while digging through my writing folders i found a fic i did a long time ago for a pal featuring deadbeat dabi becoming a good dad. if you want some sickeningly sweet parenting, family bonding, and happy!todorokis, then please feel free to read this. written in early 2019, so it’s not updated to reflect any potential changes in the BNHA manga. with that said, here u go
[2019 Fic] | Bright Flame | Single Dad!Dabi & Daughter Reader
When his fling that had disappeared nine months ago showed up on his doorstep holding a baby with bright red hair and eyes that mirrored his own, Dabi felt sick. His first thought was to slam the door (and maybe scare his ex away with some flames, if she hadn’t been holding a baby) and abandon his house. She’d never find him if he left – he’d been running all his life.
But then the god damn baby had to look at him and make the smallest, cutest noise he had ever heard. Dabi didn’t do cute. Dabi didn’t do babies or children, or anyone at all, really. He didn’t make commitments and he had never, ever, planned anything in his life that wasn’t indefinite. He was young, still. He thought he’d be dead by 30, or maybe earlier. If he was honest with himself, he just didn’t care at all.
Again, the baby coos at him, this time squeezing her tiny fists together. She wasn’t scared of his appearance, which surprised him. Most kids cowered in fear when he shot a glance in their direction. This baby, though, was keenly interested. His baby?
Only seconds had passed but it felt like years to him. Why the hell did she even bother coming here with this… this thing that might not be his. (Fuck, he was in denial. The stupid baby looked just like him, down to the lax facial expression all he and his siblings wore.) Finally, his fling spoke up.
“I need your help.” She was blunt, as always. Maybe a little too blunt, because Dabi had been unable to stay away from her, unlike his other flings. One day she just disappeared and never bothered to contact him again, but he didn’t care. He never did. She’d see right through him if he tried to play this off as anything but what it really was, but he couldn’t admit to it.
“With what?” Lax, uninterested. The same persona he always wore as armor.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Have you seen our daughter’s eyes?”
Our daughter. He laughs, the anxiety rising in his chest telling him to run.
“I’m not the only one you were fucking.” He says, and her face turns dark.
“You were. You can’t hide from this, Dabi.” She pulls out his last name with a hiss. Bold enough that again, Dabi wouldn’t mind torching her had she not been holding a baby. Even he still had some morals. And who the fuck was she to be scolding him? She was the one that disappeared without a word. (The sinking feeling in his stomach told him exactly why, but he wouldn’t admit it.)
“Whatever.” He goes to shut the door, but she shoves her foot in the frame to stop him. The baby is closer than ever to him – she was dressed in a onesie that resembled a black cat, a stark contrast to her features. Looking this closely, he couldn’t deny the resemblance. The baby smiles at him.
“Listen. You don’t have to raise her, but you sure as hell better provide for her.” It’s not a question, and Dabi very well knows that his fling could just as easily kill him with her quirk. Before, it had been part of foreplay for them, the thrill of the pain. Now, it was just pissing him off.
“Why?”
She gives him another dark look. The baby, though, is still smiling at him while she waves her fists in the air.
“She’s your kid, asshole.”
Dabi’s sympathy for other people is non-existent. Sure, maybe he’d prevent himself from killing kids, but he didn’t really care about them. But he knew as well as anyone what having a bad childhood meant – what having an abusive and absent father meant. He’d always been the strong one for his siblings, acting out so he’d receive punishment instead of them. He wore it like a badge of honor, crumbling from his chest when he finally ran away. (He always pushed the guilt away.)
He can’t deny the pull in his chest. He’s not sure what it is – familial connection? Fear? It’s a yearning feeling he can’t place, but it’s slowly chipping away at his resolve. The baby won’t stop smiling at him and he can’t look away, look into those same eyes that his father once saw and had no trouble hurting. He wasn’t made for something like this. But maybe, just maybe, keeping her away from him would be the best option. He’d give his fling money, make sure the kid was fed and clothed.
He wouldn’t become his father, at the very least.
