, hungry for more.

“Then it’s a deal.” His hands run up your sides, content with the way you shiver and lean into his touch. “A good choice, hero.”

dividers by @adornedwithlight

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crushmeeren · 27 days ago

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࿐ megumi’s turn! dabi’s version can be found here. again, this is short and sweet so I could focus on editing, but I hope the pacing wasn’t too fast. it’s also softer than I intended it to be, soooooooooo enjoy. :D

⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere (ish?) vibes.

⇢ ⇢ megumi art by saucy britt ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing an oni mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as delusional about him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Whenever someone asks you “hey, what do you love about Megumi?”, well, a plethora of amazing things fill your mind. You could, and would, write love poems about that man for days.

But, there are two quirks of his that you love to mention.

First off, Megumi is truly horrendous at keeping secrets. His apathetic attitude may not broadcast that, but he’s a gossip. Only those closest to him know that it’s his guilty pleasure.

Secondly, if you looked up the definition of obsessive personality, Megumi’s pretty face would be pictured there.

You’re not complaining, no, you’re so in love with your boyfriend it makes you sick. It’s just, for as long as you’ve known him, he’s never had the ability to keep a secret. Not even to save his life. You’re privy to much more restricted info involving Yuuji and Gojo than you ever thought you’d be.

To piggyback off that, he’s also constantly worrying about your safety. He checks in on you often, and he gets this stormy expression whenever you refuse to take his concern as seriously as he wants.

The pathway to and from your work is all but seared into your brain. You’ve walked it alone so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. So you’re not quite understanding why now, of all times, Megumi has deemed it unsafe. You’ve remained unscathed thus far.

And that’s why, when your sweet, obsessive boyfriend began stalking you on your way home from work late at night in an Oni mask and hoodie to cover his hair, you felt…. flattered. Were you creeped out? No. Should you have been? Probably. There’s no denying that the thrill of it gets your blood rushing, and the adrenaline high gives you goosebumps. You enjoy it, for lack of a better word.

Megumi, you assume, is more than likely trying to make a point. As misguided as it may be. When you first saw the masked man the night after yet another argument, you reasoned it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. At that time there was no proof connecting him to Megumi, but you had your suspicions.

When he asked about your walk home that very night, his forced nonchalance raised a red flag for you. Still, you didn’t mention you thought it was him. You did however snuggle close to him and rant about “your stalker”, begging him to protect you. Megumi sure as hell resembled a self satisfied cat when you did.

Afterwards, Megumi ended up pinning you to the bed with your knees touching your ears, whispering about how he’ll kill anyone who touches you. Now he does that each time you mention seeing “the stalker”, on your way home. A win - win, truly.

Granted, you were still wary about whether it really was him or not for the first few incidents. Then he made the mistake of hiding just around the corner of the alley you frequently pass and you caught a whiff of his extremely familiar cologne.

Not to mention you found the exact same Oni mask peaking out from under his bed a few days later. It looked as though he shoved it underneath in a frenzy, confident that it would suffice as a hiding place.

It didn’t.

You pretended you hadn’t seen it, waiting until Megumi went to get snacks from the kitchen before casually kicking it further under the bed and out of sight.

Safe to say, you’ve been allowing this to go on for much longer than you should have. It’s been almost an entire month. You’re curious to know if Megumi has any hunches that you’re aware it’s him, if only because you haven’t mentioned hide nor hair of filing a police report about it. Which would be the next logical step that any sane person would take.

In the back of your mind, you distantly wonder if you should be concerned that Megumi is so obsessed with you that he’s willing to go to such lengths to push you further into his arms.

You end up shrugging it off because you can’t judge him too harshly. You probably would’ve ended up doing something similar sooner or later if he hadn’t beaten you to the punch.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Things come to head one night as you’re heading home.

The moon is bright, the stars are beautiful, but it does absolutely nothing to tame the trail of fire you’re leaving in your wake.

Work had been… enraging, to say the least. Your insufferable coworker had been on shift with you, and you’d seriously rather shove bamboo shoots under your nails than work with them.

They’re selfish, incompetent, a pick me, and you can’t fathom why your management keeps them on staff. Those motherfuckers.

After you had angrily tugged your coat on and gathered your things, you stormed out the door after having a rather heated conversation with your manager. You hadn’t checked your phone all night, and it completely slipped your mind to text Megumi when you left, as you usually did.

About halfway through your fuming journey the light of the street lamps bounce off of something shiny and it catches your eye. Your heart beat falters, head snapping towards the alleyway only to see a figure lurking in the shadows. Peering straight at you. The person is clothed in all black, hoodie securing their hair, but once you spy the Oni mask, you realize it’s Megumi. Again.

You roll your eyes, your only recently fading irritation sparking back to life. You exhale harshly through your nose, stuffing your hands further into your pockets and speed up. You are not in the mood to deal with this. The distance sound of sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as someone walks briskly has your fingers balling into fists.

Normally, the cold blooded thrill of being stalked switches your adrenaline into lust, leaving you drooling for Megumi by the time you get home. But currently it’s twisting into something ugly. The sensation of eyes constantly being locked on you has you desperately wanting to crawl out of your skin. It’s overwhelming, and not in a good way.

You speed up once more, jaw tightening to the point that your teeth may crack when Megumi matches your pace. You’re this close to breaking out into a jog as you turn the last corner to your block, but your ears start to twitch at the sudden absence of footsteps.

You whirl around ready to give your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you freeze when you realize he’s gone. You grind your teeth in irritation because he obviously slipped away without you noticing. Clicking your tongue behind your teeth, you practically stomp past the last few houses toward your shared home.

Megumi better be ready to argue when he shows up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

As soon as you get home you toss your stuff carelessly onto your bed and return back to the living room. Dropping down onto the couch, you sit stiffly, shoulders tense as you perch yourself on the edge.

A part of your brain scolds you, telling you that your boyfriend doesn’t necessarily deserve all the built up rage from the day. Megumi isn’t innocent though, and he does play a part in the chaotic mess you’ve created, so it’s obvious you need to talk to him.

It doesn’t take much longer for Megumi to show his face. The door creaks as it opens and closes, your palms starting to sweat the closer he gets. Megumi calls out to you in greeting, but the silence is deafening when you don’t bother to reply.

Megumi rounds the couch and freezes when he eyes your tense posture. His face is carefully blank, eyes flitting over your figure as he gingerly sits down next to you. You barely spare him a glance, Megumi’s brows pinching in concern as you return your stare to the TV in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His tone is apprehensive as he rests a large palm on your knee, slender fingers squeezing reassuringly. You stiffen under the touch, unable to stop yourself from glaring hotly at him.

“Why the fuck have you been following me?” Your tone drips with venom, the slightest bit of guilt brewing when Megumi’s head jerks back as if you slapped him, lips parting and eyes widening.

Okay, so you definitely didn’t plan to get to straight into it, but evidently you can’t hold your tongue.

“That’s not, I mean —,” he starts to fumble over his words as he tries to come up with something convincing. His fingers dig into your knee and you sneer slightly, shifting to grip his wrist so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“Megumi,” you warn. “I know you’ve been following me. I found the Oni mask under your bed. Tell me why. Now,” you stress the last word and lock your heated gaze with his. His dark eyes flit back and forth across your face as he stays stiff for an ungodly amount of time. Just as the silence is becoming unbearable he wilts in his seat, sighing as his chin touches his chest.

Some of your fury fades when he lifts his head and looks at you with such sad eyes, a small frown on his mouth. Your hold on his bony wrist loosens considerably.

“I just,” he pauses, pursing his lips as he searches for the right words. “You make me feel, okay? Too much sometimes, and I get worried about your safety. I wanted you to see how dangerous it can be for you to be out there alone. I need you to need me, the same way I need you...” he mutters, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he averts his gaze.

All the fight drains out of you, chest welling up with a warmth so intense it burns the tips of your ears.

“Gumi,” you say softly, moving to tenderly cradle the side of his jaw. He leans into it, eyes hopeful as he reaches up to place his hand over yours. “I do need you. You’re the only one I trust to protect me. You didn’t have to stalk me to get your point across,” you say with slight amusement, resting your forehead on his.

Megumi sighs softly, lids lowering. “I wasn’t going to keep it up at first, but then… I started to like the thrill of hunting you down,” he admits, sparking the tension between you. The warmth in your belly turns you gooey as you process his confession.

You hesitate before answering shyly. “I…liked it too.” Megumi’s expression shifts into something more humorous, a faint smirk quirking his lips.

“Oh?” He teases. You bite your lower lip, trailing your fingers feather light down the side of his throat and his breath hitches.

“Yeah,” you whisper, catching Megumi staring at your mouth with a dark hunger. He smoothes his hand up to your inner thigh, inching his face even further into your personal bubble.

“I want you,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You moan lowly, tilting your head to get the perfect angle. Soft lips meet yours slowly, repeatedly, and the slick noise of it makes your pussy ache to be stretched by his cock.

You make out with your boyfriend until you’re seriously debating crawling into his lap and riding him right here on the couch. Delicately, you place your hands on his chest, the soft t-shirt brushing your palms, and you push to break the kiss.

“Go get the mask, Megumi.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s a rush to see who can get naked first.

Your clothes, and Megumi’s, are scattered along the floor of your bedroom. Megumi had eagerly pulled the mask from his back pack, and now you’re in bed spread out on your back, watching Megumi with bated breath as he slips it on.

Megumi has settled on his haunches between your thighs, adjusting the mask until it fits comfortably and covers his entire face. You have to bite your knuckles as he looms over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head while you stare up at him with stars in your eyes.

You’d practically begged him to make it rough, not wanting much, if any at all, foreplay involved.

You gently run your hands down the soft skin of Megumi’s taut stomach, fingers brushing over the thin patch of dark hair that leads to his cock. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, the decent weight of it against your palm turning you on just that much more. His hips twitch involuntarily when you squeeze playfully, slowly stroking as he moans your name.

Too soon he’s snatches your wrist away, causing you to pout up at him. He shakes his head and tugs your hand away from his dick.

“Turn over baby,” Megumi instructs, backing off enough to allow you to wiggle and shift freely until you’re flat on your belly. Your cheek squishes into the mattress, hands resting by your head, and your blood starts to sing when Megumi straddles the backs of your thighs.

The tingling sensation in your fingertips reminds you of the first time you had sex with Megumi, and it’s as if you’re experiencing that night all over again.

Your stomach clenches when a hard cock suddenly nestles against the swell of your ass. The smooth, warm skin dragging back and forth as Megumi rolls his hips for the friction.

“Are you gonna fuck me like this?” You ask excitedly. A sharp swat on the ass is your answer, a startled gasp ringing out as you fist the blanket.

“I never said you were allowed to speak. Bite your tongue unless I tell you otherwise, whore,” Megumi says coldly, spanking you once more to get his point across. You capture the tip of your tongue between your teeth and nod vigorously, your skin already warm to the touch and swelling.

