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Lover is a Day

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“My lover is a day I can’t forget”

 

It was insanely dead out for a Saturday, even if it was well after three in the morning. An eerie silence had settled over a lone young woman as she kept a brisk walk toward her apartment. Drinking with Bakugo had left her more than a little tipsy, yet no amount of liquor could help her shake the unfriendly atmosphere she was met with the moment she got out of the Uber. It didn’t help that the moon had been covered by thick, dark clouds most of the night either, leaving her to stumble blindly and drunkenly through her lightless apartment complex to the very back building. Not the safest place for a lady to live on her own, but it was far more affordable than anything the nicer part of the city had to offer. It had never bothered her before this sudden looming sense of dread began to circle her thoughts.

Why am I so scared? I walk these halls every day, I’ve come home this late millions of times, she tried to convince herself. Still, she could not shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Her building was in sight up ahead; just a little bit farther and she could finally stumble inside of her cozy little apartment and pass out. She should have felt relieved, but the closer she got, the more uneasiness crept up into the pit of her stomach. There was no one out this late that she could see with her normal vision, yet she her skin prickled anxiously in the way it does when one is being watched.

It was convenient that her quirk was a detector quirk, it came in handy for finding people in nights as dark as now. She let her quirk activate, certain that it would push the paranoid thoughts from her head when she located no one outside. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Her heart dropped and her legs became lead when she saw the red heat of a body leaning against the door to her apartment. She wasn’t alone.

She let her vision fade back to normal, her heart pounding against her chest as she stared into a void of black that was the shadowy front door to her apartment at the spot where her quirk had exploited the watchers position. It took a moment for her eyes to re-adjust, but when they did she could just make out a pair of turquoise eyes peering at her through the inky night. Shit. This would be my fucking luck.

“(Y/N),” A low voice dripping in poison shattered the silence. He made sure not to waste time before he warned her: “Think carefully before you do something stupid, love. It’s easier for the both of us if you act compliantly to me.”

“Dabi,” the name rolled off her tongue just barely above a whisper. Their last encounter, which hadn’t been a particularly kind one, had been so long ago that she had allowed herself to settle on the idea that maybe he’d given up his interest in her. How stupid of her to think it was that simple. The walking space heater had an inconsistent pattern of showing up to do horrible things to her before he would disappear again for weeks or months at a time, she should have expected he would return eventually.

Dabi could already see the fear painted in his target’s eyes as her mind raced frantically to assess the situation, a sight that shamelessly sent shivers of pleasure through him. It had been far too long since he was able to play with her directly; working so much for the League left him little time to do more than stalk her in his free time. The eagerness to touch her was eating at him.

He stepped out of the heavily shadowed entrance when he decided that she more than likely would not come closer to him on her own accord. As the space between them dwindled slightly, she instinctively backed up. “If you run or if you draw attention to us, I’ll turn everything in the vicinity to ash,” he threatened indifferently. It mattered little to him whether he took her by force or not, or whether people had to burn to death in the process.

Okay, think think think. He most certainly will burn this place to the ground, no hesitation. What the fuck do I do?! Her eyes were trained on the villain as he sauntered toward her. Her skin crawled at those icy blue orbs watching her in anticipation of any kind of reaction. She remembered those eyes, the same cold, lifeless pits that bore holes into her on the nights he would force himself so violently on her, sickly aroused by how much pain he could bring something so small and tangible. Looking into those eyes once more left her transfixed in dread to her spot.

“What do you want with me?” she choked out, hating the way her voice came out shaky instead of bold how she intended. At this point, it was only feeding his ego. She supposed that she may have bolted immediately upon recognizing his presence if she had been sober, but the liquid courage mixed with being scared shitless rooted her feet firmly to the ground as he finally was close enough to touch her.

With his sudden proximity, she was able to see the unforgettable patchwork pieces that made up his stitched face as he hovered above her. It was possible he had been handsome at one point; that was before his body had been mutilated by fire, leaving most of the skin along his torso and arms rough and charred. The same purple skin stained beneath his eyes as well, with more stitches to hold the different skins together. He brought a hand up and began to run it softly through his prey’s hair, observing the way she flinched under his touch. “I’ve missed you.”

You miss my body, she mentally corrected, shivering at his words. Those were sweet words, yet coming from this context they made her sick to her stomach. How could someone say that and sound so robotic... so emotionless?

It was definitely the alcohol that propelled the girl into her next course of action. Without warning, she jerked her head upward violently where the top of her skull made direct contact with the bottom of her stalkers jaw. Curses slipped through his teeth, his whole body jerked in surprise at the spontaneous movement. The impact left her dizzy. Staggering backwards, she was not quick enough to evade his hands as they circled her throat, his thumbs burying down painfully into specific pressure points that would rob her of her consciousness. She writhed in his grasp, clawing at his hands as her vision began to swim and stars began to dance in the corners of her eyes.

“Go ahead, take a nap you stupid bitch,” he growled through gritted teeth, tilting his head to the side to spit out a mouthful of blood. She would pay for that little stunt later, he would make sure of it. “I gave you a chance to come willingly.”

It took only a few heartbeats for the ease of unconsciousness to claim her, leaving her to fall limply against his torso.

Chapter Text

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open dreamily, her surroundings nothing but a blur as she tried to stabilize her vision through a fierce headache. Where was she? The ill-lit room around her was unfamiliar; it was some sort of studio set up, devoid of any personal touch or possession, save for the furniture. The windowless walls and the floor were constructed of concrete, which led her to believe she was in the basement of wherever she was at.

It took a moment of her fully waking up to realize that a heavy brace was secured around her neck. Startled by the realization, she shot up from her place on a worn down couch, the searing ache of her hangover forgotten in light of her panic. She felt around it for any kind of button or lever, finding nothing but a chain on the end extending out from the metal collar. The cold metal tough against her fingers as she held the drooping tail end of the chain, following it’s length with her eyes until she found it’s end secured to a metal slot in the wall.

I’m chained to the fucking wall. Her breathing hitched. She racked her brain, desperate to remember where her drunken night had taken her for her to end up like this. It didn’t take long for the memory of him to resurface and for her blood to freeze over. Dabi! That psychopath kidnapped me!

“Ah, about time you woke up,” the devil himself drawled in a tone that she couldn’t believe made him sound almost bored. How the fuck does one stay so apathetic after they’ve kidnapped a living human being?! He stood leisurely at the counter dividing the kitchen and living area, nonchalantly flipping through Polaroid photos as if this were any other casual day at home.

“This is… something new,” she shakily stated the obvious, completely lost for any other comment. Dabi had always found it ideal to take her at her apartment, or in places where shadows or objects obstructed unwanted attention from possible witnesses. He never before had done something so brazen as to actually steal her away from the location, let alone bring her to whatever he would call this. “They’ll send people to look for me. You’re an idiot for abducting me.”

“Let them – they won’t find you,” his eyes shifted to her, the bright orbs unreadable from beneath his dark lashes. His calm demeanor always threw her off; it made him look almost human compared to the times where his emotions were highly volatile. “I’ve gone through great lengths to find a place that isn’t traceable. If the hero’s haven’t found me here in four years, I doubt they will now. I decided that bringing you here was more convenient than visiting you at your home.”

“I never asked you to ever come visit,” she growled at him, not that it did much for her. She was the equivalent of a scared puppy in his eyes, lashing out unpredictably and non-threateningly.

“I was beginning to get aggravated by our time apart, you know,” he continued on, completely ignoring her comment. Dropping the photos, he paced over to a closet and began rummaging through. She noted the way he carelessly turned his back to her with ease. He in no way saw her as a threat, and begrudgingly, she could only sorely agree with that. After a moment he pulled a rope from the depths and shut the door. “I never realized how sexually frustrated I could get in that time away from you. I tried my hand at using other girls for awhile. It’s sex, even if I had to pretend it was you I was inside of. It never could have compared to the real thing though.”

“No matter how you fantasize it, it’s not sex, it’s rape,” she spat at him.

“I wasn’t claiming otherwise. You look angry love, as if you feel like you’re some saint compared to me. How does it make you feel to know that they only got raped because of how bad I wanted you? That you’re the reason they’re scarred for life?” he taunted maliciously.

“About as good as you might feel knowing that no one would ever willingly fuck you.”

The dull thud of skin hitting skin forcefully rang through the concrete tomb as the back of Dabi’s hand connected with the soft skin of his hostage’s cheek, the force of which left her eyes burning with tears and her jaw clenched tight to stop the squeal of pain from leaking through. He hit her hard. She knew immediately that it would swell and bruise in time. “A little cheeky this time around. That’s okay. I’m willing to put up with it for now, I know my absence has made us both irritable.”

A retort was burning in her throat, but she withheld it. I wasn’t exactly her greatest desire to have him strike her again. He watched her face eagerly, wondering if she really would have something slick to say after that. Her lips remained sealed however and she had averted her eyes from him. He couldn’t repress the smirk that played on his own lips at the submissive behavior.

Leaning forward, he tapped at the metal choker with his index finger. “Want me to remove this for a little bit?”

“What are you going to do to me if you do remove it?” her question was barely a whisper, her eyes still shy of looking at him. His grin widened.

“I plan to show you how sorry I am for disappearing on you for so long.” Producing a small key from his pocket, he leaned over and began unlocking the restraint.

“I liked it better when you were gone,” she pleaded, trembling as the extra weight around her neck was removed. His hands slid around her shaking body and he hoisted her up into his arms effortlessly. She knew she should have fought him, but what good would that do her? Quirk wise and physically, he was a lot stronger than her. All she could do was curl up in his hold as he moved her away from the chains.

A few feet from the couch was a California king that he dropped her unceremoniously upon, the only expensive looking anything in his cruddy makeshift home. “Get ready for me,” he ordered, twirling the rope expectantly. She eyed it wearily, anxious about him restricting her movements. “I don’t mind binding you now and tearing through the clothes,” he offered deviously.

She could tell he was toying with her, that he was drinking in every moment of her discomfort in this position. They never had moments like this where time wasn’t an issue for him, so he would stretch out every second of this, savor it for all it’s worth. Slowly and with unsteady hands she began to peel the protective layer from her body. She felt oddly shy under his intense gaze, even though there was nothing but lust gathering in those soft blue pools as she exposed more and more skin for him. All for him. He could hardly contain himself at the thought of it as each article came off at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groaned. His eyes drifted anywhere and everywhere they could roam all at once; he imprinted every curve, every inch to memory. Completely naked, her arms were crossed against her chest and her legs were closed. Being deprived of seeing the most intimate parts of her frustrated him, but he reminded himself that soon every part of her would be at his mercy. He gestured impatiently for her to move forward with his index finger. “Come here.”

Her folded arms pressed even closer to her naked chest. “Please don’t tie me up,” she begged him, her (E/C) eye’s were wide and doe-eyed. A deep, throaty chuckle spilled from his lips and his eyes lit up. His heart was beating rapidly now, the pure adrenaline threatening to overtake him. He was so turned on by the sight in front of him that he could barely stop himself from shaking with want.

“Come here. Don’t make me say it a third time,” he breathed out. She hesitated at first, but obediently she crawled toward him. She turned around for him when he commanded it with the twirl of his finger, sitting patiently for him with her hands ready to be bound behind her back, her ass sitting softly against the heels of her feet. He took a few seconds to appreciate the view before he began twisting the rope around her wrists.

“How about only the wrists?” she begged desperately, even though she was in no position at all to barter with him. She was willingly recognizing his dominance over her though, and that was satisfying in it’s own way to him while he was so high off his power trip. He pressed his lips against her ear as his hands, conditioned to the motions of the knot he was tying, worked seamlessly at bounding her wrists tightly together.

“Are you going to behave yourself?” he purred, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending a shiver through her body. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure he had enough patience left to go any further with the ropes. The bulge straining against his dark jeans could attest to how badly he needed this.

“I’ll behave, I promise,” she said quickly.

Mercifully obliging to her wishes, he let his blue flames sear the end of the rope off when he finished the tight knot and then pushed her face forward into the mattress. “Flip over,” he commanded and she did as she was told, flipping so that her back was against the soft covers and her whole body was exposed in it’s fullest to him. She flushed red in embarrassment as his eyes scanned her thoroughly once more, lustfully admiring her now that he was able to see everything.

He couldn’t possibly wait any longer. He crawled up onto the bed toward her like a beast who was beginning to move in on it’s prey. Firmly gripping her legs with calloused hands, he began at the left inner thigh and kissed his way downward, working slowly. His bound prize sucked in a breath of air, so unused to him touching her in a way other than rough. When his head was all the way between her legs, he let his tongue run slowly over the bundle of nerves above her opening, hungry for the taste of her to be on his tongue already. Her hips bucked ever so slightly but he held her down against the bed, letting his tongue run over the clit a few more times just as slow as the first, curving it and angling it to feel out every inch of the sensitive spot.
Soft moans were beginning to drift from her mouth. She didn’t want to enjoy it, but fuck was he good with his tongue. Her legs rubbed longingly against his strong shoulders as her body began to squirm under the building pleasure. Still, his tongue was a slow as ever as it worked over the area, her desire spiking each time he pressed it more firmly into her. Stealing his attention from the clit, he let his tongue run down her slit, which was already wet and eager for him. Running it back up, he let it slip inside a bit, relishing in the beautiful taste of her juices. In a new found rhythm, he let it slide up and down the fold, pressing it deeper and deeper inside each time his wet muscle ran along the length. She wasn’t even trying to withhold her mewls of pleasure any longer. They were music to his ears, a longing siren’s call that encouraged him to lick more quickly at her.

“God, (Y/N), you’ve got such a pretty pussy. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to play with you like this,” he groaned against her sex. He brought a finger to her entrance, smug that she was already wet enough for him to penetrate her. Returning his tongue back to her sweet spot, he let his middle finger enter her heat, slowly sliding it in until it was completely inside of her. She cried out in pleasure at the intrusion, lost in the feeling of the digit stroking her tender walls. With rough movements characteristic of him, his finger began to move in and out of her in a rapid pace. The strokes of his tongue sped up to match the violent thrust of his fingers as he inserted the pointer finger and stretched her even wider.

She was all but overwhelmed by sensations. Her hips were grinding into the thrusts of his fingers, so caught up in how good he was that she was bucking at him shamelessly. Having been so traumatized by the last time he took her without her consent, she hadn’t been intimate with anyone since. Now her body was craving the penetration from the absence of it, and his fingers were longer and thicker than her own, they filled her so much better than she could fill herself when she tried to take care of her needs. Already she felt the familiar fire burning in her gut, that ball of desire and pleasure stabbing at her insides, screaming for release. She panted audibly, unable to comprehend anything but the immense pleasure he was giving her. She could feel it just about to hit her… and then he pulled his tongue away and his fingers slowed their pace, sliding out of her.

“Dabi,” she moaned pitifully, cracking her eyes to look down at him pleadingly. He leaned upward and captured her lips with his own. His charred lips, the texture of which felt unnatural against her soft ones, pressed hungrily against hers. She gasped when he bit down harshly, opening her mouth up for him to slide his tongue in, the taste of which was heavily coated with her. He ran his fingers along her folds as his tongue battled hers for dominance, teasing her as he let only the fingertips dip inside before returning them to their pressure-less strokes.

“I didn’t allow you to cum yet. When you orgasm, it’ll be to me fucking you raw,” he told her when he pulled his mouth from hers. His fingers returned to their rough rhythm of going in and out of her, causing the butterflies to swarm her gut once more. He was leaning over her now, watching her face as his fingers worked to accommodate her for his girth. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You could cum to just me finger-fucking you, it’s so good.”

“It is,” she moaned. Her pride had long since gone out the window. “Keep touching me like that.”

“I like you this wet. It’s going to feel so much better to pound into you when you want me this bad.” His face dropped into her neck and he bit down in the crook, forcing a cry of anguish to escape her throat. The pain and pleasure were turning into a delicious mixture though, as his fangs pierced her skin and his fingers pierced her cunt.

“I can’t take it, fuck me,” she gasped to him when his thumb rolled over her clit.

She felt him smirk devilishly against her throat, the silver staples in his face ice cold against her hot skin. “Hmm, what’s this now? I thought that no one would ever willingly want to fuck me?”

“I lied.”

“Beg me. I don’t believe you.”

“Dabi, I’m so wet for you right now. Only for you, please,” she whimpered desperately.

“I know, I feel it,” he emphasized the remark by hitting deep into her. He was positively rabid at the thought of how much power he had over her right now.

“You’re so cruel. You have me completely at your mercy, why don’t you claim me already? You-you want it just as bad as.. I do,” the words came out breathy and stifled as his fingers curled deep within her. She couldn’t take the constant build up only for him to slow his pace or stop the stimulation altogether, letting her drift back down from the almost orgasm so he could edge her closer again. The cycle was daunting.

“Claim you? Is that what you want, you want me to show you who owns you?” The look in his eyes was animalistic; she had obviously said the right thing. Without bothering to hear her response, he clawed wildly at his shirt, pulling it over his head messily to give her a perfect view of his toned body. She had little time to admire the definition of his muscles as he stood and unbuckled his jeans, hurriedly pulling them off in his eagerness to be touching her again.

He didn’t even bother to bark out an order this time around. Grabbing her body himself, he flipped her onto her stomach, jerking her hips violently upward so her ass was presented for him, her face falling down into the mattress. He grabbed his throbbing cock and stroked it as he ran the tip along her entrance, grunting deeply at the feeling and the visual. He psyched himself up mentally, his dick twitching eagerly in his fingers as he appreciated the moment. Finally, here she was, tied up and dripping at the anticipation of him entering her.

The feel of his head sliding up and down her slick sent a hum of euphoria through her. She wanted to press herself deeper onto it but he was holding her hips too tightly to allow movement, leaving her only to wriggle impatiently as he continued to tease her. “Dabi,” she gasped out.