He sighs, and finally meets the gaze of his ex. “Fine. But I’m not raising her.”
---
Dabi is annoyed, then, when his ex shows up again a few months later, holding… the baby. The word daughter still felt wrong on his tongue. She has a look on her face that tells him this is absolutely not where she wants to be, and he feels the familiar pit of anxiety he gets around the kid forming.
“You need to watch her. My babysitter flaked on me.” She thrusts forward the large bag she has in her hand to him, and he gives it a look like it’s going to kill him. The baby giggles.
“What?” He tries to hide the panic in his voice. She can’t be fucking serious. He doesn’t know what to do, and he sure as hell doesn’t like or know how to take care of kids, even if this one is annoyingly cute. His ex gives him a withering stare, his daughter now flapping her arms excitedly in his direction. He hadn’t held her yet, he hadn’t been too keen on it and his ex didn’t push it, but he would have to now. Fuck.
“Fine.” He scoffs, lifting his arms towards his daughter. His ex gives the baby a kiss and a goodbye before she gingerly passes her over. He holds her for the first time with a stunned expression, her blue eyes looking back into his with curiosity.
“So,” his ex starts, snapping him out of it. “There’s a list in the bag of her routine and everything you’ll need. My number is in there too.”
She looks at the baby longingly before meeting his eyes. “She’s an easy baby. Please, just give it a chance. And thanks.”
He feels a mild pain on his cheek and glances down to realize the baby is tugging at one of his staples, eyes wide with fascination. Great. His ex stifles a laugh, but he can see the smirk under her hand.
“I’ll be back around 10 P.M.” She leans forward and tousles their daughter’s hair. “Be good for your daddy, sweetheart.”
Dabi’s stomach constricts at the word daddy. He may have used that word other times, but he never thought it’d be in this particular situation. He grunts a goodbye to his ex and turns back to enter his apartment, diaper bag and daughter in tow. He drops the bag unceremoniously on the floor the second the door shuts and heads to the living room, plopping down on the couch with his daughter. Before he held her with one arm, but he experimented by cradling her with both. It felt… nice.
“So.” He says, immediately feeling stupid. How the hell were you supposed to talk to kids? Especially one that was yours? His daughter blinks in response and places her tiny hand on the scarred part of his cheek. Cute. “Daddy’s not scary to you, huh?”
The emotion he feels when his daughter smiles at his voice, his child, is hard for him to accept. He wants to push it away as a fluke – a temporary emotion just this once. But the longer she stares at him, the more she gently pats his face and doesn’t recoil, makes him feel a tug in his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t be involved, maybe he should try to stay away after this. No matter what, though, he was going to protect her.
A tug on two staples this time makes him wince, but he tries not to flinch. His daughter just giggles at him again. He sticks out a tongue at her and she giggles even harder, little eyes crinkling up in joy.
“Think I look funny?” He scrunches his face up and she laughs even harder. He tries not to feel disgusted when he sees the drool running down her chin from laughing. Well. He was funny, so he was proud he could make her laugh. It dawns on him that he has no idea what else to do. He couldn’t make funny faces for hours.
He supposes he should actually look in the diaper bag. He’s torn for a moment – does he put her on the couch? What if she rolls off? If he hands her back with a bump on her head, his ex might kill him on the spot. Was it okay to put babies on the floor? It’ll only be for a second… Nervously, he places her on the floor and waits for a reaction. She just opens her eyes wide and looks around from her new perspective.
Okay. Daddy Dabi, 1 – or so he thinks, until his daughter starts sniffling loudly the moment he’s out of sight. He scrambles to grab the bag and rushes back to the living room, letting out a breath when she stops crying when her eyes wander to him.
(He vaguely remembers Shoto acting similarly as an infant. He wasn’t around for long after he was born, but Shoto liked to have someone near him. He only cried when he was left alone. Fortunately, and not, for Shoto, he was Endeavor’s greatest creation so he wouldn’t have to experience the lonely infancy he and his siblings experienced.)
