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jomamaofficial · 10 months

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An Empty Vessel pt.2 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Happy holidays my lovely toes. I am so sorry for this delay, my laptop broke down 😃😃. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I have delved into dark topics. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I absolutely adore all of you, and I want to take this time to thank you guys for your support. Seeing your comments and messages motivates me to write :) <3. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Vague sexual harassment, substance abuse (weed, alcohol, smoking), death and bleeding. CW: SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, PFL, AFO and Shigiraki plot, swearing, vague mentions of intimate acts. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag Masterlist Edit: Part 3 😼😼 Word Count: 2919. Summary: In the stories Rei used to read him, heroes always won. Reality wasn’t a story though. The villains won the Meta Liberation War after 6 years of fighting. With the death of Pro Hero Endeavour, and the reign of All For One, Dabi could finally leave his past as Touya Todoroki. He no longer had family. But what about the past that haunted him to this day. A family that belonged to Dabi, not Touya? One that escaped unborn?

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Musutafu, Japan– it made international headlines.

The Paranormal Liberation Force finally did it.

The nation observed a minute of silence for the fall of Pro Hero Endeavour.

Musutafu was now all for one. And the entire nation would soon suffer the same fate.

Dabi stretched his neck to the left, stretching his right shoulder as he fought the growing tingles in his body. Chills ran up and down his spine as his eyes followed the tears of rain flooding the dimly-lit road.

He loved how empty this street was: no cars, no news reporters. There were no signs of nagging parents and their brat children, and there were no heroes patrolling the streets, strutting up and down like they owned the place.

It was just him and the soft sound of the rain which seeped into his socks, staining them with the remains of what was now All For One’s headquarter city.

Dabi wished to hear the familiar croak of Tomura’s voice: the back and forth banter, the late-night clicks of the video game console. Back when it was just them, the League of Villains. Tomura, Kurogiri, Toga, Twice, and him. Back when he didn’t ruin everything.

Dabi never told anyone, but there was a tiny part of his soul that withered away when he was near All For One.

Dabi felt small. He was 5’9; he never felt small.

But that thing would always tower over him. His slimy touch was forcefully ingrained into Dabi’s skin— that thing touched him like he owned Dabi.

And Dabi hated the way his mind memorised the way All For One used his crooked fingers to tilt Dabi’s head up to inspect him.

“Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura? Where do you find these pretty boys?”

He hated the way All For One laughed after; it was a broken wheeze that rang murder in Dabi’s mind.

He watched as All For One forced Tomura to laugh with him, and Tomura’s apologetic eyes wavered when he looked back at Dabi.

He hated Tomura for laughing that day.

But he hated that laugh much more; the laugh that tainted the fresh air they stood in.

Now, Musutafu’s entire air was tainted by that laugh.

Now… Musutafu belonged to All For One. And Dabi could only hear that broken wheeze.

It would follow him everywhere.

So despite the rain’s destructive nature, Dabi allowed the weeping drops of the sky to fill the emptiness inside of him. The cool drops were better than the air.

Dabi was just an empty vessel. Nowhere to go, no one to go back to.

The Meta Liberation War quenched everyone’s thirst for blood. The dirt was saturated with the blood of heroes and villains alike.

He found it amusing, he really did as he bore his vacant eyes into the rusting ground. Dabi watched as everyone’s blood mixed together under his foot.

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled.

‘All it took was death for them to stick together’.

Dabi travelled further away from the battle ground, quite deliberate about the steps he took. He counted underneath a shallow breath.

“Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven,” until he reached the sixty-second step.

His heel pressed against the seeping soil surging scarlet.

And the world was still.

So still and silent that the gentle wind snuck up on the thin man, and he let out a broken gasp as his knees gave out.

The ringing in his ear struck a bitter note. His chest heaved up and down, up and down, and his eyes were blankly fixed on the ground beneath him. Thick, warm blood oozed through the thin cloth that covered his knees.

Enji Todoroki finally died. And Touya Todoroki was responsible for it.

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, was officially fatherless.

Finally, it dawned upon him: after 30 long years, Touya Todoroki couldn’t chase him anymore. He could finally find solace in Dabi.

And Dabi was alone. He had no family.

As the joint finally caught up to him, after four or five rookie puffs, the raven man started asking himself what he was doing here.

Surrounded by a group of homeless men who he caught rummaging in the dumpster, they were huddled away into the darkness of a dimly lit alleyway. It smelled like shit, offending his heightened state of smell. Flies picked on the waste scattered below them, their constant buzz creating a monotonous flow.