“You ready for me to fuck you sweetheart?” he asked darkly, his blue eyes half-lidded in lust as he started to let the head in it’s entirety slip in momentarily, enjoying the arch in her back at even the slightest penetration. He wanted to tease her mercilessly, for her to be shaking as she begged him to pulverize her. He no longer had the self-control for that though, he needed it just as bad as she did.

She didn’t answer him, but he wasn’t waiting for one anyway. Angling himself to go as deep as she could possibly take him, he sank himself forward into her warm core, leading them both to cry out, and for his nails to dig into her tender flesh. The feeling of being filled was so pleasantly blissful to her, but his size and his force were agonizing as he forced himself to sheath completely inside of her on the first thrust. He pulled back halfway before plunging just as ferociously back in, setting himself a rhythm before he was eventually fucking her ruthlessly.

Her cries were lost within the sheets as he pounded into her at a savage pace. Immediately it had been way too hard to take him like that, she wasn’t sure she would be able to withstand it. Lost in his own pleasure, he had forgotten how fragile the being beneath him was. But the more he stretched her insides, the more the pleasure was starting to collect in her gut again, the pain beginning to become only an afterthought.

Submerged in the feeling of him moving against her and inside of her, her breath caught in surprise when she felt his hand grip her bound wrists as he pulled her upward off the bed and into his lap, burying himself even deeper than she thought he could go. With one hand holding her wrists, the other still had a hold on her hip and he forced her movements to sync with his thrusts, her hips grinding desperately on him in excitement for the new friction, her moans echoing loudly now that they were unobstructed by the bed.

He was growing too excited by the delicious cries pouring from her lips. It was riveting having her completely bent to his mercy, for this creature that held him in so much contempt to be so horny for him. Her pleasure was nice, but it wasn’t enough. The hand guiding her hip was growing warmer as a low flame began to dance across her skin. She yelped in pain when it began to singe her, another burn mark to be added to the collection that streaked her body. She jerked at his hot touch, her body shaking and shivering when the heat was removed and the cold air danced across the tender wound. His hand moved from her hip to ghost over her stomach.

“Ah, shit Dabi, it hurts,” she wailed, caught up in both the delicious thrusts of his dick and the agony of his quirk burning the sensitive flesh of her stomach. Once again, the blue flames only licked at her momentarily before he let the cold air surge to the spot. His hand drifted across her skin again, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. When his finger touched her thighs she whimpered in fear, feeling the warmth beginning to flood back to them. He let his flames simmer this time though, not letting them kindle enough to burn her at his touch. He let the warm digits trail up her thigh slowly, a sensation she found excited her more than it ought to. His fingers slid up to where they were connected and he began pressing small, hard circles into the bud.

“I missed this. You feel so fucking fantastic, so much better than those other bitches,” he snarled throatily. She could only whimper and moan in response as she matched his deranged rhythm. She wasn’t sure how he had so much stamina, it was nearly impossible to keep up with him. His fingers working her most sensitive area and having him buried in her so deep sent her over the edge, her climax consuming her as she cried out his name in ecstasy, her pussy tightening around him as she did so. He released his hold on her and shoved her forward. She allowed herself to collapse face first into the mattress, her body heaving violently at the over-stimulation as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

He let his body drop over hers, his weight on top of her adding a whole new wave of sensations. His sweat drenched muscles pressed down into her back as his pace became frantic, unhinged. With her walls milking him so sweetly, he couldn’t help but curse as he found his own climax inside of her. She let out a small moan when she felt his seed spill within her, and again when he let his body drop onto her, the both of them shaking.

In took only a few hearty breaths for him to regain his composure. Pulling himself out of her, he stood and walked away from the bed. She gently rolled over, her body still racked with heavy pants of pleasure. She had no energy to move from her spot, so she quietly laid and watched as he retrieved an older looking camera from his counter before returning to her. It was an odd sight to see him with something so archaic. Her face was already flushed, but she knew it grew even hotter when he brought it up and angled the lens at her.

Her, all tied up and flushed with her breasts heaving, his seed dripping out of her throbbing core. He shuddered at the image as he snapped the picture greedily. It came to his attention that he had forgotten to play with her nipples at the start when he noticed the small buds stiff against the cold. Truthfully he had skipped over a lot of the playing he had planned for her, his own desires were too much to tease her like he had intended. Oh well, perhaps another time. He watched her silently as her eyes fell shut and her breathing began to descend from it’s rapid pace, content enough in reaching his own end to allow her maybe a quick nap before he would undoubtedly wake her up for round two.

Chapter Text

Up until he had started holding her captive, her stalker had never been known for displays of affection. Every morning now (or maybe they were nights, she honestly couldn’t tell anymore) Dabi would wake her up through light sensations, little actions like nibbling at her neck or trailing kisses across her shoulders until her sleepy eyes would finally fall open. He was a hell of a lot more gentle to her in these times than any other, mainly because his head was still filled with the foggy remnants of sleep, a state of mind which left him calmer than usual. That was how there ‘mornings’ would go: him leaving soft touches along her body until she was awake and he could capture her lips, which always eventually ended with him rolling them around his sheets in blissful thralls of passion.

Working so much had left him irritable, however, and so it was by a rough shake of her shoulders that he woke her up this particular morning to come bathe with him. Drearily, she followed willingly as he pulled her into the restroom, which had already steamed up nicely from the shower running on it’s hottest setting. She let him strip her of the shirt he had given her, the likes of which was so big on her that it reached down to her knees, to reveal her naked body before he rid himself of his own clothing. In the shower he was on her immediately; he gave her no time to react before pulling her into the steaming drizzle, the scorching heat of which immediately aroused her from any sleepiness she had left. He claimed her mouth as he hoisted her up against the wall, her thighs spread snug against his hips. In one motion he entered her, the both of them smothering their moans between intertwined tongues as he impatiently set the pace.

It hadn’t taken her long to adjust to his immense physical need for her. She had grown a fondness for his overheated touch, an appreciation for his movements and his size now that he could penetrate her comfortably. She pulled away from his kiss to bury her face against his throat, one arm wrapping around his broad shoulders to grip him tightly while her other hand was busy getting tangled in his dark hair. His chin was resting against the top of her head, so the sounds of his grunts rang in her ear as she began to kiss along the heated skin. It was an addicting feeling, the scolding water searing his back and her arms as she dug her nails into the sensitive skin of his charred shoulder blade.

It was comforting having his sculpted body, which naturally ran hotter than most, pressed against hers in this position, their limbs entangled around each other, his hands greedily ghosting over every inch of her he could squeeze, the sounds of their mutual enjoyment slipping past their teeth as their lips moved together tightly. It was captivating, overwhelming. She could already feel her climax coming, pulling at his hair roughly and her nails piercing his skin as she tightened her hold on him, the sensation of which encouraged him to pump into her harder. At the quickened thrusts, he found his release as she tightened around him in her own, their hips grinding steadily until they slowed the pace, riding out their mutual orgasm.

“I have to leave for a few more hours than usual,” he told her gruffly, his body still pressing hers firmly against the wall as he removed himself from her guts and dropped her feet back onto the shower tiles. “Keep yourself up, I don’t want you to go back to sleep.”

“I like sleeping though, I'm always so tired,” she told him, letting her hand untangle from his thick locks so that she could wrap both her arms around him, her head against his chest now that he wasn’t balancing her on his hips. It wasn’t an exaggeration either; keeping up with his libido was hard enough, but her unorthodox lover enjoyed pain immensely too, especially when it came to burning. Physically, her body was growing sore at the impact of his fetish. She was still sporting the mark he had painted across her cheek the night of her arrival as well; finally it had dissolved from a horribly ugly purple welt to a greenish-yellow bruise, still painful, but less so than it had been the first couple of days.

“I don’t fucking see how,” he lashed out in annoyance, the only way he knew how to express his anxiety. She was beginning to look like she was dying, she was so pale, and he wasn’t quite sure how to fix that. His eyes were narrowed down at her, glowing brightly from beneath the wet black hair that hung limp in his face. “You’ve done nothing but sleep since I brought you here a week ago. You haven’t eaten either, even though there is a whole fridge for you.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, already resting her eyes while the water rained down on the two of them. What did he expect? She thought dryly. Did he think he could take another person against their will and live some sort of twisted version of a normal life? While it was true that she had acquired a lust for him, she still couldn’t forget that she was basically a slave to his obsession, not his lover.

“Oi (Y/N), what did I just say to you?” he growled. He snapped his fingers loudly and her eyes shot open in surprise. “Stay awake, and eat something too. If you pass out around me I’m going to be pissed.”

 

Before he left, he re-secured the metal brace around her neck as he always did. The chain fastened to the wall did allot her a wide range of space to move about, though it conveniently stopped less than halfway away across the living room and too far out of reach to even get close to the front door. The areas she could reach didn’t offer much anyway; as expected, there wasn’t much to explore. Dabi had done a good job of securing a location that heroes could not find him at, but it was far from being homey. Besides the aforementioned furniture, the only flare of a personality here was the various photos she noticed he had scattered across his counter. She didn’t even bother to look through them, she already knew that she was more than likely the subject of them all anyway, and she had little interest in seeing the photos he had taken of her without her knowledge.

This odd little hobby of his wasn’t news to her. When he began to stalk her, Dabi had first made his presence known by leaving his art, sometimes with vulgar notes written on the back, at her doorstep until eventually he started finding a way to leave them inside of her apartment. Initially she had taken the unnerving concept as a gesture of his obsession for her, later realizing that maybe it was actually meant to be a constant reminder that he was always watching.

The only thing remotely entertaining in his bland little pad was his television, and so for most of the hours that he was gone she watched shitty reality shows. It was either that or the news, she found out when she attempted to flip through the channels to come up with nothing but static on anything else, and as much as she loved watching the world burn slowly, it was insanely depressing to hear about other people’s problems when she herself was locked away somewhere off the grid by a psychotic villain dealing with her own mess of issues. So, out of her plethora of options, reality tv it was then. Though, there was only so much petty drama between cheating friend groups one can take before it numbs the mind, and it wasn’t long before her eyes felt heavy and she fell asleep on his couch.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out for, but the sound of his rough voice stirred her immediately. “The hell is this?” Dabi growled, his voice dabbed slightly in disgust at what she was watching. He analyzed what was playing for not even a second before he took the remote and promptly switched the power off.

“Dabi,” she yawned loudly as she tried to call out his name. He turned to her, his dirt-stained face already set in a deep scowl. Great, he was in a foul mood, probably due in part to her clear disobedience of his earlier command. The black jacket he always wore was burned more than it had been prior to his outing, possibly due to the use of his quirk, the white shirt beneath stained with someone else’s blood and torn slightly. It was clear he had been out fighting, and judging by the lack of wounds on him, she could only assume that the other person wasn’t looking too good. If they were even still alive.

“Apparently I need to teach you a lesson in obedience,” he clucked disapprovingly. He set a takeout box on the table in front of her with a bottled drink. Shrugging it from his shoulders, he tossed a familiar bag onto the couch next to her. “Get up.”

She sat up slowly, stretching out her sore limbs. “You went to my apartment?”

“I sent my associate to retrieve some things for you,” he corrected, his tone all but brushing the topic off completely. His jaw was locked firmly in annoyance, his typical go-to look for the evening apparently. “You didn’t eat anything did you?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, “No, I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care, eat anyway,” he ordered darkly.

“Make me,” she rolled her eyes, missing the fiery aggression it ignited within him. She could be head strong when she needed to be, especially when someone was trying to make her do something she didn’t want to. What was it to her if she starved to death down here? It would probably be a cleaner death than anything else she could fathom in this situation.

She was startled when he reached forward and grabbed her chin harshly, the palm of his hand coming to rest against the top of her throat and his fingers digging into her jaw on either side. He pulled her to a standing position so he could tower over her angrily, eyes glaring daggers down into hers. “Listen, I have absolutely no patience left for you right now. Shit you’re right, I can’t force food down your throat, but I can turn you into a cruder looking version of me if you want to misbehave, and I know you don’t want me to ruin this pretty little face of yours, do you?” She felt the fires begin to kindle beneath his hand at the threat, the warmth licking at her skin eagerly. He didn’t hesitate to let the heat grow rapidly, gripping her face even tighter when she tried to claw his hand away.

“You wouldn’t!” she challenged stupidly, failing miserably at loosening his death grip on her. “You like my face too much.”

“You don’t think so? I have plenty of pictures of your face as is, I don’t mind adding a little character to your features if you don’t want to behave yourself. In fact, it’s kind of a turn on thinking about you with your face burned just like mine. I think I feel my dick twitching, it’s so fucking romantic,” he sneered.

The heat was only growing in intensity and she whimpered pathetically, remembering how bad it the burning of his quirk felt. She had assumed he was bluffing initially. Bad mistake on her part. She forgot it was a villain she dealing with, and even if he was obsessed with her, he was still highly dangerous. Caving, tears started to stream down her face at the fear that he potentially was crazy enough to barbecue half her face off with no remorse. “Okay, okay fuck. I’m hungry, I’ll eat it!”
He scoffed at her, rolling his cold eyes unsympathetically. The tone of his voice did soften, if only slightly. “Stop crying, you have no reason to. It’s a bother that I have to even threaten you like this to prevent you from starving yourself, love.” The heat retreated from her face and he let go, sweetly stroking the spot he had only a few seconds prior nearly burned off. She shuddered at the ironic comforting.

“I’m not crying, they’re tears of frustration,” she defended with an obvious lie, biting her lower lip and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. If anything was frustrating, it was the fact that she had just cried in front of this psychopath. Not that she didn’t have good reason to get emotional, it was that a simple rule of hers, one she lived her whole life by, was that no one got to see her cry. No one. And of course that stupid scarecrow looking fuck would force her to look so weak. She was frustrated with herself.

“Whatever you say.” the irritation that he had entered the home with had simmered now that she was being submissive, he had regained his calm stature. That’s the way this game worked, she had figured out: he loved being in control, and as long as she cooperated and fed his power trips, he didn’t act as psychotic. “Be a good girl and do what you’re told.”

In the takeout box was some kind of rice bowl with fish and vegetables. She ate it slowly but steadily, rubbing her face anxiously to feel for any marks he may have left on her in his moment of rage. She hadn’t felt the familiar pain of skin being burned away, but it sure had felt close to it. She must have had a pretty defeated look sitting on her face because Dabi frowned slightly, a look that didn’t quite reach his eyes, at the sight of her as she ate dejectedly.

“Don’t look so beaten love, I don’t like being that kind of guy you know,” he coaxed, though his voice held that apathetic pitch void of any emotion whatsoever. She had to withhold a snide comment. She knew damn well that Dabi couldn’t care less if she was scared of him. As long as he could keep his most prized possession on the tightest leash he could acting obediently to him, he was content.

“I know, I’m sorry I acted so bratty,” she steadied her voice, the tears all dried up now that she had silently chastised herself for letting him shake her up like that. If he wanted to play games, she knew how to play them too. From beneath her lashes she peered up at him, eyes sparkling with affection. “You just care about my health and I need that, I haven’t been feeling well. It’s just that you’ve been gone so much lately, it’s put me in a depression of sorts, I suppose. It gets lonely down here by myself, that’s why all I do is sleep.”

His eyes widened briefly. It was a quick, instinctive reaction, but she caught it all the less, the spark of excitement that had rippled through them. He opened his mouth to respond, then swiftly closed it again, staring at her with unreadable eyes. But she knew; she had thrown him for a loop all of a sudden. “Perhaps I haven’t been considering your needs to the fullest. When you eat that change into something, I brought you some of the clothes you wear often.”

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, hiding the eager edge to her voice. By wording alone it was a risky question, but she had planted ideas in his head that he had not considered before, like the idea that maybe she enjoyed his companionship, and those thoughts had him drunk with the desire to have her by his side.

“We’re going to finish up a job for my associate Toga, stupid girl can’t do anything right. I think your quirk will be useful for me.”

Chapter Text

If a month prior to now you told (Y/N) that she’d be standing in front of the leader of the League of Villains while being scrutinized curiously by his subordinates, she probably would have laughed at the sheer unlikeliness of the proposition. It wasn’t so funny actually being there though, smiling awkwardly at the cities uprising crime lord as he stared at her unamused from his spot at his poor excuse of a bar (a different location from the previous one the heroes had infiltrated, she observed). At least, staring was what Tomura Shigaraki appeared to be doing. It was kind of hard to tell where he was looking since he had a hand covering the majority of his face. Body language was her only friend here.

“Who have you brought here so recklessly, Dabi?” he demanded coldly. He didn’t look threatening by design, even with the contempt running through his voice. The leader of the scariest villain alliance to-date was actually rather scrawny in stature. The black skin tight clothes he wore only served to further promote this lanky, almost frail looking, image. The only remotely unnerving thing about him was the multitude of disembodied hands, similar to the one on his face, that clung to various portions of his upper body.

Dabi pulled her body back against his chest. “Don’t worry about her, she’s under my command.” He trailed his hand down from her face to grab her by the back of the neck tightly, his fingers already leaving marks at the intensity of his grasp while she winced at the seriousness in his touch. He leaned down so that his face was inches from hers as he addressed her directly and with unwavering authority, “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes! I’m devoted to seeing.. to seeing Dabi reach his goal, so uh.. I.. I guess that means I… also care about.. helping your alliance,” she had a hard time spitting the words out. She was uncertain of what her captor’s goal even was, let alone the main ambition of the whole league of psychos he worked with. Her awkward smile was serving her no other favors but to relay just how uncomfortable she felt with five sets of eyes watching her every movement.