The insult has your cheeks on fire from the inherent shame, but it feels incredible. Besides, you know he’ll be calling you a good girl soon enough.

Megumi shuffles down, rising up to his knees as he uses a thumb to spread your pussy open. It’s a slow press as he tries to work his cock inside you. His tip’s on the edge of popping in but then he slips, sliding down and bumping your clit instead. The jolt of sweet pleasure startles you, causing you to shove your face into the blanket and moan.

“Sorry,” Megumi snickers, but the bastard doesn’t carry an ounce of remorse in his voice.

He readjusts his angle, lining up his cock a bit better and then he’s sinking a quarter of the way into your tight pussy. It burns, you’re nowhere near wet enough to take him, and you think you could cum from the sensation alone.

He rocks his hips and steadily inches himself the rest of the way inside, using rolling motions until he’s pushed in to the hilt. Megumi decides to stay there, cock jerking and applying firm pressure to your cervix.

You hiss on your next inhale, a stab of pain making itself known. The feeling blends with the pleasure of being stretched so well and your pussy flutters involuntarily. Megumi gasps softly, supporting his weight with palms pushing against your upper back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight like this. You were made to take my cock,” Megumi praises, voice rising in pitch when you wiggle underneath him. You whine quietly in agreement, remembering to stay silent, and an approving hum comes from behind you.

Megumi looms over your back, fingers closing around your wrists to effectively pin you to the bed. He draws his hips back and snaps them forward powerfully, pelvis smacking loudly against your ass.

He builds up to a rough pace, the unyielding grasp on your wrist has your fingers going numb. Your boyfriend mercilessly pounds you into the mattress, cock pushing so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You cry out endlessly as overwhelming pleasure swells behind your bellybutton. You struggle to get free, but Megumi doesn’t allow you to budge.

If Megumi is making any noise, you can’t hear it over your own cries. Well, except for the few husky moans that spill unabashedly from his mouth before he can stop them. When you start to cum you shout his name so harshly into the sheets that it wrecks your voice. Your boyfriend curses hotly, slipping his cock free completely and flipping you onto your back before you can blink.

He pushes one thigh to your chest and shoves his cock back into you, his other hand latching around your throat as he leans in close.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking without permission?Are you deaf?” He snarls, the angry, distorted expression of the Oni mask becoming much more threatening in your fucked out state.

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, both hands flying to grip his forearm.

Megumi clicks this tongue and squeezes hard briefly before shaking himself free of your hold.

“You’re sorry?” He sneers, pressing his palm to your face and covering the entirety of your mouth and nose. He completely cuts off your air and your eyes go wide, a burst of panic building in your chest. You can’t fucking breathe. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to me. If you don’t want to pass out baby, you better cum on cock before you run out of air.”

You fist the sheets until you’re sure they’ll rip, eyes rolling back as Megumi fucks you into the mattress. The intensity of the situation and lack of oxygen fills your brain with molasses, ears ringing as your sole focus remains on cumming.

Mercifully, your pleasure starts to crest and peak into that familiar edge, the one that’s similar to the anticipation right before the big drop on a roller coaster. The smooth glide of Megumi’s cock continuously splitting you is more than enough to dangle you over the edge.

Your chest starts to heave, lungs burning as no air makes it way inside. You fumble with Megumi’s wrist, tugging desperately, but he whispers muffled encouragement through the covered mouth of the mask.

“C’mon, you can do it baby. You’re almost there, I can feel it. You’re such a good girl. Make that sweet pussy cum for me and I’ll let you breathe.”

The backs of your eyes start to sting, heart thumping so hard it pulsates throughout your entire body. Your vision swims and your thighs tense, Megumi’s nails biting into the sensitive skin on the underside of your thigh. White hot pleasure suddenly crashes into you, flowing like warm honey. The base of your skull digs into the mattress as you cum with a muffled scream.

Megumi immediately frees you and you gasp loudly, throat like sandpaper as you swallow oxygen the same way you drink water. The sensation of air filling your lungs drags your orgasm out ten fold and you start to push at Megumi’s chest when it gets overwhelming.

“Megumi,” you all but sob, pleading as you stare up at him with glazed eyes. He drops your thigh as he sits up, slipping his cock free with a hoarse groan as he strokes himself quickly. His lean body sags with relief as he cums, streaking your pussy and stomach with white.

He lets go of his still twitching cock, tip leaking pitifully onto the blankets, and pushes the mask off to throw it haphazardly aside. He pants harshly, cheeks scarlet as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair to keep it from sticking to his forehead. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to regain your bearings. You’re sure a headache is on the horizon as you rub your eyes with your knuckles.

The air in your room is humid and stuffy, the only noise being you and Megumi trying to catch your breath. Your boyfriend eventually slides off the bed to find his discarded shirt from earlier. You stay limp as he helps get you clean, Megumi opting to crawl up beside you and lay on his stomach afterwards.

He twists his head towards you and you mirror his position. Your entire being feels like jelly and you sigh contentedly when Megumi rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is scratchy as the adrenaline wears off and sleep starts to seep into your limbs.

Megumi snorts. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who’s half asleep.”

You punch his shoulder halfheartedly and he laughs. “Whatever, can we go to bed now?”

“As long as you promise to take my concerns more seriously.”

“Fine, only if you promise not to stalk me through the streets like a lunatic.” Your eyes drift shut as you speak.

Megumi huffs. “Deal.”

“Keep the mask though, gumi.” You crack open an eyelid to smile playfully at him. Megumi lets out a startled laugh, but he agrees not to throw it away. He snuggles in close and kisses the side of your cheek several times.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk megumi

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missrosegold · 7 months ago

Text

someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation.

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust.

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you.

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him.

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood.

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being.

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you.

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily.

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off. He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.” You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him.

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x y/n #touya x you #post war!au #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #tw: mental health #see a03 for more detailed tags

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fatkish · 7 months ago

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Aizawa, Dabi and Amajiki x Nezuko Demon Reader

Reader has a demon quirk that makes them just like Nezuko from Demon Slayer. Their quirk comes at the cost of being asleep for abnormally long periods of time as well as an inability to speak and a slight decrease in mental clarity as well

Amajiki:

He and Mirio had known you since Preschool before you got your quirk

When your quirk manifested, you began to sleep for long periods of time, often times you would sleep for a week or more whenever you used your quirk or just to maintain an even amount of energy

Tamaki was worried about you and your likeliness to fall behind, so he began to tutor you and help you stay caught up with your classes

Your parents had a box designed for you to sleep in since you’ll fall asleep wherever and be unable to be woken up

Since then, Tamaki has carried you everywhere and been your designated caretaker and supporter

Reader is fiercely protective of him and obeys his commands

Reader loves when he, Hado or Mirio plays with their hair

Is completely docile and loves to nuzzle Tamaki as a means to show their affection

Reader’s ability is like Tamayo’s. They can create visual floral patterns and it affects the people’s mood making them docile or sleepy

Tamaki is deeply appreciative of the reader’s ability

Reader will sit on his lap or Mirio’s if their awake during class

Dabi:

He found you one day all alone, you were in your small form so he thought you were a homeless kid and he decided to help you out

No one had ever shown you kindness before so you quickly grew attached to him

Reader is fiercely loyal and protective of dabi

Whenever a hero or villain tries to attack him, you’ll pop up and attack them, defending him

Reader is constantly hostile and is always growling and glaring at others

Toga thinks it’s adorable and as Dabi grows closer to the league, so do you. But Dabi remains your number one priority

Reader is only affectionate to Dabi

You’ll nuzzle him, hug him, cuddle up and lay your head against him as you take a nap

Dabi loves that the reader is as murderous as he is and that he doesn’t have to worry about them getting hurt because they can heal

Tomura tried to decay your arm only for it to regrow in mere seconds, needless to say, Tomura was impressed

You’ll only listen to Dabi’s commands

You nearly killed Endeavor and would have gutted him if it wasn’t for Dabi ordering you to leave Endeavor to him

Reader’s demon art is similar to Nezuko’s where they can burn people and things with their blood

You can also somewhat heal things like poisoning and infections by burning away only the poison or bad bacteria

Aizawa:

Similar to Dabi, Aizawa found the reader in an alley, abandoned, he decided to take them in after he brought them to the hospital and learned about their quirk

He had Power Loader create a box that was lightweight and comfortable both for you on the inside and for him to carry

His students are always surprised whenever they see you come out of the box for the first time

Aizawa leaves the box either in his classroom or in the faculty lounge

Hizashi and Midnight absolutely adore you

Midnight tries to dress you up, you’ll then go running to Aizawa in hopes that he’ll drive Midnight off

Reader occasionally makes themselves small and hides in his scarf

Is extremely affectionate to certain people

You love cuddles and playing with people’s hair,

Hizashi is more than happy to let you play with and braid his hair

Reader loves rubbing their face against his stubble and playing with his hair

Loves to sleep on his chest or snuggle up to him

If he’s in his sleeping bag, you’ll either unzip it and crawl inside with him or you’ll just lay on top of him

Reader goes on patrols with him and listens to his commands on what to do

Reader’s demon blood ability allows them to create chains that latch onto their opponents. The chains can be used however the reader wants

(Reader’s chains are similar to Kurapika’s from Hunter x Hunter, only there are many more)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #touya x reader #dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #mha amajiki #tamaki amakiji #bnha dabi #mha dabi

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dee-writes-anime · 1 month ago

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Through The Ashes

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami x Reader

SUMMARY He won't ever stop looking for you.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, fluff, descriptions of injuries and war, worried birdy :(

AUTHORS NOTE Hawks has been PLAGUING me ever since they animated him getting choked out by afo. What a daddy broooo

Thick, acrid smoke hung heavy in the air, stinging your eyes and filling your lungs as you watched the aftermath of the battle unfold. Flames still crackled in the distance, licking the sky like the world was burning itself alive. Debris littered the ground in every direction, and the sharp, high-pitched whine of sirens echoed faintly behind you, warning civilians to stay away. Yet, as much as every instinct screamed for you to turn back, you couldn’t.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the chaos ahead. The explosion—Toya’s explosion—had been deafening, shaking the earth beneath your feet like an unholy force, and now all you could see were shadows against the inferno. The heat was intense, suffocating, but none of that mattered to you anymore. Not when you saw the figures rushing toward the heart of the flames.

The Todoroki family.

You knew of them, of course—everyone did. Endeavor, the Number One Hero, and his family were always in the headlines. But what you saw now was something raw, something terrifying and intimate. The way they ran toward the flames, toward the place where Dabi—Toya—had been… it wasn’t the hero family you knew from the news. It was just a family, shattered and desperate.

Without thinking, you took a step forward.

Your hands trembled as you pulled your coat tighter around your body, not from the cold, but from fear. There was no logical reason for you to follow them into the wreckage, into the heart of danger, and yet something inside you refused to let them go alone. You didn’t know these people, had no personal stake in their battle, but the sight of them rushing toward the inferno—the father, the children—all of them so broken yet moving forward—it clawed at your chest. Your feet moved on their own, pushing you through the smoldering remnants of the battlefield.

