Birds Of A Feather

Strawberry Daiquiri

By:fairystar111

Rating: Gen

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Summary:

Homelessness wasn’t part of Shouto’s plan for the future Neither was finding refuge working in a less than legal host club but anything was better than living with his father He wasn’t expecting to get a creepy stalker out of it Or to be kidnapped by him and find out he was truly his brother who disappeared ten years ago after attempting to murder him. But hey, when has life ever been easy for him?

Characters: Dabi | Touya Todoroki, Shouto Todoroki,

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia),Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Host Clubs, Kidnapping, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Conditioning, Mind Break, Crossdressing, Past Child Abuse, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Gang Violence, Moral Ambiguity, Yandere Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Mental Instability, Infantilism, Forced Infantilism, Platonic Yandere, Yandere, Dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome

When Shouto ran away from home at fifteen, he had no idea what he was getting into. He had never realized what privilege of a life he lived until he tried to make it out on his own. Despite the abuse he knew comforts most normal people never know in their entire lives. 

He was the heir to the multi-million dollar corporation, Endeavor Industries. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and raised in a mansion. He didn’t know how to be homeless, let alone find a job.

But anything was better than going back home. He couldn't stand another day in the hell he was raised in. He couldn’t be his father’s perfect masterpiece and his mother’s rape baby any longer.

You see, his parents were not wed out of love but by a contract between companies. His mother was traded off to his father for shares in Endeavor Industries. The Hirmuras were given a percentage of the company in exchange for their most beautiful and intelligent daughter, Rei. His mother would produce three possible heirs for his father and then be free to do whatever she pleased so long as she stayed legally married to Enji.

Only that never happened.

His mother hadn't known the monster she had been married off to. She didn’t know the abuse she and her children would have to endure. She didn’t know how angry his father would get taking out all his frustrations on her. Or how broken she would become seeing each child born be rejected and discarded as worthless. Nor did she imagine she would be forced to carry another.

His mother hadn’t wanted any more children after Natsuo. Their contract had only ever included three, but his father had forced himself onto her after hearing the boy speak for the first time. She spent the entire pregnancy tied to a bed, force-fed, and sedated. His father had been worried she would try to find a way to kill the baby if he hadn't. He was right.

Shouto was the fourth and final child his mother birthed before she stabbed herself in the lower abdomen, rendering her uterus fruitless, and was institutionalized. Before him were the three so-called “failures.” Natsuo was born with a speech impediment that deemed him useless. Fuyumi, while incredibly intelligent, was a woman and could never be an heir. Touya, the firstborn and rightful heir, was born with multiple learning disabilities, including dyslexia and dyscalculia, and deemed unfit.

Shouto was separated from his siblings at age four when he began to show signs of being a prodigy. He was trained from dusk until dawn. All his time was spent studying with private tutors and working alongside his father. He wasn’t allowed to go to school like his siblings; he was different. His father believed he was the solution to finally surpassing All Might Incorporated. 

Touya was furious, naturally; he believed it was his birthright as the firstborn to become his father’s successor. He began to rebel. He would ditch classes, miss curfew, and set fires in the woods behind their house. His father was at his wits end with his behavior. No amount of screaming or beatings would dissuade him from his goal.

It all came to a boiling point when Shouto was five years old.

The day Touya tried to kill him.

Their mornings were usually painfully dull. They would eat breakfast, his tutor would arrive, then his father would leave for work, and his siblings would go to school. But that day his tutor was running late, and his father didn’t have time to call someone in, so he left him alone.

Or he was supposed to be alone.

But ten minutes after his siblings left for school, Touya came back. He said he was going to watch over him just until his tutor came. They waited around for a bit while Shouto did his class work, but one hour later the man still hadn’t arrived. He had suggested they call their father to see what was wrong, but his brother had adamantly refused.

Touya suggested he stop working and have fun. He let him watch television, and he let him play with some of Natsuo’s toys; they even played a game together! Shouto hadn’t gotten to act like a kid in so long. It was the most fun he had in years. Then when he was tired out, he took him to his room to take a nap. He had fallen asleep peacefully, not knowing he would wake to a burning home and his brother nowhere to be found. 

He was awoken by the smell of smoke and the dry ache in his lungs. His head pounded as he struggled to push the blankets off himself. He staggered to the door only to hiss when the metal doorknob burned his hand.

The fire was already outside his room. The whole mansion was likely up in flames. His bedroom was on the third floor. He had no way out.

The five-year-old began to panic. His room was filling up with black smoke, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He made his way to his window and opened it up, sticking his head out, trying to breathe clean air. 

“Help! Help!” He screamed out, but their home was unfortunately very isolated. They didn’t have any neighbors for miles. Tears filled his eyes as he realized no one was coming to help. 

He was going to die.

In a last-ditch attempt to save his life, he called out to the only caregiver he’s had his whole life. He sucked in all the air he could into his lungs and yelled.

“Father!"

“Help!” His throat burned, and his vision was starting to go spotty. He wobbled toward the door crying, “Daddy! Please!”

Then he heard it. 

“Shouto!” 

His father’s deep yell pierced through the air.

“Where are you! Shouto!” 

“In here!” He rasped out as he collapsed to the floor. His lungs rattled in his chest as he coughed out smoke. 

Seconds later the door to his room was kicked down, and his father rushed in, picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder as he dashed through the halls. Making his way out and avoiding the collapsing parts of the house.

As they crossed the living room, they heard a weak voice call out, “Father!”

Touya! 

Shout had forgotten his brother didn’t go to school today. He needed help too. 

“Daddy, help Touya!” He pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the living room. His head hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, but his brother needed help. He couldn’t let go. Not yet.

Only his father didn’t stop. He ignored the cries of his firstborn and ran out of the house. His father had saved him but left Touya behind to burn. He’ll never forget being carried over his father’s shoulder and seeing Touya stuck underneath the flaming rubble, screaming out for help. Then he blacked out.

He remembers the rest in flashes. Being placed on the lawn outside their home. His father doing chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth. The distant sirens coming closer and closer. The deafening sound of a house collapsing. Then silence.

He awoke three days later in the hospital as his father’s third child. All records of Touya’s existence had been wiped. Shouto’s existence had never been announced to the world. All people know is that Enji has two sons and one daughter. And that's all they’ll ever know.

Shouto hadn’t understood why his father tried so hard to keep Touya a secret.

It wasn’t until years later that he found out the reason why. During the investigation into the cause of the fire, they find out Touya had sent a message to his tutor from his father’s phone to take the day off prior to breakfast. Then they found a small worn trail leading to a shed in the backyard and a backpack belonging to Touya filled with burn cream, matches, gasoline, and other flammables. All signs pointed to Touya being the cause. He had organized and staged the fire himself. For what? Revenge? Attention? Notoriety? No one will ever know. 

He took that secret with him to the grave. 

After the fire, life became even more suffocating. His father bought a much smaller, more discreet house even more isolated than before. His father hired around-the-clock security to patrol both the inside and outside of the house at all times. He sent Natsuo and Fuyumi away to a private boarding school in fear they would too become like Touya and try to kill his masterpiece. 

Shouto wasn’t allowed outside. He didn’t even have a tutor anymore. He learned from a program online. For years all he did was stay inside and study. He had no choice. He was surrounded around the clock by guards paid to keep him trapped inside. 

It was terribly lonely. 

He had no one to talk to aside from his father, who was dreadful company. The man only listened to what he wanted to hear. He expected perfection and absolute obedience. If he were anything less so, he would be belted until he couldn’t walk. He even implemented maintenance spankings so he never forgot to be good. His behavior could be perfect, and he would still be beaten to discourage even the thought of misbehavior in the future. It was a barbaric way of parenting.

The small size of the house meant there was nowhere to hide when his father went on a rampage. If stocks in All Might incorporated went up or Shouto’s grades dipped even by just 1%, he would tear through the house, breaking everything he could in a violent rage. He would regularly destroy Shouto’s room in a fit of rage.

It would all be replaced the following day, of course, but it always left Shouto feeling so empty and scared each time it happened. Eventually he learned to never allow himself to get attached to anything. There was no point if his father could tear it all away from him in an instant. He got rid of everything he didn’t need, only keeping the bare minimum in plain colors that showed no personality and could be easily replaced. His life consisted of plain, monotone grey in every aspect. His father enjoyed it, said it was very utilitarian and mature of him to live so efficiently.

He hated it.

He hated him.

He spent years in that hell until the summer of Natsuo’s eighteenth birthday arrived. His brother was finally a legal adult; he was set to go to university with a full-ride scholarship separate from their father’s finances. He was safe from their father’s influence. He could go on to live a carefree life free from their past. The same goes for Fuyumi, though she stays tethered to their father by her dream of having a happy family. 

Once he knew they were safe. He left. 

He ran away exactly one month after his brother’s birthday. He didn’t want Natsuo to be blamed for his disappearance. He left one night and never looked back. It was quite easy. He knew the guards' schedules by heart. He waited until it was time for the guards to switch for the night shift. Usually there is about a five-minute lull where no one is watching him while they make the switch. He could have left years ago, but he didn’t want Natsuo to be forced to take his place.

While he had sympathy for his mother. He never met the woman, and he thinks it's unlikely that his father would take her out of the hospital just to create another heir. It would be too suspicious and would make people look into their family and the mysterious disappearances of the Todoroki heirs. 

Now that he's free, he’ll make sure his father will never find him again.

===

The first few months were rough. He had no idea how to survive in the real world without his father. He had no idea where he could safely sleep and take showers or how to get a job and make money. The times he did go into a shop to ask for work, he was sent out once they heard his age. Even if they did hear him out without his legal documents or parental permission, no one would hire him. He resorted to eating out of dumpsters and sleeping in filthy alleyways.

It didn’t help that he had to keep moving constantly. He couldn't settle down anywhere. His father has men crawling all over the city looking for him. While his father didn’t release the information of his disappearance to the general public, he knows he told people in the underworld of a reward for his capture. He heard some thugs talking about it once while he hid behind a dumpster, terrified at the news. 