He places the bag on the couch and zips it open before gently picking her back up, fighting back a smile when she makes a happy cooing noise. While she busies herself with his staples again, he digs through the bag and finds the note. It’s simple enough, though he looks at the chilled lunchbox inside holding her baby bottles with disdain.
He turns his attention back to her when she gurgles and watches with renewed disgust as more drool runs down her chin. (He supposed she wasn’t that gross, compared to his coworkers. Shigaraki was a walking pile of blood and dust.)
“You’re making a mess, kid. Ya just got here.” He tries, feeling content when she smiles. Okay, maybe he didn’t have to do shitty baby talk. She seemed to like it when he talked at all, so he’d say whatever bullshit came to his mind, as per usual. Luckily, his ex had provided several washrags in the diaper bag. Cleaning her off proved to be a challenge as she tried to chomp on the washrag, much to Dabi’s amusement. Children were strange. If this wasn’t his child, he’d hate it.
He watches with interest when she yawns and closes her eyes – people weren’t this vulnerable around him often. Especially when they were this close to him. He stays as still as possible when he realizes she’s fallen asleep, head tucked into his shoulder.
The rest of the night passes with ease – she sleeps for two hours. Dabi was able to fish his phone out of his pocket while she slept, watching quiet videos to pass the time. (Maybe taking a picture. Maybe taking a few pictures.)
He’s also disappointed when he gets a text from his ex saying she’ll be off way earlier than expected. He doesn’t have the words to reply back that he’d be fine watching their daughter for longer and just sends a ‘k’ back in defeat. His daughter continues to sleep soundly until the soft knock at the door rouses her out of sleep, her tiny arms stretching in his.
“Your mom is here, kiddo.” She babbles in reply and reaches to grab his nose. She lets out a tiny noise of surprise when she touches the cold metal of his piercings, repeating the tugging action she had tried on his staples earlier.
“Don’t think you’re old enough for those yet,” Dabi says, rewarded with another tiny giggle. He reluctantly gets up to answer the door. His ex smiles at him (no, the baby) and he watches as his daughter lights up upon seeing her mom. He feels jealous, if only for a moment. He hands her to her mom and crosses his arms.
“How was she?” His ex replies, bouncing their daughter in her arms.
“Easy, like you said.”
“Aww, Daddy’s fun, huh?” He hopes she can’t see the tint on his cheeks, her words making his stomach twist. He didn’t know anything, really. He didn’t know how the future would turn out. For now, he only knew that he couldn’t pretend to not be a dad any longer.
“Thanks again, Dabi.” His ex gives him a small smile, easily slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder when he hands it over.
“Yup. I don’t mind.” He glances down at his feet. Why was he being so fucking weird about this? Just tell her, Dabi. “I would do it again, I guess.”
She raises an eyebrow at the ‘I guess’, but doesn’t call him out on it. His daughter is back to staring at him with her eyes open wide.
“Say bye to Daddy, honey.” She puts a hand under the baby’s arm and gently makes her wave. Dabi waves back and pauses before taking a step forward. He presses a chaste kiss to the top of her head, surprised by the light floral smell.
He had to do one more thing – he never knew when it would be his last day. He wasn’t ready for this, maybe, but he wanted to say it at least once. He cleared his throat before leaning down near his daughter’s ear.
“I love you.” It’s quiet, and she pulls his hair, but it was enough for now. His ex is smiling when he stands back up.
“I’ll contact you soon, okay? She’ll miss you.”
With that, she turns around, leaving Dabi to consider what the hell his life was about to become.
---
The next few years fly by with his daughter. He’s busy with League work, but he sets aside time to send with her. His ex willingly let Dabi watch her on Sundays, his daughter telling animated stories when Mom picked her up as she grew older.
She looked so similar to Dabi that it frightened him – reminded him of who he used to be. Still, he loved her and took caution to protect her from his past. He wanted to tell his siblings, but their reconciliation was strained enough. He also didn’t want Endeavor to find out. If his dad, no, that man, ever laid hands on his child he’d be dead in a moment.