“Oooo, Dabi you’re the one who kidnapped the young lady from Musutafu? What a delightful spectacle people have been making about her disappearance! So flashy, I wish I had thought of something so attention grabbing,” a man with his identity shielded by a mask sang out in a voice crafted specifically for showmanship. He was dressed rather refined with a nicely tailored trench coat, a cane, and a top hat stitched with a long, exotic bird’s feather. His actions did not match his formal attire, as he talked animatedly with his arms and body when he spoke, drawing her attention to the fact that he had a prosthetic left arm.

So people have noticed that I’ve been missing, she let the news ease her nerves a bit. It wasn’t anything at all, but there was an odd comfort that came from knowing that someone out there was looking for her. She wasn’t the only one who picked up on this small detail.

“The disappearance does have a lot of backlash behind it I’ve noticed,” a reptile man leaning against one of the walls commented. His style of clothing closely resembled the Hero Killer’s, he even went as far as creating a mask out of a long bandage in a similar fashion to Stain’s iconic look. She took one look at him and immediately hated everything about his copycat approach to idolization. “Although I don’t know why, she isn’t anyone important to my knowledge. What’s the point in stealing someone who has little value to us?”

Great, I didn’t realize I was going to have the pleasure of getting roasted by a discount ninja turtle this evening. It’s not like I know who you are either you twat, she thought dryly. Dabi had also seemed to take offense to his associates remark; he scoffed loudly, his eyes narrowing to intimidating slits. “Watch your mouth, Spinner.”

“Indeed. We don’t know what her quirk is yet. She may very well be of use,” the masked man agreed with Dabi’s threat.

Shigaraki began to claw at his neck in frustration as his underlings bickered amongst each other and ignored him completely. One of his eyes was bulging menacingly from beneath the pale fingers obstructing his features, which was a look more befitting the image of a head villain. “We need to move discreetly now that we have pro heroes trying to capture the rest of us. How do you expect us to stay in hiding when you create an uproar with the public over some girl?! What does she possibly bring to the table that’s worth toting her around for?”

“I like her, she’s cute!” the only other girl in the room squealed excitedly, blissfully unaware of what her leader had just said. A manic grin was spread across her flushed face as she bounced up and down on the tips of her toes with a knife cradled sweetly against her chest. “I’ve been begging Shigaraki-sama to enlist another girl into our team, I love my new friend!!! Thank you thank you, Shiga-sama!”

“No one asked for your opinion,” Shigaraki snapped at her childishly, his tantrum only propelling the furious digging of his fingernails into his skin. He sighed aggressively, his nails moving at an accelerated pace before he suddenly dropped the hand from his neck altogether and his shoulders lost their tension. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, more collected. “Keep whatever subordinates you wish, it’s your responsibility to take care of any adversities it brings to the league. As the leader of my vanguard, I can only trust you know what you’re doing, Dabi.” He twisted in his chair to address the crazy blonde girl. “We’ve already wasted too much precious time squabbling over irrelevant matters. Toga, inform them about our target.”

“Our target is the lead scientist of an illegal research ring revolving around quirk modifications, his name is Wakimoto Mashai,” she cheered out gleefully despite the dark subject matter she was discussing. “He went into hiding when the heroes exposed that he was dabbling in human experimentation. Since he was interested in the various uses of different quirks, he created a database of users and their abilities, along with all of their personal info like where they live at!!”

“Toga has tracked down where the underground lab is located. I want you to infiltrate the building and steal the database our target has so graciously constructed for us. Bring Mr. Compress along with you as well, the leader has a poison quirk I’m interested in,” Shigaraki told Dabi. The masked man slid up next to Dabi energetically at the call of his name. “That’s the end of this meeting. I expect you here tomorrow with the mission completed.”

With the leader’s final verdict, the small group dispersed from the secret hideout.



It was a surreal experience returning the real world after being contained in near-solitude for over a week. Despite being blindfolded for the entirety of their trip, it felt nice to be out in the open again, to hear the sounds of nature, and most importantly, to not be bound by a chain. The trio must have traveled for close to an hour before Dabi allowed her to see again, removing the thin scrap of cloth blocking her normal vision and granting her the privilege to finally peer around at their surroundings. Even with the area darkened under the cloak of night she was able to make out the old, decaying buildings that slouched in defeat along a road that was in just as terrible condition and littered with trash at every step. She immediately recognized the location as one of the poorer districts in Yokohama, a ward that was infamous for it’s crime rate.

They had stopped a few feet away from a tall building which blended in seamlessly with it’s neighboring abandoned businesses, unsuspicious at an eye’s glance. Most of the windows had been broken out along the ground floor, bringing more authenticity to it’s deserted appearance. The outside paint was purple, but the weather had stripped spots into it and lack of care for the damages left evidence of the off-white coat beneath the flashy exterior. “This is the place.”

She activated her quirk off instinct, scoping their location thoroughly for any reading of heat outside of the sketchy destination. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling extremely uneasy standing out in the open in such a shady place, a worry her accomplices did not seem to share. “There’s no one watching the outside from anywhere within striking range,” she informed them.

“A detection quirk?” Mr. Compress asked her.

“Infrared vision,” she specified to him with a nod, letting her eyes return to their normal state. “The more heat something radiates, the easier it is for me to detect it.”

“Well well, look at that! You actually are fairly useful, what a wonderful steal Dabi.” He was of course oblivious to the fact that Dabi had kidnapped her out of a lustful obsession, not because of her quirk’s ability.

“Let’s go,” Dabi commanded, ignoring the praise.

“Wait a minute! Where are you guys going?!” she yelled in whisper at their backs as the two of them continued to casually stride right through the front doors of the establishment. When neither of them turned around she rushed after them, tugging at Dabi’s sleeve lightly when she managed to fall into step with him again. “Hey, shouldn’t we be sneaking in?!”

“Why? We have you here, so they lose the element of surprise either way,” he told her confidently, not bothering to lower his voice. The only thing to shed light in the dark room was the moon pouring in from outside, so he had lit a ball of flames in his left hand that bathed the walls of the entrance hallway in an eerie indigo glow. Shadows danced across his features at the flickering tails of blue fire that spread between his fingers.

“Yeah, but so do we. What are we going to do, walk up and just demand the database?” she challenged nervously. Without a flashy or strong quirk she was already at a severe disadvantage to most villains, which was why she did better supporting heroes rather than actually being one. It wasn’t like her body was of much use for any kind of physical fight as it currently was anyway, and truthfully she couldn’t stake a claim on how safe it was to put her life in her captor’s hands. “I’m probably more of a burden in a fight than any type of help.”

He winked at her in response when he caught the anxiety in her voice, the corner of his lip pulling up into a half smirk that was emphasized greatly by the stitches running along his cheek. She blushed at his boldness. “I have everything planned out. Let me take care of the fighting babe, I don’t need you to do anything more than sit pretty and point these weaklings out for us.”

“You’re so cocky,” she mumbled, turning her face away in the chance that he would be able to see the tinge of pink staining her cheeks through the blue illuminations of his quirk. Was it bad that she found his confidence in his own strength a turn on? Gahhhh, stop finding him attractive, he’s an asshole!

“There’s a reason for that,” he assured her.

“Stop right there. Who do you lot think you are?” a voice rumbled from back farther into the main room of the first floor. Looming at them from among discarded rubble of furnishings and office novelties were two large, cat-shaped eyes that did not look friendly in the slightest. The owner, who massive in size, stood bathed in bars of moonlight perched like a wild cat stalking it’s next prey. In fact, his mutant quirk did make him look more feral than human, with a lion’s ears, tail, and wide golden eyes. His body was swollen to an unrealistically muscular dimension, the many injection marks and cuts along his arms suggesting that this was more than likely a by-product of the human experimentation Toga previously informed them of rather than any natural phenomenon.

“We’re here for Mashai, take us to him,” Dabi called out with little emotion passed boredom. He was relaxed in his stance, his one hand shoved into his pocket while the other still held an ocean of flames. She secretly envied him for being so calm.

“You must be joking. Little guys like you walking in here making such big demands, it pisses me off. I’ll make sure you regret stepping foot into this place,” their enemy snarled, his tail slashing violently back and forth behind him. Without giving them time to react he was instantly lunging forward.

Dabi scoffed, his eyes trained on the beast man as he sailed toward them rapidly. Beside him, his abductee had gone wide-eyed in alarm, her warm (E/C) eyes suddenly cold with fear. Frozen, she let Dabi pull her out of the attacker's way while Mr. Compress side-stepped to the opposite side. An explosion of light suddenly blinded the room as Dabi shot a burst of flames at the man, and as he did so Mr. Compress stuck his hand through it, reaching out to rest his full palm on the monstrosity, who was three times their size now that he was close enough to compare the difference, and compress him, as well as the fire, within one of his marbles seamlessly. The whole fight was over before it had even begun.

“Too bad for him,” Mr. Compress gloated, flicking the tiny marble in a random direction. He shook his hand out dramatically in pain, his palm searing from the ache of the flame’s kiss. “I’m sure he’ll quite enjoy burning to death in his own personal hell.”

“What a fucking joke,” Dabi said, unfazed by the whole interaction completely.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Sure, she had seen some impressive fighting from heroes before, but she was astonished at how simple easy it had been for the two men. Her eyes darted back and forth between the villains who had just taken down a giant mutant beast without even flinching, without really moving much at all even! She was dumbfounded by how much of child’s play this was to them. The realization chilled her bones. They’re not just petty criminals, they’re actually intelligent. As long as they have Dabi’s flame, all they have to do is get Mr. Compress close to the enemy and they can kill without even breaking a sweat.

“Ah, I feel honored that the League of Villains has decided to drop by. Lucky me that they’ve sent me two very interesting quirks to evaluate. Although I must say, it was such a cruel fate you’ve brought upon my creation.” Another man had reclaimed the spot their first opponent had been standing in. He was more well-reserved in nature than his comrade had been, but he too shared a body that had been mutilated by unethical testing – his skin had an odd texture to it, one that made him resemble a half melting wax figure beneath his bloodstained lab coat.

“Oi, you’re suppose to be telling us where the enemies are, not letting them sneak up on us, remember?” Dabi criticized, though he seemed fairly indifferent to, rather than exasperated at, her lack of contribution to their mission. He also didn’t seem to care about the new opponent who had suddenly appeared before them, choosing to ignore him in lieu of teasing her instead. “I know you said you missed me and all but stop staring at my handsome face and help us out already.”

“What the hell?! Don’t say things like that to me with such a serious expression on!” she criticized back, embarrassed. If he hadn’t seen her blushing earlier, he certainly did not miss it this time.

“Yeah, you’re kind of bad at this kid,” Mr. Compress added in nonchalantly. He also seemed unconcerned by the stranger who was patiently watching their interaction.

“I was never given a chance to even use my quirk, stop ganging up on me,” she complained, flicking them both off. Dabi only responded with a shrug of his shoulders while his partner let out an amused ‘ha’.

“You came here looking for Wakimoto Mashai, is that right?” the man spoke again calmly, interrupting their banter and stealing their attention. He was unbothered by their prior decision to ignore them. “Here I am.”

“How convenient for us, we don’t have to waste more time scoping you out,” Dabi addressed Mashai formally now, the playful undertones in his words that had been present when speaking to her dying out quickly. He was ready for this mission to be over with already. He paced forward toward the head researcher so that he was directly in the path between him and her. He turned his head to her, “What’s the extent of your quirk? Can you locate how many others are in the building with us?”

“Uh, my vision can bypass solid structures to some degree. I might be able to see pretty far up into this building,” she told him. She let her eyes switch back to infrared, scanning the whole room thoroughly for any more beings until peering upwards. Somewhere above them she caught the faint traces of heat orbs moving around through the upper levels of the establishment. “There are several people up on the third or fourth floor that I can see, no more than four of them at most. Otherwise, it looks pretty empty in here.”

He nodded in acknowledgment to her analysis, his eyes sliding over to Mr. Compress next, who already understood immediately what was wanted out of him before it had to be asked. “Looks like I’ll be going to take care of them then.” He used his magic to mask his disappearance as he left to locate the stairs that would take him to where the potential threats to their plan were scurrying around at, entrusting Dabi to stay back and weaken their main target.

“Splitting up, eh? That’s fine, I’ve already seen his quirk before, the day you lot decided to steal that U.A. brat. I’m far more interested in seeing what all you can do with those flames,” Mashai said, his voice relaying that he was not intimidated like he should have been. He did not hesitate to initiate the encounter.

This guy must be delusional to think he could win, (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched the fighting begin to unfold. She had never seen Dabi fight before, but his confidence in himself spoke volumes. As she expected, he took up the defensive immediately, directing a cloud of blue fire toward their enemy, who jumped out of it’s way. She observed the way the scientist flexed and spread his fingers the moment he was out of the line of fire. Within a few seconds, sharp elongated needles split the surface of his fingertips as he did so and extended out like claws, a clear liquid substance began to drip from the tip. If he uses his quirk primarily through his fingertips then he’ll need to be within close range of his target to poison them. Dabi is more suited for ranged attacks, which makes this an easier fight for him. All he really has to do is make sure he doesn’t barbecue this fucker before we capture him.

She watched, mesmerized by her captor, as he kept the scientist on the run with his power, barely moving himself as he effortlessly controlled the pacing of the fight. Now that it wasn’t her who was the victim of his quirk, she was able to sit back and admire how powerful it was when he needed it to be. His target couldn’t even get within range of him, Dabi’s defense was far too excellent. Mashai was attempting to attack from every angle he thought he could work from, meeting nothing but fire at every attempt. When he’s so focused like this he’s really impressive, honestly.

He must have realized that it was futile for him to keep attacking Dabi head on, so he switched his tactic up – he jumped up, baiting his opponent to aim his flames upward at him so he could let his body drop flat to the ground at his feet, his right arm swiping out to slash at his leg. Dabi was quick to jump out of the way and effectively dodge the attack, realizing all too late that he hadn’t actually been the intended target for the agile movements – his captive was.

Being forced from his spot separating the scientist and (Y/N) left her vulnerable to the enemy, who immediately started forward toward her, reaching his arm out to grab her as she stumbled backwards in a panicked manner. The passage of time slowed to an achingly slow speed, her heartbeats thundering in her chest and echoing through her ears as she watched his claws steadily approach her face, the needles coming dangerously close to her as she continued her attempt at evading him. She couldn’t even scream if she wanted to – her tongue was lead in her mouth. She could do nothing but watch as he bridged the gap between them, the needles only inches from her nose… and then a lot happened all at once:

Dabi had realized his mistake quick enough to reach out and grab the man’s face before he could touch her, his quirk igniting passionately in his frantic fear that he might succeed in poisoning her. Instantly Wakimoto Mashai combusted internally, his scream coming out as a horrid gurgling when flames began to melt him from within, his face dripping like wax from beneath Dabi’s hand. His fingers were twitching as he fell face first against the cold concrete, his almost-victim falling backward onto her bottom a little bit out of reach from where he had almost ended her, her heart beating even wilder than before, causing breaths to come out short and raggedy. It was a disturbing picture that was playing out before her, but she could not peel her eyes away from the horrifying sight of his body steadily turning to ash, the smells of it wafting around them and the sound of the flesh popping and sizzling only adding to the disgusting aesthetic.

“Are you okay?” Dabi was at her side the moment the target was eliminated, crouching down beside her to get a better look at her face. She let him evaluate her, only able to shake her head no in response, she couldn’t find a way to make herself craft the words. That was enough to let relief flood through him; she was in shock, but she hadn’t been poisoned. She would be okay, minus the nightmare fuel of a memory she would never forget of him murdering someone inches away from her face. He mentally cursed himself for allowing that attack to get that close to her.

Her fingers dug into the concrete for a moment as she tried to steady the shakes going through her body. She had been so close to dying right then. It was a hard thought to process and one that truly terrified her. She never was in the middle of fights, she was usually far away using her quirk as support, never ever being one to brazenly throw themselves in the middle of danger willingly. She had never escaped the claws of death before until this moment and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

“You don’t need to be so worried, I had the whole situation under control. I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I?” She barely acknowledged through her shock what he was saying to her. He had already straightened himself back up and extended his hand out for her to help her off of the ground. Shakily, she accepted his help, letting him pull her back on to her feet. The moment she was up, she couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely, burying her face against his chest as her iron grip squeezed him.

Dabi froze up this time, shocked by the action. He hadn’t ever had someone show him genuine affection so strongly like that, it was a foreign experience to him. He understood that she had instinctively grabbed him because she needed him to comfort her, to make her feel better after such a traumatic experience. He didn’t know how to do that though. He was a murderer, not a shoulder to cry on. It took him a few moments, but finally he let himself return the hug, securing a tight hold on her as she shook uncontrollably in his arms at the thought of almost dying.

The panic attack was overwhelming, but with her head against his chest she could hear the loud beats of his heart, which was far calmer than her own. She closed her eyes and focused her awareness on it, letting the steady rhythm guide her back to her own sense of calmness. She found a comfort in letting him hold her, one that made it easy to melt into the heat of his body. His fingers began to trace light circles along her back, a subconscious motion he wasn’t aware he had started to do.

“What happened? We were supposed to capture him I thought,” Mr. Compress’s voice shattered the moment. He apparently taken care of whoever was up stairs and had returned to stare questioningly at the remainder of what was their target, a burning puddle of ashy human remains.

(Y/N) went to release him, but Dabi held her firmly in place against his torso, holding her hostage in his warm embrace now that he had grown accustomed to how nice it felt to be touching her in this new kind of intimate way. He couldn’t explain why this felt so much more passionate, so much more like real emotions, than other times, but he wasn’t so eager to let go of the feeling just yet. His fingers continued to rub her affectionately as he responded to his partner: “Fuck it, he was garbage anyway. We don’t need him.”

“Ah, I see. I’m not sure how the boss will feel about this though.”

Dabi scoffed. He couldn’t care less. “Did you retrieve the other thing we came here get?”

“I did indeed,” Mr. Compress confirmed it by holding up an average looking flash drive. “I scrolled through it briefly to ensure it’s what we came here for. This thing really does have a lot of pertinent information stored on it.”