It wasn’t until he was caught outside Club UA that he was able to find work. The place was a cafe during the day and a bar at night with both hostesses and hosts on duty around the clock.

Shouto hadn't even known what a host was, let alone that host bars existed. He was introduced to the life by a seasoned female hostess he had met one night while wandering the streets looking for food. She had come on to him, flirting playfully, trying to get him into the bar to spend money with her. Shouto tried to refuse, but the woman was very pushy. She teasingly tipped his hat off his head when he began to walk away, calling him too serious. But her voice went quiet and her eyes widened when she saw the distinct red and white hair that had been hidden beneath his hat. Shouto Todoroki, she said, like she had won the jackpot. Maybe she had; Shouto doesn’t know the amount of money promised for his return, but he knows it must be high.

He tried to flee, but a strong grip on his arm stopped him. A blond man with bright green eyes and a weird hairstyle dragged him into the club along with the purple-haired woman. They sat him at a table, and then for the first time in years. He burst into tears.

“Please!” he cried. “I can't go back; I just can't!” 

He sobbed, begging them not to report him. He spilled his guts, telling them of the abuse he had to endure every day under his father’s care. The looks he was receiving got more concerned as he went on. The pair had been under the impression that he was just a spoiled brat rebelling against their rich daddy for no reason, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. They whispered conspiratorially to each other for a moment before introducing themselves as Midnight and Present Mic.

Then they brought him to a room in the back of the bar leading up to the top floor of the establishment. Which seemed to be offices of some kind? There were lots of doors lining the walls in a maze-like pattern. Each door was decorated in a strange, unique sort of way.

They stopped at a plain black door, knocking and waiting patiently. A grouchy voice answered, grunting, “Come in,” and then he was sat in an armchair sitting opposite a man with long black hair and an eye patch covering one eye.

“Another stray?” He rolled his eye, sighing, “You can’t keep doing this, Mic.”

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t even me this time!”

“Mmph.” 

“Tell him Nem!” The women began speaking, telling the man of his identity and what they learned of his past. Then she told him he should offer him a contract.

“A contract? Him? Seriously?”

“Yes, Shou! You know what will happen if we don't!” 

Aizawa unfortunately does know what happens to most runaways. The homeless-to-sex-worker pipeline is very easy to fall into when you are young and desperate to survive. If Aizawa can help, he will. He'd rather they work at the cafe safely than be out in the streets unregulated and unprotected. 

“Alright kid, you in?”

Shouto hadn’t understood what he was agreeing to when he signed the contract, but the promise of a roof over his head, running water, and regular meals was just too good to pass up.

He was brought to an empty room and given a key, saying it was his now. They offered to have someone escort him back to where he was staying to retrieve his things, but he declined, stating he had nothing to bring. They handed him a tablet, telling him to order everything he needed with a pitying glance. Murmuring to each that his contract was going to start out high.

To become a host at the high-class Club UA, you must sign a contract, indebting yourself to them. The contract covers outfits, room and board, food, makeup, training, etc. Essentially everything to become a top-class host. The host or hostess must make back all the money spent on them each month before they can start earning money for themselves. The less they start out with, the higher their contract will be. If a person signs the contract, the club legally owns them until they pay it all back. They cannot quit or leave if their contract is not paid in full. If they try to escape, they will be dragged back by members of the gang One for All, who own the establishment. If a host cannot pay, their contract can be bought out by a client. But what they do with the host afterwards is up to them. As their debt will be transferred off to their client instead of the club, the host will be indebted to them instead.

It's quite predatory.

They take in pretty people who come from bad situations and put them in debt to work as hosts at their establishment. If they can’t pay up by the end of the month for everything the club spent on them, their contract will go into the negative, and they will dig themselves further into debt. It wasn’t great, and it wouldn’t be Shouto’s first choice if he had any options, but there wasn’t any abuse, and it was better than being homeless, so he stayed and learned the life of a host.

The job of a host is primarily to entertain and flatter guests. To giggle at clients' jokes, bat your eyelashes, flirt, and boost their egos. The goal is to make each client spend as much money as you possibly can and make sure they keep coming back for more. Hosts make clients feel like they're on top of the world, the handsomest man alive, or the prettiest girl in the world so long as they keep spending money. 

Most people that come into the host club are categorized into two types. Type A’s were wealthy, usually businessmen or yakuza that came into the club after work to discuss business deals with clients while hosts and hostesses entertained them.

Then there were Type B’s. They were usually poor, unattractive, socially awkward if not downright antisocial, overweight, or simply lonely. They came in for human connection and companionship. And they were quick to fall head over heels for a pretty host giving them attention.

Now Shouto doesn’t like essentially tricking people into loving him, but work is work. As shady as it is, it was the only job willing to ignore his age and help him hide his identity, and he desperately needed the money. So he dyed his hair black and bought turquoise contacts for his gray eye, hiding his most identifiable features, and began to work.

It was difficult at first given his lack of socialization but became easier the longer he did it. He got training from the older hosts and was eventually able to enter the ranks. 

Club UA had an intricate ranking system based on popularity, customer feedback, number of regulars, and quality of service. The higher the rank a host has, the more money they can make. Every host's goal is to make it to the top of the ranks.

Shouto was quite popular from the start. Despite his lack of social skills, most clients were willing to overlook that for his beauty.

He is beautiful; that is a fact.

His mother was chosen specifically for her beauty and intelligence, and his father, despite being an abusive bastard, is a handsome man and was even more so in his youth.

Shouto is a perfect mix of both. 

He learned quickly to use both of his traits given to him by his parents to his advantage. 

When he has male clients, he plays into the softness of his face. He applies rosy blush to the apples of his cheeks, curls his lashes and applies mascara to give him an innocent wide-eye look, and applies pretty pink lip tint and lip gloss to give his lips a pouty appearance. The clothes he wears are typically more feminine and cutesy but change depending on the client. 

For female clients, he usually goes for a more handsome, princely type of look. He contours his face, sharpening his cheeks and jawline, uses eyeliner to darken his eyes and make them appear sharper, and uses red lip tint to make his lips look like they'd been bitten or kissed. The clothes, while frilly, are still masculine and give him a sort of otherworldly, ethereal look.

It all depends on the person. Each client may want something different. Before each shift, he’s given a picture of each client that booked him in advance and a list of their likes and dislikes before their first meeting. Some may want him to look more goth, emo, cute, sexy, etc. So it's up to him to find a way to make their fantasy come true. He even changes his personality depending on the type of character he is going to play. 

He doesn't know how convincing he is, but most of his clients were willing to overlook his short stature and baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. A clear sign of youth. It was disgusting, but as long as they kept their distance, it was tolerable.

Thankfully, there is no touching of any kind allowed inside the club. That doesn’t completely stop customers from trying, though. Thankfully the club has good security, and the overseer, Nedzu, keeps a close eye on the place through the security cameras. 

During the day, the establishment is a cute host cafe. They open at nine am and serve coffee and other sweet drinks and desserts and offer a variety of hosts and hostesses. During the day they keep it PG; they dress more modestly and have more innocent interactions with their clients. The cafe advertises them as lunch dates. They do things like feeding each other cake, giggling and flirting, and drinking tea with clients. This time of day is mostly full of type B clients since the day services are much cheaper than at night. Then the cafe closes at five pm. They are given a five-hour break to do as they please, then the club opens up at ten pm and closes at three am.

At night they switch to more risqué outfits. They show more skin and are more provocative. During the night shift, they dance and pour drinks for wealthy Type A clients and their guests. It is customary for clients to buy their host a drink for each drink they order. So the night is filled with drinking faux alcoholic beverages, flirtatious dancing, and endless flattery as they pretend to be drunk. No hostess is ever actually served alcohol while working; it's just another way to get their clients to spend money. 

If a client is especially rich, they can buy a private dinner date with the host of their choice. This option is usually only used by type A’s, but sometimes a type B will scrounge up enough money or put themselves in debt for one. They are often incredibly uncomfortable for the host, but thankfully Club UA always has a bouncer escort them on their “dates” so nothing truly bad ever happens.

After a year of working at the cafe, Shouto became the first-ranked male host. Second was a blond named Kacchan, and third was a green-haired boy named Deku. He goes by Firefly, a nickname given to him by his first client ever. No one ever discloses their real names to customers at the bar. Lest someone find out their true identities and their real ages. He is cordial with the other hosts; some would even call them friends, but that doesn’t quell the competitive nature of their job. It's a cutthroat industry, and everyone is aiming for the top. The rankings often fluctuate, but Shouto is almost always in the top five. He’s one of the bar's highest earners now.

He’s made back the amount of his contract tenfold and is just waiting until he is eighteen so he can finally start university. He’s been saving all the money he’s earned to use for college; he already graduated high school early years ago in his father’s care and has multiple college credits from a program he was completing before he ran away. Shouto knows he can achieve his dream of being a child welfare lawyer. He wants to save children from abusive households like the one he was raised in. He wants to save others the way he was never saved. It’s his dream. He’ll even keep working at the host bar past eighteen if that's what it takes to make it come true.

===

One Friday afternoon. He had just finished up a short two-hour day shift that consisted of four thirty-minute bookings with a couple of regulars and one new client. He was on his break eating the tasty soba their chef Lunch Rush had prepared for him when his grouchy manager decided to interrupt him. Aizawa dropped off a file with his latest booking onto the table. 

Shouto picked up the paper, skimming through its contents, raising a brow when he saw something peculiar. “The whole night?” 

So that was why his shift had been so short. Someone had bought out all his time slots for tonight. Shouto knows how expensive it is to book him nowadays, especially during club hours. To book him for the entire night would be at least a couple of thousand dollars, and that’s not even including the drinks and added purchases they’ll have to make throughout the night. Just how rich is this guy?

“Yup, better make sure to leave a good impression and leave him craving for more. Who knows? If you charm him enough, you may get yourself a rich sugar daddy who’ll buy you out of this place.” The man joked.