A few months after his daughter turns five, his ex turns up on his doorstep looking downright awful. His daughter is next to her, a large suitcase sitting behind her. Shit.
His ex breaks down, telling Dabi that she can’t do it anymore, that he can’t take care of their daughter. He’s downright fuming that she’s saying this in front of their daughter, oblivious to how she feels. She says she’ll be back, but he doesn’t believe her. He ushers his daughter inside before his ex scars her even further and tells her to get the fuck out of his doorway.
Back inside, he and his daughter are silent. She stares at the floor and nervously shuffles her feet before looking up at him with sad eyes.
“Does Mommy hate me?” Her voice cracks and she lets out a sniffle.
Goddammit. He never wanted his child to feel like this.
He kneels next to her and takes both of her hands in his. “No, sweetie. She’s just… sick right now, and has to get better. Okay? Daddy will take care of you.”
She sniffles again before putting her arms out for a hug, starting to cry when Dabi wraps his arms around her. He holds her until she stops, promising that they can have a special treat once her room is set up.
He’s scared as hell. He couldn’t do this either, but unlike his ex, he wasn’t going to run away. Not again.
When she finally goes to sleep, Dabi makes a phone call that he’s about five years late on.
“Shoto, I need your help.”
---
Despite their fractured relationships, the Todoroki siblings become quickly enamored with his daughter, even if it meant dealing with Dabi. He can’t blame them, of course. He’s a piece of shit, but his daughter is cute as hell. Smart, too. He tries to hide their relation to her at first, claiming they were just good friends.
The lie is quickly revealed, though, when his daughter points out how similar they all look. His siblings give him a look like he was the biggest idiot in the world for even trying to hide it. His daughter loves all of them, but she clearly plays favorites with Uncle Sho. Dabi wonders why – Shoto is quiet, still not as outgoing as Fuyumi and Natsuo.
Uncle Sho, though, is his daughter’s idol, much to Dabi’s annoyance. He can’t be too angry though – Shoto’s status as a Pro Hero afforded his daughter the chance to attend a nice private school. It grated on him, though, that he couldn’t act as a father figure in public life. He was still a villain, and villains didn’t just walk around the daytime with their children.
His daughter didn’t mind, though. Despite her love for Uncle Sho, she was still a daddy’s girl and hung on to every word he said. It wasn’t a surprise when she picked up his colorful vocabulary, much to his amusement. Paired with Shoto’s sarcasm rubbing off on her and his blunt nature, she had become quite the little firecracker.
He was worried, then, when she became distant after her 10th birthday. He was a pretty lax dad, all things considered. He let her figure things out on her own while keeping a careful eye on her, and much preferred the fun part of parenting rather than discipline, which his siblings sometimes delved out.
He wondered if it was because she was quirkless, although his questions were met with a blank stare. Maybe this is just what 10-year-old girls acted like? (Especially ones raised by an unfiltered parent with a sarcastic aunt and uncles.)
---
The doll her Uncle Sho had bought her for her 10th birthday was so intricate that she didn’t even want to play with it. Her Dad might lovingly tease her about it (“What’s the point of a gift if you don’t use it?”), but she wanted to cherish it. She didn’t own many toys – she preferred playing outside, or doodling. She didn’t even like dolls most of the time, but the intricate black dress and the interesting face the doll had enamored her.
Maybe she could play with the hair, just a bit. Then she’d set it up on her bookshelf and nestle it next to her favorite books.
She gently pulled the doll into her lap and admired the dress. Maybe Uncle Sho would buy her a dress to match! The daydream of a pretty dress was interrupted by a strange feeling in her hands. They felt itchy, and there was an unusual heat building under her fingertips. She knew about quirks – it was impossible not to. Her dad and Uncle Sho had let her down gently that she was quirkless, though the look on their faces had alerted her that there was something they left out of the conversation.