“Wait!” you called, though your voice was swallowed by the roaring fire and the distant shouts of heroes trying to contain the chaos. “Wait!”

They didn’t hear you. They couldn’t. And yet, you kept going.

The heat was overwhelming. Every breath you took felt like inhaling fire, the smoke thickening the deeper you ventured. The acrid smell of burning filled your senses—scorched earth, wood, metal, and something far worse. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and determination as your mind raced. You didn’t know what you would do once you caught up to them—didn’t know how you could possibly help—but standing by and doing nothing wasn’t an option. It never had been.

All around you, the remnants of the battle lay scattered. Chunks of debris from fallen buildings, charred vehicles, and the occasional flicker of blue flame still licking at the edges of the wreckage. The world felt like it was ending, and you were running straight toward its center.

You had always been the type of person who couldn’t turn away from those in need. The type to throw yourself into situations others might have avoided, driven by a heart too full of empathy. It was that same instinct that led you now, pushing you forward through the smoke and ruin, your legs moving faster than your brain could process. You didn’t even stop to consider what you were really doing.

Ahead of you, you could still see the Todorokis—Endeavor’s tall frame leading the way, his daughter and sons close behind. Even in the haze, you could feel the tension radiating from them, their steps urgent and frantic as they headed toward the epicenter of it all—toward where Toya had been. There was something tragic about the sight, a family fractured and yet still tied together by the weight of their past, their shared pain.

You stumbled over a chunk of debris, your hands flying out to catch yourself before you hit the ground. A sharp pain shot through your knee as you landed, scraping against the jagged edge of something metallic, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You pushed yourself up, wincing as you forced your legs to keep moving. The smoke grew thicker with each step, the world blurring around you in shades of grey and orange.

It wasn’t rational, this pull inside you. You were just a civilian who had somehow found herself caught in the middle of a war too large, too dangerous. And yet, all you could think about was making sure they were okay. That this family, already so broken, wouldn’t lose more than they already had.

As the heat intensified, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, your clothes clinging to your skin. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, each breath harder to pull in than the last. But you were close now. You could see them more clearly, the tension in their shoulders, the desperation in their movements.

Your chest ached as you watched them, and for a moment, you wondered why you cared so much. Why were you so willing to throw yourself into this mess? You had no connection to them, no reason to be here. But that didn’t matter. It never had. You couldn’t stand the idea of them suffering alone.

A flash of blue flames roared to life in the distance, making you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped, panic clawing at your throat as you watched the fire dance wildly, so familiar, so destructive. You flinched as a sharp crack filled the air—an explosion, small but enough to send a ripple of terror through your body. The battle wasn’t over yet.

Still, you didn’t turn back.

You ran, ignoring the burning in your lungs, the sting in your eyes. The smoke was suffocating now, so thick you could barely see a few feet in front of you. But you kept running toward them, toward the flames, your hands trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

You didn’t know if they were okay. You didn’t even know if you’d make it to them in time.

But you had to try.

As you fought to keep going, the chaos around you seemed to blur, your mind drifting for just a moment. Flashes of your past flickered through the haze, small memories surfacing like whispers at the edges of your thoughts.

You remembered the old woman who lived in the apartment next to yours, her voice always soft with age and a weariness that came from living too many years alone. You’d see her every day, struggling to carry groceries up the stairs, her back bent with the weight of time. Most people ignored her, passing by with hurried footsteps, their lives too busy to notice. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t watch her struggle in silence. Every week, you’d knock on her door, offering to help, a small smile on your face. The way her tired eyes would light up at the sight of you—so grateful for such a simple kindness—it was something that always stayed with you.

Even now, in the middle of all this destruction, you could hear her voice in your head. “You’re too kind for your own good, dear. This world will eat you up if you’re not careful.”

But you hadn’t been careful. Not then, not now.

Your feet stumbled over another piece of rubble, pulling you sharply back to the present. The smoke made it hard to breathe, every inhale feeling like fire searing your throat, but still, you pressed on. The Todorokis were just ahead, their silhouettes barely visible through the haze. You had to make sure they were okay. You had to.

Another memory surfaced, as vivid as the heat surrounding you. This time, it was a rainy afternoon, the streets slick with water, and you were on your way home from work. You remembered the boy—barely a teenager, sitting on the curb with his head hung low, his clothes soaked through. People walked past him, umbrellas up, eyes averted. He was invisible to them. But not to you.

You couldn’t forget the way his shoulders trembled, his hands clenching around the thin fabric of his jacket, trying to hide the fact that he was shivering. Without thinking, you had rushed to his side, crouching down and offering him your own umbrella. You had barely any money on you, but you gave him enough for a warm meal, your heart aching for this kid who had nothing.

“Why are you doing this?” he had asked, his voice barely audible over the rain. You remembered the way his eyes had searched yours, confused and a little suspicious, as if he couldn’t understand why a stranger would care.

“Because someone should,” you had replied simply, your words sincere.

That was who you were. Someone who couldn’t stand by while others suffered. Someone who would rather run headfirst into the fire than live with the guilt of doing nothing. And that’s why, now, with the world burning around you, you couldn’t turn back.

The memory faded as a sharp gust of wind sent sparks flying past your face, bringing you back to the present once more. Your heart pounded in your chest, your lungs burning, but your resolve never wavered.

Another flash of memory struck you—this time of the day you stood up for the girl at the coffee shop. She had been just a little older than you, her face pale and her hands trembling as the man at the counter berated her, his voice dripping with condescension. People had looked on in silence, awkwardly sipping their drinks, unwilling to get involved. But you had stepped in, your voice firm as you stood between them, calling the man out for his cruelty. You could still see the shock in his eyes, the way he had stammered before leaving in a huff. And you could still remember the way the girl had thanked you, her eyes wide with relief, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to come to her defense.

You had always been like that—driven by an empathy that wouldn’t let you stand on the sidelines. Even when it hurt, even when it was hard. You couldn’t turn away from someone in pain.

And now, in the middle of this war-torn battlefield, you knew you couldn’t leave the Todorokis to face this alone.

The weight of the destruction pressed down on you, and for a moment, doubt whispered in your mind. Who were you to think you could help? You weren’t a hero. You didn’t have a quirk, didn’t have any special powers to save the day. You were just… you. A civilian. Ordinary. But that had never stopped you before. It didn’t matter who you were. What mattered was that you cared. And that, somehow, always seemed to be enough.

With a renewed sense of purpose, you pushed forward, your feet moving faster now, ignoring the searing pain in your lungs, the ash that coated your skin. You weren’t going to let them face this alone.

Keigo’s chest felt like it was on fire. Each breath was a battle, the air thick with smoke and ash, choking him as he staggered forward. His wings, once powerful and graceful, dragged behind him like broken remnants of what they used to be. Feathers lay scattered in the debris, singed and bloodied, just like everything else around him. But none of that mattered.

Not when you were missing.

His vision blurred as he fought to stay upright, the pain from his injuries dulling into a distant ache, overshadowed by the suffocating weight of fear that gnawed at his every thought. He couldn’t focus on the war, couldn’t think about the destruction all around him. All he could think about was you, disappearing into the flames, into the heart of the chaos.

“Let me go,” he growled, shoving the hands of the medics away as they tried once more to stop him. They were persistent, their voices tight with concern, but they didn’t understand. They didn’t get it. No one did. How could they?

“Sir, you need treatment—” one of them started, her words hurried, but Keigo wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. His mind was a whirlwind of panic, of memories crashing over him like waves, pulling him under. His body protested every movement, pain radiating through his chest and side, his wings twitching uselessly behind him, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t.

“I don’t care,” he snapped, shoving past them with more force than necessary. His voice was hoarse, raw from shouting your name, but he didn’t care about that either. He didn’t care about the blood dripping from the gash on his forehead, or the sharp sting of his cracked ribs. The only thing he cared about was finding you.

Because if he didn’t—if he lost you—nothing else would matter.

Keigo stumbled over a broken piece of concrete, catching himself just in time before he fell. His knees buckled beneath him, his legs screaming in protest, but he forced himself to keep moving. He couldn’t afford to stop. His golden eyes, usually sharp and focused, were wild now, darting through the smoke and flames, searching desperately for any sign of you.

But there was nothing.

Just ash, and smoke, and the broken remains of the world around him.

A sharp, painful memory surfaced as he pushed through the debris. He could see it so clearly—you, sitting across from him in his apartment, the two of you sharing one of those quiet moments that he had come to treasure more than anything. You had been laughing at something ridiculous he’d said, your eyes crinkling at the corners, that familiar warmth radiating from you like sunlight. He had always loved the sound of your laughter, the way it made everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world wasn’t so crushing when you were around.

That night, you had curled up beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, Keigo had felt at peace. He’d felt safe.

Now, that peace felt like it was slipping away. Like it was being ripped from him, piece by piece, with every second that passed without you by his side.

Where are you?

His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the fear gnawing at his insides. You were out there somewhere, lost in the wreckage, and he wasn’t there to protect you. That thought alone was enough to send another surge of panic coursing through him. His wings twitched instinctively, trying to lift him into the air, but they were too damaged. Useless. He gritted his teeth against the frustration that tore at him.

He was always supposed to be the one who saved others, the one who swooped in at the last second, wings spread wide, to pull them from the brink. But now… now it felt like he was the one drowning.

Keigo’s breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as he forced his legs to keep moving. The pain in his side was unbearable, every step sending a fresh wave of agony through his body, but he ignored it. He had to. He had to find you.

Another memory hit him, this one softer, but no less painful. It was a quiet morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, casting golden light across your skin as you lay beside him. He remembered watching you sleep, his heart full in a way that was unfamiliar to him—so foreign, and yet so right. He’d never been good at letting people in, never been good at trusting anyone to stay. But you… you had changed that.

You had become the center of his world without him even realizing it.

The thought of losing you now, of never seeing you smile again, never hearing your laughter or feeling your warmth beside him—it was too much. It was unbearable.

His heart clenched painfully as he staggered forward, his wings dragging behind him, broken and battered, just like him.

The medics had given up by now, their shouts fading into the background as Keigo pushed deeper into the wreckage, his mind consumed by fear. His hands shook as he grabbed at a piece of fallen debris, tossing it aside with more force than necessary. His muscles screamed in protest, but he didn’t care.

He had to find you.

He couldn’t stop. Not until he found you.

You’re too kind for your own good, you know that? The memory of his own voice echoed in his head, a teasing remark he’d made once during one of your late-night conversations. You’d been sitting on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, eyes soft as you listened to him talk about the latest mission. He had always admired that about you—your kindness, your empathy. But now, that very kindness had led you into danger. You had run into the flames, into the destruction, without a second thought.

Why did you do it? he wondered, his chest tightening with every passing second. Why did you run into the fire?

