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chsake5 · 4 years

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Blue Roses

Dabi x Hero!Reader Soulmate AU

Warning for mentioned child/spousal abuse

You become a hero for your soulmate.

Because at 13 you wake up to bruises blooming dark and sinister against your skin, the imprints of huge fingers stretching across your arms in a pattern that makes your parents shake. You press ice to the bruises and nearly miss the tiny flame that has blossomed over your heart, etched in silver-blue against your skin.

At 14 you power through the entrance exam for Shiketsu high school, your ribs protesting the entire time. Your soulmate is hurting and it makes tears of impotent rage burn at your eyes as you bring down another robot, and another, and another. Later, nursing your own injuries, you skim your fingers down your arm, trying for comforting, and smile when you receive an answering touch in return. The flame over your heart pulses, warm, and creeps out a little farther.

At 15 you wake screaming, agony lancing across your skin. You feel like you’re burning, clawing at your arms and throat as phantom marks spread across your body; around your eyes, down your jaw and neck to your shoulders, your forearms, your thighs down to your ankles, across your back. You cry and sob, unable to move with the pain of it, vision blurry as you struggle to remain conscious. Soon, the sensation fades to a dull throb and you can’t help but scream in frustration. Someone is hurting your soulmate, someone whom you would very much like to find and throttle with your bare hands. Instead, you drag yourself up out of bed and fill your tub with ice, sinking into it with a pained hiss. Twitching fingers ghost against your cheek and you let the tears slip free, content in the knowledge that you’ve helped your soulmate in some way.

At 16 you feel a slight pinch in one of your ears. Frowning, you lift a hand to touch, only for the other ear to twinge instead. They don’t hurt, per se, but you watch the tiny dots slowly disappear in your bathroom mirror with fascination. When you get matching helix piercings a few days later your soulmark flares with heat and you can swear you can feel your soulmate grin.

At 17 your soulmark becomes more obvious. It has spread over the years, a shimmering silvery-blue that spans across your collarbones out to the slope of your shoulders, dragging down your spine like wings while tendrils lick up your neck to kiss your jaw. You refuse to cover them, instead designing your costume to include a tasteful boat neckline and sheer panels. What better way to showcase your reason for becoming a hero?

You are just shy of 18 when you graduate with honors. A flood of offers for sidekick-ship come rushing in but you ignore them all. You didn’t spend all that time and effort to chase after someone else’s coattails. You have a vision, a goal you’re going to accomplish no matter what. It takes six months of blood, sweat, tears, and a collaboration agreement with the police department, but you eventually open the only CPS specific hero agency in all of Japan. Your caseload fills within a matter of days and you want to cry from that alone but you have no time for tears, instead throwing yourself into your work.

You recruit others to your cause, those who experienced childhood trauma and those who didn’t, but they all share your drive and desire to see your work become unnecessary. You meet with the children who are brought to you, with their sunken eyes and fearful mouths, and you feel rage burn low and hot in your belly. But you smile for them and ask them questions about their day and soothe their fears and offer them comfort. Some you see again and again, some you don’t, but you never forget a face or a name.

Because these children are like your soulmate, hurting and alone, and if you can make a difference in one of their lives then maybe that will be enough. It doesn’t stop you from going home to your empty apartment and crying yourself to sleep, gentle fingers stroking against your cheek as you sob.

You’re in pain, but it’s a good pain, a useful pain, and if your soulmate’s hands ghost across your back or throat more and more often then you can live with that.

Four years pass like that and you’re 22, responding to an emergency call. Some League of Villains members have been apprehended and there’s an underage girl with them. You approach with caution, sharp yellow eyes finding yours easily enough. The girl bares her teeth and you feel your heart break, even as you extend a hand to her. She watches you warily, distrustfully, and you understand that wild, untamed feralness all too well.

You’ve just opened your mouth to speak when a sharp pain lances across your cheek. You flinch with the unexpectedness of it, but then you can feel heat at your back and you turn to look.