She was jealous, though. Her dad had beautiful and vibrant blue flames, while her Uncle Sho had bright red flames and the ability to create sparkling ice. Over the years she would try to imitate them, throwing her hands out and hoping that something would come out. And yet, the only thing she ever found was disappointment.
The smell of something burning snapped her out of her daydream. In a panic, she looked down to find the beautiful doll alight with bright, light blue flames. Shit. She ruined her birthday present. Wait. Flames? She didn’t have time to figure out what exactly was happening as she realized those same flames were licking painfully up her skin. She threw the doll to the ground and stomped on it until the flames were extinguished, letting out a hiss at the stinging pain on her hands.
Worse, she heard the familiar thump of her dad’s boots coming down the hallway. There hadn’t been much smoke, but the smell of burning plastic and fabric was strong.
“You okay, kiddo? What the hell is that smell?”
“N-nothing, Dad!” She shoves the charred doll under her bed and scrambles to get under the covers to hide her red skin before her Dad comes into her room. The door opens with a creak and her dad poked his head in, raising an eyebrow at her.
“You havin’ a bonfire in your room?” He asks. She glances at him with a panicked expression, realizing some of the ashes from the doll are still on the floor.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I, um, just wanted to…” She trails off, trying to think of a good excuse. She thought back to the way her Dad almost looked relieved that she didn’t have his quirk. Was it bad? Well, maybe it wasn’t bad to keep her newfound ability a secret for now.
“I was playing with the matches.” She gives him her best puppy dog eyes, and he shakes his head before coming to sit on the side of her bed.
“Didn’t I tell you if you wanted to burn some shit to just ask your old man?” He gives her a lazy smile before playfully letting out a spark of his blue flame from his hand.
“Uncle Sho says you shouldn’t do that!”
“Uncle Sho wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass.” She opens her mouth in shock before laughing at her Dad’s expression. From what she learned about her other classmate’s parents; her Dad was… unique. She loved him, though, more than anything. She felt a little guilty for keeping a secret from him.
“Gonna take a nap, princess?” He motions to her bundled up form, and she nods from beneath the comforter. (Strangely, she felt burning hot already.) She doesn’t really want to nap… but maybe a break from thinking would be nice. Her Dad leans and places a kiss on her forehead, making her nose wrinkle up when he blows a raspberry instead.
“Daddy!” His face lightens at the word – she noticed he always crinkles his eyes up when she calls him that.
“That’s what you get for not letting me burn stuff with you.” He ruffles her bright red hair – thick and unruly now – before standing up and re-tucking her into the sheets. “Your aunt and uncles want to take their cute little niece for another birthday dinner, so we’re gonna go out when you wake up.”
Her face lights up – another birthday dinner? More ice cream for her. The thought of her new quirk is buried away for the moment, falling away when she closes her eyes and drifts off into a nap, barely registering her Dad saying he loves her.
---
Dabi is more offended than he lets on the first time his daughter groans and says he’s embarrassing her. She’s 13 now and acting exactly as he did at that age – a moody brat. Unfortunately for him, her sarcasm had grown even sharper. She’s still his baby girl, though.
She had always been clingy – and with what his bitch of an ex had done, he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t know shit about kids, so becoming her best friend rather than a parent was his choice. Maybe he spoiled her too much, or maybe he was too casual with her. His annoying siblings constantly reminded him of that, but they didn’t have kids, and they always shut up when his daughter behaved despite her attitude.
He is annoyed when her socks keep mysteriously disappearing – and why the house always smells burnt. He hopes it’s not him, and begrudgingly started to clean more vigilantly. Despite her bratty nature, his daughter still helped around the house, at least acknowledging the fact she still respected him. He supposed it was about time for her to explore some independence. She’s a hell of a lot smarter than he was at that age.
He’s not surprised then, after the hell that was a 13-year old daughter, that a 14-year old daughter was an even bigger challenge. She doesn’t necessarily act out – but sometimes she treats him with a coldness that makes him hurt. At least she still told him he loved her, something he hadn’t said for a very long time until his daughter appeared on his doorstep.