But he knew the answer, didn’t he? You couldn’t stand by while others suffered. It was who you were. The same reason you had always stayed up late to listen to him vent, always showed up with that smile that made the world seem a little less dark. You were selfless in a way that frightened him, a way that made him love you more than he ever thought possible. And that was why he was terrified now.

Because that selflessness could get you killed.

“Damn it,” Keigo muttered, his voice cracking as he called out your name again, his throat raw from the smoke, from the desperation that clawed at him like a living thing. His legs buckled beneath him, and for a moment, he collapsed to his knees, his body trembling from exhaustion, from fear. His hands dug into the ground, dirt and ash slipping through his fingers as he fought to keep moving, fought to push himself up again.

He couldn’t stop.

Not until he found you.

The world around him was crumbling, flames licking at the edges of the destruction, the acrid stench of smoke and blood filling the air. Heroes and civilians lay scattered across the battlefield, some being tended to by medics, others… others weren’t moving. But Keigo’s mind was a blur, his thoughts fixated on one thing, one person.

You.

He forced himself to stand, his body screaming in protest, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care. The thought of losing you—of never seeing you again—it was enough to make him feel like he was suffocating. Like the air had been ripped from his lungs.

“Come on… please…” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he staggered forward again, his heart pounding, his vision blurring with tears he refused to acknowledge.

He couldn’t lose you.

Not like this.

Keigo’s legs were failing him, each step a struggle as the ground beneath him seemed to shift, unsteady and broken like the world around him. He could barely keep his feet under him as he pressed forward, forcing his battered body through the ruins. The smoke was so thick now that it burned his lungs, every breath ragged and painful, but none of it mattered—not when the only thought in his head was finding you.

“Please…” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from shouting, from the smoke, from the sheer panic that clawed at his throat. He stumbled again, his boots catching on a piece of fallen debris, and he went crashing to his knees. Sharp pain shot up his legs, but he pushed it aside. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when every second without you felt like a lifetime.

Your name tore from his lips again, a desperate cry swallowed by the chaos around him. The sound of crackling flames, of distant shouting, all of it drowned out the voice in his head screaming for you, his heart pounding with a frantic urgency that felt like it was going to tear him apart.

Where were you? Why couldn’t he find you?

His hands dug into the scorched earth, fingers curling into fists as he forced himself back up, shaky and weak. His wings dragged behind him like lead weights, broken and useless, but none of that mattered. He couldn’t fly—he couldn’t even run—but he would crawl if he had to. Anything to get to you.

Keigo’s eyes darted through the wreckage, searching, searching… but every face he passed was unfamiliar. Strangers—heroes and civilians alike—lay scattered across the battlefield, some being tended to by medics, others motionless, lost to the carnage. But none of them were you.

His heart clenched painfully, his mind spiraling as he staggered forward, his breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps. His mind raced with questions, with fears, each one more terrifying than the last.

Had something happened to you?

Were you hurt? Trapped?

Or worse… had you been caught in the explosion?

That thought alone was enough to send a fresh wave of panic crashing over him, making his vision blur, his heart race. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let himself think that. You had to be okay. You had to be out here somewhere, waiting for him. He refused to believe anything else. But the longer he searched, the longer he called out your name and heard nothing in return, the harder it became to hold onto that hope.

And then, through the haze of smoke and destruction, he saw them.

The Todoroki family.

They were emerging from the flames, their silhouettes hazy against the backdrop of devastation. For a moment, Keigo’s heart leaped into his throat. Maybe—just maybe—you were with them. Maybe you had stayed close, maybe—

But as they drew closer, his hope shattered.

You weren’t with them.

His heart plummeted, his legs nearly giving out beneath him as he stumbled forward, his wings dragging limply behind him. He watched as Shoto helped his father walk, the two of them bloodied and exhausted but alive, with Fuyumi and Natsuo at their side. They were safe. The Todoroki family had made it through the flames, but you…

You were nowhere to be seen.

Keigo’s vision blurred with a fresh wave of panic, his mind spiraling, thoughts crashing over him in a tidal wave of fear.

Where were you?

Why weren’t you with them? Had something happened? Had you… had you been caught in the blast?

No.

The word cut through his mind like a blade, sharp and immediate, but it did nothing to stop the growing dread that gnawed at his insides. His chest tightened painfully, his heart racing as worst-case scenarios flooded his thoughts.

What if you had been caught in the explosion? What if you hadn’t made it? What if he never got to see you again, never got to hold you, to tell you—

Stop.

Keigo shook his head, forcing the thoughts down, but they were relentless, clawing at him like a living thing. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion, with fear, with the crushing weight of it all. His wings twitched, instinctively trying to lift him into the air, to give him some kind of advantage, but they were too damaged, too weak.

He was useless.

His chest burned with the effort of trying to breathe, trying to keep himself steady, but the panic was overwhelming now. It felt like the world was collapsing in on him, like the walls were closing in and he couldn’t escape. His mind raced, spiraling out of control, each thought more frantic, more desperate than the last.

What if something happened to her?

What if I can’t find her?

What if she’s gone?

Keigo staggered forward, his legs threatening to give out, but he refused to stop. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until he found you.

Not until he knew you were okay.

“Where is she?” he rasped, his voice barely audible as he called out to the Todorokis. His throat burned, raw from the smoke and shouting, but he didn’t care. “Where—”

But the words got stuck in his throat as they turned to face him, their expressions mirroring his own—exhaustion, fear, relief for their survival, but no answers. They didn’t know. They hadn’t seen you.

You weren’t with them.

And that realization hit Keigo harder than anything else. Harder than the explosion, harder than the injuries that covered his body, harder than the weight of the war. The fact that you weren’t with them, that you were still out there somewhere, alone, maybe hurt, maybe—

No.

Keigo shook his head again, harder this time, trying to clear the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you. But as the seconds ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity, the fear gnawing at him grew sharper, more suffocating.

He needed to find you.

Now.

Without another word, without waiting for the Todorokis to respond, Keigo turned and staggered deeper into the wreckage, his legs barely supporting him. His wings twitched uselessly behind him, the pain in his side flaring with every breath, but none of it mattered.

None of it mattered if he couldn’t find you.

Keigo was on the edge of losing it. His legs trembled beneath him, his body a fragile shell held together by sheer desperation. Every corner he rounded, every pile of debris he overturned, his hope slipped further away. His voice was hoarse from shouting, from begging the universe for any sign of you, but the only answer was the crackle of flames and the distant wails of survivors.

His chest tightened, an unbearable pressure building behind his ribs. He had fought wars, faced enemies that made grown men tremble, but nothing had ever scared him like this. The thought of losing you, of never seeing your face again, felt like it would tear him apart from the inside out. He stumbled through the wreckage, feeling like a man chasing a ghost.

Until he heard it.

A voice—your voice—soft but unmistakable, rising faintly above the chaos.

Keigo’s heart lurched in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, he froze, too afraid to believe it was real. His mind raced, doubt clawing at him—Am I imagining it? Is it just wishful thinking?

But then he heard it again, clearer this time. You.

Without thinking, his body moved before his mind could catch up. He turned sharply, his wings dragging painfully against the ground as he forced his legs to carry him toward the sound. His heart pounded, hope igniting like a fragile spark that he clung to with everything he had.

And then he saw you.

Near the collapsed remains of a building, your clothes singed, your hands blackened with soot, but you were there. You were alive. Keigo nearly collapsed at the sight. You weren’t just sitting idly, either. You were kneeling beside a civilian, tending to them, trying to help, your expression full of determination despite the chaos around you. Even after everything—after the fire, the explosions, the danger—you were still helping others. It was so you, and his chest swelled with a mixture of overwhelming love and pure, unrelenting relief.

Keigo’s legs nearly gave out beneath him as he rushed forward, his body trembling with exhaustion, his wings dragging uselessly behind him. His vision blurred with tears he hadn’t realized he was holding back, his throat tight with emotion as he reached you. He barely noticed the pain in his body, the stinging gash on his forehead, or the smoke filling the air around him. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was you.

He fell to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as they reached for you, unable to stop himself from pulling you into his arms. The moment his arms closed around you, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The weight of the fear, the panic, the agonizing uncertainty—it all came crashing down, replaced by the overwhelming relief that coursed through him like a tidal wave.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he held you tight, his wings trembling with emotion. “You’re okay…”

You didn’t have time to react before his grip tightened, as if he was afraid you might slip away again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath shaky as he held you against him, his heart pounding in his chest. His body was trembling, not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the relief that washed over him.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. All the words he wanted to say—the fear, the panic, the love—they all seemed to choke him, stuck in his throat as he clung to you like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his golden gaze filled with a depth of emotion you hadn’t seen before. His voice trembled as he spoke, the words barely above a whisper.

“What were you thinking?” His voice cracked, a mix of frustration and overwhelming relief. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow, shaky bursts as he tried to steady himself. “I thought I lost you…”

His voice broke on the last word, the raw emotion in it palpable. His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, his forehead still pressed against yours as he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of smoke and soot and you. He couldn’t bring himself to let go, not yet, not when he had come so close to losing everything.

“I thought…” He swallowed hard, the words faltering on his tongue. “I thought you were gone.”

The vulnerability in his voice—the sheer terror that had consumed him—was unlike anything you had ever heard from him before. He was always so composed, so confident, but now… now he was broken, his heart laid bare in a way that he rarely let anyone see.

Keigo’s fingers trembled as they trailed down your arm, his grip tightening again, his wings trembling behind him. He was trying to be strong, but the fear of what could have happened, of what almost happened, was still too close, too real.

His breath hitched as he rested his forehead against yours, his golden eyes fluttering shut. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You reached up, your soot-covered fingers gently cupping his face, brushing away a tear that had slipped down his cheek. The small gesture broke something in him, and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. For a moment, he just let himself be there, let himself feel the relief, the warmth, the overwhelming gratitude that you were still here.

Alive. Safe.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, your voice hoarse but steady. “I couldn’t just stand by…”

Keigo let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly. Of course, you couldn’t. He knew that. It was who you were—selfless, kind, always putting others before yourself. And that was exactly what terrified him. You would run into the flames without a second thought if it meant saving someone else, even if it meant risking your own life. And while that was part of why he loved you, it was also what scared him the most.

“You could’ve been killed,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I can’t lose you. Not you.”

His forehead remained pressed against yours, the heat of his breath mixing with yours in the space between you. He was trembling still, his body weak and battered, but none of that mattered. Not when he had you in his arms, alive and safe. He would deal with everything else later—the wounds, the destruction, the aftermath of the war.

For now, all that mattered was that you were here.

You could feel Keigo’s breath, uneven and ragged, as he held you tightly, his forehead pressed against yours, his body trembling with the aftermath of fear and relief. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Your own body was exhausted, limbs heavy from the sheer weight of everything you’d just been through, but the warmth of his embrace was enough to steady you, to remind you that you had made it—that he had found you.