“Pfft, as if.” The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes as Aizawa chuckled, walking away towards the bar to start setting up for the night. 

That life may be something most of his peers desire, especially the less popular ones who are thousands of dollars in debt, but not him. He would never judge his peers for choosing to do so, especially if they managed to find happiness or even love on the job. Like one of his older friends, Denki was bought out by a rich girl with popular music producers for parents. What was her name again? Koka? Jira? Something like that. From what he's heard, they're doing really well, and he is quite happy being a spoiled little boy toy. 

Life is hard, and they're all just trying to survive, but even so, it's just not something Shouto would ever consider for himself. He wants to be free to live his life as he pleases. He never wants to rely on someone else's riches ever again. It reminds him too much of life with his father.

“I’ll do my best.” He calls out to the man, receiving a half-hearted thumbs-up in return.

He stared down at the file, thinking, ‘Well, I might as well see who’s owning me for the night.’

Name: Dabi 

[Image]: A photo of a dark-haired man with vibrant turquoise eyes. He looked to be in his mid-twenties with intricate black snakeskin tattoos covering textured burnt skin. The bottom half of his jaw resembled the unhinged jaw of a snake, and his tongue was split in two like one as well. His face and ears were covered in shiny silver piercings. 

Type: A

Likes: 

Feminine clothing

Cute makeup

Shy or sweet personality

Dislikes: 

Male Clothing

Bold makeup

Loud and aggressive personalities

So a delinquent pervert with a fetish for cute boys. Great…

The man is definitely some sort of criminal. Yakuza maybe? Definitely bad news. Well…nothing he could do about that. The most he can do is bat his eyelashes and pretend he knows nothing about it, especially if the police come knocking again.

He heads upstairs to take a nap before he has to get ready for his next shift. He’ll need all the rest he can get. It’s going to be a long night.

Shouto wakes up around eight. He takes a shower and blow-dries his hair. He took notice of the red and white roots growing out. He would need to re-dye it again soon. He fluffed his hair out to make them less noticeable and began to apply his makeup. He did his usual look for male clients with an added bit of sparkly highlighter on his eyelids and cheeks along with a glittery pink lip gloss to make his features shine in the club's low lights. 

His outfit was simple since the man wanted something more shy and sweet yet feminine. He went for a white pleated miniskirt, an oversized pink sweatshirt, white thigh-high socks, and tennis shoes. He hates wearing this sort of getup, but it's what sells, so he can’t refuse. At least he can use the shy request on the client’s file as an excuse for why he’s not showing much skin. He hates the skimpy outfits the club usually gives them to wear. But hey, at least it's not a theme night this time.

Once a month the club has a night where all the hosts and hostesses wear the same outfit and roleplay a theme. Last month he almost had a heart attack when he saw just how tiny the maid outfits they had bought everyone were. He pretended to be sick that evening so he didn’t have to participate, much to Aizawa’s ire.

By the time he was finished getting ready, it was already nine forty-five. Time to head down to the bar. 

He sat at the secluded booth that his client had reserved. It was near the back of the club towards an exit, far away from the bar and other tables. It was one of their best tables for one-on-one interaction away from prying eyes and listening ears. It cost five hundred dollars alone to reserve. How much has he already spent on him?

Shouto was doing the math in his head when he noticed someone walking towards him. 

Oh, it was him.

Dabi, right?

He looked the same as his picture, though he was much taller than he was expecting. He was wearing a black leather jacket with staples decorating it, a t-shirt with some band’s logo on it, matching leather pants, a thick grommet belt, and black combat boots.

Shouto got up when he neared the table, bowing lightly and taking his hand. 

“Hello sir, my name is Firefly, and I’ll be your company for the evening. I hope we can have a good time together.” He said, looking up at him with big doe eyes and a small shy smile. Though he momentarily froze when he saw the look he got in return. His heart stuttered in panic. Did he get the theme wrong? He thought he followed the man’s interests to a T. Why is he staring at him with such thinly veiled contempt? Shit, if he loses this client, he’ll never hear the end of it. 

The man snapped out of it in seconds; the look on his face was unreadable. He grunted, “The name's Dabi. Don't forget it. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Kind of rude, but okay. Shouto’s dealt with worse.

“Yes, sir.” 

“So how long have you been working here, Firefly?” 

For some reason he sounded like he was mocking him when he said his alias. Shouto chose to ignore it, responding cheerfully.

“About a year and a half. What about you, sir? What would you do for work?”

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about.”

Well, that just about confirms what he thought. They're interrupted by a waitress coming up to their table.

“What would you like to drink, sir?”

“I’ll take a bottle of whiskey and for him—” Dabi paused, his eyes flickering to Shouto for a moment before he leaned over to whisper into the woman’s ear. The waitress blushed, leaving quickly to give their orders to the bartender.

“What did you get for me?” Shouto asked curiously. 

“It's a surprise, firefly.” 

“Oh.” The boy feigned sadness, looking down with a cute pout.

An ominous grin. “Don’t pout, baby, I’m sure you’ll like it. It was made especially for you.” 

“Well, I’m sure anything you pick will be delicious, sir!” He said softly, biting his lip. 

A look of disgust briefly crossed the man’s face, leaving Shouto to wonder what he was doing wrong. Usually the cute submissive act works well for male clients, but for some reason the scarred man doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. 

“So how old are you, Firefly?”

He kept his face perfectly even. “I’m nineteen!”

The bottle of whiskey arrived, the waiter leaving behind a small bucket of ice and a short round glass.

The man gave him a look. “You seriously expect me to believe that?” 

Shouto grabbed the bottle, carefully ignoring the man's question, instead asking. “Would you like your whiskey neat or on the rocks, sir?”

“Call me Dabi. And I’ll have it on the rocks.”

“Yes, Dabi.” 

Shouto picked up the small scoop from the bucket, filling the glass about halfway with ice, before opening the bottle and pouring the whiskey. The drink’s smell was strong and burned the inside of his nose. He tried to keep the displeasure off his face, but somehow the man spotted it. 

Letting out a raspy sort of snicker, “Not a fan of whiskey?” he asked.

“No, I can’t say I am.” He wrinkled his nose cutely. “I’d love to have a drink with you, but it’s much too strong for me.” 

He placed the drink in front of the man. 

A pause. Silence filled the air until the man decided to break it.

“So are you going to keep ignoring my question?”

“Hmm?”

“Your age? The real one?”

“There’s nothing more for me to say, Dabi. I am nineteen.” Shouto leaned closer to the man, whispering into his ear. “Please stop asking. It could cause trouble for not only the club but also you if rumors circulated that some of the hosts are underage. I know I look young, but please just accept what I say as true.” 

“Trouble for me? Well, aren't you a considerate little one.” The man let out a rough laugh. Shouto had a feeling he had no idea why the man was laughing, but he just giggled along into his palm.

“I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree then.” 

The rest of the night felt more like an interrogation than a date. The man walked him into questions he didn’t ask or tried to trick him into answering truthfully. Dabi had a sharp mind and a quick tongue despite his outside appearance. It was like he was talking circles around him. Shouto felt like he was being analyzed and mocked the entire time.

He was left feeling especially unnerved when his drink arrived. The beverage was a strawberry daiquiri with an added layer of vanilla cream. The drink was perfectly layered, white on top of red. Half and half, just like his hair beneath its dye. The words Dabi had said earlier fluttered to the forefront of his mind. 

It was made especially for you.

He had frozen in place, staring down at the drink. 

There's no way. How could he have known? No. It’s just a coincidence, right? It has to be.

“Something wrong?” Dabi purred, raising a brow.

The boy looked up to see the man watching him with an intense look in his eye, like he knew something he shouldn’t.

Shouto chuckled nervously, a cold sweat dripping from the back of his neck. “Oh, nothing, it's just strawberries, my favorite. How'd you know?” 

“I know a lot of things about you, baby.” Dabi responded with a wink.

A loaded statement, considering this is their first time meeting.

He took a sip of the sickeningly sweet drink; it felt heavy in his stomach.

===

Shouto honestly didn’t want to service the man ever again. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t, but that’s just not how things worked at the club. He had tried asking Aizawa if he could ban the man from booking him but was told a resounding no. He was booted from the office with a warning to behave, considering he was already booked for the next Saturday night too.

Turns out Dabi spent around twenty thousand dollars at the club that night for both him and his associates. So they're not allowed to turn down a single booking that man makes. They’re to welcome him with open arms and serve him to the best of their abilities.

Eventually Saturday comes to be known as his night, and they would reserve it for him in advance. He constantly switches up the styles he wants to see Shouto in and picks him apart like it's his favorite thing to do. He always offers to buy out his contract at the end of the night. Shouto rejects him each time he asks, thinking there would be nothing worse than being in debt to that man. Dabi had been very offended the first time he said no.

“No?” A laugh of disbelief, “You’re saying no to me?” 

“Yes. It's very kind of you to offer such a gesture, but I could never accept.”

“I could set you free. You’d never have to work again, and you’re saying no?”

“I’m sorry, but my answer won't change.” 

The man just shrugged, “Fine, have it your way. But know this: you will be mine one way or another.”

After the first visit, weird things began happening around Shouto. His higher-paying clients stopped coming in one by one. It was strange because he knew people were booking him. He's seen new clients come in and book him, but five minutes after leaving, they’d always come rushing back in to cancel. He’s tried to follow them out to see what scared them so much, but each time he did, he was met with nothing but thin air. 

Slowly he began to fall down the ranks, his price dropped, and he was making less money per booking. Shouto was somewhat fine with it; the more time he had off, the better. It's not like he liked doing the job, but he’d rather not start dipping into his savings so soon. As long as he keeps making enough to cover his room and meals, he should be fine. 

The problem was the eyes. Shouto could never tell where they were coming from, but he could always feel them on him. Whenever he was down at the club, out running errands, or even in his bedroom. He could feel someone watching him.