When she walks in the door with a piercing in her nose, he just laughs. Of course, his daughter would do something like this. The look of surprise on her face amuses him when he just shrugs and says it looks nice. He does offer to take her to his preferred parlor next time. If she was going to rebel (just like he did), she should at least be safe.
His siblings are annoyed at his reaction, but he knows that his daughter exactly like him in every way possible. He wouldn’t let her walk the path that he took, a path he took out of desperation and hatred, but he would let her make her own choices. He’d just always be there to catch her.
15 and 16 bring a mellowing out towards him but a renewed sense of rebellion against the world at large. He’s always having to patch up cuts and bruises she gets from fighting at school. She’s popular, according to Shoto, who kept a close eye on her there. But for some reason, she was determined to show proof of her strength. He thought it might have to do with the fact she was quirkless.
He also thought it might have to do with the fact that his daughter had sat him down (he was amused at first – she was more mature than him) and told him she knew what he did for a living. That was the first time he had been shocked as a parent, and mildly ashamed. He was fucked up, sure, but he wanted to keep it away from her. He almost set the couch on fire when she told him she had known since she was a little girl, but that she didn’t mind.
His daughter had spent the weekend at Aunt Fuyumi’s house while Dabi took out his aggression. (On the earth, rather than people, at least.)
They came to an understanding with a very uncomfortable discussion about his past. When she hugged him afterwards, not letting go for a long time, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever the world may bring, he finally had something worth living for.
He had been moved beyond words (a new feeling for him) when she came home with jet black hair similar to his. She hadn’t said why, but the smile on her face when she asked him to take a picture together told him well enough. They looked more alike than ever.
17, though, was a whole new ballgame.
---
“You wound me, brat.” Her Dad teases, feigning shock.
“That’s life, old man.” She quips back, lifting her chopsticks and flicking rice at him.
“You two are old enough to behave.” Her Uncle Shoto says with a roll of his eyes, winking at her behind his red hair. She was still his favorite and could practically get away with anything.
“Whatever you say, little brother.” Her Dad shoves a piece of sushi in his mouth and gives her Uncle Sho the same look he always does. Her uncle just scoffs and works on eating his plate.
The three of them always met up for dinner after school on Wednesdays. It wasn’t easy, with her Dad’s status, but her uncle had done an incredible amount of work securing safe places for them to visit. She wasn’t sure of the logistics, but she sure as hell was happy about it.
She frowns at her plate, chewing on the side of her lip, cold metal biting back into her. Her Dad had stopped her ideas of teenage rebellion by encouraging her, happily taking her to get new piercings. (Well, except for a few… unsavory ones she had obtained. But he didn’t have to know about those.) He was, in her eyes, the best Dad in the world. Even if he did act like an old man sometimes and gripe about her coming home too late.
Still, something was biting at her. Her secret remained safe within her, not even a whisper spoken to friends or family. She practiced with it – that’s why she was coming home so late – but she feared it. She knew the destruction her father was capable of. Uncle Sho was more practiced and deliberate, but his abilities were still frightening. She promised herself she was going to tell her Dad soon, but she just didn’t know how.
She looks up when the bell of the restaurant rings and immediately goes on guard. The people that enter are glaring at their table, their eyes trained on her father. She may not be a hero in training, but she knew how to take care of herself and didn’t hesitate to take care of the people around her. Her Uncle Shoto tenses too before shooting her Dad a look. He turns to look at them, scoffing at their appearance.
“I’m having dinner, assholes. Can’t you pick a better time?” He stands, chair scraping loudly across the floor. She swallows – were these people former associates? Heroes with a grudge? Either way, anyone that wanted to hurt her Dad would have to come through her. Her uncle stands too, and anxiety builds in her stomach when she doesn’t see the group back down.
“I’d advise you to leave.” Her uncle states in his monotone voice, chilling bite behind his words.