Dabi peeled his lips open as he felt each individual cell respire on his skin. His heart felt like it was growing inside of him, puncturing his dry lungs, getting louder and faster with each beat.

As a young boy, he saw Enji drink every evening for two years. Dabi used to sneak a sip when he was alone. Dabi was often alone.

He caught Enji with a lit cigarette in his fingers. Dabi stole one and showed it to his friends. Dabi coughed a lot that day.

Enji never touched drugs. He was against it.

Dabi never took drugs; the thought of it never passed him.

“How does it feel kid?”

Dabi’s consciousness was dragged back to reality, the bleak colours of his surroundings painting a vibrant picture.

“I can feel my skin breathing,” he responded, his lower jaw hanging open as he struggled to keep his neck straight.

Howls of laughter echoed in the distance, but the scarred man took no notice.

The joint was held to his lips, and Dabi took another puff.

Dabi wanted to individually itch the surface of his eyes with his nails. It was miserable.

But the ripple of the individual muscles in his cheeks felt so warm and happy when he smiled. That was less miserable.

So he kept on smiling, jaw still gaping. His staples pulled against his grafts, but the molecular traces of marijuana in his bloodstream shielded him from the pain.

Dabi was taken aback– gravity was working exponentially harder against him. A man touched the corner of his lips, the thick and coarse pad of his thumb sending him back, seven years ago.

Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura?

“Boy”, the man slurred, “you’re bleeding.”

He shoved his bloodied thumb in Dabi’s face.

Dabi struggled to focus his gaze on the thumb in front of him, switching between double and triple vision.

“Can’t feel it,” he mumbled, his reactions delayed as he scooted away from the stranger.

“Everything’s breathing except these.”

Dabi was mesmerised by the feeling of his grafts against the pads of his fingers. It restored the faint twinkle in his hollow eyes.

“Why are you all fucked up everywhere, boy?”

It took a few moments to register, but Dabi did respond.

“Useless mom, dick dad.”

A unison of delayed ahhhs followed, and Dabi began to feel a knocking pressure trapped in the inner corners of his wide eyes.

“I was never his first choice,” Dabi chuckled. He wasn’t sure if they could hear him. They sure as hell couldn’t understand him, but he was fine with that.

“I was his first born son. No fuckin’ use. Dropped me like I was a waste of time and money.”

The offensive smell of the blunt dug him further away from reality. Dabi was content with his own company.

It would always be just him, forever and always. Because after everyone leaves, you’re left with yourself– your only support.

The more he delved into his loneliness, the louder he heard his skin breathe, it was deafening. And so the silence on his graft became even louder.

For a man who was considered dead all his life, Dabi wasn’t used to his living body. Senses upon senses, he was bombarded with the constant reminder that he was still alive. Even his dead, unresponsive skin felt alive. Because it was the absence of feeling that felt different.

Many people would describe euphoria as extreme feelings of bliss and joy. It was this boxed definition that led Dabi to believe that he could never feel euphoria. But in this moment, whilst Dabi sunk deeper into his conscience– his doubts finally quiet, time finally stopped.

And his body finally let go.

The familiar bud of the joint met his mouth again, and he inhaled the noxious fumes until he smoked his fears away into the midst of the neverending clouds in the night sky. The full moon gleamed down on his pale skin, bathing his grafts in a lunar embrace.

Unlike the sun, which beat its scorching rays on his sensitive skin, the moon shyly kissed it, leaving trails of beautiful markings that soothed his aches.

Dabi’s heart was working overtime. Blood rushed to his scalp, and his body completely shut down. There was one name that his heart called for.

A name that belonged to the past. The moon shyly casted a glow on that face too, but it averted its lunar eyes when Dabi defiled his past, leaving trails of burns that caused her aches.

He was wrong.

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, had no family.

But Dabi?

Dabi had a family.

Dabi woke up to blue skies and a gentle sun peeking behind the stained curtains. His body was sprawled on the tiny bed, his limbs spilling out the sides, here and there. He blindly groped for his phone in the midst of thin sheets, switching it on to check the time.

09:23 AM.

He groaned and threw a dark shirt on top of his eyes, blocking the obnoxious sun as he squirmed to find his sleep.

Moments passed and all he could focus on was the neverending tick of the clock in the corridor.

“Fuck it.”

Dabi slipped on some shirt, and put on some shoes, and slammed the door when he left.