If he happened to say he really wanted something he couldn’t afford, or couldn’t find a particular snack in store, it would appear on his doorstep the next day. It was creepy. While it's not uncommon for hosts to be given gifts by clients, they are usually not so personal unless they are being stalked. Which Shouto suspects he is being, by the only recurring customer he's had in weeks. So despite Aizawa’s warning, he confronts Dabi the next time he comes in.

“Where’s the outfit I got you?” Dabi asked gruffly, raising a brow and pointing to the casual loungewear he was wearing instead. The boy hadn’t bothered getting ready that day knowing he wasn’t going to be working.

“I didn’t wear it, and I'm not going to wear anything for you ever again. I’m firing you as a client. You're welcome to pick a new host for your current stay; just remember to book someone else for any future bookings.” He turned around to head back up to his room, but a strong grip around his wrist stopped him. 

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, Sh-Firefly.” Dabi growled, tugging the struggling boy onto his lap. “I already paid for the night, remember.”

“And I told you I refuse! Let go of me, you creep! Security!” Shouto screamed, trying to squirm free from the man's arms.

“Shut up, brat! You’re making a scene. I just want to ask you something!”

“No! I don't want your stupid offer! I won’t ever accept it! I don’t care if you chase away my other clients. I’m never going to go with you! Just leave me alone!” He grabbed the man's drink, spilling it down his shirt. The man momentarily lost his grip in shock, and with that opening, Shouto escaped, running away as security came to escort the man from the bar.

“You’ll regret that Firefly! Just you wait!” He heard the man yell as he made his way up the stairs, carefully ignoring him. 

Shouto’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering in his chest until he got to his dorm, firmly locking the door behind him. In the safety of his own room, he broke down into tears. He cried over his job, his family, and his life, just the unfairness of it all. Why did he have to sell himself to make money? Why did he have to deal with creeps all day? Why couldn’t he just have a normal family and live life like a normal teenager? It wasn’t fair!

It's been one month since the incident, and there have been no signs of Dabi. Shouto’s regulars have begun to come back; he’s been climbing back up the ranks, and he couldn’t feel the eyes anymore. So he guessed the man had finally given up.

Things have finally gone back to normal in the bar for the most part. They were all getting ready to celebrate Mina’s birthday. Mina, known as Pinky, was one of the most popular female hosts, known for her bubbly personality, eccentric dancing, pretty pink hair, and expressive golden eyes. She was finally turning eighteen, so the club was going to have a huge party themed around her, though they are advertising it as her twenty-first birthday. 

They had closed the cafe early and were all helping decorate. They were blowing up balloons, hanging streamers, putting up banners, and setting up tables. Shouto apparently had been doing a bad job because Bakugo yelled at him to go pick up the cake instead of making a mess. He gave him the address to the bakery and told him to fuck off. The bakery was about a thirty-minute walk away, so he had to leave early to make it back in time for his first shift. 

He grabbed his coat and slipped on his outside shoes before leaving. He put on his earphones and made his way downtown to the bakery. He decided to walk instead of being driven by the club's chauffeur; he liked walking, given how many years he spent trapped indoors. He liked to run around the bustling city, people-watching, petting stray cats, and listening to music. 

If he hadn’t been wearing his headphones that day, maybe things could have been different.

He kept walking unaware of the men following him or the van waiting to speed away with him inside. He turned the corner just a few blocks away from his destination when he was pulled into an alleyway by two men. The force made his headphones fall off his head, clattering onto the ground. A hand slammed over his mouth as he made to scream. He was quickly tied up, gagged, and blindfolded before being thrown into the back of the van. The doors slammed shut, a rough slap to the doors likely a signal, and they were speeding off. 

Shouto could feel the ground beneath him moving. He tried bucking his body into a sitting position but was met with a sharp kick to the ribs. A whimper escaped his mouth without permission. It had been so long since he’d last been hurt; it seems he lost all his tolerance.

His panic increased as he tried his best to figure out where they were going. He tried counting how many stops and turns they've taken but lost count quickly since each time they hit a bump, his head would slam into the ground, making it hard to keep track. His tears were now soaking through the blindfold, the only sound in the car being the hitching of his breath as he struggled to catch his breath. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but eventually the car slows to a stop.

The doors open, and he is hauled out by his feet. He kicks and screams as much as he can, but his efforts are futile. His body is roughly hauled over a shoulder. The air is knocked out of him when he lands on his stomach. He’s wheezing as he’s carried through somewhere; he can hear the opening and closing of doors and voices that don’t quite make sense. Shouto’s thrown onto a bed, the mattress bouncing beneath him with the force of the fall; he hears the sound of a door being shut and locked, then silence.

The gravity of the situation weighed on him. He was alone. Trapped god knows where. With no rescue in sight. 

Oh god, he's screwed. 

There was no Aizawa or Father to save him this time. He forced himself to calm down; nothing good would come from panicking. He assessed the situation. His legs were tied together at the ankle while his arms were tied at the wrist behind his back; his hands were still able to move. All he had to do was get his feet to his hands and untie the rope. Simple. 

He did his best to roll off his side and onto his stomach. Then he bent his legs backward towards his wrists. It took a couple of tries, but eventually his hands grazed the rope; he grabbed on tight and blindly felt around for the knot. He clumsily grabbed onto it, untying the mass of knots holding his legs together. Once undone, he pushed himself upright and carefully pulled his legs off the edge of the bed, dipping his feet until he found solid ground. He got up and began to explore the room, searching the floor with his feet for any sharp objects to cut himself free and feeling around the walls for anything he could use to pull the rope against to create slack.

A muffled chuckle sent ice shooting through his veins.

Shouto whipped his head around, looking for the source. He couldn’t see how close they had gotten with the blindfold or block the hit coming straight at him. He cries out as a fist connects to his temple, sending starbursts shooting behind his eyes. He falls back on the bed when another fist connects to his stomach. He wheezed, struggling to catch his breath after the air was punched out of him.

“I knew the first thing you’d do is try to escape. You’ve always been such a smart boy, haven’t you, Shouto?”

He didn’t have time to panic over his name. A prick to his wrist sent drowsiness flooding through his veins. His limbs feel impossibly heavy as he is rearranged on the bed to his captor’s liking. He falls asleep to the raspy humming of an unknown man.

===

Shouto wakes up hours later without his bindings. He sits up, still feeling drowsy, and looks around. He was in some sort of concrete prison cell. The bed is wiry metal with an old-looking mattress and a small stained blanket on top. In the corner there is a metal toilet and sink, and then next to it a shower head pokes straight out of the wall. There are no windows, only a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling to light the space. He stood up to take a look at the door and was startled by a rattling noise. Connected to his ankle was a thick metal chain connected to a cuff. The chain was only long enough to reach the toilet and the bed but not the door. 

He was trapped. 

The room looked like it was for long-term stays. He was probably going to be held for ransom and then sent back to his father. He knows the reward for his capture is up in the millions at this point. They were probably going to try to drain as much money as they could out of his father before sending him back. 

His breathing picked up as he imagined a life back with his father. There’s no telling how bad he would punish him for running away or the new restrictions he’d put on him. Shouto wouldn’t be surprised if he had a cell like this waiting for him back at his house. His head was spinning. Each breath he took in felt shorter and shorter; his lungs couldn’t catch up to his mind.

The creaking of the cell door only drove him deeper into a spiral. In a panic he dove underneath the bed, crawling beneath the frame as far as he could go. He knows realistically his captors will immediately find him, but his frazzled brain can’t handle the door opening and facing reality.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard footsteps enter the room.

“Shouto. Oh, Shouto. Where are youuu?” A raspy voice called out in a mocking sort of sing-song tone as if he were playing hide and seek with a child. 

“Found you.” 

The chain rattles as the man tugs it. Shouto’s shirt rides up as he is dragged across the concrete floor with no regard. The delicate skin of his belly and chin getting scraped in the process. He kicks and struggles as much as he can, but the man takes hold of his ankles and pulls him out the rest of the way before throwing him atop the bed.

Shouto opened his eyes, looking up to see, “Dabi?” 

“That's not my name, Shou.”

“What? What are you talking about? Where am I? Why-” A hard slap sends his head careening to the left. 

“Say my name, Shouto.”

“What? I-” The man’s hand raised again as if to strike again. “Dabi!” the boy blurted out, flinching.

“Wrong.” Another hit. “Guess I’ll have to jog your memory. You have until I’m done fixing you to say my name or you’ll be punished.” 

Fixing? What did he mean by—“Ah! Stop! What are you doing?!” he screamed. The man took his coat and tore off the button-up shirt he was wearing in one swift move. Shouto shuddered as the cold air touched his skin. He panicked as the man reached for his pants and used all his strength to kick the man in the chest. It hardly moved him and only served to enrage him further.

Dabi grabbed his throat and tightened his grip, choking him. Shouto’s vision blurred, and his struggles all but stopped as the oxygen failed to reach his brain. Once weakened, the man finished taking off the rest of his clothes, leaving him bare. Next he grabbed the boy’s jaw and pulled the left eyelid upward, digging his finger into his eye none too gently and removing the false blue contact. Then he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid and heavily doused a rag in it. He pushed up the boy’s bangs and began scrubbing off Shouto's makeup. 

“There, you finally look human, not like a painted doll.”

By the time he was finished, some of the boy's energy had returned, and he was beginning to struggle anew. Dabi grabbed a fistful of Shouto’s hair and dragged him to the shower area. He threw the disoriented boy onto the concrete floor and turned on the shower. The water was freezing as it ran down his body. Shouto shuddered and tried to move from the stream but was kicked back into place. 

“Close your eyes.” He was warned as the man took out a new bottle and poured some into his hair. The harsh chemical scent burned his nose. The man would harshly scrub at his hair, rinse, then repeat, over and over again. Shouto didn’t know what result he wanted, but he washed his hair over ten times until he was satisfied.

Shouto opened his eyes and saw the man staring at him with an odd expression. There was almost something familiar in those cruel turquoise eyes. Maybe the mistreatment is making him see things, but Dabi sort of reminds him of his father.