"I’m sorry," you murmured again, your voice soft but steady. You could feel the guilt, the concern radiating off him, but you had to make him understand. You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, tracing the edges of the soot and dirt smudged there. "I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Not when people needed help. Not when—"

Your voice faltered as his grip on you tightened, his hands curling protectively around your back, pulling you even closer as if he was afraid that if he let go, you would disappear again. His wings, tattered and battered, trembled behind him, but you could feel the emotion rolling off him in waves, raw and unguarded.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of frustration and love. “I know that’s who you are. But… god, I thought I lost you.”

His words pierced your heart, and in that moment, you could feel the weight of his fear, the depth of his desperation. You had never seen him like this before—not Hawks, the confident, sharp-witted hero who always seemed to have everything under control. This was Keigo, the man who loved you, the man who had been terrified of losing you.

Your hands moved up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently brushing the tears that clung to the corners of his eyes. You hated seeing him like this, so broken, so vulnerable, but you knew that it was because of how much you meant to him. And that knowledge—that overwhelming love—was enough to chase away the exhaustion that had been weighing on you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice steady as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and you felt him relax just a little, his grip on you loosening enough for you to lean back and look into his eyes. His golden irises, usually so bright and full of life, were clouded with emotion, but there was relief there too—relief that you were safe, that you were still with him.

And in that moment, all the chaos around you seemed to fade away.

The crackling of flames, the distant cries of survivors, the murmur of medics—it all melted into the background, as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, holding each other in the midst of the devastation. It was as if, for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the destruction, not even the pain. Just the two of you, breathing in each other’s presence, finding solace in the simple fact that you were together.

Your hands slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the rapid beat of his heart slowly beginning to calm. You could feel how much he had been hurting, how much fear had consumed him, and your heart ached for him. You wanted to take that fear away, to reassure him that you weren’t going to slip through his fingers.

But before you could say anything more, you heard the sound of footsteps—quick and purposeful—closing in around you. The medics had caught up.

"Sir, you’re injured. We need to—"

"No," Keigo growled, his wings twitching protectively as they tried to usher him away. "I’m not leaving her. I’m not letting go."

The medics hesitated, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of the number two hero, bloodied and broken, clutching you as if his very life depended on it. His wings flared slightly, despite the obvious pain it caused him, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere without you by his side.

"Both of them need treatment," one of the medics said, her voice soft but firm. "We’ll tend to them together."

Keigo didn’t even acknowledge the medic’s words, his focus entirely on you. His fingers threaded through your hair, his gaze locked onto yours as if he couldn’t bear to look away, as if he needed the reassurance that you were still there, still breathing, still alive.

"Keigo," you murmured softly, your hands finding his again, gently squeezing them. "It’s okay. Let them help."

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tightly, his wings twitching in agitation. But after a long, tense second, he nodded, albeit reluctantly, his hands never leaving yours. His grip on you remained firm, even as the medics began to assess your injuries side by side. They worked quickly, efficiently, but with a gentleness that suggested they knew better than to push Keigo too far.

The pain of your wounds began to register now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but even through the aches, you found yourself focused entirely on Keigo. You could see the exhaustion weighing him down, the cuts and bruises marring his skin, the blood soaking through the bandages on his side. Yet, despite everything, he still held onto you, refusing to let go, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You were hurt, too," you whispered, your thumb brushing over his knuckles as you held his hand. "You should’ve let them treat you first."

He let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I don’t care about me," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I care about you. I—"

His words trailed off, his throat tightening again as his eyes closed for a moment, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over. When he opened them again, his gaze was softer, more vulnerable than you had ever seen it.

"I can’t lose you," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos around you. "I can’t."

Tears pricked at your eyes, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow. You wanted to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere, that you were safe, that you would always come back to him. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you simply held his hand tighter, letting the unspoken promise hang between you.

The medics continued their work, bandaging your wounds and tending to Keigo’s injuries, but neither of you moved, neither of you willing to break the connection that tethered you together. Even in the middle of the wreckage, even with the world in ruins around you, there was a sense of peace in that moment—a fragile, fleeting calm that you both clung to.

The world outside was still in chaos—firefighters working to extinguish the last of the flames, medics rushing between survivors, the distant wails of sirens cutting through the air. But for you and Keigo, none of that mattered right now. In this small bubble of shared warmth, where his wings wrapped protectively around you and his hand never let go of yours, there was peace. For the first time since the explosion, since the world had turned to ash around you, there was quiet.

The two of you rested together, sitting amid the broken ruins of a world still recovering from war, but all Keigo could think about was you—how you were here, alive, against all odds. He pulled you closer, his wings folding tighter around you like a shield against the devastation that still lingered around you.

"I’m not letting you out of my sight again," he murmured softly, his voice thick with a promise that went beyond just words. His forehead pressed lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Not after this. Never again."

His grip on your hand tightened, as if to remind himself that you were still here, still solid and real. The fear that had gripped him so tightly earlier hadn’t completely faded, lingering in the back of his mind like a shadow, but now, with you in his arms, he knew he could breathe again. He knew you were safe. For now, that was enough.

Your eyes, still tired but full of understanding, met his. You saw the depth of his emotion, the silent turmoil that still lingered beneath the surface, but you also saw the love that had carried him through all of this—the love that had driven him to search for you when he should have been resting, the love that had made him fight through the pain just to find you. And it was that love that made you smile softly, despite everything.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm, filled with the same promise. “We made it through the flames together.”

His heart squeezed at your words. You had always been so brave, so strong, even when the world crumbled around you. You had never hesitated to run into danger to help others, and while it terrified him, it was also part of why he loved you so much. But he couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.

Keigo let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles as he spoke, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. "I’ve fought wars. I’ve faced death more times than I can count. But this…" His voice wavered for a moment as he closed his eyes, his forehead still resting against yours. "This is different. Losing you—" His breath hitched, and he shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

You placed your other hand gently against his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "But you didn’t," you said softly, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. "I’m right here. We’re both still here."

His eyes flickered, golden and tired but filled with something softer now—relief, love, and a quiet kind of determination. He nodded slightly, letting himself believe it, letting himself sink into the comfort of your presence. You were here. You had made it through the flames, through the chaos, and despite everything that had happened, you were together.

Keigo’s wings, tattered as they were, curled protectively around you once more, their warmth a soft contrast to the cool night air that had begun to settle over the ruins. His head tilted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

"I don’t care what happens next," he murmured, his voice low but filled with resolve. "I don’t care about the aftermath or the rebuilding or any of it. As long as I have you… that’s all I need."

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, the weight of the battle and the destruction finally beginning to settle in your bones. It was over. For now, at least. The war, the flames, the terror—it had all passed, leaving behind scars and wreckage, but also this. The two of you, holding each other in the aftermath, finding solace in the fact that you had survived. Together.

The night air was heavy with the scent of smoke and ash, the distant hum of voices still echoing through the broken city, but in this small pocket of peace, it was just you and Keigo. The weight of the near loss, of how close you had both come to losing each other, hung in the air, unspoken but understood. Yet, despite everything, there was a quiet comfort in the way he held you now, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he was never going to let go.

And he wasn’t.

Not now, not ever.

"I’ll keep you safe," he whispered, the promise threading through his words like a lifeline. "Always."

You closed your eyes, resting your hand gently on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. It was the sound of life, of survival, of the love that had carried you both through the flames.

And as the world slowly began to rebuild itself around you, as the fires were extinguished and the chaos gave way to quiet, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

Because you had made it through the flames once, and you would make it through anything else that followed.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #boku no academia #mha #kohei horikoshi #hawks x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #mha keigo takami #todoroki family

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nnnyxie · 6 months ago

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dabi, hawks, bakugo, & kirishima with a civilian s/o

requested by @crimsonredlotus

“I would like to do a request!

Head canons for Dabi, Hawks, Bakugo, and Kirishima, with a civilian lover/partner?😩🫶 Maybe you could also add on how their friends react? I think it would be funny.👀

Plus any other you might wanna throw in <3”

pt. two

dabi / todoroki touya:

⤷ him having a civilian partner is so….. interesting.

⤷ i think you’d have to really sympathize with him or just be completely oblivious. i just can’t really see him being with a civilian considering his status.

⤷ but if he was with one— it was possibly because you treated him like a human being despite how he looks/who he is.

⤷ dabi would definitely make sure your relationship wasn’t known to any rivals or pros, as they could weaponize you against him or take you to jail for being an ‘accomplice’.

⤷ if the LOV (pre season 6) found out he was dating a civilian, there’d be mixed reactions—

⤷ toga, twice, and compress would be supportive. at least that’s what i think.

⤷ kurogiri and spinner would be very cautious and on edge.

⤷ and shigaraki would hate it. he feared you’d end up becoming a liability but!! thanks to much convincing (from dabi and most of the league), he let it pass.

⤷ anyways.

⤷ i think he’d be more careful with a civilian partner.

⤷ like— when you both go out, he takes a lot more precautions. he covers up more than he usually would and he doesn’t steal as much or at all.

⤷ he’s not a good partner at first, he didn’t have the best example growing up. his views are warped.

⤷ but he grows and learns (and gets scolded by toga), he becomes a good bf!

hawks / takami keigo:

⤷ had to subside my hatred for him to do this request…

⤷ anyways,

⤷ hawks having a civilian s/o just makes sense.

⤷ he likes the normality you bring him after a long day of hero work.

⤷ he appreciates his fans, he really does— but, it gets tiring being the ‘mellow, happy’ hero all the time.

⤷ and the emotional toll that comes with being a pro— he just needs that comfort. that safe warmth you provide at the end of a long day.

⤷ he never intended for your relationship to become public.

⤷ one day, it just sort of happened.

⤷ he saw you while on patrol and on instinct he went to you.

⤷ normally it’d be seen as a cute fan interaction but before he left he said “see you at home” and everyone lost it.

⤷ it surprised his fans that he’s with a civilian but to his colleagues, they weren’t shocked at all.

⤷ when the talk of relationships found their way into conversations, he would always mention how he’d want a civilian partner.

⤷ they already knew of you, obviously. you always attended any gatherings with him.

⤷ i think he’s very attentive but he has those moments where he gets completely sucked into work and accidentally ignores you.

⤷ him ignoring you is never intentional but when he realizes that’s what he’s doing or when you communicate that with him, he snaps out of it and does his best to make it up to you.

⤷ he likes buying you things— that’s definitely his love language. even if it’s something small, he’ll get it cause it reminds him of you!

⤷ he wants to treat you the best he’s able to—

⤷ he wants to give you everything he can.

bakugo katsuki:

⤷ i think bakugo having a civilian s/o is so cute bc it’s so out of the ordinary for him.

⤷ like— you’d never guess he’d ever look at anyone that regard, let alone a civilian.

⤷ but the first time you both had met— it was the sweetest thing. it was as if love at first sight was real.

⤷ you probably caught his attention by warding off a villain on your own or something of the sort.

⤷ hence, the love at first sight.

⤷ i think he finds your quirk super useful and sometimes berates you for not becoming a hero.