“Acting the hero now, Dabi? Gonna let a big bad hero defend you?” The tallest member of the group says, followed with a deep chuckle. (News of Pro Hero Shoto’s relation to the villain Dabi had spread through private but had been kept from the public.)
“Who’s that hot little thing behind you?”
A large blue flame sizzles across her father’s hand, a warning symbol to the group. Her uncle puts a hand on her Dad’s shoulder and squeezes hard, and the flame flickers but doesn’t retreat. (If Uncle Sho hadn’t been here, she knows he would have taken care of them without a second thought.)
Something sparks in her when she sees a member in the back raise a weapon at the distraction, and without a second thought, she leaps from her seat and blazes a huge wall of light blue flames in their direction. It’s exhilarating, having this power, despite the fear behind it. Sure, it might have been overkill because she might have overestimated her control, but the shock and subsequent panic on their faces have her smirking.
“What the fuck?” Her stomach plummets at her Dad’s voice. Oh. Shit.
Her Uncle Sho reacts quickly to the growing fire and douses the flames with his ice, the group having already scattered out of the restaurant. She looks up to find both of them staring at her, mouths agape.
She can’t think rationally, so she does the first thing that comes to her mind – she runs. She silently thanks the restaurant for having two entrances, trying to ignore the shouts of her Dad and uncle behind her. Her escape is fruitless, though, her Uncle Sho quickly gaining ground and catching her with a painful tackle. Her Dad catches up soon after. She notes, with confusion, that her Dad looks scared.
“Holy hell, brat. Don’t run off from me like that.” He extends a hand to help both her and his brother up.
The sudden pain in her hands makes her cry out, eyes looking down to find harsh red marks across her palms and wrists. Her Dad takes a step forward in alarm, darting out to grab her arms.
“Fuck.” He turns to her uncle, who has yet to say anything, and groans. “She needs medical attention.”
Her uncle nods, giving a sympathetic glance to her. She’s known him long enough to know this meant there was going to be a talk later. Ugh. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Sit down while we wait.” Her Dad says, tugging her down before she can protest. He takes a seat next to her, not seeming to care they’re in the middle of the sidewalk. His eyes are practically boring holes into her. “Got something you wanna tell me?”
“I’m… sorry?” It’s all she can think to say, looking back down at her burnt hands. Her Dad sighs and wraps an arm around her.
“Look. I’m not mad. But fucking hell, kid. You scared me.” It sounds like he’s struggling with his words – vulnerability was never her Dad’s strong suit. He usually tried to play things off.
“How long?”
Fuck, she was dreading this question. She takes a deep breath before replying. “Since I was ten.”
He cards his free hand through his hair, muttering expletives. She knew that meant he wanted a cigarette, a habit he had dropped a few years ago at her insistence.
“I’m really sorry, Dad.” Her voice is small, and she fights back a sniffle. She doesn’t know why she’s about to cry. She never wanted to disappoint him.
---
Her voice reminds him of how she’d apologize when she got in trouble as a little girl. It tugs at his heart, and while he’s pissed as hell, he knows that’s not going to do any good right now. Fuck. His daughter had a quirk, and it might even be stronger than his. He doesn’t care about the strength – no, he’s worried for her safety. Flames were a powerful but extremely dangerous quirk. He knew that more than anyone.
He looks down at her, and just like he used to do when she was younger, he ruffles her hair. He feels better when her lips quirk up into a small smile.
“You’re not gonna be alone like I was. I’ll help. Your uncle will help.” He hated to admit it, but Shoto was going to be the more effective teacher. He always knew that if the day came his daughter developed a quirk, he’d have to reign the hands over to Shoto. It was a blow to his pride, but one he had deemed as necessary.
For now, he held her, reminded that his little girl wasn’t so little anymore.
“Love you, brat.”
“Love you too, old man.”
---
“Fuck him up!” Her Dad shouts, raising a sign he had (embarrassingly) made to cheer her on. Why did he make a sign just to watch a sparring match between her and Uncle Sho?