09:36 AM.

No wonder he could hear the tick, the corridor was ghost-quiet.

Routinely, Dabi heaved himself over to the bar, scanning the counter for a quick shot.

09:41 AM.

Toga walked inside the lair, her hands hidden inside the cuffs of her cardigan. Dabi nodded at her as he let out a yawn.

“Everyone die or summin’?”

Toga stared at him, her eyes glazed.

Dabi immediately straightened up.

“Wait, did they actua-”

“She’s gone.”

09:49 AM.

Dabi’s jaw tensed up, gripping the shot glass tighter.

“Who’s gon-”

His body was jolted back into the counter, the loud glass shrieking as it fell from his hands.

“Don’t you dare Dabi. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes were red. Her fist was clenched around the loose cloth that hung on him.

Dabi averted his eyes from Toga, releasing a shallow breath.

Toga’s chest hiccuped underneath her cardigan, and she hid her face into his chest, staining it with stale tears.

“She’s gone,” she repeated, a broken record.

Dabi clasped his arms around her, his hands patting her head.

09:59 AM.

“She left.”

Dabi reached for the flask hidden in his inner pockets. Bony fingers struggled to open it, fine tremors running through his bones.

‘Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…’

Door number eighteen. A few strides away. But the growing feeling of heaviness in Dabi’s feet warned him: it was going to be a marathon.

Countless strangers pointed at the lone man in a tattered, thick jacket. Dabi grasped at the wire fence that separated the long stretches of the park and pavement, muttering something underneath his breath.

The sight of free cars strolling past him caught him off guard every single time. He had no sense of time, no sense of direction.

He was far, far away from Musutafu.

Here, the air felt fresher.

It wouldn’t be long before it was infested either.

But he had to owe All For One some credit.

His reign of terror gave the PLF members a huge leverage when it came to accessing government files.

Dabi flipped through piles of kojin bangō, particularly scanning through documents of 27 year-old mothers, registered births and quirk-hybrids, and a certain family name.

He found everyone’s name, everyone’s identity; no one was safe.

Yet the name his eyes yearned for was nowhere in sight.

Countless days and nights were spent silently begging for a lead. On day 18, Dabi finally left the building, clutching onto a piece of paper close to his heart.

Saira Uchiyama.

Names didn’t match, but it was the only name that he could trace her back to.

Dabi took the final steps up the road, feeling lighter than he had in days.

It was on his right. There was but a sliver of road that separated Dabi and door number eighteen.

His fingers started picking at the ripping cuticles on his nail bed, and the grown man started to track his breaths.

He took a step.

A car honked at him.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Dabi didn’t draw back.

He took another step, and another, and another. One more, maybe two.

He could feel the gravel underneath his boots. Dabi lifted his broken face and a perfect house stared down at him. Pristine brick walls stood proud; the bright toned paint complimented the thriving flora in the yard. It fit in so well with the lines of houses, strong and shielded.

This was someone’s home. Bonsai trees armed the right side of the yard, some trimmed, others growing wild.

There were two floors and a garage; more than enough for a perfect family.

Dabi was stopped by the fence gates that guarded the perimeters. He struggled to get past.

Encrusted in metal, his eyes laid upon the name beside the door.

Engraved in gold letters, it read Uchiyama.

He was a step away from Saira Uchiyama’s front door.

Dabi’s hand reached towards the door handle, but he stopped when he felt the unwelcoming chill of it.

He eyed the doorbell instead. He fisted his hand that was itching to press it.

The drowning noises of children’s laughter bled through his skull from the park that was behind him. The drones of parents buying ice cream, and husbands holding their wives’ hands. This was the type of neighbourhood he was in.

And someone told him. Since when did Dabi develop the need to preserve this?

He was a lone man, half dead. He was disgusting. He couldn’t find her name. Now he was outside some poor woman’s house. Saira Uchiyama. How would she feel seeing a decaying man waiting outside her front door? How would her husband feel if some uninvited scarred freak asked to meet his wife, hands empty?

He felt a thick substance roll past his cheek and drip onto the clean welcome mat.

Dabi pushed his raven locks out of his eyes, biting onto his knuckles as he struggled to maintain a steady breath

His nails moved to pick at the staples underneath his eyes.

He couldn’t do this.

‘I can’t fucking do this.’

Through his bloodied waterline, he looked at the doorbell one more time before turning around.

He couldn’t fucking do this. Dabi didn’t belong here.