“Good, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Chapter Text

The steady pounding of heavy rain could be faintly heard from within the cozy dryness of the basement. A silence had nestled itself over the two occupants of the studio set-up, only the dull hum of whatever was playing through the television mixed with the sounds of the roaring skyfall outside filled the odd void, the colorful flashes of the moving picture box casting the only source of lighting to illuminate (Y/N)’s delicate fingers as they worked diligently at soothing the knots built up in Dabi’s shoulders. They had been like this since they had returned from their mission – him shirtless laying face down on the couch while she sat on top of him and touched him affectionately.

She had been more physical with him since the incident several hours prior; standing closer to him than normal and touching him of her own accord, rather than flinching in fear of him. Despite the sudden comfort she had began to show in his company, she was quiet. Dead quiet. In fact, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him since everything had happened. Dabi wasn’t one to easily read the mood, and so the mixed signals were beginning to piss him off.

“Why aren’t you talking?” The bite of his words was so strong that it was easy for her to visualize the scowl that was darkening his features. Still, she continued to silently work out the tension of his sore muscles, her eyes busy memorizing the the intricate stitchings holding his skin together. The sharp texture of the wire-like bindings felt wrong to the touch each time her soft hands brushed over them, but it didn’t deter her from massaging every portion of him.

Because I don’t know what to say, she thought vacantly in response. She could sense that his irritation more than likely stemmed from an idea that she was still in shock over almost dying, a response that he was probably taking as an insult to his strength. She wasn’t scared though; regrettably, it was quite the opposite. Watching him fight so effortlessly, especially seeing how quick he was to protect her, had ignited a fire in her loins, one that filled her with a lust she had never felt before when she looked at her abductor. She had never dreamed that she’d ever find him to be attractive, but here she was, getting turned on by a murderous psychopath who was holding her hostage against her will. Wonderful.

Naturally it was difficult for her to find her voice then, she had far too many conflicting emotions to process. She didn’t want to have any sort of real feelings for him, he was still a villain after all, even if he had saved her life. He was a high ranking subordinate in the most crooked organization fighting against society, someone who killed with no remorse and committed heinous crimes in the pursuit of some ridiculous ideology bent on destroying the culture of heroism. He was a wicked being, his abuse toward her was firsthand evidence of that. Accepting a desire for him in spite of everything he had done just didn’t sit right with her. She felt wrong, disgusting even, for her budding sexual attraction for him, but it was impossible for her to deny how she felt.

When she didn’t respond he flipped over from beneath her so he could see her face, the sudden motion of which pulled her from the distracting thoughts. She steadied herself in the new position with both palms against his broad chest and her legs straddling his waist, her eyes darting up to meet his gaze like she knew he wanted. Those icy half-lidded eyes of his were glowing against the darkened room as the movement from the tv danced in the reflections of his irises. She couldn’t help but admire the way his black hair framed his rugged face, making the pools stand out even more against the flyaway hairs that stuck against his forehead. Her heart sped up as she drank in his appearance, her body growing warm as she silently assessed the positioning of their bodies against each other.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” she told him softly, scared if she spoke any louder that her voice would betray the confused mess of emotions that were bubbling beneath the surface. She reached out and began to trace her fingers lightly along his torso. His eyes followed the pattern of her touch before they moved back up to her face, narrowed slightly at her vague answer. “I’ve just been thinking over everything that happened.”

“What is there to think over?” he asked impatiently. He didn’t like the ambiguity of those words. He wanted to know exactly what she was thinking and how she was feeling, he didn’t have time for guessing games.

She let the corner of her lip pull up ever so slightly into a small smile at his bluntness, a feature of his that she was slowly growing accustomed to. She increased the pressure of her fingertips against his skin, letting her nails begin to drag softly down his muscular stomach. She could feel him getting hard beneath her at the sensation of it; the growing stiffness of his member was pressing upward against her heat, the friction of which sent lewd thoughts running shamelessly through both of their minds. “I’m not sure how to thank you, for starters.”

Dabi raised a brow to the statement, but she had already averted her eyes back down to his body, her face longingly flushed a faint red. She knew she was crossing a line here, that she should stop before she was in over her head, but all her self-control seemed to fly out the window when her thoughts drifted back to memories of how much pleasure he was capable of bringing her. Was it really so wrong to give into one’s desires? Her hands drifted dangerously low, and when she began to run them back up, he snagged one of her thin wrists and pushed it forcibly down against his belt buckle. He let a cocky grin spill across his lips to replace the disgruntled scowl he had initially been wearing. “Sweetheart, you should have told me that’s what you were worried about this whole time. I’m sure we can manage to work out a solution for that.”

“I think I’ve managed to work out some ideas on my own,” she tried back sensually, even though her face was on fire. She couldn’t match his straightforwardness, but the glint of hunger building up in his eyes edged her confidently forward anyway. He was more than willing to play along; it was a first for her to come on to him, a motion that fanned the flames of his already enormous ego. Her thin fingers began to dance along the top of his belt, her knuckles dragging against his abdomen and encouraging him to let out a soft hum of approval, his hand still gripping her fragile wrist as she continued to tease the skin just above where he really wanted her to be touching him at.

“Like what?” he asked huskily, running his other calloused hand along her exposed thigh and gripping it roughly. She was almost naked on him already, clad in nothing but his shirt and the skimpiest pair of ruby red underwear that he could ever imagine her wearing, as she sat against his arousal. He ground his hips into her slowly, mad with lust knowing that the only things separating them from soothing their rapidly growing sexual tension were a thin scrap of fabric and his black denim.

“Let me show you,” she told him, leaning down over him to plant soft kisses along his chest while her fingers unlaced the threading of his belt and worked at unfastening the button that was trapping him beneath his clothes. He grabbed her face and dominated her mouth as she pulled his length out, moaning into their wrestling tongues at how big he was when she stroked him firmly from top to bottom. He grinned into their messy kiss at her reaction, releasing her so that she could kiss him elsewhere instead.

Obediently, she scooted down to admire him in all his glory. She hesitated at the thickness and length of his dick, intimidated by the sheer size of it. There’s no way I can swallow all of that, she thought, eyeing it wearily. He was watching her though, waiting with a surprising amount of patience for her to work up the courage to put her mouth on him, and so gingerly she leaned down and ran her tongue up his entire shaft to taste him, making sure to pucker her lips at the end so she could slip his head into her mouth. She began to roll his tip between her lips, her tongue running over it a few times before she set it to work at massaging the sensitive nerves underneath while she sucked at him. He hissed at the pleasant sensation, desperate to feel her all the way down to her throat already. The pace she set was painfully slow, her head bobbing up and down to take in only just a little more of him at each dip. She continued like this until the area was wet enough for her to pull away and begin to stroke him, her soft hands working her saliva along him from tip to base before taking him back into her mouth again in a unified process.

“Oh fuck,” Dabi groaned, watching her as her sweet mouth sucked the upper half of his cock while her hand jerked the rest of him in a delicious pattern of movement. His fingers burrowed into her hair excitedly, securing a tight grip on her before he thrusted into her mouth, his head tilting back at the feeling of his tip slamming into the edge of her throat. She released her hold on the base of his dick, giving him full control over the fluid motions of her blowjob as he forced her to swallow more of him than she could handle. “Relax your throat,” he coaxed her through moans, lost in his own need to bury himself as far down as he could go. The sound of unadulterated pleasure coursing through his voice sent shivers of bliss down her spine, she could feel herself getting more turned on by the sound of it. Doing as she was told, she tried her hardest to keep her throat as open as possible for him as he steadily pushed her further down on his dick until her lips finally met the base of his shaft. He let out another primal groan, only patient enough to allow her a few precious seconds to accommodate her breathing around his length choking her before he set the motion of her head bobs, this time forcing a rougher pace while he thrust deeply into the warmth of her narrow throat. He laid back and admired the sight of her chocking on his dick with tears burning at the ends of her eyes, enthralled at how far she was willing to go to please him.

He would have loved to keep this up, but he could tell she was struggling to keep up with the violent pacing and he was far too excited to be any gentler. Reluctantly, he yanked her mouth off of him and pulled her forward to capture her lips again, this time kissing her feverishly in his appreciation. She panted into his mouth, trying hard to reclaim her breath against his smothering tongue. She attempted to pull away for air but he grabbed her cheeks and held her still, planting forceful but short kisses against her open mouth.

“Turn around and let me see that pussy,” he commanded in a hushed voice, his forehead resting against hers as his warm breath stained her face. She was happy to oblige, turning over and bending down raunchily for him so that her sex was presented easily. He wasted no time pulling her panties down to her thighs to leave her sensitive heat victim to the rush of fresh air against it, gripping her ass tightly and pulling her cheeks apart so that both of her holes were exposed to him. He let his saliva pool in his mouth before he spit it aggressively against her vulnerable spots, the warmth of which she could feel dripping from her asshole all of the way down the line of her cunt before he leaned in and lapped roughly at her with his coarse tongue, drinking up the mixture of his spit and her arousal.

“You’re so dirty!” she chided out, flustered by the vulgar action, but not necessarily turned off by it.

“You’re the dirty one. Look how wet you are from sucking me off,” he chided back, spitting again while he still had her cheeks spread, directly against her aching womanhood this time. Overzealous at the thought of taking her, he positioned himself at her soaking entrance and guided himself in hurriedly, eager to have his dick wet again. She moaned loudly as he bucked into her, matching his thrusts in her own eagerness to be filled with his thickness. He beat into her mercilessly, driven forward by her excited cries while he groped her soft body in an ill-becoming manner. He leaned back and smacked her ass hard, his quirk burning her as much as the slap did and causing her to cry out in pain.

“Hit me again,” she gasped out.

“Yeah? You like it when I mark your pretty little body up?” she could hear the devilish smirk slipping passed his teeth. He was thoroughly enjoying her submission, striking her greedily against her other cheek and leaving a twin burn mark to match the first. A quip left her lips at the sharp pang, but she found herself liking the harsh sting it left on her skin, it made for a delicious contrast of sensation against him penetrating her so nicely. He continued to pump into her, grunting along with her moans as they both got closer to ecstasy. He let the tension build up dangerously close before he pulled out of her quickly, determined not to spill his seed just yet. She whimpered at the removal, desperate for him to reenter her and give her the release she was dying for. Instead, she felt his scorching hot member twitch against her backside as he pulled the white shirt up to expose more of her body, his hands moving wildly to pull it over her head in his eagerness to rid her of it completely. She reached up and helped him slide it over and off, his mouth already moving along her delicate shoulders and leaving bite marks in his wake.

He let the both of them catch their breaths, giving the calmness time to settle over them before he flipped her over onto her back and tore the underwear the rest of the way off of her body. Her legs were already spread wide in anticipation for him and he settled himself between them, making sure to grab the back of her thigh and pin it up painfully against her chest, forcing her other leg to slide up his side and granting him the freedom to shove himself back inside of her easily. Immediately, his other hand wrapped around her throat and pressed down, crushing her windpipe.

An immediate sense of panic overcame her when she realized that his binding on her throat made it impossible to breathe. Digging her nails into his scarred wrist, she attempted to pry his hand off but he was too strong to fight. He forced her down against the couch, his grip trapping her tightly in her spot. She writhed uncontrollably beneath him as he continued to fuck her and choke her out simultaneously, her consciousness beginning to swim. “Relax (Y/N), let me have control.” The words, which came out far harsher than he intended them to, did nothing to ease her panic as she continued to fight against his hold, praying silently that he would notice her fear and release her. Unfortunately, her panic meant nothing to him. If anything, watching her struggle in his hold was encouraging him to press even harder into her fragile neck, the sight of it sickeningly erotic to him and one that propelled him in his chase for euphoria, slamming into her tight core despite her obvious discomfort.

All at once, it felt as if her last wisps of breath were being expelled from her body, then her vision went stark white as stars danced at the corners of her eyes. The panic was gone, so was the rest of the world, and all she was left with was a rush of elation that was beginning to seep into her bones. Each progressive thrust he made into her sent overpowering ripples of ecstasy spreading through her veins, she could do nothing but lay there and openly embrace the extraordinary sensations she still had control over. When she drifted closer to unconsciousness he released the choke hold, his hand still wrapped possessively around her throat but not tight enough to suppress the airflow to her lungs any longer. As her body twitched in pure climax beneath him, his thrusts became inconsistent and quick until he finally allowed himself to cum in her.

They laid there, unmoving, for awhile. His eyes were trained on her face, watching to ensure that she didn’t go under. She was still beneath him for a long time, silently drowning in the throbbing pleasure that was washing over her in waves still. Slowly she drifted back down into her awareness, her eyes rolling back out of her head as she returned to full consciousness. The first sight she was able to recognize once she regained her bearing on her surroundings was her lover leaning over her, his eyes glossed over in passion from reaching his own end, probably a mirror reflection of what her dreamy eyes looked like now. When he was sure she wasn’t going to pass out, he dropped his weight against her body and buried his face in her neck.

“That felt amazing,” she breathed out to him, her body glowing warmly from the experience. Lazily, she threaded her fingers through his thick hair, playing with it absentmindedly as she closed her eyes and embraced the comfort of his overheated body pressing her down against the old fabric of the couch, the remnants of euphoria still running wild within her.

“It would have felt better if you had given into it immediately,” he growled, his tone riddled with exhaustion as her gentle pets coaxed the tiredness out of him. After not sleeping for almost a full twenty-four hours and working his ass off, he was more than willing to let the sleepiness condone him to his place in her arms. His head tilted to the side as he stared in annoyance at the television, which was still playing a reality show and disturbing his ability to fall into a comfortable sleep. “What is this garbage?”

“You’re the one who pays for these channels,” she teased him. He snorted.

“I don’t pay for shit and I don’t watch garbage. I tapped the wires to the place next to here so I could keep up with what the news is reporting on the League.”

“Dabi!” She wanted to reprimand him, but his name came out as a laugh instead. There was no response to be given, but she squeaked as his arms wrapped around her tightly, his breath falling into a steady rhythm against her neck. She glanced down to see that his handsome eyes had already closed, his face coming to rest in a feature that made him look almost adorable. She let him fall asleep on her, in shock that he actually wanted to cuddle, considering he wasn’t one for such soft actions.

There was a voice somewhere in the back of her mind yelling at her, telling her that she was an idiot for letting herself lay with him like this, for enjoying him as much as she did. She shoved it down though, letting herself relax into him, even if it was horribly wrong.

Chapter Text

In the hottest hour of the day the clouds had all hidden away to let the mid-summer sun burn boldly against the pale expanse of blue that stretched overhead. Especially along the coast, the air hung heavy with humidity, raising the already high temperature to an unbearable degree. The beach itself, which boasted murky warm water over dirty sand as it’s main appeal, wasn’t all that spectacular. Still, plenty of people were lounging out in the blaring heat, enjoying the water front view even if it meant their skin would boil in it. They were villains, to be more specific. All of them. It had never occurred to (Y/N) before that they were capable of hosting their own elaborate underground system of villain-friendly locations, though in hindsight it made plenty of sense; it’s not like you can casually go where you please when you’re known to be a threat to the public. Outcast from the real world, the scum of society found their own secret places to mingle and thrive in their own strange version of normality.

“It’s stupidly hot out here. Who the fuck enjoys the beach?” Dabi grumbled flatly, his face screwed up into an expression that screamed ‘I’d rather die than be here’ as he peered out at the idiots who were baking directly in the sun. He loathed the beach with a passion. He was already heated enough, which blessed him with little desire to raise his temperature any more than it needed to be, and even less desire to have his skin scar even worse than it already had been. Normally, his attire would consist of something to block the sun from scorching him, but today he sported a white tank, which dipped low enough to show off his patchwork and his defined chest, paired with a pair of shorts that exposed even more of the scorched skin that ended just below both of his kneecaps. Shielding him from the sun was the only way his captive could convince him to wear something other than jeans and his heavy jacket in the hundred degree weather however, so twirling in her palm was the crook handle of a large umbrella she held up over their heads to protect him from the hurtful rays as they ambled along the boardwalk.

“We could get in the water to cool off,” (Y/N) suggested warmly, the glow of the sun against her skin after going so long without it had lightened her mood, boosting her morale just as he had anticipated it might when he first considered bringing her outside again.

He rolled his eyes. “We’re not getting anywhere near that radiated cesspool.”

“Awww, you’re killing the fun,” she pouted.

“I can show you actual fun.” The corner of his lips pulled up into a half grin at the offer, his eyes sparkling mischievously. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over her body when she chose to wear something so tantalizingly low on the hips. The sight almost made coming to the beach worthwhile.

“You have my interest,” she teased back, winking seductively at him in mock flirting. On cue without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed one of the strings tying her bottoms together, pulling it quickly to untie the knot before she could react to the swift movement. “Dabi!!” she cried out, her face catching color as she frantically scrabbled to retrieve the end and lace it back up before it dropped to expose her.

“Don’t play with me,” he snickered evilly.

“Stop sounding so proud of yourself!” she punched his arm as he beamed down at her doggishly in a playfulness that brought a smile onto her own mouth. Catching him in such a relaxed mood didn’t happen often – she found it nice to be in his presence when he wasn’t worked up in one way or another, and even if he was displeased with where they were, she could tell that he wasn’t necessarily having a bad time either.

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear something so revealing, it’s an open invitation for me to touch… or for others to get ideas.” His voice held a note of indifference, but she could see the side-eye he was giving her that had a more serious implication. “I’m not particularly keen on all the looks you’re getting.”