The thought left his mind as he was forced to stand, and Dabi began to wash his body. Shouto trembled, terrified at the man's intentions, but Dabi kept his cleaning strictly clinical. The soapy cloth was dragged harshly over his skin, leaving it pink and irritated. He was scrubbing so hard it felt like he was trying to scrub his skin off. 

Shouto had tried to beg him to stop but was met with a cold expression and even colder words. “It’s necessary, Shouto. Who knows what type of filth you've been exposed to working in a place like that? You’re disgusting and need to be purified.” The process was repeated multiple times until he was in tears and his skin was left red and raw. 

The man rubbed him dry just as aggressively as he had bathed him. The old towel's scratchy texture burned against his sensitive skin. Shouto felt like a stray animal being washed and dried before being given to a new owner. Why was this happening to him? He didn’t want this. Was he even going to be sent back to his father? Was the man planning to keep him? Why-

Dabi flicked his forehead to catch his attention before asking one last time. “Do you know my name?”

“I-I don’t!” Shouto said, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for a hit.

“Hmm. Well, guess you won’t be getting any clothes or food tonight then.” The man walked towards the door, turning his head to the side and saying, “Oh, and I hope for your sake, you behave better tomorrow. The consequences won’t be this light again if you don’t.” 

The door locked shut with a deafening thud. For a moment the boy just stared at the wall in shock. D-did that really just happen? The creepy client from the club really kidnapped him, and now…now he was standing in the middle of a concrete cell, freezing cold, with nothing to wear. 

He crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over himself. It didn’t help much; it was too short to cover most of his body lying straight down, so he curled himself up as tightly as he could beneath the blanket. It could only help so much, though, with his hair still damp and his feet poking out into the cold air. 

Why did this happen to him? How long had Dabi known his identity? Was he planning this all along? Just who is Dabi? He wondered as shivers racked his body. 

He hardly slept the first night. In the morning his teeth ached from chattering all night long. He was ‘awoken’ by Dabi ripping off his blanket and pricking him with another needle. Only this time he didn’t lose consciousness. All the muscles in his body were forced to relax. All he could do was lay limp as the man changed him into a thin white hospital gown. It does nothing to stop the chills racking his form. He was blindfolded once more and unchained before being carried out of the room. 

He felt the man's heavy footsteps, and though he couldn’t see, he did his best to map out the building he was currently being held captive in. But as much as he tried, he just couldn’t figure out the layout of the place. Seriously, at some points it felt like they were walking through a maze. Just how big is this place?

Eventually the man comes to a stop; he hears a door open and is set onto a cold metal table. He shivers as his exposed skin makes contact with the metal; the gown hardly covered anything, and the room was freezing. Another set of footsteps entered the room soon after.

“Oh hello, what can I do for you today?” A new voice spoke. They sounded friendly.

Shouto tried to speak out for help. He wanted to tell them he was kidnapped and was here against his will, but it all came out a jumbled mess of sounds. It seems even the muscles in his tongue were forced to relax.

“Hey Doc. I need you to do a full examination on the kid. Test him for everything you can. I want to know if he’s harboring any diseases from his time in that filthy line of work.” 

“My, my, Dabi, I thought you said the boy was a simple host, not a streetwalker.” A man said in an overly fake jovial tone. 

Oh. He’s not going to help him. The doctor is like Dabi. He was in on the kidnapping and knew he was coming.

“Well, you never know with those One for All types. The club advertises itself as a decent establishment, but our men have found evidence that many of the lower-class hosts have been partaking in prostitution outside of work. The club knows of the issue and turns a blind eye so long as it doesn’t happen within their walls. I need you to check to see if he was whoring himself out or not.” 

What? What is he talking about? No clients are ever allowed to touch the hosts; it was the most important rule. But now that he thought about it, the less popular hosts did spend a lot more time outside of the club. And there were a lot of hosts that were very hostile toward Shouto when he first arrived and started quickly making his way up the ranks despite a lack of experience and training. Oh. Maybe Dabi is right, but he never did anything like that! He would never!

“So crude,” he muttered under his breath before replying, “As you wish.”

“I’ll be back for him in two hours; make sure to be done by then.”

“Of course! That’s more than enough time!” Shouto could hear the grin in his voice and an underlying hint of darkness.

“And doctor? No experimental treatments or unnecessary prodding on this one.” The door slammed shut. 

“Well, he’s no fun, is he?” The doctor cooed. “Poor thing, looks like he already put you through the ringer, didn’t he?” Shouto flinches as a hand grazes his temple; he doesn’t need a mirror to know his face is bruised along with most of his body.

“Well, we best get started lest he come back in a fiery mood.”

Shouto spent the next two hours being poked and prodded. His blood was drawn, and every inch of him was thoroughly examined. His eyes, ears, and mouth were all checked. Then he was stripped again and checked physically. Each touch was torture; he could never tell when it was coming or what was going to happen with the blindfold covering his eyes. He could tell the sadistic doctor was finding amusement in his fear too. Making himself as silent as possible before prodding him with a needle or pressing down on a sore bruise, then softly chuckling at each flinch and cooing sweet words he truly doesn’t mean. By the end of the appointment, he was left trembling and in tears, waiting anxiously in anticipation for the next violating touch. Relief floods his body when he hears the door slam back open. Dabi was back. 

Shouto heard the man's footsteps coming towards him. He flinched as a large hand gently carded through his hair. He cried out, begging to go, but he was hardly understandable. It seems Dabi got the message, though, seeing as he growled angrily at the other man.

“I thought I said no experiments, Doc.”

“Of course not, young Dabi! The little one is just being a bit sensitive; I'm sure he can attest to that as soon as the relaxer wears off.” 

“He fucking better.” Dabi said gruffly. “So how is he?”

“He is still intact and in perfect physical health aside from the damage you've done. There are no signs of disease on his body, though the results for his internal test will take a few days to process, but I believe they will all return negative. He shows no signs of sexual history or abuse.” 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Send me the results as soon as they're done.” Dabi picked the boy up and began walking towards the door. 

“You should really take care of him better. He’ll get sick at this rate.”  The doctor said in a knowing tone in his voice.

“He’ll be fine,” Dabi responded dismissively. 

The door swung shut. The only sounds in the halls were Dabi’s heavy footfalls and Shouto’s sniffling. He didn’t like the way relief flooded his body when Dabi came back. He was the one who left him there in the first place, but he couldn't help but feel safe in the man's arms. 

Everything around him is unknown; he doesn’t know what is happening or what's going to happen in the future, but at least he knows Dabi. He’s the only familiar thing in this place, and that brings him a tiny bit of comfort, though it probably shouldn’t. There is just something about him that is so nostalgic. He’s starting to think he may have known him from before he was a host. But from where?

He can’t remember.

They arrive back at his cell; his ankle is cuffed, and Dabi pricks him again with a needle. He hears the door close and assumes the man left. After about twenty minutes the relaxer wore off; he stretched his aching limbs and reached up to take off the blindfold. He was startled when he noticed Dabi sitting at the foot of his bed. 

“Do you know my name?”

Shouto hesitated. The last time he failed to answer correctly, he was beaten and had his clothes taken away, but silence would only anger the man more. He lowered his eyes and braced himself before replying, “No.”

Surprisingly he wasn’t punished, at least physically, this time. The man just threw a water bottle onto his lap and left, stating. “That's all you're getting today then.” 

He chugged half the water immediately and decided to save the rest for later. His stomach grumbled, aching for food. He hadn’t eaten since the day before he was kidnapped; the day of, he had skipped breakfast, assuming he would fill up with snacks at Mina’s birthday party.

He was starting to feel lightheaded; every time he stood up, black spots would cloud his vision. The water in his belly emphasized just how empty it was. With nothing to do and no viable plans of escape, he decided to go to sleep. If only to take away the hunger pain. Luckily he was able to keep the gown; it didn’t cover much, but it was better than nothing. At least it gave him another layer to protect him from the bitter cold that haunted the cell.

The lights are off when he awakes. He didn't know how much time had passed; it was impossible to tell without windows. He woke up with a splitting headache and a hot, feverish body. Everything hurt, his nose was runny, his throat was sore, and he could hear an uncomfortable rattling in his lungs when he breathed. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he sobbed alone in the darkness.

He doesn’t know how long he spends like that, but eventually the light flickers on, and Dabi comes back. He looks down at him in concern? That's weird; maybe his fever is making him see things. The man placed the back of his hand on his forehead. 

“Shit.” He cursed quickly, uncuffing the boy's foot and sitting him up. “Come on, Shou, we’re going back to the doctor, okay?”

“No!” The boy shouted. The only word he heard in his feverish state was doctor, and he refused to go back there.

“The Doc’s not that bad. He’ll help you feel better. Come on.” Dabi picked the crying boy up bridal style.

Shouto struggled against the man as if he was being sent off to his death. Kicking and bucking in his hold, all while tears blurred his vision and sobs left his throat. “Please no!” 

“Shouto! Calm down-” The boy was making his fever worse, getting so worked up. He needed to calm down.

The loud yelling. Turquoise blue eyes. It was all so similar. His fever-riddled mind couldn’t tell the difference.

“Father, no! Please don’t make me go!” 

“What did you say?” 

“Father?” He cracked his bleary eyes open, and oh. He had forgotten where he was. He’s not home with Father or back at the host club. He’s with Dabi, and boy, does he look terrifying.

“No. You’re wrong. You're still fucking wrong.” 

“Look at me, Shouto.” Dabi grabbed the boy's jaw forcefully, moving his gaze upwards, gripping the boy’s face so hard his knuckles turned white. He ignored the boy's crying, shouting. “Fucking look at me! Think, Shouto, who do I remind you of? Who do I look like? Who am I?”

Shouto paused his struggles, opening his eyes and looking directly at the man. Once he looked past the piercings, tattoos, and burns. He saw his mother's delicate face shape and slender figure. He saw his father’s vibrant turquoise eyes and the volatile anger that came with them. He saw Natsuo’s long white lashes and Fuyumi’s eye shape and smile. He saw his family.