He tried to move forwards but his legs were shackled to the pebbly footpath. His rhythmic heart couldn’t let go. His twisted mind forced him to go.

His desperate eyes latched onto the bed of perfect flowers on his right.

Like an open flame, the flowers stole all his attention. Dabi stilled.

Their indigo petals mirrored the deep colour of his dead skin. He was entranced by the bold opening, the beautiful colour bleeding out and reflecting the glimmering hope that built up in his cerulean eyes.

“What’s your favourite flower Dabi?” Toga asked as she played with her blunt knife, running her thumb across the blade.

“Typ’a fucking qustion’s that?”

“God Dabi, don’t you know how to have a civilised conversation with someone. I’m just trying to get to know you better!”

“And asking my favourite flower’s gonna do that?”

“It’s called small talk, Dabi.”

He scoffed, pushing past the young girl to rummage through the cabinets.

From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on her amber eyes intently pressing him for an answer.

“For fucks sake. Fine. I’ll do your little small talk”, he gave in, evoking a small squeal from the blonde.

Dabi considered her question for a minute, pressing his tongue against his cheeks.

“I saw these flowers once,” he gulped. “They were blue, kinda like flames. My flames. I saw ‘em in one’a those gated areas. I guess they were pretty nice.”

Toga pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side as she tried to paint a picture in her head.

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“The fuck would I know? Probably one of those fancy rich flowers grown by fancy rich people,”, he shrugged.

“I’ll ask the newbie, she’ll know what they are.”

“Have fun talkin’ to lil’ miss know-it-all,” he scoffed, happy as Toga skipped away, leaving him alone. Finally.

A week later, Dabi found out what they were called as he was sharing a cigarette on the roof.

“By the way, they’re called Rindou flowers.”

Dabi quirked up an eyebrow, his lips curled in a sneer.

“Those flowers you like, they’re called Rindou.”

Dabi’s ears perked up at the small giggle that followed.

“I guess I could say being ‘miss know-it-all’ isn’t the worst thing, huh?”

Dabi’s chest heaved as he turned around, his pace fast as his hands inched closer to the doorbell.

Ring.

The wind stilled.

He could hear footsteps run down the stairs.

Click.

The handle moved.

The door creaked open.

It was 09:59 AM.

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 3, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

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yandere-kokeshi · 2 years

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— Pu$$y eater

Pairing: yandere Deku x female reader

Warnings: Smut: use of word of cunt/pussy, praise play/body worship, oral receiving (reader), groping (reader received), cursing.

Authors note: There may still be some mistakes as this was wrote on my phone; tried my best.

Izuku was whipped for you.

He loves you with every fiber of his being, he loved seeing you smile, especially if he was the cause for it.

He loves everything about you, even the oddest things, you consider the worst of you.

He gets so hard thinking about you praising him, hell, even the sheer thought of you touching him, hugging him, and the smell of you make his knees weak.

He, especially, loved smelling you, stealing your clothes to jack off whenever he couldn't.

He couldn't get enough of you, just like right now.

You were laying down in bed, thighs wrapped around Izuku's head while your being fucked out.

You're a drooling mess, fingers gripping at his curly hair and the sheets below you.

The broken cries made him even harder, making his eyes roll back as he kept eating.

You felt on cloud (9) nine, seeing white dots in your vision as it became blurry, fast.

As you kept moaning, you made eye contact with his green eyes; making him groan into your cunt, making you moan out louder to the vibrations.

“B-bunny...hah, you've got the p-prettiest pussy I've ever s-seen...”

His breath tickles your inner thighs as his tongue runs a lap up your drooling slit, messy from the praise your boyfriend had knowingly fed you.

Your body is hot, hotter than ever and when you down at his shiny green eyes—they’re reassuring, telling you it’s okay for you to let out those cute little gasps, cries, and moans.

You arch your back, rutting your hips into his face as his nose bumps your sensitive clit.

He could tell you were almost at your limit, seeing tears amongst tears fall down your pretty, angel‐like face.

As he kept licking and growling on your pussy, he kept digging further into your sweet spot; pulling at your folds, sucking on your clit until you couldn't pronounce his name anymore.

“Mmm'—You taste like sweets, 'm gonna make you feel like this over and over again.”

He slurs his words, clearly being pussy-drunk

He thrusts his tongue inside you over and over again, cursing and spitting at your sweet ol' sensitive cunt.

As he kept eating you out, his left arm let go of the inside of your thigh, slowly traveling up to your breasts and pulling at your nipples; kneading them as he kept pulling you forward to his soaked face.

