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Late Night Talks

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The first time it happens, Izuku is hunched over on his desk, happily writing notes on his book. So, when a portal opens out of nowhere, a figure being spit out of it before it closes, he can’t do anything else but shriek.

Cut him a break, it was a manly shriek.

“Oh,” the figure says. Staring at Izuku with the barest hint of surprise. His eyes trace around the room, then land on Izuku again. The slight surprise is quickly replaced by inconvenienced boredom. “Look kid, I won’t kill you. So just shut up until I leave.”

Izuku doesn’t know how, but he nods. The man sighs, mumbling about his fucking life and sits at the edge of Izuku’s bed.

Izuku’s still sitting on his desk, at the verge of peeing himself, because fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He knows him. He knows that guy. He’s seen the camera footage from the training camp enough times to know who that guy is. That’s the guy Mr. Aizawa fought. The one with the blue flames. Izuku had made a page for him in his notebook, he’d made speculations on his skills, purposes. Blue flames meant his fire could burn with a temperature of over 2300°F. His quirk was basically cremation.

Izuku gulped. He had to do something. Run. Fight. Tell a teacher.

He was in danger.

“You’re thinking too loud. Don’t. I’ll kill you before you step a foot out of this room,” the guy closed his eyes, laying back on his arms. “I won’t do anything. So just shut up until I leave.”

And that’s what Izuku did.

Those were the longest twenty minutes of his life.

True to his word, the guy simply sat on Izuku’s bed, eyes closed, until the portal appeared again. He breathed out a “fucking finally” before looking at Izuku as one would look at trash and stepping through it.

When he was gone, it was as though nothing happened.

Izuku’s room was quiet, as it’d been for the past twenty minutes. And the poor boy managed to get out  “a villain just… sat on my bed” before promptly fainting.

It was a manly kind of faint.



The second time it happens, it's two weeks after. Izuku is watching a movie on his phone. He has headphones on, so he can’t hear it when a portal opens and a villain is spit out of it.

The villain in question sighs at seeing where he’s been unwillingly transported to again. Allmight’s eyes bore holes into him from every angle.

Fucking creepy.

The kid is laying on his bed, his hands holding his phone as he watches… Spirited Away. It crosses the man’s mind, not for the first time, that he could kill him right there. Tomura seems to want the green haired menace dead, that’s for sure. But he doesn't really care about what Tomura wants, really. Instead, the man leans in by the boy’s shoulder, trying to see the screen better. The boy doesn’t seem to notice, he’s too busy mumbling, his brows furrowed. 

“… I mean, if the giant baby represents those people who never grow up, what does Haku represent in relation to Chihiro? It’s not like he—”

“Her childhood”

Izuku shakes his head, still intently looking at the screen. “That’s too easy”

“Doesn’t mean it’s wrong”

“Maybe, but— Eek!”

Izuku jumps so hard he falls off the mattress, the phone sent flying to the other side of the room. The man closes his eyes, a pinky going into his left ear.

“You’re a loud one, aren’t you?”

From the floor, Izuku gapes at him. His mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. The man studies him as he sits on the bed, unamused. “I can still kill you. So don’t be stupid and scream.”

Izuku closes his mouth.

The scarred man looks around the room, just like he did the first time. But this time, he seems to be looking for something. “You haven’t told anyone,” and now he looks… mildly interested. Izuku would even call it calmly surprised. No, he takes that back, the man looks disgusted.


Now, because Izuku is an idiot, he finds himself saying.

“Y-you d-didn’t harm anyone. So I just found it fair—”

“To not say anything and potentially endanger your entire school. Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“You don’t look like the type”

As soon as the words are out, Izuku claps a hand over his mouth. Fuck. The fuck was that about. Underestimating villains. Not cool.

“No! I-I mean you look like y-you would totally kill me. A-and torture me. And stuff. B-but not like you would… like, burn down the entire school. Y-you seem to have an agenda. You seem to think before acting. And you coming here seems to be by accident. It looks like you haven’t told anyone else you’re being sent here. S-so I-I thought that it would be wisest t-to act as though nothing happened. Instead of making everyone panic about something they can’t control. Because the quirk that keeps sending you here seems to be very powerful and—”

Izuku is cut off by a blue flame being lit on the guy’s palm, and an icy glare that could kill pinning him in place. “Shut up or I’ll burn your face off.”

“Okay,” Izuku had never given a response so fast in his life.

They stay like that for a while, then Izuku stands up, his legs shaking.

“What are you doing?” The man asks him. Izuku tries to not look at him, because he has a feeling he’s going to faint if he does.

“I’m… g-going to sit on my desk”

“Don’t try anything”

“Okay,” comes the bleak, fast as lightning reply.