He saw.

“Touya-nii?” 

“Finally! I know it’s been a while, but I had hoped you wouldn’t have forgotten your dear older brother so easily.” A teasing smile crossed the man’s face, so similar to Natsuo it hurt.

For a moment he just stared in shock. It couldn’t be. There's no way his deceased older brother was alive. All this time he spent blaming himself for his death just for him to be here in the flesh. Just for him to kidnap him and treat him the same as their father.

Why? Just…why? How could he do this?

Then what the man said caught up to his mind. He scrambled to explain himself through stuttered sobs.

“I didn’t! I w-wouldn’t! I-I saw you burn, the house i-it collapsed…Father left you behind…Y-you died. It was m-my fault…father didn’t s-save you because of m-me. B-but how? H-how are you alive?” 

Touya wiped away the tears from the boy's eyes. Looking down in satisfaction at the mess he had created. “Shh-shh, it's okay, baby. None of that matters right now. All that matters is getting you healthy again. We can talk about all that other stuff later.” 

“No doctor?” The boy whimpered. Looking up at his brother? with pleading eyes. He was so tired, everything hurt, and he just wanted to go to sleep. His body felt like it was on fire, and his head felt like it was stuffed with fluff. Everything was hazy and blurry; he felt like he was on the verge of fainting.

“No Shouto, no doctor.” He leaned his head down, placing a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Shit, I need to get you in the bath quick; you're burning up.” 

His brother carried him through the halls, not bothering with the blindfold. From what he can tell from the long hallways and tall ceilings, they were in a wealthy estate similar to the one they grew up in. The crown molding, expensive wallpaper, and art hanging from the walls were dead giveaways to the wealth and power that resided in these halls. Whatever his brother’s been up to these past years, he’s clearly been successful at it.

They stopped at a large wooden door. They entered a large, luxurious bedroom. His brother left him resting on the king-sized bed in the center of the room while he entered another room. He heard the sound of running water as he laid there, teary eyes squeezed shut in pain. 

After a couple of minutes, Touya came back. He stripped him of the medical gown he was wearing and carried him off to the bathroom. The boy gasped, eyes snapping open as his legs were dipped into the freezing cold bath. He whined, tightening his grasp around Touya’s neck, not wanting to let go and be fully submerged in the icy water.

“Let go, Shou. It’s for your own good.” The boy refused, squeezing his eyes shut and holding on tighter. “Come on now. You don't want to be punished this early, do you?”

The thought of being hit in his current state was enough to have him quickly releasing his hold. He didn’t want to risk the man getting angry and beating him again, especially not when he felt so weak. He shivered as he slipped the rest of the way down into the bath. The tub was huge; the water was chest level.

His body shook as his brother cupped his hands in the water and brought it up to his head, wetting his hair and face. He let him soak in the frigid water until it was lukewarm, then checked his temperature and drained the bath, refilling it with new cold water. He repeated the process five times until the boy's high fever began to lower. Once his temperature was back to being at a safe level, the man began to clean the sweat and grime that had accumulated on the boy’s body.

Shouto braced himself when he saw his brother grab a pink bottle and squeeze some shampoo into his hand. He shut his eyes hard, expecting the rough hair pulling and harsh scrubbing to start, but it never did. His brother gently ran his fingers through his hair, massaging the shampoo in, and gently raking his fingers against his scalp. His head was tilted back as Touya poured water through his hair, rinsing it free of soap suds.

The gentle scent of strawberry wafted through the room. His brother’s eyes were soft as he took care of him, nothing like he was before. It was hard to believe that this Touya and Dabi were the same person.

Touya lifted him to stand on his knees and then began to wash his skin. He moved the loofah in slow circles, softly washing away the sticky sweat that had left an uncomfortable itch beneath his clothes all night. Then rinsed away the soap before draining the bath and taking him out. 

His brother dried him off with a fluffy white towel, tenderly dabbing away all the water from his skin and hair. He wrapped him up in a new dry towel and picked him up, bringing him back to the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed and disappears into another room, presumably a closet. 

Shouto’s head feels a bit better; it still hurts, but at least he doesn’t feel as unbearably hot anymore, though now he’s freezing. He curls up using the towel as a blanket while he waits for his brother to come back. The thought of escape briefly crosses his mind. He was unchained and unsupervised; he could try if he wanted to…but he doesn’t know anymore. Everything was so confusing, and he still felt so sick. He doubts he’d even get very far, and it would only anger his brother, who for once seemed to be in a good mood. He debated with himself for a while before deciding to save those thoughts for another day. He'll definitely escape…eventually…just not today.

Touya came back with a stack of clothing in his hands. He lifted the towel off of him and pulled his legs straight, moving the boy to lay on his back. He moved each of the boy's feet into the leg hole of the boxer briefs, lifting them up his legs and lightly slapping the boy's thigh and telling him, “Up,” when he reached his upper thighs. Shouto whined; he could dress himself, but his brother wouldn’t listen.

The man had just scoffed, “I know that, but why would you when I’m here? Now lift your hips. I won’t ask again.” a bit of irritation leaking into his voice. The boy was quick to obey in fear of being punished. He lifted his hips and his legs, sat up, and raised his arms, doing whatever the man ordered of him. When Touya was finished, Shouto was left in a warm set of pajamas. A baby blue hoodie with matching sweatpants and white fluffy socks. 

Touya moved him to lay beneath the covers, resting his head on the soft, silky pillows. He rummaged through the nightstand beside him, pulling two bottles. He opened the first one and offered him a pill. Well, more like ordered, he put it up to his lips and grunted, "Open,” like it wasn't even an option to say no. 

“Don’t swallow it yet.” 

Shouto held the pill on his tongue; he had assumed the man was going to give him water to wash it down, but he just opened the second bottle. He poured red viscous liquid into the clear cap and held it up to his mouth, waiting for him to open it. The boy could smell the unappetizing bitter scent of cherry cough medicine, though he ignored it dutifully, opening his mouth and allowing the man to pour it in.

“Swallow”

Shouto obeyed the order, choking down the thick mix of medicine. Grimacing at the awful artificial cherry and medicinal taste stuck on his tongue. While his brother chuckled, ruffling his hair and calling him a ‘good boy’ as if it were a compliment.

“Good little boys who listen to their big brothers deserve rewards, don’t they, Shouto?” Touya purred, teasingly waving a water bottle he seemingly pulled out of nowhere in the boys’ face.

“Yes, please.” Shouto doesn’t care anymore; he just wants the gross taste out and to go to sleep.

He allows his brother to tilt his chin up and feed him sips of water all while cooing and saying, “See, baby, life could be good here. All you have to do is behave. Just like this.” 

The boy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply gulped down another mouthful of water and ignored it, drinking until the bottle was empty. After he was done, his brother tucked him under the covers and finally allowed him to go to rest. 

He wakes up some time later to his brother lying next to him absentmindedly petting his hair while scrolling on his phone. 

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“Better,” He groaned, yawning and stretching out his limbs. His stomach lets out a loud grumble. He is starving. He hadn’t eaten in days; his stomach felt like it was eating him alive.

There's this mocking smile on his Touya's face when he asks. “Hungry?” As if he didn’t know the answer to his own question. As if he weren't the reason Shouto was starving.

Shouto takes a breath, quelling his rising anger, and looks up at his brother with doe eyes and answers pitifully, “Yes. Can I please have something to eat?” 

“Of course all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah right, when could he have asked when all the man did was rough him up since he got here. He only started acting nice today, and Shouto can’t even figure out why. It was bizarre.

A couple of minutes later, there's a knock at the door. His brother goes to answer and comes back with a tray of food. Shouto sits up expecting his brother to put the tray on his lap, but of course he doesn’t do that. Instead he takes a seat beside the boy and begins to blow on a spoonful of soup. He brings it up to Shouto's mouth with an expectant look on his face.

Shouto doesn’t hesitate, opening his mouth and accepting the food. It was just plain chicken rice porridge, but it tasted so delicious to the starving boy. He swallowed it quickly and opened his mouth for more.

Touya snickered as he watched the boy. His little brother looked so pathetic, like a baby bird waiting to be fed by its mother. It was adorable.

Shouto’s face flushed in embarrassment, the irritation from earlier rising once more. He forced himself to calm down. He can’t risk setting the man off and having his food taken away.

He allows him to continue feeding him, giving him occasional sips of tea, until all the soup is gone. The only thing left on the tray is a small cup of diced fruit jelly. Shouto grabs it without thinking, taking the small plastic spoon off the top and going to peel it open when his brother growls.

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no, I’m sorry.” 

“Put it back and give me your hand.”

Shouto followed the command, putting the jelly back onto the tray and putting his trembling hand into his brother’s. Touya struck his hand five times in quick succession, slapping the skin hard until it was pink.

“Bad boys who don’t listen don’t deserve dessert,” he said sternly. 

Shouto doesn’t know why something so simple, a childish punishment really, was his last straw, but it was. All his emotions just came crashing down at once. Everything he had to endure because of him floated to the forefront of his mind. The man invading his workplace. The stalking. The harassment. Dabi revealing himself as Touya. His deceased brother coming back to life and kidnapping him. The beatings. The doctor. Everything just accumulated and came out in the form of heart-wrenching sobs. Sounds he didn’t even know he could make were slipping from his mouth, expressing his despair to anyone that could hear them.

“Oh baby, are you seriously that upset over a little thing like this? You really ar-”

He couldn’t handle the patronizing cooing anymore. He threw aside his better judgment and screamed.

“S-shut up! Just shut up! What is wrong with you! Why can't you just leave me alone! Why are you even doing this!? What did I ever do to you-” A hard strike to his cheek sends him falling back onto the mattress. He tries to throw a punch of his own, but the man caught his arms, pinning them to the bed. 

“Don’t sit there and act so fucking innocent! You took everything from me! I should have been the Todoroki heir! I should have been his father’s favorite! Instead, it was you, and all you did was throw it away like it was nothing. An ungrateful little brat like you should have never even been born! Your whole existence is proof that I was never enough for Father!” 