“I’m pretty sure people are staring at the both of us, not just me. We do sort of stick out,” she pointed out to him, although she knew he was right. Admittedly, the swimsuit may have been just a tad scandalous, but it was her favorite one, and she had only been further encouraged to wear it after noticing the interest spark in his eyes the moment she first slipped into it. Still, she did have a point though, they were certainly not hard to pick out of a crowd; who couldn’t help but notice the intimidating man with the torn up and frayed skin all stitched together like a voodoo doll, his face permanently sewn into a wickedly fried Glasgow smile? Or her with her frail body covered in burns, nail marks, and bite marks from his rabid, but passionate, obsession for her. Even among other villains, they stood out as a particularly odd looking pair to be meandering around in broad daylight rather than hiding within the shadows.

“Hmm.” His lips pursed together in a hum of dissatisfaction at the response. It didn’t matter to him why they were staring, it pissed him off regardless to have others looking at what was solely his. He could feel the possessiveness welling up inside of him already, an ill feeling that had constantly haunted him back before he had abducted her, when he was forced to watch her spend time with her UA classmates. His temper could have flared up, but he let it simmer below the surface, choosing to stay rational for now since it better benefited him.

Ahead of them was a small white bench facing out toward the water, slightly askew from a few rundown looking shops that lined the narrow strip they had been strolling down. He halted as they approached it, commanding her to wait for him before he disappeared only to return a few minutes later holding a snow cone. Unfortunately, it must have gotten too hot under his heated touch because, within the short amount of time it had taken him to return to her, it was already halfway melting down the side to leave a trail of liquid colors dripping over his hand and between his fingers. His expression was comical – an obvious displeasure at his inability to hold cold things.

“For me??” she sang out excitedly, reaching out to grab it from him before he had a chance to respond. He graciously pawned it over, shaking the sticky syrup from his hand with a rough flick of his wrist, glaring daggers when he found it nearly impossible to shake it all from his skin. She busied herself with licking up the side of the cone where the treat had spilled over to make a mess before she lapped at the actual ice itself, satisfied with the taste he had chosen. “I guess you can’t eat frozen things like this because of your quirk, huh? It’s really good though, it’s my favorite flavor!”

“I know, that’s why I picked it,” he explained indifferently as he sat down beside her beneath the shade of the umbrella. He had chosen to sit right up against her despite the amount of room the coverage provided them, his bare leg pressed firmly against hers to where she could feel the heat radiating off his body in waves, his arm managed to snake around her shoulders along the back of the bench.

“You remember a small detail like that?” The question was more rhetorical than anything; after stalking her for a significant amount of time there was no doubt that he’d picked up on some consistencies. Still, the sound of her voice told him that she was surprised by his effort to memorize something so minuscule.

“I know a lot about you and the things you like,” he confessed nonchalantly. He had begun to tap his fingers along her shoulder rhythmically, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his fingertips. Once again, she felt the onset of the emotionally confusing thoughts spring forward in her mind at their close proximity to each other, especially under his touch and at his words. She worried her lip as she was forced to ponder the constant internal struggle of her values as someone who supported heroism versus the attraction she had for someone who was the stark opposite of those values. How could she possibly feel any sort of romantic feelings for someone so shitty?

It had taken her some time in deep thought, but finally she had pinpointed what it was that kept her so entranced with the idea of actually liking him despite his villainous nature; it was that she truly didn’t know what the driving force of his actions were. She knew very well that he was a logical being, therefore it made no sense for him to side with evil solely for the sake of anarchy or mindless destruction. The focal thought was eating at her. If she really was going to have feelings for him, the knowledge of what it was that governed his decision to actively hate heroes stood out as extremely important. It was hard for her to even explain why it was. Maybe somehow knowing what his intentions were based in would prove to her that he wasn’t a bad guy to the core, just misguided.

“Hey Dabi.” The rolling of his name off of her tongue was pleasant to his ears, though he picked up on her slight hesitation to move forward with her thoughts. Her eyes were trained intensely on the snow cone, her fingers anxiously swirling in circular patterns along the surface of the thin paper containing the ice to it’s form, reluctant to speak what was on her mind. It was difficult to structure the words right. “Back when I told Shigaraki that I wanted to help you achieve your goal, I realized I didn’t really know what it was that you actually wanted to do. I guess I’m just a little curious to why you are a villain?”

Taken aback, he studied her thoroughly as he considered the sudden personal question. His go to response, one that for anyone else he most certainly would have used, was to spew out the same old generic argument in favor of supporting the Hero Killer and his ideologies. Yet, he found it strange that anyone cared enough about his motivations to any extent passed utilizing them for their own gain, and it forced him to pause and reconsider. Was she asking out of genuine curiosity? That sounded even stranger of a concept than her asking him why he was the way he was. He turned his eyes from her, letting them rest on the waves that were lulling back and forth along the shore. “Stain wanted to rid the Earth of false heroes. He hated the way the newer generation besmirched the name of heroism, how their values were swayed by fame and wealth instead of being grounded in a noble desire to better the world. I see it the same way; I’ve known firsthand just how sick the ambition of those aiming for the top is and how little they care about anything else.” He gazed down at his hand, his thoughts darkening as he produced wisps of blue flames, the fire reminding him of the past and igniting a rush of pent-up anger before he let the flame dwindle away. When his icy, dilated eyes fell back onto her, they were furiously ablaze with a vicious energy, his lip pulled up into an ugly snarl that emphasized his destroyed face as he said, “The Hero Killer’s will... I will make it a reality by purging the disease right from where it originates. My only goal is to kill the number one hero, Endeavor – the representation of false heroes. That’s why I’ve chosen to be a villain.”

The sheer intensity of his words resonated within her. He had lost his calm demeanor and now the seriousness of his sentiments clotted the air, making it stiff with tension. She smiled nervously, a genuine discomfort running through her at how dangerous the look in his eyes were; a pure hatred laced with murderous intent. She instantaneously regretted her decision to pry into his life, sensing she had hit a major sore spot and ultimately had killed the pleasant vibe they had going. Hurriedly she quipped, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I guess I can see that, a lot of people don’t like him, huh? I suppose he is a prick of sorts.”

His intensity had thrown her off, he wasn’t sure whether he had actually scared her or not but the umbrella post between them was shaking in her grip as she did her best to salvage the rest of the mood. If anything, he could tell that she had been far more concerned with making him mad and not so much by his prominent hatred for Endeavor, something she didn’t think to second guess. He let his shoulders relax, taking a breath to steady his beating heart, not realizing he had gotten worked up so easily over his own ambition. It must have been the temperature getting to him. He tightened his hold on her, hugging her closer to his chest one-armed while his hand dropped from her shoulder to encircle her tiny wrist, dragging it closer to his reach.

“I can eat frozen things if you hold them for me,” he told her quietly in a much softer tone, averting his eyes at the subject change because he was confused by his own sudden impulse to lighten the mood. Since when did he care if he made anyone uncomfortable? Her eyes widened at the gesture, but she willing extended her arm upward closer to him, and with his hand still securely holding her tiny wrist, he leaned forward and licked at the flavored ice. The visual itself was a ludicrous one; it was pretty funny to see a violent killer casually lapping at frozen liquid sugar, especially after he had just raged furiously.

“I guess I don’t mind holding it for you when you look that cute,” she appeased him, actually meaning the words. She was relieved to see him calm himself down so quickly. “But your hand is sticky as fuck, can you let go?”

“Cute? I don’t think I’ve ever been described as such,” he mused, popping a brow at her and releasing her wrist. “I’m not cute, I’m atrocious.”

“Well, I think you’re cute and I’m describing you as it now,” she defended. She stretched up to press her lips against his cheek sweetly, lingering long enough to allow him time to turn and capture them with his own, falling into a familiar yet foreignly tame kiss. His lips were chapped against hers but she didn’t mind; she was use to him being rough to the touch. They stayed embraced like that for quite awhile, their bodies rubbing against each other in the boiling heat while their lips danced sensually in a slow movement he was unused to. Her tongue was sweet from the syrup, an intoxicating taste that encouraged him to entangle his own muscle with hers.

When he pulled away, the both of them had glossy pits of affection fogging their eyes. He had only retracted his face a few inches from hers as he hovered over her, their noses still touching. “I’m not cute,” he reiterated, stroking his thumb along her jawline. “But you can call me that when we’re alone if you really want to, sweetheart.”

“Why only when we’re alone? Scared I’m going to ruin your bad boy aesthetic with such a sweet pet name?” she taunted mischievously.

He snorted. “Because the moment someone has a snide little comment about it, I’m gonna make them eat their fucking teeth. I know you don’t want to start a bloodbath everywhere we go.”

“Okay okay, I got it,” she laughed at his unwavering pride, nestling herself more snugly against his chest. She closed her eyes, enjoying lounging against him even if he was a giant heater. They stayed that way for the remainder of their time out, glued to each other as they people watched and enjoyed a carefree afternoon in each other’s company.

Chapter Text

Manga spoilers from this point onward.

***

People swarmed the busy streets of the Kanagawa prefecture, blissfully unaware of the world around them as they scrambled to pursue whatever path their respective lives were taking them down that afternoon. Consumed by their own realities, the innocent masses did not stop to analyze the more darker veins of the city where the sketchier souls lurked. It was here in the alley-side fire escape, on the highest platform of the rafter system connected by leveled ladders, that (Y/N) sat perched along the edge of the tall balcony, peering downward at the small group of petty criminals that were reacting to Dabi’s abrupt appearance. They were shouting something incomprehensible to make out from so far away, but whatever it was obviously didn’t please the villain – he was quick to make a show of his extensive power, letting his flames engulf the weak scum of the city hungrily as the fire flooded the alleyway and sprang upward to touch the sky, the fingers dancing dangerously close to the spot where the girl sat watching him. His control over the seemingly wild billows of heat was apparent; even in their frenzy, no matter how close they danced, she knew that they would not scorch her if he did not desire them to do so.

She allowed Dabi to recall the spectacle of his quirk before she made her way safely down to him, jumping from platform to platform until she reached the lowest one and slid down the ladder, dropping the remaining distance to the ground and wincing when she stumbled through her landing. The remnants of heat lingered around them, the scorched bodies of the dead criminals the only remaining physical evidence that there had been a fire there only seconds prior. “We’re never going to be able to recruit anyone if you keep burning prospective members,” she mentioned to him.

“We don’t need garbage like that. They were a waste of space.” His words hung heavy with apathy, a tone that also consumed the features of his face. When she was at his side, he immediately set the pace for them as they continued to the next location. Moving quickly was a necessity for him, even hidden among the shadows of the thriving world around them; lingering somewhere for too long consumed valuable time.

“Where are we headed next?” she asked him, her steps naturally quickening to match his long strides. It was important that she walked alongside him – never ahead of him and never behind him.

“Shigaraki wants to meet up as a group once more. After that I have to check on the nomu process.” The icy pits of his eyes didn’t even flicker in her direction, his focus unyielding and his words emotionless as he continued forward at a brisk pace. He held a malicious aura about him, one that naturally made up his disposition when he worked. It didn’t scare her away; she knew that calm, calculated front didn’t mean anything negative for her, it only meant that he was focused on accomplishing the task at hand.

“Ah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” With the heroes still actively searching for each of them, the six remaining members of Shigaraki Tomura’s organization who hadn’t been incarcerated all split up to avoid being traced. Seeking out potential allies for their cause based on the quirk registry they had stolen. A few weeks had gone by with an absence of communication between parties as they worked relentlessly to expand the League’s influence.

“It’s been a few weeks. Hide your face,” he commanded as they neared the main road. She did as she was told, pulling the hood of her jacket up obediently to cast shadows across her face as they emerged from the hollows of the tiny alley to merge with the flowing crowd.

No one recognizes him, they’re not even staring at his disfigured skin to avoid being rude, she observed. Considering Dabi had been knocked out and taken away before any prime media coverage during the biggest Leaugue of Villains exposure, it wasn’t too hard to believe that no one knew who he was quite yet. Still, her eyes darted around wildly in surprise that no one was panicking at the presence of a dangerous serpent maneuvering through the open waters. No one gave them a second glance as they continued on with what they were doing, completely oblivious to how easily their lives were jeopardized from being in this vicinity at the current time.




Day had blended into night by the time they reached their destination, casting ominous shadows around them as they picked their way through the beams and metal bars haphazardly littered among overgrown weeds in front of the abandoned factory that sat on the outskirts of town. The smell of rotting wood and mold assaulted their senses the moment they stepped inside, an earthy smell that didn’t quite fit the manufactured setting that hosted it. Factory equipment had been left to rust for eternity, giving the spacious room an eerily haunted feeling. (Y/N) couldn’t suppress the shudder that rippled down between her shoulder blades. What a creepy vibe I’m getting here. I haven’t been this paranoid since the night Dabi abducted me.

She silently questioned whether or not they were the only two occupants of the deserted ruins until she noticed the silver shine of the moon outlining several figures in far back of the room. The sight of them became much clearer as they approached, showing that there was only three people waiting for them.

“Ooo! My new friend is here! Now all the girls can hangout together,” Toga greeted them excitedly, hugging her legs tighter against her chest as her head rose up from it’s resting spot atop her knees. She was left of the group, sitting back against a giant slab jutting out from beneath a cracked concrete floor, dressed in the same type of school uniform she had been wearing the last time the group had gathered.

“No one told me that we had a new member,” The stranger who was sitting on top of a fractured counter opposite of Toga had a welcoming tone. Now that they were closer, (Y/N) could see that the person was of husky build, sporting pin straight red hair and exaggeratedly full lips. Nesting between her legs was thick medal rod that stood taller than her, covered completely by a white cloth. “Hey sugar, nice to meet you, I’m Magne.”

“I’m (L/N),” Dabi’s hostage mumbled back, stricken suddenly with the realization of what that first statement insinuated. Did I really somehow manage to become a member of the League of Villains accidentally? God dammit.

“(L/N), eh? What’s a pretty thing like you hanging around such a rough guy like Dabi for?” Magne joked; an odd sentiment to vibrate the walls of such a deathly looking gathering spot.

Am I the only one nervous out of everyone here? She thought to herself, noticing how the body language of the villains supported the theory that they were completely at ease despite the daunting atmosphere. Only Shigaraki, who was silently spectating them from his center spot against the damaged wall behind him, seemed to show any tension; the stiffness in his shoulders was visible beneath the folds of a black robe that was tailored long enough to sweep the floor when he walked, accessorized of course by the dreary hands hands he always wore. She responded finally when she realized Magne’s question had warranted a response: “I like rough men.”

The answer was simple, yet it still promoted the corner of Dabi’s lip to pull upward ever so slightly, cocky after hearing those words in direct reference to him. He could hear the unease in her voice however, a possible byproduct of how abnormal it was for her to be in such a sketchy place with equally as sketchy human beings. He reached up and pressed his fingers against the small of her back, rubbing firm circles against the thick fabric of the jacket she wore, a motion that was invisible to the other members of the room under the blanket of darkness.

“I prefer pretty boys personally,” Magne told her.

“Come sit here!” Toga, who could not contain her excitement any longer, blurted out while patting the spot on the ground beside her expectantly. Dabi pushed (Y/N) forward, edging her toward the spot and silently answering a question she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. Moving graciously, she let herself drop down next to the blonde while Dabi hopped up on top of the slab, his legs dangling on either side of his prize’s head.

“Oh, I think Twice is finally back too,” Magne’s eyes were trained on the two shadowy figures approaching the small group. As they came into view, they could see that one of them was wearing a Deadpool inspired full-black bodysuit, his motions extremely animated as he talked to the man beside him, whom was far calmer: he was a man with dark mahogany hair that was neatly cut to stay out of his face, showing off unnervingly bloodshot eyes framed by long lashes. A rustic orange plague doctor mask adorned his silk-smooth face, covering up the entirety of his mouth and nose. He was wearing an olive green bomber jacket trimmed with dark, velvety fur with a white tie and dark slacks that ultimately gave him a thuggish yet wealthy appearance.

“This place is unhygienic. All this dust... I’ll catch something being here,” the man with the intricate mask was saying, his eyes scrunched up in disgust at their hazardous surroundings.

“Everyone here is already ill,” the other man was saying to him, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“My sensei has shown me a picture of this man before,” Shigaraki drawled, breaking his long silence now that someone who was clearly interesting had arrived. “They call him a gangster, the boss of the Eightfold Cleaners.”

“Girl~! He’s a yakuza? Ooo, I feel dangerous,” Magne gushed excitedly, winking at the pretty man suggestively. Her face grew a tad more serious as she leaned back and eyed him curiously. “But you know, after All Might came into the picture, gangsters were all but eradicated from the world, save for the few who scurried away into the underground and became known as villain wannabes. Gangster… the image is nothing more than an obsolete artifact from a bygone era.”

A brief pause followed until the man said steadily, “No faults there, I suppose.”

“So what brings you to us then? Are you another one of those types that have gotten high off All Might’s retirement?”

“All Might’s retirement isn’t as important as All for One’s capture,” the gangster proposed, his voice woven with silk and venom that emphasized his threateningly polite disposition. “He was the kingpin of the underworld, a man the older generation feared from firsthand account and who our generation had speculated on as only a myth. The fear has grown exponentially at his arrest because the kingpin is real and now he’s gone from both the light and the shadows. That begs the question then – who will the next kingpin be, I wonder?”

“You know who my master is and you still provoke me?” Shigaraki’s voice rumbled deeply through his throat, his words holding their own kind of poison. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, “I’m the next kingpin. Our influence is rapidly spreading and soon we will smash in the head of this pathetic hero world.”

The gangster only shrugged his shoulders. “Do you have a plan?”

“A plan? Aren’t you here to get on our good side?” Shigaraki scoffed.

“I came here to see what you had to offer, which I see is only a pipe dream; you can expand your forces all you want but it’s worthless if you have no organized system to run them by. Stain, and those other villains, they had great potential for use and you wasted them almost instantly, not to mention how little control you have over the subordinates you have left. You have no idea what you’re doing, simply put. To achieve your goal you need a plan, and I have a plan. I didn’t come here to join you.”