The rest of the time is spent just like the first, Izuku sitting on his desk, trying not to pee himself. The man sitting on Izuku’s bed, eyes closed. When the portal appears again, Izuku feels like an eternity has passed.

“It is her childhood though,” the man says, stopping just one step away from the portal. He doesn’t turn around as he speaks. “It seems like she forgot it. But she never really did. Because it’s part of who she is. Same reason she recognizes who her parents are at the end,” and then he’s gone.

This time, Izuku doesn’t faint.

He does, however, fall to his knees out of the chair. 

Chapter Text

The only way to describe him is bored. Which, in Izuku’s opinion, is better than the alternative of murderous, so he’s totally fine with that. Izuku’s not complaining.

A bored member of the League of Villains just up and appears in Izuku’s room. No warning, pattern, or explanation to it. Easy peasy. Lemon squeazy. Yep. Okay, nope. Nope nope. Izuku freaked the fuck out for the first couple of weeks. Couldn’t sleep a wink. I mean, come on. What if Izuku just wakes up one morning as a pile of ash. A cremation quirk is no joke. Those dead eyes are no joke.

I’ll burn your face off

Yeah, when Izuku could sleep, he had nightmares. Ugly, disturbing nightmares. But he held out, appeased his classmates’ worries with a I’m just studying extra at night. It usually did the trick. And when the guy appeared, Izuku sat on his chair and closed his eyes, praying to every deity that that would be the last time. It never was. Izuku’s been counting. Four weeks since it started, six visits from Satan and counting. To Satan’s credit though, the guy just slept. He would be spit out of the portal, look bored and done with his life, and go lay on Izuku’s bed as if he’s been doing it since he was born. They didn’t talk. At all. Except for the occasional death threats when Izuku started muttering without noticing.

It was eerily peaceful. To Izuku’s horror.

What the fuck was even his life?

Izuku steps out of the bathroom, sighing. A shit show for people to watch, he thinks. Because really, someone had to be watching. His life couldn’t be so shitty for no reason. God? A monkey in a tutu on another plain of existence? A bunch of readers with nothing better to do? His train of thought is interrupted by Izuku squeaking and jumping so high he hits his head hard on the ceiling. You know, One For All and all.

“You should really learn to panic silently,” the figure on his bed (aka reason for Izuku’s near death experience) says. He casually lays against the headboard, eyes closed. As if he was born there. Izuku, on the other hand, tries to calm down his breathing. Right, he can’t die of a heart attack. Not know. That would be really anticlimactic. And it’s just a villain in his bed, not a big deal. Right? Right.

Panic silently. He can do that.

“Stop muttering, it’s annoying”


On wobbly legs, Izuku goes and sits on his ‘let’s pray to the non existent deities for a fucking break and a chance to live past sixteen’ chair, or in some days, the ‘crying internally for all the shit you’re going through’ chair.  He’s really becoming great friends with that chair. They’re bonding big time. All thanks to our boi Satan behind Izuku. And he’s just realized, that yeah. It might not be a great idea to sit with the back to someone who can pulverize him with the flick of a hand. But too late for that, really. Izuku’s made his choices. Bad choices. But he’s made them.

God. He’s so gonna regret what he says next.

“I-if this is going to k-keep happening, we n-need rules,” Izuku doesn’t know how he got the words out. But he did. He hadn’t talked to the guy since the second time he appeared. The time he gave him analysis on Spirited Away. And you see? Totally not a normal thing to experience. Izuku stares at the half done essay in front of him to keep his mind off… whatever might be going on behind him. Ochako had told him to finish it a week ago. Now he had to somehow concentrate with a villain in his room.

What it means to be a hero.

To be a hero means to…

“We do have rules. You shut up. I don’t kill you”


Fair enough.

Izuku shuts up.

Trying to ignore the presence behind him, he takes the pen between his fingers and starts writing. Or at least tries. His calligraphy has seen better days, that tends to happen when your hand doesn’t stop shaking. However, after ten minutes, Izuku’s submerged himself in his thoughts and words on the page enough to forget about Satan and monkeys in tutus. After twenty minutes, he’s writing his concluding sentence.

“… because to be a hero means to… sacrifice yourself for the sake of others.”


“That’s so cliche”


He’d been muttering.

Izuku cranes his neck back to see the source of the voice, the man is now in a sitting position, legs tucked underneath him, looking at Izuku as if he’s done with the world.

“I- That… doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

You know, Izuku really should sew his mouth close one of these days. The man said you shut up I don’t kill you. Izuku’s pretty sure this classifies as the opposite of shutting up. Izuku’s at the verge of having an internal panic attack, because he doesn’t wanna die like this, when the guy raises an eyebrow.