“I never asked to be born! I didn't want to be his heir! I didn't want any of this!” Tears flowed freely from the boy’s eyes, his head was pulsing in pain, and all he could think was why? Why is he always blamed for actions he had no part in? It seems in every universe Shouto is the catalyst to his family's suffering.

“Oh please, because the life of a prissy little masterpiece is just sooo hard. You threw it all away to be a cheap whore at some host club! I wonder how Father would feel knowing just how pathetic his golden child really is.” The mocking tone and smug look on his face were enough to send the boy's blood boiling.

“If you hate me so much, why bother bringing me here? Why spend all this effort toying with me if you despise my existence so much! Why not just take advantage of my disappearance and go back to Father? Tell him you're alive and take my spot! Why are you bothering with me at all!” 

A long pause. His brother stared down at him silently with an unreadable look. 

“Answer me! Why am I here, Dabi!” 

“It’s too late for any of that. I'm going to right our father’s wrongs and make you what you should've been all this time.” His brother's eyes darkened; for a moment, Shouto really thought he would finish what he started all those years ago.

“Are you going to kill me? 

“No…no..you’ll see.” 

The answer did nothing to calm the boy.

===

Dabi may not have been the heir to the Todoroki conglomerate, but the second in command to a massive criminal organization with ties in the police force, politics, and million-dollar corporations is not so bad. Though his journey up the chain had been a difficult one. 

After his failed murder attempt in which he barely fled with his life. He was found unconscious on the forest floor miles from his home by a pair of hikers. He was rushed to the hospital, where he stayed in a coma for a year. The burns left him unable to be identified, with no ID or missing persons report; he was treated as a Jane Doe. The doctors had removed all the burnt flesh, replacing it with skin grafts that, despite healing correctly and closing up any open wounds, left behind a marred, scaly texture to his skin.

After he woke up, he was subjected to a year of both physical and speech therapy to heal the damage not only externally but also internally. Over a year in a hospital bed had left his body and stamina extremely weak. Thankfully the nurses watching over him in his comatose state were very attentive, and none of his muscles had atrophied. But his lungs had been damaged from the smoke inhalation along with his vocal cords. 

He had to relearn how to talk with his new voice and walk more than a couple of steps without being winded. It was a long process during which he faked amnesia. When he had first awoken, he had been unable to speak, therefore unable to answer any of the doctors pressing questions. Once he moved forward in his physical therapy and was able to speak again, he decided against telling them his true identity. If his father hadn’t found him yet, then surely it was for good reason he had assumed.

Once he had regained most of his strength and mobility, he ran away. He had overheard the head nurse in charge of him mention foster care and their plans for his future and wanted no part in it. He had snuck out in nothing but the hospital gown he was given. 

He had tried to go back to the only home he's ever known but found only ruins in its place. He walked and walked until he found a public library. He went in ignoring the wary and horrified looks. He had honestly been confused; ever since he left the hospital, people on the street would avoid him like the plague, their eyes almost bulging out of their skulls as they stared at him. He knows the thin gown he was wearing was a bit bizarre outside of a medical setting, but it can’t be that bad, right? 

He took a seat in the computer section and began his search for his father, only to be left gutted at what he found. In a recent interview, his father had mentioned how he had three children, two boys and a girl. The interviewer joked, “Are you and the missus ever going to make things equal with a fourth?” His father had replied, “No, I am content with my children as they are.”

His existence had been erased. 

All the grace he had given his father crumbled away as he faced reality.

During his recovery he had deluded himself into thinking that his father had not saved him because he trusted he could get out of the burning house on his own. That he knew in his heart, he was better than Shouto and didn’t need someone to rescue him. But no, he left him for dead on purpose. He was comfortable with him burning. He was content with his death.

The hospital he had been staying at was only thirty minutes from their home and the closest one in the area. If anyone had bothered to look, they would have found him immediately, but no one ever did.

He ran to the restroom feeling nauseous. He slammed the door open to an empty stall and proceeded to empty his stomach. There wasn’t much to begin with, only some soup and water he had been given in the homeless shelter he briefly stayed in. His hands gripped the sides of the toilet as bile burned his throat on its way out. He slumped over when he was finished and began to cry. Sobbing quietly with his fist in his mouth to muffle the sound.

When he got up, what felt like hours later, he felt empty, like there was no place for him in this world. He robotically made his way to the sink, washing his hands and rinsing his mouth. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror, and his heart stopped. He looked like a monster. Red swaths of textured burns covered his body. The bottom of his face and neck were marred. The stress from his home life had been giving him white hairs even before the fire, but now his whole head was white, not a strand of red left. All of this combined with his voice, it was no wonder everyone was staring at him. The hospital never allowed him to look in the mirror; they believed it would send him into a state of shock. 

They were right. 

When he looked at his reflection, all he saw was a stranger. He thought to himself, ‘That couldn't possibly be me. That can’t be Touya Todoroki, the firstborn son and rightful heir to Endeavor Industries… No..Touya died in the fire.’

He was now something entirely new.

He was homeless for a long time, spending his days doing whatever was necessary to earn money. He didn’t like to think about all the time he spent in dark alleys on his knees or pressed up against walls. When he was sixteen, he was kidnapped by one of his regulars, a drug dealer who took alternative forms of payment for the pills Touya couldn't afford that he needed to soothe the ache in his skin from the fresh scars. He didn’t notice the signs of obsession forming in his dealer’s eyes before it was too late. He was imprisoned and used as the sick man’s *** toy for months. It wasn't until members of a gang the man owed money to showed up and freed him. They had murdered the man and each of his grunts in cold blood. The only reason he had survived was because one of the killers realized he wasn’t there by choice. He took mercy on him and offered him an ultimatum. 

Leave with them or die here alone. 

He joined the gang All for One and began work as a grunt in one of Japan's largest crime syndicates. Since he was so young and inexperienced, he spent a lot of time training his body, learning to use weapons, and doing anything to be useful. He didn’t want to disappear like the others who tried to run. For the first two years, he was essentially an illegal errand boy, lookout, getaway driver, or really anything they asked of him. He spent any free time he had honing his skills and getting stronger. 

Once he showed them how capable he was, he was moved up. He started to be put on larger missions, and the better he did, the bigger a name he made for himself. Eventually he found himself stationed as Tomura Shigaraki’s bodyguard. It was during this time that the other man took notice of his abilities. He took notice of the success rate of missions he went on, the clever strategies he would employ, and the ease with which he used weapons. 

He was quite skilled with a gun; he had a deadly accurate aim and sharp intuition on when to use it. Of course he was still quite partial to arson, though flamethrowers were too bulky for most jobs, but bombs and other explosives weren’t. That’s not to say he wasn’t good at the subtler modes of fighting; he excelled at hand-to-hand as well as knife and stealth training. If not for his distinct scarred skin, he would've been an excellent spy.

Before he knew it, the successor of the All for One mafia began to include him in confidential strategy meetings along with asking directly for his input on new recruits and his opinions on his plans. He even met all of his most trusted confidants. He was doing all the work of a higher-up, but he was still being kept at a distance for some reason. It wasn't until he went on a mission with them all that he found out why. It had been a test, though he hadn’t known at the time.

They were ‘meeting’ with a rival gang who wanted to join forces. Dabi was going to act as a bodyguard for Shigaraki. The first half of the meeting had gone well, then a fight had broken out. A sniper hidden somewhere in the room had taken out the entirety of their associates in the blink of an eye. Touya moved to stand in front of Tomura, reaching for his gun, but it was one against ten. Ten guns pointed at him as the opposing leader barked at him to keep his hands where he could see them.

“If you leave him behind, we’ll let you walk out of here alive.” The man offered, gesturing to Shigaraki.

Dabi had done the only thing he could. He pushed Shigaraki to the ground, screaming at him to run as he fired as many rounds as he could before he was knocked down by the rain of bullets hitting his body. He had laid there in pain waiting to die, but after a minute he realized he wasn’t bleeding. He sat up confused, groaning in pain, and saw the rest of the League sitting there with Shigaraki, no sign of the 'rival gang' anywhere, as if nothing had happened. 

Turns out they had been firing rubber bullets. It had been a test to see where his loyalties lay. Since he was a part of the gang by force, taken as compensation for his dealer's mistakes. They wanted to see if he’d take the opportunity to run or protect the boss if given the chance. He had passed.

After that he was the boss's second in command. He took on the identity Dabi and tattooed over the scars of his past. He left his old life in the past, never looking back. At least he thought he did; it wasn’t until rumors of Shouto’s disappearance began to circulate the underworld. At first he had thought ‘good riddance’ and left it at that, thinking nothing more of it.

It wasn’t long until he found out the brat ran away on purpose. The ungrateful little shit took Dabi’s birthright and spat it out right in his face. He was going to find him and make him regret ever being born.

He used every contact he had and set off his search for Shouto. He was unsuccessful. For an entire year, the boy managed to evade him. It wasn’t until he was on a mission to infiltrate a club rumored to be owned by their rival gang One for All that he found him. 

It had been a complete accident; he was flipping through the options on the host menu while booking his ‘date’. He was going to pick one randomly just to get it over with when his brother’s picture caught his eye. He stared at it in disbelief. Shouto’s hair was dyed black and his grey eye was covered, but he couldn’t fool him; that was his brother through and through.

Rage like he’d never felt before filled his veins, infecting every part of his being. 

How dare he? 

How fucking dare he!

He had the life Touya dreamed of, and he threw it away willingly to sell himself off like a whore. Something Touya was forced to do to survive.

Fine!

If Shouto wants to know what life is like outside their father’s protection so badly. He’ll show him exactly what happens when you leave the nest.

He’ll discard him and make him feel worthless as he did when Enji left him to die in that burning building. 

Then he’ll remake him into something new just as he had become.

He’ll make him into something useless. Something that holds no purpose other than to please. 

The dumb, adoring little brother he should have been. 

The kind of brother who would've looked up to him with stars in his eyes instead of looking down upon him. 