⤷ of course he respects your choice not to— but, still. he thinks you would’ve been a badass pro.

⤷ i don’t think his friends would find out about your relationship until he casually mentioned having them over to meet you. (he loves his friends and wants their approval)

⤷ now— when the public finds out about the relationship, all hell breaks loose!!

⤷ it’s on every headline. ‘pro hero dynamight spotted with secret lover!’

⤷ the two of you end up sitting down and talking about this for hours— deciding to confirm and reveal your relationship.

⤷ once that happens, he’s a openly affectionate with you.

⤷ he’s very big on dates, absolutely loves to take you out on them—

⤷ so now that your relationship is public, he’s so happy bc he can take you to more places.

⤷ he’s a bit of a worry wart, believe it or not.

⤷ he knows that you can handle your own but, still. he needs to know you’re safe at all times.

⤷ he’s big on acts of service so he’s always doing something for you. whether it be organizing something you’ve been putting off or learning to cook your favorite meal.

kirishima eijiro:

⤷ i don’t think anyone would be surprised that he has a partner that’s not a hero.

⤷ he doesn’t care about status or things that most (superficial) heroes do.

⤷ he’s the classic ‘personality first, beauty second’ type of man and we love that!!

⤷ i think he’d be very open about your relationship!!

⤷ i picture him being with a childhood friend— he just screams ‘childhood friends to lovers’

⤷ his friends are very aware of who you are. he talks about you as if you are a god(dess).

⤷ he practically worships the ground you walk on!!

⤷ the media definitely tries to spin your relationship but he never lets that shit slide. he always calls out their bullshit!!

⤷ there are points where he gets a bit too aggressive with them so you have to reel him back and help his pr team out a bit. (he’s just a silly fella!)

⤷ he’s like,,, the dream bf.

⤷ attentive, patient, gentle (with you), kind, etc etc

⤷ weaponized incompetence? never heard of her!! he’s willing to do anything and everything for you.

⤷ he learns about all of your favorite things— shows, movies, music, etc. he wants to like what you like (though sometimes he just can’t).

my hatred for hawks is justified!! i cannot forgive him for what he did to my pookie bear…………

#/ᐠ - ˕ -マ works — ♡︎#my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader

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butterfly-writer · 4 months ago

Note

Ello! I just read your Dabi x Mother figure reader and I really really really loved it a lot! I was wondering if you could make a similar fic with the premise of Shigaraki x an older male reader who is a father figure towards him? You don't have to of course, I just really liked that Dabi fic and thought it was sweet!

A Father’s Love

Shigaraki x Male!Reader [PLATONIC]

Summary: Shigaraki grew up with an abusive father and a weak mother. He was traumatized after killing his whole family, and ended up living with All For One. It didn’t do any good for him, All For One was a controlling father figure who acted like he was doing what was best for him. All changed after recruiting a man with a unique Quirk.

★☽A/N: To be completely honest, A Mother’s Love is definitely one of my favorites!! That and Unexpected Interest. If you guys noticed my writing is slightly different, it’s either because I’m lazy, have improved, or have Writer’s Block… ANYWAYS, ENJOYYY!! <333

Contents: FLUFF & SLIGHT ANGST?

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

The League of Villains is a dangerous organization, known for their evil crimes. All orchestrated by All For One himself, a centuries old threat to Japan’s society. His successor, Tomura Shigaraki, isn’t much different from his mentor.

Tomura Shigaraki grew up with an abusive father and a weak mother. At age 4, he killed his whole family, leaving him alone with no guardian and ended up living with All For One. It didn’t do any good for him, All For One was a controlling father figure who acted like he was doing what was best for him.

All changed after recruiting a man with a unique Quirk.

He was an old soul, a man in his 40’s with a unique Quirk. His name was Y/N L/N, known by society as Poker Face for his card-related Quirk. He was recruited by Dabi a couple days ago and he had already made his impact in the League.

The reason why he was invited to the league was because of his Quirk, which allows him to have any ability to extract any meaning from a card and use it to his advantage. Despite being called Poker Face, the cards that he can only use are tarots cards.

Dabi deemed his Quirk useful and recruited him to the team. With time, he slowly went up the ranks and was side by side with the main league. He was hard-working and focused at any task he was given. He was an impressive addition to the team.

By the time he joined the main league, he became very well known in the LOV. Known for his fatherly aura. He used to have a daughter that would’ve been Shigaraki’s age if she hadn’t died in an accident. An accident that All Might failed to save everyone in. Because of this, his hatred towards All Might was born and it grew everyday by the amount of people praising him for his work.

Toga absolutely loved him! Her parents had always found her weird as a child. Y/N? He doesn’t give two shits about her quirks. “You want to drink my blood? Okay, just don’t drink it all!” He would say with a big smile on his face, offering his arm towards her. “You want me to find a bird to drink all its blood? Give me the whole afternoon and I’ll find you a juicy one!” Another thing he would say, a huge smile on his face.

Of course, his treatment towards her is different since he’s a girl dad inside and out.

Dabi was a bit defensive around him. Although he was the one who recruited him, he only did it for the sake of the LOV. (Shocking!) But, with time, he grew to love the man as a father who supported his dreams. Touya grew up with Endeavour as a child, who filled him with so much hope and expectations, only to tell him to give up because of his Quirk. Y/N wasn’t like that. Anything Dabi suggested, he would give a pat on his back and tell him “it’s a great idea!” with a thumbs up. He was like any old dad. But to Dabi, he was the best.

Due to Shigaraki’s past, he learned to not trust people. The only people he trusted were the main league, Kurogiri and “Master.” All For One wasn’t exactly the best father figure after his late father died. He wasn’t abusive, surprisingly, but was controlling and manipulative. He always said that he was doing what was best for Tomura and to trust him.

All these years, Tomura was brainwashed to think that All For One was the best thing that happened to him.

But he was wrong.

When Y/N greeted himself, Tomura saw him as a disgusting old man. He thought, How could an old man like him be so great? with a scoff. He didn’t even shake his hand!

Shigaraki was bothered every single day by the older man. Everytime he was having a tough time, he found it annoying that L/N would go out of his way to comfort him. Everytime he was motivated or had done something successfully, he was there to cheer him on.

Slowly, even though it was unintended, his trust in Y/N increased. He found it trustworthy enough to handle things on his own without having to report anything to him.

And by now, he trusted Y/N with all his heart. All For One did not like this “new recruit.” He found him distracting towards Shigaraki. He despised how Y/N was basically stealing his successor.

Shigaraki didn't know that he saw Y/N as a father figure. He was caring and much more considered than All For One. He couldn't believe he was comparing Y/N with All For One! The very being who saved him.

But he wasn't considering his opinions, he never was there when he was having his breakdowns.

Y/N was. In one of his breakdowns, he scratched his neck to the point it was red and blood started to seep out. All For One wasn't there, but Y/N was. He quickly helped him, stopping him from causing more damage to his skin. He helped him calm down and regain control over his emotions again.

He was kind enough to put some ointment or cream to treat his wounds. He was still shaking but Y/N didn't mind. He just smiled at him and reassured him that everything was fine.

That was probably the first time in ages. The first time he cried, sobbed, in ages.

He couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes. His body shook even more as tears started to flood his vision.

He didn't know if this was from relief or what. He didn't know why he was crying, he just was.

Y/N sort of panicked when he suddenly cried in front of him. He rushed to comfort him with a comically sweaty state. “Hey, hey, it's okay!” He embraced him and patted his back.

Shigaraki couldn't move, he didn't even hug him back. He just sobbed the entire time, wetting Y/N's shirt in the process. Y/N was still shocked by this reaction, unable to react except trying to soothe him by rubbing his back.

Let’s just say that Y/N is his favorite person now. More than All For One.. (AFO is definitely angry about this revelation).

Oh! And he’s not afraid to call Y/N “dad.” <33

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

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kingtomura · 2 months ago

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Vitality | 5

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5.8k | prev | chapter 6 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki can’t seem to figure out what it is about you that pulls you to him. It’s something that gnaws at the walls of his brain and it makes his skin itch.

When he’s plotting schemes — you’re there. When he’s in the field, away on missions that will progress his goals — you’re there. And when he closes his eyes at night to go to bed?

You’re there.

Haunting his mind like a ghost.

A ghost of his past, a ghost of his present. He just can’t put his finger on it but there is a familiarity in you that only he can see.

Shigaraki has always had hazy memories, but this one is so distinct — it replays in his mind at the worst of times.

Is it your face? So innocent, so kind, but filled with hidden valor. Something so easily overlooked by your usually skittish demeanor.

Shigaraki has taken notice of that. It was one of the first things that caught his eye about you.

But is it your personality? The way there is more than meets the eye — a budding courage and fortitude growing under the concrete of your fragile frame of mind.

He didn’t know. All he knew for the time being was that this bothered him. It gave him things to think about that had nothing to do with the new society he would bring.

It was a distraction.

There’s a sharp pain along the side of Shigaraki's neck and it’s then he realizes his bad habit of scratching has made itself known again. Something he’s been trying to work on has pried its way back into his mind.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter what these feelings mean — all that matters is his goal and his plans to bring it into fruition.

Anything else is a distraction.

———————

You have to leave today.

The mission shouldn’t take long — three days max, but you still feel anxious about it. Dabi is in charge and you trust him to know what he’s doing.

You don’t really trust him to keep you safe, though.

It should be simple enough — stay back, do your job and come back to the base.

A quick and easy mission.

Or it would have been, until Dabi paid you a visit.

“Do you understand?” his voice drags, air of boredom present as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Dabi wants you to help on the mission. He wants you to—

“But that wasn’t the plan! I’m a healer.”

His cerulean eyes narrow, slight hint of irritation flashing over his features before it's gone again, “I know what you are. This would be more useful.”

You stare at him as he flippantly waves you off and starts towards your doorway, unaware that you are sick at the notion of helping someone cause harm.

“It’s not optional.” He tacks on, words ringing in your ears.

You're struck still as Dabi departs, leaving you alone to bear the burden of silence as you anticipate what your new role will bring.

It’s clear that you’ve lost.

Dabi wants you to help him interrogate the moles.

He believes that your healing would pair well with his burning. A tactic that can wear the moles down enough to give the information Dabi seeks. It’s a cruel task and one you were not sure you could go through with.

You may be a villain now but you are not evil.

You were not cruel — no matter how cruel the world had been to you.

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you move to stand, nerves buzzing as you begin to pace around your room.

No, no, you were a healer. Maybe you were never intending to be a hero, but you never want to harm others either. Even if those others hold the title of villain.

There had to be another way.

You stop, still in your tracks as the metaphoric lightbulb goes on in your head, steering the gears on your mind into action as the thoughts fall into place.

You had an idea — a plan.

A small smile makes its way onto your face and you feel as though you’ve solved the unsolvable.

Maybe, just maybe, no one had to get hurt on this mission.