“You moan my name, my name. No one else's. Who does this pretty pussy belong to?”

You gasp, “Y-you! Yours, Izuku!”

“That's right pretty girl, beg for it. Beg to cum.”

“'Z-'Zuku, i-I want it! Wan' it, please!”

You demand, wailing as he dives in more, slurping your juices like it was his favorite meal.

Your voice starts to crack, growing raspy.

You cry over and over again, tears falling down your cheeks from the overstimulation as the pleasure and pain mix together; like chocolate and syrup.

“'M gonna cum! Lemme cum 'Zuzu!”

Your legs are shaking, choking on your words as your toes curl and your hands tighten on Izuku's hair.

“i-love you!” Comes with your muffled sobs, thighs tightening as you pressure your hold on his head.

They're quickly forced back open by his two (2) big scarred hands, taking turns fastly to play with your clit and pulling at your nipples.

His tongue was killing you, ravaging your spasming hole with his magical muscle.

As you cry loudly, back arching from the bed, and toes curling; you cum big.

“That's right baby girl, you did such a good job. 'M love you so, so so much.”

Izuku praises you, letting his hands wander to fondle your breasts and body.

He gently kept kitten-licking your messy cunt, drooling.

You roll your eyes to the back of your skull, realizing that this wasn't the end and that, in no way, he was stopping.

—

Masterlist | Requests are open!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

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thatunnamedwriter · 4 months

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You don't get that, my love, you don't. I love you in a way that I'll always love you even if you won't do the same back for me :) I'm not even expecting anything just please, please don't ask me not to feel this way, please just let me admire you in my silence :) ~Shambhavi Singh (via unsentlettersofaromantica)

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aroaceanxietylemon · 2 months

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Okay somebody please help me find this fanfic I read it was a my hero academia one it was really dark it was yandere class a1 with female reader where they would continue to touch her inappropriate and there was one were one of the girls came into her room for some tea and stole her underwear to masturbate with and another part where reader went to a party and I think they tried to drug her or something but I remember I think it was delusional trying to insert his dick into her without consent I also think that reader then becomes a villain in the future or something.

#my hero academia #bnha #yandere bnha #yandere class 1a #yandere my hero academia #mha x reader #mha #yandere mha #dark content #yandere #yandere male #yandere female #help #i need to find this pleaee

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randomgirl005 · 4 months

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And at the end of the day it's those plans you make while dreaming big that help you go on and think life is just beautiful.

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poems-to-read · 2 months

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Re-learn to value what was good, don't let the shine of the things that were good for you fade away. As for the bad stuff,

well blow them all up.

#light up #books #female reader #literature #poetry #poems #poets on tumblr #quotes #dark academic #inspiring quotes #inspiration #chaotic academia #sarah j maas #acotar #spilled ink #words #self love #love poetry

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joytri · 3 months

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comment things you would would want to read/write a poem on!

#aesthetic #dark academia #coffee #art #books #academia #college #light academia #studyblr #literature #Poems #Poetry #Writing #Writersblr #female writers #Reading #readers

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m1ssnovember · 2 months

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We’re not a happy family, it doesn’t matter how many times we reconcile with forgiving words, my cuts can’t be forgiven and neither can the blood of your child on your hands.

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saintfrancesworld · 21 days

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GOD IS A GUN

by Frances L.

Mid-day tears of soy-sauce sweat

slinking down

my forehead. The fidgeting wisp of a

baby pink

birthday dress—

It is summer. I don’t know what to do with my hands.

I never know what to do

with my hands. Except maybe

devour.

They exclaim, “Happy 23rd!” the day after

the day after.

And my laugh, bitter as nightshade.

And my head,

still a haunted house! Even in these brights!

But I come alive now

and I don’t ever

stop. It’s a county fair occasion.

Remember: No goldfish this time ‘round! No winning.

I sigh. I look down.

I sigh again. I look around.

I have schemes and no friends. Not really.

But I? I would like to be the westward expanse;

the ugly foreign beauty tilting off the edge of the known world.

And I could be swimming somewhere,

an emancipated fair fish, a slash of defiant orange.

But I’m not.

I’m not.

I’ll watch the others glide past instead

and swell.

How do I look? they ask.

I think: The depression is always back and I’m beginning to fear it’s all I’m good at.

I think: God is a gun pressed to the back of my neck.

You look fantastic, by the way.

(Only dead fish go with the flow.)