Endeavor has one of the villains by the throat, snarling into the young man’s face. What makes you pause is the pressure you can feel on your neck, like fingers closing around your windpipe, and everything snaps into place.

You activate your quirk without hesitation. Endeavor shouts in pain as thorned vines snake to life around the villain’s throat, roses blooming quick and fast under the flame heroes fingers. He jerks and drops the man but you’re bypassing him to crouch beside the fallen villain, cradling his burned face in your hands. You feel the answering touch against your skin and nearly sob, because you felt each of these scars as they were etched into this man’s skin.

Bright teal eyes lift to yours, shocked. You feel rage curl in your gut, fanned by blue flames and bruised skin as you turn sharp eyes on Endeavor.

“Is this how you treated your children? Your wife?” Because you’ve met Todoroki Shoto. He was one of your first cases, a scared little boy who had understood his mother’s broken soul just enough to understand that red was bad and fire was worse. You can recall with perfect clarity Todoroki Rei’s haunted eyes and Natsuo’s impotent rage and Fuyumi’s quiet sorrow and everything makes perfect sense.

Endeavor doesn’t answer but you already know.

You stay by your soulmate’s side as he’s loaded into the back of a police van, your hand lingering on his arm for a second too long. He keeps your gaze until the doors close and you’re cut off from him.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of activity. Shigaraki Tomura, who was also caught during the raid, gets recommended for therapy, though he’s being treated like an adult and so you’re not consulting for him. The girl, however, Himiko Toga, is being processed as a minor so you take over her case. You pull a few strings and make sure she gets fast tracked into therapy and you start screening for fosters.

For that you have to call in a favor, but it’s worth it.

You check in on your soulmate almost religiously. One of your colleagues is handling his case and is sending you weekly updates. She’s informed you that you might get to see him in a week or so, depending on his testimony, which makes your heart flutter. During the entire time you’ve been working there’s been a hand on your arm or fingers brushing against your collarbone almost constantly.

You take comfort in that.

It feels like a blink of an eye before you’re standing in front of the prison, smoothing out your clothes and hair nervously. You shift from foot to foot, waiting for the guards to buzz you through. They glance at what you’re carrying with raised eyebrows but don’t make you relinquish it, which you’re grateful for.

It’s your first gift for your soulmate.

He’s waiting for you in his cell, teal eyes bright as he watches the guard shut the door behind you. You stand across from him for a moment, biting your lip nervously, before you shuffle to the little table set beside his cot. You set down the pot you’re holding, the blue rose just starting to bud.

“This, uh, took a while to culture, but it should be pretty hardy, not much care required.” You explain, glancing up from the emerald green leaves. Your soulmate is staring at the rose with a blank expression. Then, his hand lifts to his neck and you shiver at the phantom touch. Glowing eyes flick to you.

“Makes sense that that’s your quirk.” He says. You blink.

“Oh, from before?” You ask, remembering how Endeavor’s hands had required stitches after your thorns had torn into his skin. Your soulmate smiles wryly and shakes his head. His hands are slow as he tugs his shirt off over his head and you feel your whole body tremble at the sight.

There are thorned vines pressed into his skin, shimmering golden-green as they twist across his chest and around his ribs, disappearing under staples and scarred skin at his neck and upper arms. Roses bloom over his heart, buds and fully formed flowers clustered together in a tangle of blue-green petals.

You ache to touch, to know the feeling of his skin under your hands, but you know the kind of life he’s lived.

“May I?” He’s watching you with something unreadable in his expression, maybe surprise that you asked, but he gives you a nod, regardless. You step closer to him and your hands are shaking, fingers trembling as you reach out and touch his soulmark for the first time.

You both suck in a breath at the feeling of completion that washes over the both of you. It’s like coming home, like a puzzle piece slotting into place, and you nearly sob with the flood of emotions welling up in your chest. You trace the winding pattern of vines just beneath his collarbones and lift your eyes to his.