Shigaraki turned his head to Twice, glaring with his only visible eye. “Confirm their intentions before you bring anyone here.”

“To execute my plan I need a fuck-ton of money and there aren’t a lot of weirdos out there willing too invest in an outdated group of gangsters, but your reputation has swelled dramatically as of late, and with you working under me, it changes everything. Come under my command, let me show you how well I can use you all,” the man continued despite the interruption, his eyes burning confidently. (Y/N) had to admit, for someone who was completely surrounded and at the mercy of a well-known villain alliance, he sure as hell was fearless. It was a stark contrast to his pretty features. “And then I’ll be the next kingpin.”

“We don’t have time for you,” Shigaraki growled, his voice far more controlled than what was expected from him. It was Magne who reacted extremely. Triggered by his words, she leaped from her spot on the deteriorating counter toward the gangster.

“Sorry kid, we didn’t all come together like this to be under someone,” Magne told him, the cloth slipped from her weapon to reveal it as a giant metal rod, each side holding it’s own respective charge. She activated her quirk, charging mask-man’s head and forcing him to be pulled forward toward the giant magnet. Wait, he’s wearing gloves? And why is he taking one off? (Y/N) thought uneasily, recognizing the presence of white latex sliding off one of his hands as his head connected with the solid bottom side of Magne’s weapon. “I didn’t come here to be bound by anyone, we’ll decide our own fate!”

The next chain of events transpired rapidly; the gangster tapped a freshly ungloved finger against Magne’s chest, imploding it instantly upon contact and leaving only the bottom half of the body to spray blood into the musty air like a fountain. A wave of shock spread through the remaining members of the League of Villains as they attempted to comprehend what had just happened. “You guys started this,” the killer snarled, his collected front had withered and had been replaced with an aggressive discomfort as he furiously rubbed at his arms. “So fucking dirty, that’s why I hate this.”

“DABI STOP!” Shigaraki shouted, too late to prevent the fire wielder from leaping off his own perch (an action that spurred Toga and (Y/N) to scramble desperately out of his way in different directions) to confront the man who had just murdered their comrade. He was quick to send a wave of flames forward, reaching out eagerly to grab the yakuza and combust him as he quick-stepped out of the path of danger.

“Don’t touch me!” the enemy hissed in panic, moving to swat the hand that was reaching out for him away, forcing Dabi to jerk his arm back in fear of losing a limb. This dude is no fucking joke, (Y/N) watched fearfully as Shigaraki, whom had recognized immediately that he would start losing more subordinates if he didn’t step in, shot forward passed Dabi and prepared to end the fight before the casualties could add up.

“Shield me.” The command echoed loud through the vacant building, right before the front wall was smashed in by several different gangsters, all of which were unidentifiable from beneath plague doctor style masks. They were quick to flank the boss in a half circle behind him several paces, one of them appearing between him and Shigaraki’s extended hand. The underling dissolved into ash and blood instantly as his boss jumped backward into safety.

“That was close, Overhaul,” a voice rumbled through the rafters as if the speaker were the walls themselves.

“I see. It’s obvious you’d be prepared for this from the start,” Shigaraki acknowledged. He also had paced back from his spot in the middle of the field, coming to stand next to Twice and Toga, leaving Dabi in a offensive stance between the two groups. (Y/N) took a step to close the distance between her and her sort-of-kinda teammates, inhaling sharply as she felt a hand grip her shoulder and the cold tongue of a blade press ever so closely to the thin flesh of her throat as she did so. One of Overhaul’s men was holding her to her place separated from the pack. Fear welled up inside of her. Shit, I didn't even hear him come up. How careless of me.

“I intended to finish this without incident. Any rational decision making has dissolved, however. Whittling away at each other’s forces is worthless and time consuming,” Overhaul was saying calmly, his hands furiously rubbing the “dirt” off his clothes as he spoke. “We each have one dead, so this is a good place for us to end this. Let’s cool off, and then we can speak at a later date with clearer heads.”

“I will fucking kill you, you bastard!” Twice was yelling, his body twitching violently in his rage.

Even Toga looked angry, her normally manic face was darkened by narrowed eyes as she held her knife out. “I can stab him, right Tomura? I’m going to stab him.”

“Don’t.” Shigaraki, although still on high alert, only glared menacingly out at the yakuza group. It killed him to agree with Overhaul, but the man was right; it would benefit neither of them to shed blood among themselves when it was the heroes they really wanted.

Overhaul recognized the signal of truce, straightening himself up and glancing over at (Y/N). “We’ll take this one with us as… let’s say a token of our newly budding associations,” he said, his words subtly hinting at the subliminal threat running just under the surface. She hissed as she felt the fingers in her shoulder dig into her before she was pulled away at his command. She saw him turn and flick a business card onto the ground at Shigaraki’s feet. “You don’t have to do so immediately, though in honesty the sooner the better, but think about your goal, your organization, all of that. Call me when you’ve regained your composure.”

“We were already equal at one and one,” Dabi snarled at his back, his eyes blazing and his teeth clenched violently. There was fire already sparking at his fingertips, the smoke wafting upward along his scored arms. The panic of losing (Y/N) to these small time gangsters almost drove him over the edge of sanity, but it was Shigaraki’s stone cold voice that grounded him in reality.

“Don’t attack,” their leader commanded firmly, his eye still glued to Overhaul.

Dabi let a growl pour from his throat, ready to disobey the command if it meant retrieving his hostage from such dangerous men. They could kill her right then though, they could all just join another bloodbath. He cursed as he extinguished the fire, hating the feeling of helplessness that surged through his whole body. A feeling he had not felt in many years. A feeling he hated so passionately. He watched, his heart hammering in a panicked adrenaline rush as (Y/N) was escorted away from him, her wide (E/C) eyes meeting his one last time before they were gone completely.

Chapter Text

“You’re shaking like a leaf. Is the water too cold dear?”

“No, it’s fine,” a breathy whisper responded.

Underground somewhere, lost within the confounds of an intricate maze of passageways that were the Eight Percepts of Death’s main hideout, (Y/N) huddled up in the soapy waters of a porcelain white tub, her body trembling as an aged handmaiden scrubbed her skin so abnormally hard it felt like it would swell up with beads of blood at any moment. She had requested to wash herself when it was ordered of her, but Overhaul had insisted the old woman should do it. He couldn’t have her walking around his base if she wasn’t cleansed of every bit of filth that tainted her, after all.

“Are you scared of Overhaul? You’re smart to be, but you don’t have to look so nervous, I don’t believe our capo intends to harm you. Chisaki Kai is a traditional man who treats women well, so long as you don’t go out of your way to anger him,” the woman instructed her, her hands moving swiftly as they worked to clean every inch of the body in the tub. “And if he cares so much to have me cleanse you thoroughly, it’s possible that he may want to touch you. It’s good for you he has an interest.”

Of course she was absolutely terrified. Being held as prisoner under Dabi had been a distressful change that had prepared her for a role such as this, but the key difference in the situations could be found in his infatuation with her, an obsession that overshadowed any sort of willingness to harm her enough to do any damage that was deadly. Overhaul was a different story. What it came down to now was that her life was no longer in her own hands, but rather, she was completely at the mercy of the League of Villains and whatever decision Shigaraki decided to make... and what was she to them but a disposable token to secure a temporary truce, as Overhaul had graciously pointed out himself? Considering the man had imploded a body with the single swipe of his pointer finger, it only made her anxiety spike to hear that he may possibly want to touch her; all she could think of was how the deadly power of his quirk was activated by the simplest graze of his fingertip against a surface. No, she’d rather he not put those destructive hands anywhere near her.

She sank lower into the bath as another figure entered the freakishly clean area, the water coming to lap at her chin as her eyes followed his every move. She recognized him as the man who had grabbed her back at the factory. He was the bosses assistant she had learned, a fully masked man who was quite distinguishable by his white overcoat.

“Take this,” his voice was robotic, his actions equally as stiff as he extended a hand with a green bar-shaped pill resting in the palm out to her. She eyed it, but ultimately she made no attempt to move from her position. When it was clear that she wasn’t going to take it he said, “Did you not understand?”

“Fuck you,” she spat aggressively. “You really think I’m voluntarily going to sedate myself?”

The assistant had no reaction whatsoever to her outburst. “I’d hope so, for your own sake.”

“Was that a threat?” her words had lost their edge, her eyes peering up at him as she considered him suspiciously. It was unlikely she could overthrow him if he did get violent, but she was prepared to go down fighting as hard as she could anyway.

“Translate it however you prefer.” He had the audacity to shrug.

“The only intention is to ease your anxiety,” the woman, who had stopped washing her whenever the yakuza had arrived, had returned to the side of the tub holding a small cup of water. She crouched down close to the edge, whispering serious words as she ushered the glass into (Y/N)’s wet hands: “Chisaki enjoys exploiting a person’s weaknesses. Do yourself a favor and take the pill, you really don’t want to look anymore vulnerable than you already do.”

There was a bite of protest crawling it’s way up her throat that she struggled to suppress. It was agony for her to not put up a fight, to just act passively when her very life was wavering on a tightrope of possibilities. She assessed the situation in her head though, realizing that compliance was a necessary component of her survival here to some degree, even if she hated it. Already regretting the action before she made it, she reached out and shakily took the pill from him, chasing it with a quick swig of the water.

Overhaul’s assistant was ushered out to wait behind closed doors shortly after before the girl was pulled from the safety of the water. She stood waiting, her naked body shivering profusely against the cold air, while the elder retrieved a kimono for her, a silky black fabric that was beautifully laced with traditional flower designs. As the gown was tightened to accentuate the curves of the younger woman’s frame, she was warned: “There’s one thing you must remember – it’s imperative that you never touch Overhaul. The capo despises human touch more than anything, you’re as good as dead if you do so.”

“Lovely,” she retorted back sarcastically, letting the conversation die as she was escorted away.




There was no point in attempting to unlock the pattern that was the system of winding corridors hosting the Eight Percepts of Death, simply because there were no distinguishing features to emphasize any sort of difference between them. That, and she was almost positive that the yakuza was purposely leading them down pathways that they either didn’t need to be in or had possibly already walked through to disorient her perception of where exactly they were in the base. She had long lost her concept of an accurate flow of time (being held hostage with no clocks for some time had made it difficult to establish what time it actually was, so it became unreal in a sense), but she was well aware of how abnormally long it was taking to reach the boss.

When they did finally reach their destination, she felt a sense of dread loom up to gnaw at her stomach, the old woman’s warning echoing in her mind as she was forced into a minimalist style office, bare of much else but two couches and a desk at the very head of the room. It was there that Overhaul sat, observing her actions closely with bloodshot golden eyes the moment she was brought in by his loyal subordinate and instructed to sit on one of the leather couches. The girl fidgeted restlessly under the capo’s watch as his eyes slid down her body, his head rested neatly against the palm of his gloved hand as he leaned against the wooden desk in front of him and admired the pleasant contrast between her bruised skin and the bold colors of the traditional clothing. From a first glance she was obviously pretty by his standards, but she looked even better now that she was clean.

“You’re no longer riddled with the dirt of those disgusting peasants. This is much better.” he greeted pleasantly, standing up abruptly to come stand before her once he was done staring down the beak of his elegant mask at the precious piece before him. The action made his hostage flinch, startled by his sudden decision to remove the amount of space separating them from each other. “(L/N)(F/N), right?”

His question was met with a stone cold silence. While his words were musically sweet and his open arms dictated friendly body language, she could not will herself to tear her gaze from the honey-dipped hollows of his empty eyes, his pupils retracted drastically and the whites clouded by tendrils of irritated red veins throbbing angrily at the corners of the sockets. Even his pretty face and polite manners could not stop her from shuddering as he held steady eye contact with her, unblinking. Jesus fucking Christ, what a scary motherfucker. And he somehow knows my name. This cannot be happening to me right now.

“You’ve been a missing person in Musutafu for well over two months now. Seems like there are a lot of people worried over your disappearance. It doesn’t feel natural that someone with such concerned loved ones would share common ideologies with villains or run off so vehemently,” he kept talking, aware that she was too intimidated to answer him. He tiled his head slightly and his eyes darted along her bruised arms for a fraction of a second before they returned to her face, “Tell me, the League of Villains, are they holding you against your will? Torturing you?”

Mustering up the courage, she croaked out, “No, I’m there of my… I’m there of my own accord.”

A hum of disapproval found it’s way onto Overhaul’s lips and his eyebrows threaded together in a mockingly sweet display of sympathy, a tone that was not reflected in his ruthless golden irises. “You don’t have to lie to me lovely, I’d prefer if you were honest. I was informed of all the marks already so it’s okay to talk about them,” he coaxed her crookedly, picking her arm up to investigate the visible bruises littering her frail skin as he loomed over her. Even with the benzo actively swimming through her bloodstream and relaxing her muscles, her heartbeat picked up drastically as rubbery latex fingers ghosted over her skin. It was unnerving the way his thumb stroked her gently as he stared deeply into her eyes, his voice soft as he said, “Such horrid burn marks… it’s obvious which one of them is responsible for those. You expect me to believe you willing let that man claw and scorch you like this? You don’t really like it do you, letting someone leave such disgusting welts on you?”

Her heart was a hammer in her chest, beating so fiercely against her ribcage that she feared it may actually bust. Snapping her head to the side, she was unable to look him in the face as her eyes widened at the indirect mention of Dabi’s affection and her throat constricted dryly at the thought of speaking up about it; she was still inwardly struggling with her feelings toward the villain. This agitated reaction was exactly what Chisaki Kai was was hoping for and he took satisfaction in taking the upper hand in the conversation effortlessly, his ability to pinpoint a weakness impeccable.

“Oi, when the boss asks you a question, you answer him!” Overhaul’s assistant snapped at her when, after the predator lurking before her had patiently given her time to respond, she refused to look him in the eye or acknowledge where he was trying to take the conversation. He's putting it out there so bluntly. I feel so pathetic right now, I don’t even know what to do.

“It’s okay Chrono, perhaps it was too brass of me to inquire about such a traumatic and personal situation,” he dismissed the scolding with a carefree wave of his free hand, the other stroking up his prisoner’s arm in a way that felt more menacing than it did comforting. Suddenly, he released her and stood back up, enjoying the way her breath surged from her lips in an audibly relieved sigh at the removal of his touch. Sure she was attractive to him, but the submissive behavior only peaked his interest further. “I guess it’s understandable to feel how you do... utterly helpless. You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. You don’t have to believe you’re stuck either. Come under my wing, let me take you away from the pain.”

“You want me to join your gang?” her eyes, which were narrowed suspiciously, slid over to him.

“Not at all; the yakuza doesn’t employ females into it’s ranks. Women are frail creatures, your beauty would be wasted in my line of work anyway,” he told her bluntly. It wasn’t an arguable point for her in the state she was in, she supposed. “What I am offering is to extend the protection of the yakuza to you in exchange for your life. You see, I have a little girl that needs someone other than my incompetent subordinates to take care of her.”

“You have a child?” a tinge of surprise found it’s way into her voice.

“Not naturally born to me, no. While on his deathbed, my mentor entrusted his granddaughter into my care after she was abandoned by her mother. As you can probably guess, the poor thing hasn’t had much of a nurturing experience with the lack of any other female presence besides the onna-oyabun.”

Maybe it was the work of the drug impacting her reasoning, but she felt her the tension in her shoulders slowly start to dissipate from his words as the peak of an artificial calmness began to take her. He can’t be a complete monster if he’s volunteered to raise a child that’s not his own with this kind of lifestyle, can he? she debated in her mind, relieved but still weary of him nonetheless. And he’s offering to protect me. I guess I should feel overjoyed about the help but… jeez, am I really hesitating because I want to stay with Dabi?! I’m really stressing out because someone wants to save me from the stalker who kidnapped me, curse that asshole for making me feel this way. Stupid fucking stalker.

“You said in exchange for my life… what does that mean for me?” she finally responded. There was uncertainty painted on her face as she weighed her options and battled her feelings simultaneously.

“It means you do what I tell you to do; you belong to me. Unlike your misfortunate position in the League of Villains, I don’t intend to mistreat you. I find a value in what you can offer me.”

She bit her lip, struggling to think up a path where she wasn’t jeopardizing herself, which was a fleeting glimpse of hope that fell far from reality – no matter what, she was going to be under the control of the yakuza. She could either give in to them willingly, which at least offered her some kind of security blanket that was absent in the case of sticking to being a hostage, or she could let her fate ride in Shigaraki’s hands in hopes that he would comply with Overhaul and rescue her, a case in which she would return to Dabi. “I’m basically just trading masters...”

“That’s true, but is it honestly so bad to give yourself to me? I can allot you an extent of freedom Shigaraki Tomura, or whomever it is that you’re truly a slave to, cannot – that is to say, so long as you don’t disobey me or betray the yakuza, you are free to do as you please,” he explained simply, his arms extended with skyward facing palms in an open, welcoming stance as those eyes bore down on her with such intensity. He was well aware of her diction, that she had just confirmed to him that she indeed fell under someone else’s jurisdictions and commands. Curiously enough, even recognizing that she was a slave to someone’s will, she was still wavering on his offer. That set the game for Overhaul right then and there: it was more appealing to steal something from someone else, especially through manipulation, when he knew she was already primed to submission.

“Could I… meet the child?” (Y/N) was looking down as she scapegoated, her fingers gripping her knees so hard that her knuckles turned white by the sheer force. The nervousness had left her, instead opening the void to be filled with an irresolute inability to make a decision in the moment. That was perfectly fine. Chisaki knew very well that sometimes it took patience to get the results he wanted.

“Of course. Perhaps once you meet her, you’ll see that you don’t need to hesitate in accepting my help,” he told her sweetly. It was clear that he had gotten into her head, that he had persuaded her subtly through manipulation to perceive him as a savior as opposed to a threat and forced her indirectly to question the authority she had originally been bound by, which had been his main objective of this whole interaction. There was no rush to push her any further than that yet. “Come, let’s introduce you to Eri.”