I glared with hag stones held up to my eyes. Nothing.

My mouth stings, by the way.

(Only dead fish go with the flow.)

But this? This

isn’t a squirt-gun game anymore. It’s

Russian roulette now, carving out

the hollowness.

I like it! My fingers already

sticky.

All right, I hate hypotheticals. Pull the trigger.

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jackxo · 3 months

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Calling All Readers & Writers

Recently, I wrote a ~1750 word narrative poem. The poem follows an unnamed narrator who is forced to play a strange card game against a celestial creature who appears to be older than time. But as the poem progresses, the narrator begins to understand that the game at hand is the least important thing that is taking place. The poem is called:

“Dead Man’s Hand”

Would Anyone Be Interested In Reading This Poem?

I’m embarrassingly proud of “Dead Man’s Hand.” My poem is filled with hidden meaning and symbolism, showing itself in the word choices, the rhyme schemes, and the subject matter.

I want to publish “Dead Man’s Hand” as a featured poem in my anthology, but I wanted to hear readers’ impressions of it first. Please let me know if you are interested in reading this poem. I should be able to post it in sections. Thank you so much for taking the time to read all of this. I sincerely appreciate you.

-Jack

For more information, here are some of “Dead Man’s Hand”’s themes: life and death, the inevitability of time, regret, companionship, pity, resentment, empathetic love, compassion, epiphany, forgiveness, sacrifice, and many more.

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jomamaofficial · 1 month

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An Empty Vessel pt.3 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: As promised, I have come with Part 3. I can’t lie, I did not expect to have so many parts to this series (me personally, I thought it would be a oneshot), but guys, seeing all the love y’alls are giving to this series is just AHHH. It fills my heart with joy <3. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because this series as a whole is just dark. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Substance abuse (alcohol, smoking), small mention of mass murder and a reunion with abusive lover. CW: swearing. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag @porusuniverse @iluvoaldmen @genshinsimpforlif @shadowmoonlight0604 @simpsimpson2023 @crybab7 @kaeyastittysucker @jennieyeager @an-ever-angry-bi @gyarukitti Masterlist Word Count: 2207. Summary: Saira Uchiyama. His past had caught up to him in the form of a family– Touya Todoroki had no family but Dabi could not deny the existence of his. The existence of a family that had driven him to search for a name he had never even heard of. Dabi's fragile world unravelled; every single thread forced him to confront the consequences of his actions. Was it even her? The one he had beat and shut out of his life? Dabi’s mind hurt, because it finally intertwined with the realisation of the irreparable damage he had caused.

——————————————————————————————————

Dabi has had his overcoat for a long time.

It was the first thing that was ever made for him, and only him.

He never had to share it.

The material was light; he could move quickly without the weight dragging him down.

The material was heat-resistant, so he didn’t have to worry about incinerating his clothes during a fight.

His clothes allowed him to let go. Dabi could explore the forbidden fruits of his full potential because the material allowed heat to escape– because of the fabric’s ‘enhanced breathability’ or something. He never paid attention. But it worked, so he always had it on.

Dabi made his way up to the roof, ignoring the small cries of his name from the distance. It wasn’t on purpose though– he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His mind had to work hard to think about nothing. Because if his conscience took over, his chest would collapse.

There wasn’t anything left inside of him anymore. That’s what he had recited every waking day of his life as Dabi. But God, he needed a cigarette– to fill that hollow feeling inside of him.

A few long puffs always did the trick. Although it felt best when he was on the roof, legs hanging off the ledge.

One of his favourite hobbies was to look at the city under the glistering stars.

Yokohama never slept. The little toy cars had small people that were always going somewhere. Their blinking red lights mirrored the sea of stars on the bumpy road. At such a distance, where cars disappeared from one end to the other, that journey seemed so mindless. Yet still, everything felt like… like it was still in place. As if everything about this world was truly intentional.

Dabi dragged a longer puff, throwing his head back, succumbing to the gentle breeze and his thoughts.

But in the end, you couldn’t make out any face, let alone their identity. Everything became insignificant. All that mattered was the action.

Dabi could distinguish between a walking figure and a jogging figure. Whether they were alone or with others.

But in the end, everything else was insignificant when he was above them all.

So far up, that if he fell– right now– he wouldn’t come back.

Anyone could push him off.

“There you are!”

Dabi grimaced. His soothing bubble had been forcefully broken, and he was dragged back to reality. He had his suspicions on who it was.

“I thought we could use a drink or two.”