———————

The sound of dripping pipes and scatter of steps too small to be human grate your ears and make you shudder.

It’s creepy down here.

That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you trail behind Dabi through abandoned tunnels.

You sidestep some fallen debris and realize that the underground tunnels here are a reminder to never take the tunnels below the bar for granted.

It’s slummy, it’s dark and it smells like abandoned agony.

There are graffiti stains along the walls, leaking pipes against the ceilings and the floors are littered with fluids of all colors.

Just being down here makes your stomach twist as your body subconsciously moves closer to Spinner, who trudges beside you as you all navigate through the area.

Your father would have never allowed you to roam a place like this.

But he’s not here anymore.

And you’re a villain now.

(Kind of.)

Dabi is in front of you, leading the way as you all trek the halls of the abandoned underground. He moves with the confidence of someone who has seen and done this a million times. You absently wonder if he has.

You knew next to nothing of Dabi. Nothing about where he’s from, how he’s grown up or where he got his burns — nothing.

But with his steel gaze and uninterested tone, you think it’s better that way.

Maybe knowing nothing could be a gift.

“How much longer?” Spinner breaks the silence as his voice echoes through the halls.

Dabi doesn't look back, only continuing his trek along the tunnels. “Just keep moving.”

As desperate as you are to know where this trek is heading you decide to hold your tongue. The air of this place is eerie enough and the sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave.

But it’s odd, you’ve been walking for what feels like hours and you can’t help the nagging feeling that nothing has really changed.

Not until you all come up on a large corridor. One with two identical, dark pathways.

Dabi stops in his tracks, leading you both to follow his actions. “Alright wannabe, you go left, I’ll go right.” He throws you a glance, features as indifferent as his tone. “Healer, you’re with me.”

“We’re splitting up?” Spinner pipes up, frustrations of the endless trail palpable and you silently wonder if sending him alone was the safest way to go.

“To cover more ground. You have your way to contact me if you find them.” the arsonist shrugs, mind set on the given direction and you hurry to keep up with him — Spinner going in his respective direction with more brevity than you had previously given him credit for.

There’s a slight ping in your chest and you kick yourself for thinking Spinner couldn’t hold his own alone. He was still a part of the League afterall.

You and Dabi both veer right, into the limitless corridor with dim lights sparking like they could go out at any moment.

This is not a place you would want to find yourself alone in.

With the crunch of broken beer bottle glass and deep red splatters of what you could only assume as blood along the walls, you truly wonder what you’ve walked into.

You decide to tread beside Dabi, catching up to his stride and ensuring he won’t leave your sight.

The warmth radiating from his body is as nice as it is intimidating. It shows just how hot his body naturally runs from his dormant quirk.

But it’s comforting. It blankets you and soothes the goosebumps that had spread across your skin in the chilled air of the tunnels.

The silence between you feels natural and not forced, even though your curious questions about his past pry themselves to the forefront of your mind.

You prefer this, you think. Wandering in silence while looking for the moles. You almost feel.. safe with Dabi here to guide the mission.

“Hey—”

You gasp and turn back, swearing you heard another voice.

But there was nothing there.

“Spinner?” You call out into the depths of the hall, walls fading into pitch black as you stare and wait for a response.

The dark abyss is quiet as you wait for any signs of movement, but everything is stock-still.

You turn back to Dabi, eyes lingering on the darkness, “did you hear that—?”

You look around but the arsonist is nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling in your heart deepens as your palms grow sweaty with simmering fear.

“Dabi?”

Nothing.

He was there just a moment ago, there was no way he could have left your sight. It’s a one way hall with no other doors.

No, you think, panic rising as you move to sprint down the hall, go the way you know he has to be walking, Dabi wouldn’t leave you in here alone.

Before you’re able to take your next step, hands engulf you, the sheer shock causes a cry to escape your lips only to be quieted by another hand covering your mouth.

“Gotcha.”

———————

There's a sluggish and slow pull as you fight to open your eyes. Your nose twitches as your body feels like it's been thrown underwater and brought back to shore just moments before an inevitable demise.

You feel heavy.

It’s a struggle to move your arm and it takes even longer for you to realize they’re being held together by your wrists. You fight harder to blink yourself awake and it’s then that you notice the voices speaking amongst themselves in the foreign space you’ve found yourself in.

Your vision is blurry but you flutter until there’s clarity.

Their voices sound muffled, like you were really underwater as they spoke, but the more you focused the clearer things became.

There were three men in this room.

One had dark hair and gleaming red eyes, while the other looked to be much younger. He sat atop a dusty desk and leered at you from a distance, speaking with the third man in a tone too chipper for the line of work he must be in.

The third man in question had you held by the wrists.

He was behind you, laughing as one hand held your wrists and the other roamed in places that made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Oh look, she’s awake. Morning princess.” The younger one spoke, green eyes almost glowing despite the darkness of the room.

Morning? No, there was no way it was morning, but you couldn’t tell up from down right now. You tried and tried, but the grogginess you felt just would not go away.

You move to speak, but the man behind you is faster, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop your voice before it's free.

Your eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of familiarity. You only spot a worn down chair that one of the men had occupied, an old, dusty office desk and several metal wire shelves.

Nothing helpful.

You try again to release your wrists, body slow moving and feeling as though it had been made of lead, but you fight with the strength you have. The man behind you only chuckles, easily amused by your struggle.

“Whoa there, don’t hurt yourself. My quirk has you doped up with enough tranquilizer to take down a bear.”

His quirk. Of course.

You mentally kick yourself at the oversight. How could you be so naive?

He leans closer, breath ghosting your ear. “Just relax.”

You scramble to remember your training, your fighting skills, anything but it all comes up short against a real life threat. The reality of the situation only makes you sick to your stomach and you cannot believe how woefully unprepared you are.

You look at the two men in front of you through dreary eyes and know that it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going.

Your brows knit in frustration as you begin to feel lightheaded once more, but you desperately try to stay centered.

“We really don’t have time for this.” A voice speaks up, it's the man with dark hair and narrowed eyes glaring at the other man holding you. You finally notice his lit cigarette and the way it’s awful smell clouds the room.

The sleeze behind you only chuckles, dark and low as he removes the hand from your mouth to grab your cheeks, squeezing them as he releases your wrists, knowing his quirk has made you weak enough to do so. He pulls you closer by the waist. “Don’t we? Look at her. You don’t come across this often.”

The other nods in agreement, rising from his place on the dusty desk in the corner of the room. Even in your haze you can tell this place is dingy and abandoned — filled with old worn furniture that wouldn't sit on if they paid you.

“Yeah, you should loosen up.” He mocks, stalking towards you with a sly grin, calling back to the third member of the trio. He places a hand on your head, moving your hair from your eyes. “She’s cute.”

Your breath is ragged as you struggle against the hold, forcing the man to release your face and he pins your arms behind your back again instead. “Whoa there, feisty.”

His laugh echoes in your ears and you desperately wonder where your comrades could be at a time like this.

The man before you watches as you search the bare room for any kind of exit, an amused smile on his face.

“Any chance that Blue Flame guy will interrupt us soon?” The one behind you speaks, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s gotten you figured out.

“No way. He’s still stuck in disillusion. By the time he breaks out of it we’ll be long gone.” They both laugh at the idea and it puts your stomach in knots. Of course the other would have a quirk like that.

No wonder it felt like you were going in circles.

It’s because you had been.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

The next moments feel like a blur as you struggle to catch your breath.

He is swift as he turns you toward the desk, pushing you forward and bending you over the dusty surface with ease. The panic from before is back and beating against your chest at full force. There was no way this was happening.

Not like this.

You start to thrash again, even though your body feels like you're trailing it through sludge.

It's pointless.

You try again to yell — to call for Dabi who was supposed to be with you throughout this, but nothing comes out. God only knows where he could be now, trapped in some illusionary quirk, blind to the time passing by. Wandering for hours.

Completely oblivious to the danger you were in.

Your knees tremble when you feel the heat of the other man leering over you, it makes you turn your head, eyes locking with the third guy in the room.

He meets your eyes, reluctantly watching as his comrades make lewd comments about your body and move in on your space. There is obvious disdain in his crimson eyes but he makes no move to comment further.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

There was nothing you could do to shake the effects of this tranquilizer quirk. Goosebumps rise along your skin as you feel the sticky residue left behind by the other man’s quirk as his hands ghost any bare skin he could reach.

You were going to be sick.

“The plans…” the seated one interjects, desperate to stay on topic. “We have to rendezvous with him again tomorrow night. We can’t stay here any longer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” You heard the younger one interject, disinterest clear in his tone.

“This is our last stint working with the league. Maybe we can leave them a parting gift.” The other breathes from above you, slowly dragging his palms along your clothed sides.

The response makes the third guy roll his eyes and the younger one laughs.

“N-no…” you find your voice, as small and meek as it may be, you choke out a whispered plea, so faint you almost didn’t hear it yourself.

“What’s that girl?” You can hear the grin in his words, to think you had derived a plan that would save these assholes.

To think you didn’t want them to die.

“You scared?” He mocks, “what, you a virgin or somethin’?”

The warm tears begin to fall, pushing past your waterline and onto the dirty desk.

“She’s crying! She is!” The blond shouts, excited at his unspoken discovery.

“How lucky.”

The third of the trio sighs, removing the cigarette from his lips and rising from his place on the chair, but not before making eye contact with you, real eye contact.

The kind that makes your heart jump at the notion — and then you see it.

The flash of pity.

Your heart skips at the flash of his reluctance.

It's so firm and so clear that you can almost feel the idea of him stepping in to save you, knowing that being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be downright villainous, but your hope is crushed as soon as it arrives.

Stomped out onto the asphalt along with the man’s finished cigarette.

The man sighs again, rolling his eyes at his comrades as he makes his way to the door, taking your hopes and wishes with him.

“Well you fuckers better not take too long. I’m leaving.”

And then he’s gone — leaving you with the men who will use and abuse you. There was a chance to stop something horrific but he couldn’t care less.

It makes you think.

It takes you back to your father and his never ending rants of how all men feel the same about girls like you. Stupid, naive and never able to stand on their own.

He put men like this away while wearing the mask of a public servant only to strip the mask and become the same of those he claimed to hate behind closed doors.

But he’s not here anymore and now you were left in the hands of the unfamiliar.

You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat as you wonder if this was destined to be your fate in the end no matter what.

You wish you had a choice.

God, how foolish had you been.

How naive of you to want to save these men from the League's wrath.

You should have known better. You’ve been shown time and time again.

They are all the same.

They would always only want one thing from you and there was nothing you could do to stop or change it.

But…

There’s a flash in your mind, of narrowed red eyes and soft pale hair.

You think of his gloved hand, offering his drink to you. Of his hushed laugh late that night when you unintentionally insulted him. The leader of this group of villains you’ve found yourself a part of, the one who has treated you with nothing but respect since he’s met you.

The sickness returns.

The humiliation burns at your eyes.

Tomura trusted you to be here and now you will pay for it.