Chapter Text

The introduction to Eri had been a brief one. True to his busy nature, the capo was needed elsewhere to deal with more pressing issues only shortly after they had come to visit her, and he had no intention of leaving his hostage alone with the little girl just yet. Not that (Y/N) minded; it had been quite clear the moment they walked into the brightly colored room, a small space far secluded from any other part of the base with it’s definitions greatly exaggerated by the lack of furnishings housed within, that she was frightened of people. The child had popped up frantically from her mattress at the sound of their approach, vivid fear painted in the reflections of her candy red pupils that were framed by tangled, snowy white hair (parted curiously by a small horn jutting out of the right side of her scalp) as Chisaki Kai had greeted her in a tone oversaturated in pleasantries. The paintings of happy suns and vibrant rainbows that had adorned the walls could not hide the sinister chill (Y/N) had experienced as she stepped through the door, almost stumbling over the toys left scattered along the cold tile floor, abnormally untouched and still safely secured in their original packages. Even now, walking alongside Chisaki as he personally escorted her to where she would be kept as a ward of the yakuza, goosebumps prickled her skin as the ugly atmosphere still hung heavy over her despite the growing distance. It felt so wrong in there, an emptiness devoid of any kindness. The way she looked at him with that terrified expression…

“Not what you expected, was it?” Those bloodshot eyes followed the trails of her fingers as she went through the motions of rubbing the icy sensation from her arms. Internally mulling over the depressing scene she had just witnessed, her eyes had been vacantly glued to the never-ending hallway stretching out before them, though she could feel his gaze lingering on her knowingly.

“No, it wasn’t,” she admitted, the image of the fragile human shaking so violently still burned into her head. Mute, clutching desperately at her blanket, arms wound tight in bandages, eyes widened in anticipation for… something.

“Abandonment from someone so significant in her life has left Eri with a grave mistrust of everyone around her, so much so that she acts in rebellion to me and often runs off, getting herself hurt in the process,” he explained, a concerned undertone playing subtly within his words. “We’re not the kind of place, nor the kind of people, to be raising a child with such heavily ingrained issues. Still, it pains me to see my master’s kin in such a state.”

“She does that often, running off?” She treaded carefully, empathetic to his struggle with the sensitivity of the situation. She surprisingly found it easy to relate to how difficult it must be to have something so complicatedly delicate thrust upon him, even if he was a villain.

“Frequently, due in part to the carelessness and inattentiveness of her past caretakers. They cannot seem to find a way to relate to her, and so she misbehaves. Seeing as she’s incredibly precious to me, I’m sure you can understand how worried it makes me when she disappears,” his voice suddenly frosted over with a brittle coldness as he continued, “I’m a very busy man, so it’s equally as frustrating as it is concerning when I’m forced to step away from my work to track her down because of someone else’s incompetence. It’s for this reason that the position has.. a high turnover rate.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that Eri doesn’t take a liking to your henchman, they don’t strike me as people who know how to do a job like that,” (Y/N) speculated, looking up at him for the first time since evaluating her own feelings on everything. Gradually, she was beginning to feel less afraid in his company, but his eyes would never lose that hauntingly empty aspect to them, no matter how he spoke. “I… I can’t promise I would do much better at comforting her. This isn’t my forte, at all. I haven’t really interacted with small children, let alone raise one in her predicament.”

“I’m aware of the difficulties paired with such a burdensome task, and how selfish it is for me to ask such a thing from you. My only intention is to do what I find is best for Eri, however, and in a sense, I believe that the two of you can relate to each other’s struggles. That’s why I have faith in what you can exchange for my protection; this is the first time she’s ever shown interest in someone I’ve brought to take care of her.”

She glanced down at her bruised arms, remembering how the little girl, with less apprehension in her eyes when studying her prospective caretaker opposed to Chisaki, had mustered the courage to crawl over to her and investigate the marks, her expression lit with a questioning spark of recognition as her tiny fingers timidly danced across the sore, blackened skin beneath them. She could still feel feather-weighted pressure of her touch, how a silent bond had formed from a mutual understanding of how it felt to be restricted of your freedom. I’ve never been much of a hero, but even I can’t just leave whatever is going on as it is. It looks I’m the only one who can help her right now, and that’s such a scary pretense, but what else can I do? She balled her hand into a fist, a solid resolve suddenly decided. “Maybe you’re right, maybe there’s something more that I can offer her that your thugs can’t. If you need me to take care of her I will, Overhaul.”

“You don’t need to be so formal with me. Call me Kai,” he insisted, halting as they reached the only door in the abandoned corridor; it was inky black, engraved with elaborate white symbols that curved around the entire frame. Pulling it open, he stood aside and gestured her inside with an open palm extended outward.

They were not alone as they entered; standing adjacent to them was Chronostasis leaning back against a smoothly carved desk stacked with neatly organized documents. In his hands he had a small revolver that he was in the process of loading. Positioned between them was a tall-backed chair facing toward the capo’s assistant where another masked man was standing idly by, his attention drawn to the door at their appearance. In size, he was as tall he was wide with muscles, his fists larger than (Y/N)’s head, sporting iron-knuckled gloves that were plated along the fingers. His plague mask was a faded black, the bottom half of the beak colored white to emphasize the shape, fitting snugly over his head, but not long enough to cover the length of his light hair that fell in sharp layers against his shoulders. Both of them remained silent yet attentive to the two new occupants of the room.

“Take a seat,” Chisaki told her, tapping the back of the chair as he passed by it. “There’s one more thing we need to go over before I leave you for the evening.”

The tension hung heavy around them as she wearily obeyed the command, slowly sinking down into the large chair. There was something eerie about how the bullets clicked as they were dropped into the slot one by one, a foreign sound that echoed through the silent room. Alarm ran through her veins instantly when she noticed the rope fragments in the closer underling’s hands as he shuffled over to her now that she was sitting. “Wait, why am I being tied up?!”

“Relax, you’re in no danger little song bird,” the yakuza boss coaxed patiently as his hostage’s wrists were secured tightly to their respective arms of the chair. He was enjoying the reflections of panic that were rearing up in the pits of her widened (E/C) eyes, how her fingers gripped the aged wood beneath them as she struggled against the thickly woven bindings. “Rappa, the narcotics. I think another benzo might be needed as well.”

“Of course, boss!” His loyal follower had left her side only to return momentarily with the drugs he was requested to fetch. The moment he drew near, (Y/N) kicked at him furiously, shrinking down in her chair as much as the bindings alloted her, unconcerned with the sharp sting of the tightened rope rubbing her skin raw.

“Back off! What is all this?!” she snapped harshly, though it was terror, not confidence, that defined her shrill voice. Her efforts at combating his advance were fruitless; he dodged her desperate flailing by stepping to the side where he wasn’t within striking range. Grabbing her hair roughly, he yanked her upright in the seat and titled her head back so that her forehead was pressed uncomfortably against the backing of the chair as he forced the pills down her throat. She writhed aggressively in his hold, her head shaking from side to side as his hand (which was bigger than her face) clamped down firmly against her mouth.

“She needs a lesson in obedience, Overhaul,” Chrono sneered disapprovingly, coming to stand beside his leader to observe the commotion unfolding as the hostage finally had no choice but to reluctantly swallow.

“Caged birds will flutter frantically at first,” Chisaki proposed in response to his assistant, his golden eyes locked onto his captive when Rappa had released his hold on her. She matched his cold stare, her body trembling in both fear and fury as he directed at her now, “It’s easier to comply, however. It brings me no pleasure to see such a pretty thing manhandled like this.”

Fuck you, easier for who exactly? She bit her tongue so the words wouldn’t slip off her tongue in the extreme moment of agitation; the fear of his retaliation was too strong for her to openly disrespect him. Her eyes darted rapidly among all three men, alert to even the slightest movements they made. In a trembling, more controlled voice she asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

“The kids today are all sick, you know? Afflicted by this disease called heroism, a festering malady of filth caused by the quirks our bodies have evolved to produce. It truly sickens me how all of society obsesses over a mutation, how it defines the worth of our population,” Chisaki explained to her casually, his expression suggesting that he believed the words pouring from his lips were anything but the ravings of a lunatic. “But I wonder, how long can the current hierarchy of power stand if we take their sense of identity away? After all, what are heroes without their precious quirks? Just how much of themselves would they give, how much money would they dish out, to get all that false sense of entitlement back?”

“What does that have to do with me? I’m not a hero...” she breathed out, the confusion written clearly across her face as she struggled to grasp what the relevance was. She hadn’t even used her quirk in his presence, so what was he going on about? Her eyes darted from Chisaki’s terrible eyes to Rappa to the gun in Chronostasis’s hand and then back and forth repeatedly, the wheels in her head turning furiously as she tried to connect the dots on how his words related to her current predicament.

“No, you’re not, but it’s your quirk that embodies the sickness in you. To truly cleanse you, we need to rid the toxins of corruption from you. I refuse to have you continuously tainted by this flawed illness, and luckily I’ve developed a temporary cure for the sickness.”

The capo’s assistant raised the weapon so that it was pointed right at her. “Where am I aiming?”

“The upper arm is most ideal,” Chisaki told him.

She squirmed frantically as Rappa lifted the sleeve of the silky kimono so that her skin was exposed to the men, her heart thudding like an 808 in her chest and her breathing suspended as she looked straight down the barrel of the gun that was now directed to the indicated spot. She couldn’t help but plea desperately with the man: “Kai, please, I’m begging you, tell him.. tell him not to shoot me! I won’t use my qui-quirk if that’s what you want!”

“Stop struggling. It’s going to be a major inconvenience for me if he ends up hitting you in a less desirable spot,” Chisaki ordered her sternly, unfazed by her cries for help as he smoothly slid the glove off of his right hand. “I won’t lie and tell you it’s going to be painless, the narcotics are really only to take the edge off. But don’t worry, I have every intention of patching you back up when this is done.”

One last plea escaped her lips before the gun was fired without warning. Her body jerked rigidly as the bullet bit into her skin, a wail of agony cascading out of open jaws at the fiery pain immediately searing through her, first encapsulated in her arm before it traveled up the nerves and all throughout her upper body. Every fiber of her being was screaming just as loud internally as she had yelled out externally. Rappa reached down instantly to pluck the bloodstained bullet from it’s spot wedged into the wood neatly below it’s exit hole in her tender flesh.

“Clean shot, you missed the bone too!” he praised excitedly, unconcerned about the agony the hostage was going through just inches from him.

“Don’t touch me,” her voice was raspy and unsteady with pain as Chisaki Kai stepped forward, his shadow drowning her as he loomed over the chair dreadfully. Leaning back as far as she could from him, the rope prevented her from escaping as she hyperventilated in a quick, nonrhythmic sequence. Tears had already spilled down her cheek at the piercing impact of the lead, but she sobbed audibly when the pain spiked tenfold when he touched her arm with a bared finger and began to reassemble the gaping wound. The process was almost instantaneous, yet the horrifying images of her bloody flesh being reconstructed panned out in slow motion to her until there was nothing left but lines of blood dripping down her arm.

“Cut the ropes,” Chisaki’s voice was distant even though he was standing right in front of her, the image of him swimming due to the overstimulating experience and emotions peaking in their intensity. The tension against her wrists dissolved, and in a sudden spontaneous movement, without thinking she lunged forward at him with a hand grasping wildly at the air, not even conscious enough to make a fist in the current state of irrational unawareness. Naturally, the capo stepped backward effortlessly from the sluggish, deranged attack as Rappa immediately grabbed the back of her neck firmly and held her to her place. Chronostasis had jolted forward to act just as swiftly as Rappa had when their leader was physically threatened, though Chisaki placed a hand on his shoulder as a signal to refrain.

“Better sit before you pass it,” one of the three said to her, gaging the stark paleness of her features and the way her eyes were beginning to roll upward. A mixture of acute adrenaline, the drugs pulsing through her veins, and moving too quickly in the moment struck her all at once, staggering lightheaded in the underling’s firm hold as her vision went blurry and whitened at the edges, her body becoming numb as her senses started to fizzle out.

“That might be more of a mercy at this point,” someone else responded. The voices were fading in and out at this point, the only real concept of reality becoming the rapid beating of her heart as it strained against the stressful situation.

Steady your breathing, they said you’ll pass out, a rational thought broke through her skull finally. Giving in, she allowed her body to go limp and fall backward into Rappa, solely concentrating her energy on stabilizing her awareness as best as she could as she fought to gain some kind of pattern to her uncontrollable breathing.

It was impossible to interpret what they were saying, their voices coming out garbled and choppy. She recognized the weight of someone else’s limbs encircling her trembling frame as she was hoisted up into the arms of the bigger man behind her, gripping at his shirt with balled fists as she rested her forehead against his chest in an attempt to further install a sense of calmness within herself. At some point between the transition of being carried to and arriving at wherever it was she was being taken, an all consuming blackness took her.



A groan left her throat as she came to, her eyes still shut tight against the throbbing in her head as she nestled her face deeper into soft sheets. It struck her as unusual that Dabi wasn’t touching her, and when she reached a hand back to feel for him, confusion strangled her thoughts as she felt nothing but coldness in the spot beside her. Simmering on how unusual it was for him to not at least wake her before he left, her eyes fluttered open drearily only to widen instantly at the realization that she was somewhere she did not recognize. Disoriented, she jolted upright in the bed, cursing as her head spun in circles at the sudden movement. She noticed that she was unusually dressed in black kimono flecked with asymmetrical dark red patterns, something traditional and most certainly not her own.

Where am I? Where is Dabi? She thought idly, her eyes drinking in the foreign space around her. It was a barren room yet regal in aesthetic, the walls of which sparked some sort of distant memory, but not one she could focus enough energy to recognize. After the initial shock of waking up in a strange place, two sensations crept up on her: the first being a dull throbbing in her left arm, the second being the heightened anxiety she felt physically running through her body, one she could not pinpoint the catalyst of. Standing, she was shaky as she walked to the door of the room and exited into an even bigger expanse of space, a couch lining the far right wall and a desk, the right side of which was facing the bedroom door while the front was facing out toward the entrance to the room. It was here that a man with dark brown hair sporting a nice black dress shirt sat, the bold white tie sticking out from his dark clothes and the black medical mask secured to his face making him stick out among the dull gray walls. His golden eyes flickered over to her as she came to sit at one of the chairs directly in front of his workspace after a moment of hesitation. Chisaki Kai… Overhaul… yes, I think I remember those eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked smoothly, placing his pen down and entwining his hands so that he could rest his chin on the junction, giving her his undivided attention. Without responding, her eyes flickered to what he had been working on; some kind of complicated assortment of numbers and concepts involving paragraphs of difficult equations. Answering her inquisitive stare, he informed her, “I’ve been refining the algorithm for my quirk-destroying bullets.”

“Quirk-destroying bullets.. right...” she mumbled, a flash of memories triggered from both his voice and the target word ‘bullet.’ I remember now, I was taken as a hostage to ensure the League’s cooperation by this man, Overhaul, with the scary quirk. Despite her recognition of him, unlike before where she had a sober stance and an ability to feel terror, she was abnormally calm, sedated almost, as her eyes came to linger around their surroundings, her mind empty of any emotion as she stared at a spot in the center of the room specifically. “I feel like I’m in a dream. Where are we?”

“We’re in my private office.”

“Which is?” she pressed in a confidence that was new to her in his company. As she focused, something familiar sprung forward in her mind; she could visualize the chair that had been there in the middle of the room, and the associates, and then – she shook the thought from her head as her anxiety spiked. No, better not think about that.

“Within the underground setup of the Eight Percepts of Death,” genuine interest sparked in his eyes as he studied the disoriented girl in front of him, one purified by his standards. It wasn’t uncommon for the drugs to give the taker a disorganized pattern of thought and comprehension, and that was clearly the case here. “I’m curious, how much do you remember from yesterday?”

“You captured me from the League of Villains. You saved me and in return I answer to the yakuza,” she recited blankly, somehow knowing that it was the answer he was expecting from her. Unconcerned with him still, she studied the horrid mark on her aching arm, a thick scar that was roughly 3mm in length. It was obvious that she was avoiding looking at him, something that wore his patience down. With a sharp snap of his fingers, her eyes instantly flickered up to him, alarm present within them, but suddenly a sense of resurfaced awareness was there too. “Is it really gone?”

“Hmm?”

“My quirk, is it really gone?” she asked as it struck her suddenly with what 'quirk-destroying bullet' meant in relation to her, some sort of emotion beginning to flow through her voice as she spoke it into existence for the first time.

“The bullet used on you was a prototype that’s suppose to nullify the quirk manifestation for two weeks. We’ll be running physical tests on you to record the actual length of time and to track any data we may find important toward the development of a permanent model.”

“So you’ll shoot me again?” Her stomach sank; she was hollow from the cruel reality of his actions. To have an integral part of her being involuntarily snatched in an instant, to have to go through the process again within a couple of weeks, was a disheartening prospect.

Chisaki must have picked up on the dread forming within her. “It’s a necessity, don’t look so chagrined. Don’t forget that you belong to me and you’re much cleaner without it.”

She pulled her legs up onto the chair and hugged her knees to her chest, her nails digging into them as she felt not only the physical anxiety, but now also the emotional and mental aspects as well. He could see the physical withdrawal symptoms, how her body was trembling from the absence of the drug. Perhaps he had given her too much within too short of a time frame, she was quite malnourished after all. Still, he knew that she would be feeling the remnants of the pain still throbbing throughout her and he’d have to compensate for that as well.

“You’ll feel better once you eat, the trembling should ease up too. Once you have something in your stomach, I’ll be able to give you something for the pain, and something for the nerves to if you need it.”