His eyes glowered at the approaching figure. He could never be left alone. But when the bottle of scotch was handed to him, the interruption wasn’t too bad after all. Dabi jerked his head towards the empty space beside him.

He could hear careful steps approaching, then cautious shuffling beside him.

Had he stolen a glance in his peripheral vision, he could watch the gentle breeze tease her hair, sweeping it left and right.

He felt a chaste glance on his face.

There was a thin, yet strong wall between them. It was thin enough to talk through– although it left no room for subtlety. It was thin enough for them to warm each other. But if they tried to cross it, they’d have to break it down, and crush the other under the weight of the wall.

There was a lingering sense of emptiness that filled the night sky.

Empty smiles, empty vessels.

She drew in a breath, but no words followed, as though she had forgotten how to speak.

“Today was…” she started, only to falter off into silence, her hands rubbing at her arms.

Dabi had his overcoat for a very long time.

It was the first thing that was ever made for him. And only him.

He never had to share it.

But it felt way too heavy today. And despite the gale tightening its frosty clutch, Dabi could feel his body heating up.

“The plan was successful”, Dabi replied flatly, “that’s all we need to care about”.

He pushed his discarded jacket towards her. She slipped it around her shoulders.

The League’s attack on downtown Esuha was broadcasted globally, and they had finally reached the headlines of every news article.

‘Bloodshed Strikes Downtown Esuha as Villains Unleashed Devastating Attacks’

After years of failed plans, the League of Villains had finally succeeded.

No man, no woman, no child was left. But it was all worth it.

Wasn’t it?

Their plan was the highlight of every media discussion.

Dabi took a larger sip of his drink, bathing under the serene wave which washed over his inhibitions.

And the wall between them felt thinner and weaker.

“D’ya think your mom would ever sacrifice herself for you?”

The vivid images of fresh blood and visceral screams haunted their mind.

“What did that woman say again?” Dabi asked, his voice cracking, “‘take me, but please, leave my baby alone’... That’s what she said right?”

Both of their eyes lowered. The alcohol and the little food he had consumed was kicking against his stomach lining, irritating his abdominal grafts.

“‘She has a long life ahead of her. Please, please, don’t kill her please’”, Dabi heard a sniffle. “That’s what she said before we…”

He felt sick.

“That’s what we do, doll.”

He met the pain in her eyes. They were a mirror.

Dabi clenched his jaw before looking away.

She did too.

Dabi began biting his fingernails, and her hands fidgeted with the glass.

And then they looked at each other again, somehow closer than they were in the beginning.

“I don’t know if my mom would ever do that for me… But, I-hm…”

A dry chuckle followed in a feeble attempt to humour the situation.

But Dabi finished her unspoken sentence.

“But you would, right? For your child,” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows and squinted, trying to make out some of the writing on the tall buildings afar.

“Any mom would do that for her child.”

“Didn’t you just say th-”

“Any good mom would”.

No one spoke. But they shared a knowing look, before averting them back to the vastness of Yokohama.

“But to be honest…” She took another sip of her drink. “If I had a baby, I’d never live in Musutafu.”

Dabi let out a snort, thus earning a playful shove in return.

“Oh yeah? Then where would you live, fucking Minato City?”

It was her turn to snort.

“You think I’d live in a rich neighbourhood to avoid being a target of criminals and villains?” She scoffed, slurring out her words. “I know I’m the newbie but you have to give me some credit, Dabi.”

He rolled his eyes, yet they still urged her to continue.

She thought for a moment, her gaze wandering off into the distance, before she continued again.

“There’s this place, just outside of here. It’s called Yosai. It’s this remote residential area. And, um. It takes around 30 minutes minimum, to find any markets, or- or any offices or clubs, and you know, all that stuff. I think, for most people, it’s like- really boring. And that’s why it’s so isolated. No one even thinks of going there because there’s literally nothing. There’s a park, and a local school– I think, but there’s no one. Nothing. There’s these houses- a lot of them! A bunch of houses with no one to live in them”.

It was weird, to be talking, uninterrupted, for this long.

“I guess”, she shrugged a bit, blinking a few times. “Recently, people have started building roads and stuff for cars now. So they can actually do something. But yeah. Zero reported crimes and it’s been there for a few decades. So yeah, if I had a family, I’d go there”.

She looked intently at Dabi, who didn’t say anything.