It’s as ironic as it is cruel.

You were going to be sick.

“What a prude.” The guy scoffs and turns to his younger comrade, bringing you out of your dissociated stupor and back to your unfortunate reality.

He lifts you once more, putting your body on display for his younger friend and brings a hand around to cup your clothed breast.

He’s loose with his movements, halfheartedly holding your wrist with one hand and gloating with the other. It’s enough to leave your other hand free and you wince as it dangles by your side.

You feel the breeze of the open door, pitch black outside of it and wish you had the strength to make a run for it.

You were so close, like a carrot dangling in front of you face, but just far enough to be out of reach.

His words feel loud in your ears and you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. “He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on.”

“Oh, yeah?”

The man tenses and that’s all you register before you feel a strong pull.

A heavy hand grips your forearm and pulls with a force you’ve never felt before. It’s so hot you almost feel burned but your mind is too groggy to care.

And then it happens.

You feel it before you see it.

Blue flames erupt into the room that you were pulled out of.

If there were screams they are too distant to be noted now. All you feel is heat and you’re beginning to sweat. You can't tell if you’ve been overdosed by the guy’s intoxicating quirk or if your mind was too stressed to care.

All you can do is pant and struggle to watch as the familiar blue flames lick the frame of the door and incinerate those inside of it.

(And as you watch the room bathe in flashes of cyan blue and purple hue, the sleezy men wither away into ash — into nothing — it finally clicks in your mind that oh.

His villain name means creation for this reason exactly.)

The men who held you before were no more. That thought alone would have sent you into another fit of tears if the heat from Dabi’s flames hadn’t dried the trails of them from before.

The flame user in question stands beside you, breathing heavy and teeth bared. You can’t tell if the smell of burning flesh is coming from him or the two bodies he’s just burned and you don’t think you can stomach another thought towards the answer.

His brows are pinched in anger and you don’t think you’ve seen this much expression from the man since you’ve known him.

The hand holding your arm is gripping you so tight it almost hurts, but you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to.

As if the idea of letting Dabi go would take this all away — as if it would make you wake up and face a reality where Dabi is not fast enough to save you.

A reality where your nightmares are realized.

“One of them got away.” Dabi low voice rasps and you can only register that conclusion by the footsteps echoing from farther away. He ran the opposite direction, with a head start and far away from Dabi’s wrath. “Maybe Spinner will catch the fucker.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak nor nod. The effects of the quirks toxin are still sweeping through your body with its wrath.

There’s a lasting lump of dread in your stomach that makes you feel bolted where you stand. It pulls and pulls, dragging you lower and lower until you can no longer keep yourself upright.

You tense, mentally bracing yourself to meet the cold hard feeling of concrete, but somehow, the feeling never comes.

———————

There is something to be said to those with heavy quirks. Those who have quirks that stay for much longer than they should and linger well past their welcome.

The intoxicating quirk of the sleezy villain before is definitely one you’re happy you’ll never encounter again.

Your head feels full of cotton as you struggle to catch your bearings, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. It’s been this way since you woke up from the outing.

The unpleasant remains of the toxins have ruined your stomach, and you’ve found yourself here, on the floor of the bathroom for the better half of an hour.

A seesaw of back and forth nausea from the quirk and the fact that those two men are dead.

Gone forever.

Incerated.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the smell of their burning flesh and the final sounds of their screams.

You wearily eye your cell phone, tossed onto the tile of the floor and locked. It’s inviting, almost calling to you as your hand hovers over it.

You could call Shigaraki and tell him about the disaster mission you’ve just experienced, but you stop yourself.

What did you expect would happen? That he would comfort you like he did on the roof?

He is your leader, not your friend.

You scoff bitterly at your spiraling train of thought.

If you called him now It would just be a show of how incapable you are, and you can’t risk this new home you’ve found.

So, instead of fighting a losing battle, you bring shaky hands to your forehead, the warmth of your own healing quirk soothing you in a way that feels reminiscent to your mother’s ways.

There was no use waiting around in a stuffy bathroom. Men were dead because of you.

You know you shouldn’t feel guilt for it — they were trying to hurt you — but the deaths are so heavy on your mind.

Forcing yourself to stand on wobbly legs, you walk back to your temporary room.

Shigaraki set you all up with a cover home, seemingly belonging to a family of three but long abandoned. You took the room of the young daughter, the place covered top to bottom in lace and frills.

You try not to wonder where she’s ended up.

Your temporary bedroom is down the hall from the bathroom, not too far for any emergency nausea.

And from the short distance you can see that there’s someone in your room.

The closer you get to the door the clearer it becomes that it’s only Dabi, seated and awaiting your return. It would be a lie to say the nausea you felt in that moment only came from the quirk.

“Have a seat.” He wastes no time breaking the air, thick rasp of his voice making you hesitate as you linger in the doorway.

Your eyes fall to the ground as the persistent dread in your gut grows, but you do as he instructs. The bed below you feels too soft, a stark contrast from the firm one you’ve grown to know at the hideout.

You know what this is about, but the anxiety fills you all the same.

There was nowhere to run.

Dabi would tell Shigaraki of your failure today and let him know how you weren’t cut out for this. You would have to leave.

You would have to—

“What are you gonna do?” His dreary voice drags, cutting through your train of thought.

You look up at him.

“What?”

“There’s one more left. Are you going to sit here puking your guts out about this or are you going to finish what they started?”

You eye Dabi wearily.

Was he.. was he trying to encourage you?

With his narrowed eyes and crossed arms this feels more like an attempted pep talk from an emotionally stunted relative than a scolding from a higher up.

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure of how to heed this conversation. Shouldn’t you be on the chopping block right now? “Two of them are dead. I think I’ve done enough damage—”

You don’t miss the eye roll Dabi couldn’t be bothered to hide.

“Why do you feel sympathetic? They wouldn’t give half a shit about you.” He spits and you flinch at the harsh words, knowing they were nothing but the truth. “Nobody cares about people like us.”

People like us, you think bitterly. Villains. Outcasts. People that aren’t worth saving. People that are lost causes. There are no heroes for those like Dabi — and now, people like you.

The thought makes you choke up, vision blurring as you bring a hand to your mouth. It’s too late to melt from the humiliation of this, and the weight of the day is just too heavy to carry anymore.

“This world is cruel.” He continues, tone even and leveled despite your come apart. “You need to learn to stand on your own. We may not always be there to save you.”

It’s the truth. The cold hard reality you face. You would be lying if you said those hands wouldn’t haunt your nightmares for years to come.

But you wanted to try. As futile as it may have sounded. It’s why even through your tears you speak, “I-I had a plan, you know.”

Dabi’s brow quirks at this, head tilted in interest.

“I didn’t want anyone to get h-hurt. It was stupid, I know! But I wanted to try.”

You expect him to dismiss you, to say how naive and even childish you may sound. You don’t expect his next words.

“And what was that plan?”

You look up, warm tears still cascading down your flushed cheeks and your nose probably looking less than sightly. “What?”

“Tell it to me and maybe we can work something out.” His cerulean eyes shimmer with curiosity. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he begins to piece together his own thoughts and ideas for your next courses of action.

And you think to yourself, watching as he listened intently to your words that maybe there was more to Dabi’s personality than meets the eye.

———————

You thought you would never be down in the tunnels again. It was unfamiliar and cold, if Dabi were to light the entire thing on fire you would be fine with it.

Each step you take through these grotesque tunnels makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow deeper and deeper.

It’s unsettling to be back here — even knowing the men were dead.

You look to your right, turning down the next hall and continuing on your way.

Spinner said the last one never left the tunnels and there’s only one way out. You’re sure he’s been backed into a corner with Dabi patrolling the area and Spinner lurking and listening.

That only leaves you. If the man wanted to take the easier target, it’s clear he would choose you.

You almost scoff. Of course he would.

But you were ready today. There were no more illusion quirks and no more ambushing. There was just you and—-

You stop in your tracks, the sound of a footstep slashing against water draws your attention.

The nerves almost build again but you force yourself to focus. This is possibly your last chance to make things right, for yourself more than anything, but also for the mission.

Keep yourself quiet and lure him in, just like Dabi instructed.

His movements are sloppy, you can tell from the way he blows his cover to tackle you from the back, but the same trick won't work on you twice.

You turn, fully ready to send a punch his way when he moves, pushing you to the side and through a weakened door beside you.

You both tumble to the floor, the hard concrete scraping against your arms as you fight for your life with the skills you’d learned from Toga. You know that with her training and your determined mind it will be all the more easy to get the upper hand today.

And you do.

It's a cheap shot, but you hit him where it hurts, climbing onto him when he has no choice but to coil over.

Your bat was lost in the scuffle, forgotten as you pulled out one of Toga’s slender knives she had gifted to you. Training with her had made you adopt many of her ways, but you were thankful for them.

They remind you of how far you had come.

Remind you that no, you were not weak like you once thought.

You look down at the man below you, his eyes closed as he begged for your forgiveness.

You were ambushed.

Your training was not in vain.

“Wait!” The man below you pleads and it's now that you can see the bags under his eyes, whether it be from anguish of his fallen comrades or the lack of sleep you know he hadn’t gotten last night. It doesn’t matter, you can clearly see the cracks.

You pause, holding the knife to his throat with narrowed eyes, the look urges him to continue — to plead his case.

“You don’t have to do this,” he starts and you have to keep yourself from scoffing, “I-I know what they did was wrong — I know! But it had nothing to do with me.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance, but you let him go on. This was your part of the deal you made with Dabi. You wanted a chance to hear them out, or to hear the last one out — to see if there was any way that a compromise could be made.

But now that you had the man here underneath you and groveling you felt something you never had before.

You felt… strong.

“Just let me go.” His words break through your thoughts, they were tired and worn. Like he knew his time was up. “I know you’re better than this.”

This time you scoff at the irony.

Better than this, he says. As if that would have gotten you out of that room unscathed. As if being better than this would have made him step in and stop his comrades from trying to assault you.

Yeah, better than this is complete bullshit.

He’s wrong.

In this world there is no such thing as fairness.

If you let him go, if you let him leave here there’s no telling what else he would leak.

You believe this is why Dabi allowed you the freedom of enacting your plan. The plan where you wanted to hear their side, their story. But now you know better.

It's you or them. Even men who were complacent had no room for your mercy.

So with a (not so heavy) heart you stare down at the man, eyes even and leveled.

“He’s in here!” Your voice echoes throughout the run down building and the man curses you, calls you every name under the sun but you cannot bring yourself to care.

“You stupid bitch—!”

In a world like this one it’s win or lose. Take or be taken.

Kill or be killed.

Dabi is in the room in an instant, whistling an impressed tune.

“Not bad, little bird.” His grin grows as he assesses the scene, staples pulling at his skin in ways you can only assume are painful. “I knew you had it in you.”

He steps closer, gravel crunching under his boots as he bends down eye level with the man.

“Now, let’s get this show started.”

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