So Izuku could talk. Just in certain occasions. Uhm, good to know. 

“Right,” Izuku says, kind of not believing they had a mini conversation. I mean, sure. They had like two conversations the first two times. But they were mostly to establish that yeah, the guy would and could kill him. The Spirited Away analysis thing was like… pretty one sided. So this. This is new. 

They stare at one another, and Izuku doesn’t know much about non-verbal communication, but he would say they held each other’s gaze for a tad too long. Just on the verge of it being gay. But of course, they’re not gay. And the portal appears before the staring contest passes that specific time limit. 

The guy stands up, walking to the portal. Just like he does every time. But this time, instead of just going away silently, he turns. 

“If you want to be a smartass about it, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It means it’s meaningless.”

And then he’s gone. 

Izuku, who’s gone through this six times (now seven), does not faint loose consciousness in a manly manner, nor does his knees go weak making him fall to the floor. This time, he stares at the paper in front of him. Because, although he’s still super scared of the guy, Izuku has to admit he’s right.

It is cliche.


“What? You’re not going to give it in? But it’s due today!” Ochako exclaims at breakfast the next day. She pouts, a gesture that is solely done to hide the fact that she’s totally checking out Tenya’s ass from where they’re sitting. It’s too early for Izuku to throw up his food, so he forces that thought out of the way.

“Yeah. I was thinking of re-writing it. I’m not happy with how it turned out,” Izuku tells her, giving his turkey sandwich a bite. “And please stop checking out his ass, it’s disgusting Ochako.”

Because Tenya. Ew.

The girl goes red, eyes finally parting from a certain someone’s back rear. “I-I wasn’t!”

Shoto sits next to Izuku, food tray at hand. “You weren’t what?”

“Checking out Tenya’s butt,” Izuku answers for her, attention still on his sandwich.

“I was not!” Ochako protests again.

Shoto nods, attention going to his own food. “So you’ve said.”

Ochako splutters indignantly before composing herself. Still blushing, she calmly takes a sip out of her juice before addressing Shoto. “Anyway, we were talking about how Izuku is planning to give Aizawa’s assignment in late. Even though he already finished it.”

Shoto frowns. “Why?”

Izuku shrugs. “I’m not happy with it. Wanna think about it more.”

“It’s not a big deal ‘Zuku. We all know what heroes are”

“I know, I just want to think about it more.”

And that’s where that specific conversation ended. 

And where another problem began.

Not as big as the ‘I have a villain frequently visiting me in my door room at night,’ but still a slight problem. Things couldn’t have progressed without it anyway.

Chapter Text

The next time Dabi is forcefully transported into Izuku’s room, is three days after.

Immediately, the man knows something’s off.

Usually, when Dabi appears suddenly, the kid is sitting by his desk, reading or writing. Or doing some thing or other on his bed. And he always jumps at the sudden intrusion. Dabi would be lying if he said the occasional high pitch squeal didn’t feed into his sadistic side.

However, this time, the kid sits on the floor. Cross legged. Surrounded by what seem like dozens of sheets of paper. And he looks like a zombie, there’s no other way to put it. His far away, tired eyes snap up to Dabi as soon as he’s in the room.

Dabi eyes him with what can only be considered a detached, critical gaze. Because, well, the kid didn’t jump. That’s new.

“You look like shit,” Dabi tells him. Because it’s true. And if he had doubts that there was something wrong with the kid earlier, the boy’s next words clear it right away.

“I think I’m high on Tylenol,” Izuku deadpans.

Dabi blinks.

“You’re high on Tylenol,” he parrots.

Izuku nods solemnly.  His green curls hang just above his heavy lidded eyes. Right above the dark circles underneath them. The kid doesn’t even look scared of him right now, just tired.

Fine, consider Dabi intrigued.

Then, the kid goes

“What’s a hero, Satan?”

And okay, yeah. The kid might be high. Can you even get high on Tylenol?

Dabi sighs, walking over to the bed that’s strangely started feeling like his spot lately. He doesn’t like this. It’s a pain in the ass. This whole thing. The ‘being taken to a stranger’s room against his will’ thing. The ‘getting used to a bed that isn’t his’ thing. The ‘answering the weird questions of an annoying kid while he’s high on Tylenol’ thing.

Dabi considers it for a while, looking up at the ceiling.

“They’re assholes,” he finally says.

On the floor, Izuku, who has been watching him with a weird far away look, mirrors him and looks up to the ceiling as well. “That’s not cliche.”

“Depends on who you ask”

“Why haven’t you threatened to kill me for talking to you yet?”

“I’m curious to where this is going”

A beat of silence passes before Dabi asks. “Why aren’t you scared of me right now?”