The proposal suggested the illusion of choice, but she knew better; while under his command, it was obvious that he preferred her in a hazy state of mind, a more complacent mindset where her reasoning was skewed. Where she wouldn’t fight back. She didn’t care at this point, she had already felt her will to fight leave her the second she realized just how truly coldblooded he was, there was no use in making this harder for herself. Timidly, she asked in a small voice, “Am I allowed to see Eri afterward? I feel well enough to take care of her.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, as long as you’re feeling okay,” he smiled at her, a vulture’s grin. She couldn’t see his mouth to prove that, but his face was relaxed and his eyes closed for a second to suggest that that was the case. The poison in it left her feeling ever so helpless.

Chapter Text

In a dreary state of apathy, (Y/N) watched as an antiseptic was swabbed onto her arm firmly, vision edged with fuzz despite the sharp yellow hues of the bright lamp hanging above them. Soon after a needle was introduced to the skin, and with a numb prick, blood was siphoned slowly from the vein for analysis by the lab. She watched opinion-less as blood filled the body of the syringe, already wrapped in a sense of familiarity with the process now that this had become the daily routine since the loss of her quirk. The researcher said nothing to her as he finished his extraction and moved to secure the sample safely, an absence of gesture that implied that they were done here, and so she stood wordlessly from her spot in the examination chair and trudged over to the expendable who was assigned to escort her for the day – another masked man she hadn’t bothered to remember the name of who was waiting patiently for her against the wall. No words were exchanged between them as they left – a preference of both parties; neither of them desired any false pretense of friendliness, nor did they need it. That, and all of Overhaul’s expendables knew better than to associate with her when they were considered to be so filthy by their capo’s standards, so it was more common for them to spend as little time in her vicinity as possible and speak only when absolutely necessary. That was fine by (Y/N). There wasn’t much of an appeal to socializing with them anyway.

When they reached their destination she entered the small room alone, leaving her escort to stand guard until he was ordered otherwise. Just as always, Eri awoke to the soft creak of the door as it swung open and sat straight up in her bed, alarm coursing through her tiny body at the sound of someone entering her room. Panic drifted away the moment she recognized who it was though, her shoulders relaxing and her bright red eyes filling with relief now that she knew she was safe. Her eyes moved down curiously to the small basket her caretaker was swinging lazily. The sight of it brought a small smile to (Y/N)’s lips. I’m glad she’s finally getting used to me.

“I brought you some apples this morning,” warmth flooded back through (Y/N). She set the basket down on the nightstand and, pulling out a weathered disk from its case, she busied herself with setting up a movie for the day. She had requested from Chisaki at the beginning of her work that a television be added to the room and she was surprised at how quick he was to have it done. “The old woman found this movie I think you’ll really enjoy. I loved this one when I was a kid.”

A response wasn’t expected; no matter how comfortable Eri seemed to be getting, her apprehension continued to leave her choked up. Still, there was something other than fear influencing her for the first time in her life and it was clear in the way she acknowledged the stranger who was becoming an integral part of her life, even if she was mute. The classic Disney castle animation began to roll as (Y/N) sat cross-legged on the bed next to the younger girl and began to slice an apple for her. From the second it started playing, Eri became transfixed to moving motion picture. It was obvious that she had never seen a movie of any sort before, so eagerly (Y/N) had found it necessary to introduce her the enchanting styles of classical animation.

When she finished cutting the apples she placed them in front of the child so she wouldn’t have to tear her eyes from the screen as the opening narration of Beauty and the Beast began to set the background for the film. While Eri became engrossed with the story, her caretaker scooted behind her and began to braid the thick white locks of hair that cascaded down to the small of her back. They stayed like this for awhile; the television being the only source of sound to travel through the depressing little space as (Y/N) worked gingerly at taming the massive mane of hair. So focused at the task at hand, she was caught off guard when a whisper so subtle it could barely be heard reached her ears.

“Why is she helping him?” It took her a moment to comprehend that it was Eri who had finally decided to speak to her. Fingers halting momentarily, she glanced up at the film to see Belle helping the Beast treat a wound, a concept that seemed to confuse Chisaki’s foster child. Ahh, I didn’t realize we’d been here for this long already.

“She’s helping him because he hurt himself saving her life,” she explained, unsure of whether it was an adequate response or not.

“He’s mean to her though. He locked her away in his castle. Why is she not scared?” the girl mumbled out, eyes still drawn to the screen as the scene progressed.

“Hmmm,” she pressed her lips together in thought as her fingers moved to thread snowy strands together once more. It was a welcome distraction from the face that surfaced in her head. “I think she knows that even if he pretends to be scary that he’s good deep down, so she’s not afraid.”

Having already been reeled back into the story, Eri didn’t notice the slightest noise echo from the doorway of the room. Glancing back over her shoulder, (Y/N) was greeted with glowing golden eyes, the owner of which stood leaning against the door frame patiently observing the two of them. The yakuza boss wasn’t wearing his jacket this afternoon, though he was dressed in all black with his accentuating white tie per usual, half of his face shielded by the plague doctor inspired mask he insisted on wearing always.

“Kai.” His named flowed softly off her tongue as she acknowledged the capo, surprised by his sudden appearance here. It was an oddity to have him come get her himself when he had plenty of henchman to bring her to him instead, especially with how busy he had been recently.

“Forgive my intrusion, it’s rare that I get to witness such a domestic scene,” he explained, both his tone and expression unreadable. Eri tensed up at the sound of his voice, body half swinging around to stare at him with widened eyes.

“That’s okay, I was just talking to Eri about the characters anyway,” she told him. Running her fingers soothingly through the little girl’s hair to comfort her sudden onset of shaking, she said to her, “Why don’t you finish this one without me? I’ve got to go for a bit but we can watch another one like this when I get back if you want to.” As usual, the girl didn’t answer her verbally. She did however grab her kimono as she stood, tugging on it with a look of terror in her eyes as she silently begged her caretaker to stay. A sense of pity crept it’s way into her stomach as well as a pang of guilt for having to leave. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

Eri’s eyes burned holes in their backs as they left her room, the movie all but forgotten. It was always like this when (Y/N) left, as if she was sure she’d never see the kind stranger ever again. It’s the worst to see her that scared of me going. I’ll have to bring her something nice when I come back to make her feel better. Pushing the guilt from her mind, she noticed that Chisaki seemed to be deep in his own thoughts, his face resting seriously as he led them through the base. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you coming personally to get me?”

“I needed a break from work so I decided to see how well you were getting on with Eri,” his voice was distracted and distant.

“Ahh. You don’t seem to be the kind of guy that takes breaks.”

He shrugged in response, and then said, “Shigaraki Tomura has considered the proposal I left him with and he wants to discuss terms. Naturally, you should be present for such a meeting.”

It was impossible to hide the surprise betrayed by her face at hearing those words. Truthfully, she had just accepted it as fact that she would be left here to rot. It wasn’t like she benefited him much, if at all even, so she didn’t see any reason for the leader of the League of Villains to negotiate her release. Heart fluttering in her chest, she smothered the most of her excitement before it too could dance in her eyes; she wasn’t quick to forget that currently her will was that of whatever the man beside her desired it to be. Even now, she could feel his menacing gaze lingering on her as he analyzed her reaction. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh?” his brow popped inquisitively.

“I didn’t think he’d associate with you after you killed Magne.” It wasn’t exactly the truth of why she was so shocked, but it was a relevant point. Somehow, she had started to notice how the League had more loyalty to each other than they appear to at first glance.

“Let’s hope they don’t hold the casualty against me.”





The designated room that the meeting would be held in followed the same standard as most rooms in the base. Minimalist in design, the only furnishings within were two couches and a short glass table that reflected hazily off the shiny tile floor. There was a large black tapestry on the left wall with ‘EIGHT PERCEPTS OF DEATH’ embroidered in white and the gang’s honeycomb sign just above. (Y/N) and Chisaki sat under the weight of anticipation, her fingers tapping rapidly across her knees anxiously in stark opposition of his which were folded calmly in his lap while the two of them stared expectantly at the looming door just ahead. Sitting on the arm chair of the couch to (Y/N)’s right was the capo’s financial manager, a man so small he only came up to her calf when standing and wore a masked bodysuit that covered him completely from head to toe. His attention, unlike his company, was solely on the stack of money he was counting leisurely as they all waited.

Another heavy fifteen minutes went by before the door swung open without warning and the leader of the League of Villains made his debut, Dabi trailing behind him wearing that stoic sense of seriousness he always carried himself in while working. (Y/N)’s breath caught in her chest when she recognized his scarred face. It was a magnetism that drew both of their eyes to lock the moment he stepped through the door; his were seething with such sudden intensity the moment he looked at her, a deep depths in those cerulean pools that threatened to pull her in and drown her. The unexpected desire to be close to him rose within her all at once, a sudden acute awareness of how strong her attraction to him had grown striking her as she reciprocated the powerful stare he was sending her way. The shared connection was a brief one, however, and the spark of longing that had flared up died abruptly the second his focus went from her to the man who had stolen her away from him.

“What a dull place this is.” It was Shigaraki’s complaint that dragged her back down to reality. Ignorant to the thick tension building around him steadily, he looked around their meeting room with slitted eyes that were barely visible behind the disembodied hand clutching tightly at his face. Scratching his neck absentmindedly he continued on: “You had us running around underground for thirty minutes like ants. What kind of yakuza house is this supposed to be?”

“One that can’t be easily discovered. Precautions are the reason we’ve managed to survive this long, we can’t be sure of what anyones intentions are,” Chisaki explained politely, unconcerned with the displeasure in his guest’s voice.

“Secrecy ensures our survival,” Mimic re-iterated in agreement, finally looking up from the stack of bills in his hands. Like most of his boss’s men, he wasted no time with pleasantries: “Was that true what you said on the phone the other day, you’ve considered joining us?”

“Bold of you to speak so surely of yourselves.” In over-dramatized confidence, Shigaraki dropped down onto the opposing couch, his right foot propped up carelessly on the table between the two groups as he threaded his fingers together atop his knee. Dabi dropped down in the seat beside him, though his body was too rigid in tension to make himself as comfortable as Shigaraki.“It’s you who wants to use our name not the other way around, right?”

Chisaki’s brows furrowed in mild exasperation. “Put your foot down, you’re dirtying up the table.”

“You should show more respect to the your next kingpin,” Shiharaki spat cockily with no indication of compliance to his host’s wishes. “We aren’t joining anyone; The League moves however we like and we don’t answer to anyone. Our motives align, however, and we’re willing to work as equal partners with you though. If you elaborate on this brilliant plan of yours, that is. I’m not letting you spoil our name with pointless endeavors.”

“Return our partner also,” Dabi added darkly from beside him. “You’re lucky we’ve even considered an alliance with you after you put us down by two.”

Chisaki’s words had a cold nonchalance to them as he replied, “Taking her was merely another precaution in the chance of retaliation.”

“We’re here now on peaceful terms, give her back.” There was a murderous intent rolling off him in waves, but Dabi remained calm and his words steady as he made his demands.

“I’m not holding her to the spot next me.” He raised his arms, palms facing upwards as he tilted his head ever so slightly. “Even so, I can’t say the idea of handing her back over is appealing. Such a pretty thing brightens the morale in such a dreary environment. Besides, in her absence I wonder what would become of Eri?”

Was that a threat directed at me? Surely he’s not insinuating that he’d hurt her... (Y/N)’s blood ran cold at the implications of his statement. Momentarily his eyes had drifted to her as he spoke his last sentence, a malicious glint in them suggested something dark. No... she knew somehow that he was indeed quite capable of doing something so vile if it meant getting his way. Speechless, she struggled to find words, realizing all too late that he had manipulated her into a corner so easily.

“Releasing our associate is a condition of our terms. We don’t have the numbers to be lending you our members,” Shigaraki chimed in, seeing that Dabi’s calm facade was starting diminish with his growing agitation.

“All you’ve done is come in here and make demands. You said you wanted an equal partnership, I think it’s only fair that you prove that by lending me members in good faith,” Chisaki sighed, already exasperated by the conversation.

“I… I don’t mind that,” (Y/N) interrupted suddenly, swallowing nervously when all eyes turned to her.

“Huh?” Surprisingly it was Shigaraki who responded, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck while he studied her with narrowed eyes suspiciously.

“I don’t mind staying here to solidify the partnership,” she clarified against every fiber of her being screaming in protest to the decision. There was nothing she wanted more than to have Dabi whisk her away from this awful place. Hesitation sank it claws into her though, pinning her to her spot in fear of what Chisaki would do to Eri if she left. A wave of nausea hit her gut at the thought of the little girl suffering over her. Even if the threat had been vague, the awful intent was still there.

“You’re not going to do that,” Dabi spat through grinding teeth when his immediate confusion melted into anger in mere seconds. The tone of his voice struck her harshly and her eyes darted away so she didn’t have to see the fury that overtook his features. Possessively, he moved forward toward her and the room became chaotic with motion – Chisaki’s men were too alert; before he could even get on his feet the cold mouth of gun was pressing down into his coarse black hair. Mimic had moved like lightning from beside her the second he perceived a threat, and ripping a shockingly normal-dimensioned arm through the body suit, he placed a large hand on Dabi’s shoulder to shove him back down forcefully.

“Who do you think you are, punk?!” Mimic’s eye was bulging angrily from his mask as he held the patchwork man in place.

There was the piercing shine of artificial lighting striking sleek chrome as Chronostasis held the two League members at gunpoint, a sight that sent an uncontrollable gasp tumbling through (Y/N)’s throat. “Dabi,” she whimpered pathetically, eyes widened in fear at the dangerous position he was in because of her. The guilt crashed through her in waves, a sensation that twisted her heartstrings until she could feel the constricting ache tighten in her chest. Please, understand that I’m only doing this for that little girl! I can’t just run off and leave her behind like this, no matter how much I want to.

Icy blue eyes dancing with fires as vicious as the ones he could manifest with his quirk bore straight into her from behind his dark hair, a deranged look in them. He was so close, she was right fucking there, but she was slipping between his fingers before he could fully grasp her and there was nothing he could do about it. The thought of walking away without her was serrated, a piercing force that cut him to shreds from within and elicited a fury that he had not felt so vividly in many years. “Come here (Y/N),” he commanded harshly, shaking in rage. “Right now, or else.”

“I can’t!” She snapped at him finally, coming to her feet in a sudden anger of her own. The look of betrayal on his face was too much for her to bare, she couldn’t just sit there unable to explain why she was truly staying, it was agonizing. She breathed in, and composing herself with the breath out, she gave him a powerful look, one that willed him to understand that this wasn’t what she really wanted. If only I could convey as much in just a look. “I need to stay, I’m sorry. With that being said, I don’t think my presence is necessary any longer. So if you excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

“By all means,” Chisaki granted the permission with a hint of annoyance to her back as she was already walking around the couches on Shigaraki’s side, aware of all eyes watching her exit. She kept her focus ahead of her, even when she heard Dabi’s growl follow her out into the hallway. With no real destination in mind, she let her feet carry her randomly through the maze as a few tears built up and began to roll down her cheeks.

I didn’t know I could feel this shitty about someone. Fuck, what an asshole, I wish he could just read my body language and see what’s going on instead of losing his temper like that. He gets so aggressive, just like…. She let only a few more tears slide down her flushed skin before she wiped them away completely, biting the inside of her lip.How did I manage to get such strong feelings for Dabi without even realizing it anyway? I’m such an idiot. I didn’t ask for all of this.





Time became non-existent as she walked the hallway alone in an attempt to fight the impulsive thoughts jumping around in her skull. The tears had long dried up, leaving her to only feel an echoing numbness that resonated through her as she mulled over the her thoughts.

“Lost?” the voice was distinct; she didn’t need to look to know it was the young yakuza boss coming up behind her. Halting, she turned to face him as he approached, a burning disgust building in her as he approached.

“I needed to clear my thoughts. Things got a little out of hand back there,” her voice was steady as she spoke, emotionless. She had been reflecting for awhile now and it left a sense of sureness in her that she hadn’t possessed back in the meeting.

“Interesting how they did. I should have known he would get defensive about me taking away his punching bag the second he walked in,” he responded, stopping just in front of her. She made no attempt to hide her hatred of that remark as he eyes narrowed dangerously at him, something Chisaki didn’t appreciate. “I offered to protect you from him, yet it seemed like you wanted to go back.”

“Does it matter what I wanted? I chose to stay,” she challenged boldly. It was a stupid move on her part to get cocky with a man who could murder her with a tap of his finger.

Stepping so close to her that her only option was to force herself back against the wall, his hand smacked down hard only a few inches from her head as he towered over her threateningly, making her flinch. His temple bulged in irritation as he leaned in, his face so close that she had to tilt her own away from him to prevent his mask from digging into her. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten who I am in your moment of volatile emotions. I’m going to need you to start remembering quickly my dear, because I have very little patience for such disrespect. Behavior like that turns me into a different kind of person, and it’s going to irritate me greatly if I’m forced to dirty my hands to teach you some manners. I will if I need to though.”

“R-right,” she stuttered out, the bravery that had briefly swelled up in her evaporated rather quickly with the jarring tone of his voice. She knew all too well how deadly his quirk was and how ruthless of a human being he could be with no remorse.

“I didn’t like the way you acted back there either. You belong to me. If I ever catch you behaving in such a way toward someone else again I’ll have no choice but to punish you, so consider this a final warning,” he reprimanded, pulling his arm back so that he could straighten his tie as he stepped away from her. “Say it, so I know you understand.”

“I’m a ward of the yakuza. I belong to you and no one else,” she repeated back submissively like a trained parakeet, back still pressed firmly against the wall behind her.

“Good. Now, nevermind this aimless wandering, come with me,” he told her, leading the way for them to return to his den for the evening now that he had finished intimidating her. Without another word she trailed behind him bitterly, too weary of his threat to rebel openly to him again.