But he moved closer, leaning forward, sitting upright. He scanned her jittering hands before searching in his pant pocket. He raised his eyebrows at the cigarette in his hands. She nodded. So he lit it, pressed the ends to his lips and inhaled before giving it to her.

He watched her lips touch the cigarette. Where his lips were.

“There’s actually this property under her maiden name- my mom’s. There’s still some legal stuff I need to sort out before it actually becomes mine. It’s like this, it’s so stupid, because it’s like obviously none of us use that maiden name anymore. But because of that they can’t give it to us. I don’t even know… But I guess it’s nothing too difficult”.

“Ah”. That was all he could say. But when he peered into her expectant eyes, there was a sudden need to elaborate. Anything better than ‘ah’ at least.

Dabi felt dizzy.

“Umm… What's your mom’s maiden name?”

“It’s Uchiyama.”

When his delayed voice finally caught up to him, Dabi winced.

“Fuck”, he muttered. It was a stupid question, but he wanted to make sure that she knew he was listening.

They were closer, breaths intertwining with each other under the watchful eye of the moon.

There weren’t any buses that travelled from Musutafu to Yosai. Dabi made his journey by foot.

Thus, during this four day journey, Dabi became well acquainted with people.

And he noticed that a lot of people in Japan had blue eyes. After the emergence of quirks, blue became a common colour for many. The truly rare ones were pink, or purple now.

But Dabi’s eyes… they were different.

His eyes.

They were handpicked from the colours in the cerulean depths of the stormy sea. Whispers of secrets remained untold– that’s why no one could have the eyes that he had.

Never.

They were gleaming– echoing the beauty of the lights in the North. Depending on how you looked at them, they were teal, or sapphire. One thing was indisputable– the arctic chill they’d give when he’d pierce into your soul was breathtaking.

His eyes.

They were simply breath-taking.

So when he towered over a small frame, gaze lowered, he could not explain the way his heart forgot to beat when he stared into a perfect replica of his eyes.

With each beat, lost time unfolded in front of him.

And he noticed the slight difference in the silent expanse that he had gazed into.

There was an innocent reflection of the North Star twinkling in their genuine, rolling waves. Dabi’s eyes were an abandoned lighthouse.

But, what alarmed him the most, was when those flawless replications turned frozen. Dark.

Petrified.

Dabi's heart ached as those eyes formed fog and mist, obstructing him from reaching the truth that was hidden beyond the plane of sight.

His knees surrendered under the accumulating guilt of his past. And so his tears fell, trying to escape the grief and strain his weak body had repressed for so long.

“Honey, are you okay? Who’s at the door?”

Icy tendrils spiked through him, and his breath was captured without a fight. In the wake of realisation, his body signalled all the alarms they could, telling him– no, begging him to run, but, his blood had turned to ice, and he succumbed in the paralysing grip of his inevitable fate.

“Sana, are you okay…”

He heard the voice taper away, followed by a sharp clink of a metal spoon. His laden head fixed itself downwards in shame, guilt, fear…

“Dabi…?” Those words drifted out in a hushed tone. As if they were trying to protect the young girl, who now hid behind her mother.

He braced himself for the hardest task he would ever have to face.

And in that split second, his breath had returned, and he let out a short exhale when he finally saw that face materialise from his past.

Y/N.

It was you. Saira Uchiyama.

After 6 years, 8 months, and 19 days of navigating through the circular journey of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, Dabi finally had the chance to reach the beacon of acceptance.

His shoulders slumped, as short breaths hiccuped through the dark caverns of his chest.

He had finally found you.

And he had finally found the end to his coveted quench, which yearned for a solace, only to be found in your longing embrace.

Softly, a bewildered whisper escaped his lips, barely denting the silence around them.

“Doll…?”

Dabi watched as the maturer skin scrunched together, deep lines frowned at him. As the tenderness in your heart had to be locked away inside an untouchable crevice in your body.

“Sweetie, I need you to go upstairs okay”, you ordered sternly.

You pushed your daughter behind you, blocking Dabi’s protesting hands before they touched her.

“Mommy, he’s scaring m-”

“Sana. You need to go upstairs. Lock the door and close your windows.”

Sana.

Her name was a painful reminder of the blank pages he had failed to fill as her father. How could he have written anything?

He didn’t even know what the title was.

“Never fucking come near my family again”.

Those blank pages began to rip.

“You disgusting freak”.

The blank pages had burned to ashes, and Dabi was left outside on the suburban patio of a perfect neighbourhood.

Maybe, if he found a place to wash his face, he could blend in with the garbage.

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