It was something he realized during the fire. He liked seeing his little brother weak and reaching out for him. He liked seeing him broken and screaming out for help.

It felt right.

He would make it that way again.

Even if he had to break Shouto over and over again to make it happen.

===

Figuring out how to survive living with his brother was a nightmare. 

The first thing he learned was that Touya is very mentally unstable. The smallest things can set him off and end in punishment for Shouto. It was terrifying and left him trembling each time it happened. The man could change at the drop of a hat. Suddenly he’ll be aggressive, verbally tearing him apart or lashing out physically, and he’ll have no idea why, or he’ll be so sweet it’ll give him whiplash.

He was given a new room next to his brother's connected by a door. It was a medium-sized bedroom lacking any windows but filled to the brim with soft pastel colors and cute childish items. The walls were a pale eggshell blue plastered with decals of soft clouds and pale yellow stars. He had shelves lined with children's storybooks and soft plush animals and toys littering almost every surface. His bed, if you can even call it that, was a mix of a baby's crib and a dog's kennel. There were wooden bars surrounding the entire bed, and it opened and locked on the top. Though as restricting as it was, it was very comfortable; the mattress and pillows were plush, and the blankets were so very soft.

He was given an extensive new wardrobe that rivaled the one he had back at the club. Inside were all sorts of clothes, both female and male, some that looked more like costumes than outfits. His brother liked to use him as his own personal dress-up doll and loved to humiliate him. If he dressed him in his kitty onesie, he was expected to 'play pretend' and act like his personal pet cat. If he tried to refuse his 'games,' he would be punished. 

His brother expected absolute obedience; anything else was unacceptable. It was something he was forced to learn very early on.

“You will never be your own person.”

“You're my piece to use. Mine to own. Mine to have.”

“If I say walk. You walk. If I say jump. You jump. You listen to me no matter what!”

“No one will ever love you if you can’t even follow such simple directions, Shouto.”

Eventually, Shouto noticed the pattern and learned. Touya only likes him when he’s acting weak and dumb. When he feels like he’s in his proper place, beneath him. He believes as the last-born son he should have been the one deemed useless and pushed aside by Enji.

The thing about his brother is that he hates Shouto for who he truly is. He hates that he is naturally smart, that he can pick up new skills as quickly as he starts them, and hates that he was their father’s favorite. He says he loves him, and maybe he does in his own weird way, but it's only when he's acting “correctly” that he gets to feel that love. 

There’s always this unhinged glint in his eyes wherever he slips up. He’ll be all too happy to throw him in isolation, stripping away all his nice things and spanking him until he conforms. Sometimes it feels as if he’s baiting him to misbehave just so he can punish him.

He had been dozing off during his ‘school time’–A time where Touya pretends to be his teacher and punishes him for every right answer.—He hadn’t slept much the night before and was struggling to stay in character. Touya had asked him a question, and he answered instantly without thinking.

“What is 8 x 12?”

“96.”

Dabi slapped him across the face. Just because an answer is correct doesn’t mean it’s right with his brother. He’s learned that the hard way.

“What’s 8 x 12?”

“I-i don't know n-nii-chan!” He cried out despite knowing the right answer. 

“That's right, baby, you don’t know. That kind of work is too hard for a little boy like you to understand.”

The worst day of his life takes place a few months into his forced stay.

The day he learned he could never escape. 

Shouto’s natural instinct had always been to fawn. He's never been much of a fighter. It's always been easier for him to become what his abuser wants until he can safely get away. So when his door was accidentally left unlocked by a servant at feeding time, he took the chance to escape. His brother had been busy working and hadn’t visited him all day. He thought it would be safe to leave.

He made his way down the long, winding hall searching for a staircase to make his way to the ground floor. He looked out one of the windows for the first time and was horrified at what he saw. Miles and miles of uninterrupted treeline; there was no sight of civilization aside from a long dirt road. He put it out of his mind and kept going. He was going to try to escape no matter what!

Eventually he ran into a flustered young man turning a hall; he was dressed in black tactical gear and had a gun holstered to his belt. The man’s eyes had widened almost comically at the sight of him. 

Shouto didn’t hesitate; he ran in the opposite direction as fast as he could, ignoring the guards' terrified pleas.

“W-wait please, you don’t understand! He’ll kill me if he finds out!”

Shouto ran faster, finding a staircase and jumping down three steps at a time. 

He didn’t listen. He should have listened. It was all his fault.

He made it to the next floor and made his way through identical-looking halls as multiple sets of footsteps pounded behind him. He only turned to look behind him for one second when he felt his body slam into someone.

“Shouto?”

The blood drained from the boy’s face as he looked up to see his brother staring down at him incredulously before anger flooded his face. "What the fuck are you doing down here?"

“Where is his assigned guard?” Dabi barked at the group of guards standing a foot away from them, staring anxiously.

A young man shakily stepped forward. 

“Look at him, Shouto. Look at what happens when you disobey me.” His brother grabbed his jaw forcefully, moving his head to stare forward.

It happened in slow motion. Shouto watched in horror as Dabi drew his gun and fired five shots. Four in the man's chest and abdomen and one in his neck. The guard fell to the floor, lying in a puddle of his own blood; his throat made an odd gurgling sound like his lungs were expelling the last of his breath, then silence.

He was dead.

Someone died because of him.

There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He thinks Dabi was saying something else, but he couldn’t hear him over the ringing and the burning in his lungs as he hyperventilated. He vaguely remembered being thrown back in his cell, but it was honestly all a blur. 

The subsequent punishment for escape paled in comparison to the realization that Touya has killed before. He did it with the practiced ease of an experienced killer. 

Just what did he do for work? What really happened to him in those years he disappeared?

It was all he could think about in his confinement.

He could hardly sleep. All he could see was the man's dead body lying there whenever he closed his eyes. It was terrifying. The uncertainty was killing him. Touya already tried to kill Shouto once; who's to say he won’t try again? If he steps one toe out of line, will he be next?

His head felt like it was filled with static. Something was changing, and he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

1 year later 

In an attempt to protect itself, the boy’s mind began to change his perception of reality. As his living conditions worsened, Shouto’s mind began to degrade. He unconsciously began to separate his brother into two separate entities as a coping mechanism to help deal with the stress and trauma in his life. 

There was the mean stranger from the club, Dabi, who comes to punish him and his big brother Touya, who loves him and saves him from Dabi. So long as he behaves, he doesn’t have to see Dabi anymore.

An unexpected result from the conditioning, but Touya can’t say he doesn’t like it. It was euphoric to see his little brother come crying to him, telling him “Dabi” was being mean and he needed Touya-nii to make it better. To have him cuddling up to him without care or begging for his affection like it was something sacred. It was like staring into a mirror of his past, though unlike Enji, he gave his baby brother all of his attention. 

It felt like a part of himself that had been aching since childhood could finally rest.

As he stared down at his little brother, playing with a puzzle meant for young children, he finally acknowledged it.

“I love you, Shouto.” 

His baby brother looked up, giving him a smile so pure and undeserving of someone like him, and replied, “I love you too, Touya-nii!” 

It felt right.

Alright Prompt 3 is out now!!!

More context on the AUs

ABO AU: Katsuki is a neglected omega pup hiding his classification due to his parents telling him omegas cannot be heroes. After the incident where he is chained to the podium at the Sports Festival. He is stalked and then kidnapped by the league. In their care he succumbs to their manipulation easily due to the neglect he received at home. He will view Shigaraki/Dabi as his parents and the rest of the league as his pack.

Overhaul AU: Overhual stalks and kidnaps a middle school Izuku due to his quirkless status. He is convinced he is one of the only clean/pure beings left as a result he forms a obsessive attachment to the boy. He convinces Izuku that he is worthless to everyone except him. (Don't have that much for this one yet but that's the general jist.)

Twisted Endeavor AU: Enji is trying to be a good father by locking Shouto away and keeping him away from hero work for his own safety after he is injured during his work study. He convinces everyone that Shouto is mentally unwell or more injured than he really is and that that is why he is gone. He forcibly cares for Shouto treating him like a child, doing the things he never did the first time around. Will include things like: Endeavor drugging(Safely) Shouto to make him weaker, quirk suppressants, Shouto entering a childlike state of mind to cope with his new reality.

ALSO PLEASE IF YOU HAVE ANY RESQUESTS OR IDEAS PLEASE SEND THEM IN! I LOVE TO HEAR NEW IDEAS FROM OTHER PEOPLE! I AM VERY SMOOTH BRAINED PLZ HELP!

Me to myself after finally finishing and releasing a fic after a two month long hiatus: Hey queen! Girl you have done it again constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly. I'd like to say I'm surprised but i know who you are I've seen it up close and personal. Girl you make me so proud and i love you.

60684 is the total wordcount on your ao3 lol

Damn I seriously need to learn how to shut up. Seriously I can't ever keep my stories brief. I'm just a certified yapper 😔

Afterlife

Guys, guys, guys! I have to share this stunning piece of art with you!

Once again, it was created by the incredibly talented @explosion-island, inspired by a small idea of mine. This artwork is part of my way of coping with Touya’s confirmed fate (though he will forever live in my heart and soul). I couldn’t help but wonder how things would be if he reunited with Shiggy and Toga.

Please consider following and supporting this amazing artist — her talent and kindness truly know no limits!

what fic are you currently working on or going to release next?

Oh I'm currently working on a Shouto fic that I talked about in a poll a while ago. It involves yandere Endeavor gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing the fuck out of Shouto pretty much.

I love it when I get a [You've got kudos!] email and it's just one specific user/guest that went to town reading all my fics and liking them all. It's so cute knowing I made someone really happy with my writing.<3

People have loved this little army 😌 no idea how I'm going to keep up with demand when manufacturing them-

Cause on one hand their really cute and I was already going to include fangs anyway plus they'd be good for adding body language to writing but on the other hand its kinda cringe idk I don't want it to give hellish 2014 neko fanfic you know? Anyways plz help!

cuties