She doesn’t have long to think before her uncle is on her again, ice dangerously close to capturing her ankle. It wasn’t a fight – her Uncle Sho was too strong. But it was a way for her to experience different situations, a way to catch up on her lack of formal knowledge with her flame quirk.
Through many painful sessions, she had learned there was some sort of regenerative power that must have come from her womb donor. Well, at least she had given her one good thing in life. She dodged as her uncle tried to catch her off guard from the back, and heard her father shout more profanities. She almost gets the upper hand before the timer buzzes, alerting them that it was time to give her quirk a rest.
She’d grumbled when her uncle and Dad insisted on it, but it ended up being the smartest way to work on strategy and to keep her safe. She supposed that exhausting her quirk and hurting herself wouldn’t be conducive to protecting the people around her. The fact that her flames burned so hot made it difficult to use for long periods, and the regenerative ability had its limits.
Still, she wanted to become strong. She didn’t know if a career as a hero would be in the future. As the child of a villain, there were a lot of things she wasn’t sure about. She did know that she wasn’t going to let her quirk go to waste any longer.
“My badass kid, 1. Shoto, 0.” Her Dad says, tossing her a bottle of water. Her uncle just smiles, indicating she really did do a good job. “Doin’ okay?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m not made of fucking glass.” She replies, and he just rolls his eyes.
“I can’t believe how you managed to spawn an exact clone of you, Dabi.” Her uncle says, shaking his head. “I like the upgraded version better, though.”
“Yeah, Uncle Sho said my flames are superior to yours.” She does a little twirl, and her Dad laughs. Damn, he was not easy to rile up.
“That just means my daughter can fuck up any little shit that tries to mess with her. A Dad couldn’t ask for a better gift.”
He ruffles her hair and she scoffs, though her heart swells up a little bit.
Being her dad’s pride and joy might be the best thing about her life.
---
He grumbles when something pulls against his earrings, hard. He doesn’t open his eyes, though, and tries to roll over before he feels tugging again.
“Dad.”
A pause.
“DAD.”
He sits up with an annoyed huff, met by his daughter’s mischievous face.
“I have something for you.” She doesn’t seem to care that she just woke him up.
“What time is it?”
“It’s midnight.”
“Kid, please. I’m old as shit. Let me sleep.” He tries to roll over, but she tugs at him and starts saying ‘Dad’ over and over until he finally gets up, grumpy and unamused.
She makes a happy hum that peels away the tiniest bit of grumpiness.
“Close your eyes!”
“Please don’t tell me that you finally burned the living room down on accident.”
“Don’t be a dick, Dad.” She doesn’t wait for a reply and grabs his hand, staring at him until he closes his eyes. Fine. He’d indulge her – she had been working hard at training her quirk. If she wanted to spend the energy to surprise him, he’d let her.
He trails behind her, not stopping until the two of them reach the kitchen. It smells good – he was grateful that was daughter was a decent cook, and a good baker, no matter how messy she was.
“Okay, open up!”
He was met with a bright blue cake decorated with two stick figures – one tall with the words ’OLD MAN’ written over it and one short with the word ‘BRAT’ written above, holding hands. Their free hands were giving the middle finger. Underneath the stick figure the words “HAPPY DAD-I-VERSARY” were written out in white icing, little hearts surrounding them.
“Before you ask what the fuck Dad-i-versary means, it’s the anniversary of me coming to live with you. Thought we should celebrate, considering I gifted you with my presence.” His daughter smirks at him.
Damn, he really did have the perfect kid. Don’t cry, Dabi. Don’t fucking cry.
Shit, a tear is rolling down his face, and suddenly his daughter’s arms are wrapped around him.
“Don’t go soft on me.” She says, but he can hear her muffled tears in his shoulder. “I love you, dad. Thanks for being my asshole old man.”
He barks out a laugh and squeezes her back. “And I love you, shitty brat. But I’m gonna smash a piece of cake in your face for waking me up.”
They both laugh this time.
Dabi can’t imagine life any other way.