Izuku shrugs. “I’m running purely on RedBull and Tylenol at the moment. I’ll probably regret this tomorrow.” And then, “Are you going to kill me tomorrow?”

Dabi blinks, then turns to the grenette. “I won’t. It’s too much trouble.”



The kid is annoying. 

That’s just a fact. 

He’s squeamish, easily frightened, he mumbles. Like, a lot. So yes, the kid is annoying.

But this is taking it to a whole other level.

“Alright. Out with it.”

The kid jumps. Because of course he jumps. Before he starts stuttering. Oh, there’s that too. He stutters. In every sentence. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean out with it. Before I snap and break your neck”

The kid visibly pales from where he’s sitting on his desk. He’s looking back on his shoulder, back at Dabi. And that’s the thing. He’s looking. He’s been looking, for the past week. They barely talk, and Dabi’s always sleeping. Eyes closed, on the kid’s bed. But he feels it. He feels him staring.

And it’s getting on his nerves.

“If the scars bother you so much just— don’t. Look.”

Emerald eyes look up from where they were staring down at nothing on the floor. And Dabi’s sure the kid feels it, the venom in his words. But he doesn’t begin stuttering, like Dabi’s sure he will do. And he doesn’t avoid his eyes. Instead, the kid looks at him head on. A confidence that wasn’t there before just radiating off of him. It looks like he’s challenging him.

So annoying.

“It’s not the scars,” the kid says. Confidently. Certainly. Like he’s just daring Dabi to disagree. 

“Sure it isn’t,” Dabi responds, closing his eyes again. 

“It’s not”

“Right. Just don’t look kid. And shut up.”

There’s silence for a minute. Or two. And Dabi’s sure that’s the end of that. Before a voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s you”

Dabi really doesn’t catch that.

“uh?” He asks. Because really. He just wants to fucking sleep.

“I-I mean I wasn’t s-staring at- at your scars,” the kid says. And there’s that stutter again. “I was, I was staring at y-you.”


“They’re not the same thing”


Dabi’s about to open his mouth. To say anything, relating to that. But he finds that he can’t be bothered. So he doesn’t.

After that, the stares don’t bother him that much.


“Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stare at me.”

Izuku kind of freezes where he is folding clothes on the floor. He has his back to the bed, so he’s sure he isn’t staring. Now. 

It became a problem.

It first started with that damn assignment. Which Izuku didn’t turn in— because of what the guy had said.

That’s so cliche. It means it’s meaningless.

The idea that heroes are people who sacrifice themselves for others. Who die for others. Meaningless. Cliche. It shouldn’t have bugged Izuku as much as it did. But it did. And before he knew it, he wasn’t giving in the assignment. Because he’d wanted to re-write it. To re-think it. 

Izuku thought he knew what heroes were, but he wasn’t so sure. After that. 

So he’d asked Aizawa for an extension. Aizawa had given him four days more. It wasn’t enough. Izuku had barely slept. He’d written six other essays. They were all trash. 

All of a sudden he wasn’t sure what heroes were, just because of the words of a villain.

His head hurt, he hadn’t slept in three days, and he’d started hating his obsessive personality by the time the night before the assignment was due came along. And with it came along the guy. 

Izuku has the vague recollection he’d called him Satan.

Izuku had wanted to die, the morning after. 

The guy hadn’t mentioned it, at all. Thank god for small miracles.

And so Izuku had failed that particular assignment, because he hadn’t given anything in. And after that, he found himself stealing glances at the guy. For no particular reason.

They’re assholes

Izuku wanted to know why. 

At first, it was innocent enough. Just a glance here and there. His eyes halting on the guy’s form one, two seconds, more than necessary. 

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe because he was looking for a chance, a chance to ask. But he never found it.

And he kept staring. 

And the guy had noticed. 

And now Izuku couldn’t deny it. 

What the fuck was Izuku’s life, anyway?

Instead of answering the question, he asks. “Why don’t you threaten me anymore?”

He hears the mattress behind him move, and Izuku wants to look back. To see the guy’s reaction. Instead he takes another of his shirts, folding it and putting it on top of the pile.

“Because you’re not stuttering, anymore.”

And then.

“It’s less annoying.”

Izuku blinks. “Right.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Izuku didn’t exactly know the answer to that question.

“I don’t know why, I stare at you, that is,” he answers. And he feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. “M-maybe b-because you’re… interesting.”

So much for not stuttering. And wow why did he say that.

“I’m interesting,” the guy repeats. As if taking that in. “And I’m Satan too, apparently.”

Izuku doesn’t respond because how can he respond when he’s so damn embarrassed. 

By the time Izuku finds the courage to look back, the guy’s already left.