His gaze nearly burns you and you reach for his hand, pressing it to your neck where silver-blue flames dance across your skin. His thumb strokes along your jaw and you can see the awe in his face as he traces the personification of his fire laid across your body.

“My name is Y/N.” You say quietly and his eyes jump to yours. You wait patiently, but he doesn’t respond in kind.

“I’m sure you’ve seen my file. Plenty of names to choose from.” He says. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you frown.

“Yes, but I want you to tell me what you want to be called.” You admit. He goes completely still, his eyes going wide as he stares at you. A long few moments pass before he starts stroking your jaw again, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be Touya again. I might never be. For now, call me Dabi.” He tells you. You smile at him.

“Okay. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

You keep visiting. You tell Dabi about your days, about how Toga is responding well to therapy. You explain excitedly that Vlad King has agreed to foster her and how you hope this is a turning point for the girl. Shigaraki is taking longer, but according to Gran Torino he’s coming around.

It’s through these discussions that you get onto the topic of Dabi’s future.

“What would you do, if you could get out?” You ask him. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, frowning.

“They’re never going to let me out of here.” He tells you, like it’s obvious. You bite your lip because your colleague who’s working his case thinks she has a solution, but she’s asked you not to say anything for the time being.

“Hypothetically.” You say instead. He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“I’d go to college, I guess.” He finally answers.

“What for?” You ask, curious. He shrugs.

“Dunno. I guess I’d go to figure that out.” You hum at his response. There’s a long moment of quiet before he speaks again.

“They’ll probably just execute me and get it over with, though.” He says.

“They won’t.” You say immediately.

“And what makes you say that?” He asks, voice gaining an edge that you’re unfamiliar with. You turn your head to look at him. He’s tensed up, shoulders hunched.

“Because killing you would kill me. They know we’re soulmates.” You say. He sneers at you.

“You think that’ll stop them? What’s one hero sacrificed to get rid of the big bad villain?” He’s amping himself up, you can see it in his eyes, but you don’t rise to the bait.

“They won’t kill me.” You repeat. He bares his teeth in an ugly smile.

“Everyone’s expendable.” He says.

“Perhaps, but not me.” You say. His expression turns curious, confused.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because I’m Y/H/N.” You answer. He goes still at that, eyes focused on you intently. He swallows.

“The Child’s Champion.” He says the name quietly and your nose scrunches up.

“I don’t know if that’s what they’re calling me now, but my death would piss quite a few people off.” You say. He scoffs.

“No shit. Your work is legendary, even in the underworld. A heroes hero.” He admits. You shrug.

“I wanted to become a hero for my soulmate.” You admit quietly and Dabi goes stock still.

“I grew up feeling powerless to protect the person who was meant for me, the other half of my soul. It burned at me, the need to make a difference, to change a life for the better.” You reach for him, your fingers ghosting gently along his jaw.

“I became a hero to protect people like you, Dabi.” You say softly.

Another month flies by like that, until the day comes where you visit with a very important document clutched in your hands.

“What’s this?” Dabi asks you, looking up from the rose you’d given him. It’s in full bloom, which you think is appropriate.

“Your release papers.” You tell him. His eyes jump to yours and then the document you’re holding.

“You’re shitting me.” He says it like he doesn’t believe you. You shake your head.

“No. A colleague of mine has been working your case and has managed to convince the judge that you can be remanded into the custody of a guardian.” You explain. Dabi’s face immediately darkens.

“A guardian? Who the hell would take me on?” He asks. You bite your lip, swallowing nervously.

“Your soulmate.” You answer softly. He blinks at you and you worry for a minute that you’ve overstepped, but then he holds out his hand.

“Let me read it.”

You leave him to review the document, your heart beating giddily in your chest, because you already know what his answer is going to be.

He is, after all, your other half.

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