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(Dabi x Villain!Reader)
The first time Dabi left, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive confrontations or sudden betrayals. It was just an absence that spread like a poison, slowly creeping through the air. You should have seen it coming, really. The signs were there, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them. But you didn’t expect him to just leave.
He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t give you any warning. He just... vanished.
You had been partners in crime, partners in everything. Destruction. Chaos. He was fire, and you were the wind that fueled it. But now, in the wake of his absence, you felt like an ember, flickering in the cold.
You’d come back from a mission, bruised and bloodied as usual, but the familiar warmth of his presence wasn’t there to greet you. His side of the room was empty, the bed unmade. No smirk, no flame, no Dabi.
You should have been used to it, but you weren’t. The hole he left was jagged, painful, and the silence rang louder than any explosion you had ever caused. The night he left, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him. You had always been able to go it alone before.
But this wasn’t the same.
You spent days — no, weeks — trying to drown out the void he’d left. You threw yourself into missions, into villain work, into destruction. But each kill, each robbery, each confrontation felt hollow. Something was missing. Someone was missing.
And it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.
You hated the way you couldn’t get him out of your mind, the way you felt like a part of you had been ripped away. And the anger? It burned inside you like an open wound. He had left you without so much as a word. No explanation, no apology. He just left. It wasn’t like Dabi to be this cold, this distant. But maybe he’d always been that way, and you’d just never realized it.
-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------
You didn’t expect to see him again. Not after everything. Not after he left without a trace, without a single word.
But there he was, standing at the center of the chaos, his flames dancing like an inferno, scorching everything in his path. He didn’t even look at you at first. Not until the smoke cleared, and you saw him standing there — taller, colder, more controlled than you remembered.
He was a walking blaze, but the heat was different now. It wasn’t the wild, unpredictable fire that used to send shivers of excitement down your spine. It was something calculated. Detached.
And that’s when it hit you. He hadn’t just left. He had changed. His flames weren’t the same, but neither were you.
The battle raged on, but you didn’t care about the heroes. You didn’t care about the villains. Your eyes were fixed on him, and the anger inside you bubbled over.
“You just left,” you spat as you approached him, the words sharp and filled with venom. “Without a word, without a fucking reason. You just left.”
Dabi’s expression was unreadable. His eyes, once filled with fire and intensity, were now cold, like nothing could touch him. It was like he was a different person altogether.
“I don’t owe you anything,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.
“No,” you shot back, your fists clenching. “You don’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you owe me an explanation.”
You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t care if he wanted to fight or talk. You were done holding back. You were done pretending. His absence had carved deep scars inside you, and now you were going to burn everything down until he understood the weight of his silence.
-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------
The city was ablaze, but nothing compared to the fire inside you. You fought like an animal, driven by rage. Every punch you threw, every villain you took down, was a piece of the anger you couldn’t contain.
But the heat of the flames was different now. Even Dabi’s fiery presence was no longer enough to soothe the wound he’d left behind.
After the battle, you stood alone in the remnants of the wreckage. The sound of distant sirens was like a mocking reminder of everything you had lost. Everything he had taken. You didn’t know why you stayed here. Why you didn’t walk away.
Maybe it was the lingering hope that he’d finally talk to you. But after everything, you weren’t sure what you expected.
“Why the hell did you leave?” you demanded, your voice shaking with barely-contained fury.
Dabi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were cold, focused on the destruction around you. But then, finally, his gaze flicked to you. His lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, his voice distant, almost disinterested.
The words hit you like a slap. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You didn’t expect him to beg for forgiveness. But this? This was worse. The indifference in his tone, the way he dismissed you as if you didn’t matter, as if you were just another part of his past he could burn away… It was more than you could handle.
“You think I didn’t care?” Your chest tightened, the anger threatening to swallow you whole. “You think I don’t care that you left me without even telling me? Without any warning, without any explanation?” Your voice rose, the fury in your words making the air around you crackle. “You’re a fucking coward, Dabi. A coward who ran when things got hard. You always leave when it gets too real. And I’m sick of it.”
He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering, the flames flickering at his side, but there was no emotion behind them. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You’re here because you chose to be.”
“And now I regret it,” you hissed, taking a step back, the fire in your eyes not matching the coldness in his. “You’re not the same, Dabi. You’re just a ghost. And I’m done chasing after you.”
For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. There was no sound, no movement, just the two of you — separated by everything that had come between you.
Then, without another word, you turned away, leaving him standing in the flames.
(Shigaraki Tomura x Reader | angst | second person POV)
It happens faster than he can process.
One second, you're standing between him and a hero’s blade — the next, you're bleeding out, crumpling forward.
His body moves before his mind can catch up. He lunges, catches you — but even in his panic, instinct takes over: he only uses four fingers to grab the back of your jacket, his pinky hovering awkwardly in the air. Anything to avoid destroying you. Anything to keep you here.
"Idiot," he chokes out, dragging you against him as he stumbles back, his back hitting on the wall behind him. As he slides down to the ground, places your head on his lap. He looks down at you, his eyes full of fear. His voice is cracked and raw, nothing like the Shigaraki the world fears. "Why... why the hell would you do that?"
You smile. Of all the things you could do — all the things you could say — you smile. Weak. Soft. Like you don't have a single regret.
"You’re not..." You cough, blood staining your teeth. "You're not a monster. Not to me."
His whole body shudders. You shouldn't say that. You shouldn't believe that.
His fingers tremble where they grip your jacket, so tight the fabric might tear — but still, carefully, carefully, he keeps his cursed touch at bay.
You reach up — shaky, struggling — and brush the back of your hand against his cheek. A featherlight touch. No threat of Decay. Only warmth.
"Tomura," you whisper.
The sound of it — his real name, spoken with love — cuts deeper than any wound. It shatters something inside him.
You slump fully against his chest, your breathing slowing, your hand falling away.
"No— no, no, no—" His voice is hoarse, frantic. He’s begging, even though he doesn't know who he's begging anymore. "Don't leave. Don't—"
But you’re already slipping away.
The battlefield goes quiet. And Tomura — villain, destroyer, monster — is left holding the only person who ever looked at him like he was worth saving.
Later, when the smoke clears, no one questions why Shigaraki walks off the battlefield with his fingers digging into a battered, bloodstained bracelet wrapped tightly around his wrist. A simple thing. Frayed, cheap — something you had always worn. It was yours. Now it’s his.
He never lets it decay. No matter how damaged he is, no matter how angry — he always makes sure he touches it with four fingers. Never five. Never enough to destroy it.
Because it’s the only thing left of you.
The only thing reminding him he was once loved. Even if he never deserved it.