#father all might

[jomamaofficial]

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter pt.2 (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: SO, THIS WAS ASKED IN MY ASK BOX. BUT I STUPIDLY REPLIED TO IT SO I DON'T KNOW WHICH ANON ASKED FOR IT SO I'M JUST GOING TO TAG EVERYONE WHO LIEKD THAT POST HERE AND HOPE IT'S THE BRILLIANT ANON WHO WANTED ME TO WRITE A PART 2. @dark-magic-phoenix @crystal-freak24 @observaureium @justtovi3w62. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Graphic descriptions of blood (coughing blood), graphic imagery of crushing a heart (doesn't happen, just explained) CW: difficult father-daughter dynamics. Taglist: @thatcatladywrites @smikys-stuff @kimberlyfletcher @dawnwriterimagines Masterlist Word Count: 1951. Summary: One argument led to another– the foundation of your family was built upon suffering and sacrifice. Secrets were unveiled, revealing the true intentions of your father, the lingering wounds of the past stinging harder than any cut has ever. With tension reaching a breaking point, what happens when you confront your father, searching for the harsh truth, even if it leads to a devastating decision– you will never be the same again. He will never be the same again. 

——————————————————————————————————

Toshinori’s chest rose and fell. 

“You don’t mean that…” 

A pang struck through your heart as your father’s laboured breaths increased, tailing off in steady wheezes that only grew louder. 

“Dad…” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Dad, I didn’t m-”

Your voice cracked, succumbing to the hot tears which burned against your cheeks. Emotions flooded your head, as though they had been waiting to escape from the dam of truth that you had to silence to protect the peace in your family. The pressure had built up and that dam had finally broken in the most irreparable way possible. 

Shame hammered your mind, delivering blunt throbs as you watched your dad clutching his frail chest in agony. 

Guilt drilled poison into your veins as your father struggled to stand up– his sickly body unable to bear this pressure. His airways had been restricted, thus his once strong and proud chest had nothing to show but a vacant cavity, struggling to hold itself up. 

This living room had always been small– enough space just for the two of you. Dad and his little hero. It had always been you two, but today, this room was longer and narrower, as though mocking your sanity which had become a battlefield. 

Would you protect your father and carry on living in this dollhouse family, of which the  foundations were built off of your suffering.

Or would you protect yourself and destroy your relationship with the only family that you ever had.

The struggle had refused to forsake– silence had become your greatest enemy. It had left you alone with your screaming thoughts of doubt that deafened your conviction, leaving you straggled, naked, and vulnerable in the vast depths of your fears because what if. 

What if Midoriya truly was better than you? 

What if you truly were not worth it?

What if you had lost your rights to call yourself his daughter. 

Forever. 

You had lost everything to the ravenous beast which ruined everything you touched, and it wanted more. It wanted more, so it began making more noise, howling over the whispers of the wind, it howled over the ticking of the clock. It howled until nothing could be heard. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

Silence.

It had become silent. 

As though you were the only person in the room. 

A sudden thud drew your attention to the floor. 

Toshinori collapsed on the ground, and his eyes had gone blank, jaw slack. His ribs stuck out from under his skin, showing through his thin white t-shirt as his brassy cough filled his mouth with blood.

He urgently covered his mouth with his hands, forcing it shut but to no avail. It had already slipped past his hold, travelling down his neck, staining his shirt. A constant offender.

Your father began developing bloody coughs over three years ago. Yet every time you saw his chest heave and bleed, surges of nausea would creep up your veins, forcing you to leave. 

“Dad!” 

This was too much blood. It wasn’t meant to be like this… The doctor said a few drops or so, maybe a teaspoon, but that was ‘highly unlikely’. You watched as his white shirt became saturated, dizziness threatening to blur your vision.  

But you could not see him like this. You didn’t think twice before rushing to help him– but you were stopped. 

Toshinori raised his shaking hand immediately. You were halted, frozen in disbelief. 

He put his hand back on the floor, taking a few breaths before pushing himself, warranting another step forward from you, another cry, but he just stopped you again. You could only watch as your father relied on his bony wrists to push himself up. 

You could hear his shallow gasps for air, and his repressed coughs– and all you could do was watch your father’s face contort in fatigue and ache. Toshinori had finally gotten up, but that look had not left his face as he pushed past you. You watched the limp in his leg as he hobbled towards the couch, slowly lowering himself onto the cushioned couch. His head slumped onto the head rest, limbs unfurling in exhaustion. 

You were suspended in your head, unable to move past the questions which rung bright sirens. 

You shouldn’t have raised your voice at your own father– the doctor had told you. He’s injured, he’s getting older. He can’t process such shocks like this anymore.

What was wrong with you? 

But it couldn’t have been just your fault… right? But then he pushed you– maybe he didn’t just notice– but what if he did it on pur-

“Y/N”, your father had called for your name, but his eyes did not meet yours. 

Instead, they looked past you. 

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was five years old. 

A decade after the first quirk was discovered, many adoption agencies in Musutafu began sorting children based off of a ‘ranking system’. 

Official documents stated that this case was first brought up in the Supreme Court due to an incident that had occurred in an orphanage near Musutafu, 26 years ago. It was a heartbreaking case of manslaughter that had taken place when six year old Chihiro Onodera– Quirk: Lava, accidentally murdered eight year old Honoka Sugo– Quirk: Bubbles, during lunch time as they were play-fighting. 

It did not take much convincing as this case had reached international news, thus the court immediately passed a bill on the separation of quirks preliminary based off of their strength and danger levels, which were to be evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5. 

Nevertheless, this bill had struck a controversial match, becoming the largest contemporary topic that was disputed over in the past years. 

Demonstrations, protests and violent public outrage reached its peak when leaked intel revealed that a lot of children began to go missing from Adoption Agencies under the radar– they no longer had papers, as if their identities had been erased off of the face of this Earth. 

Nanami Tomoda, Sae Ojima, Makoto Kanezaki– these were some of the household names that had garnered petrifying national and international headlines: 

Heartbreaking Tragedy Strikes Japan: Devastating Attack Leaves Communities Reeling 

Japan in Shock: Deadly Assault Rocks Nation's Sense of Security 

Aftermath of Brutal Assault Leaves Nation Grieving Chaos and Carnage

Not much was known about these young adults. 

Apart from two things. 

First. 

They were not independent contractors. All of them could be traced back to some of the very few established, powerful, underground organisations. 

And second.

They were all orphans, rated 5, who had been declared missing for ten or more years.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was rated 5. 

Toshinori Y/N lost her quirk at age ten. 

You are rated 0. 

Zero.

Toshinori took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I have raised you since you were five years old.” He still did not meet your eyes. “I raised you in hopes that you would become a strong, and powerful young lady.” 

He drew a breath in– it was laced in disappointment. 

“But why does it feel, as though it has had no influence on you?”

Toshinori shifted both of his arms onto the couch rests, sitting tall. 

“One does not become a hero by winning every fight. Not everything is about a hero’s physical strength. A hero is made when they understand that retaliation only makes them the real villain.” 

Your father’s voice had deepened, and so did the dreadful pit in your stomach that sunk your resolve. 

“A true hero understands that strength lies in the ability to rise above the pain. Because those who focus on what has been lost”, he continued, lips twitching, as a faint, uncontrollable tremor laced his words in indisputable venomous contempt, “are either insane, or desperate for attention they know they will never get.”

Small muscles in your face began to twitch despite the heaviness that had been pulsed through your body, holding it in place, as you just stood there. Your eyes, once red and exposed, had no inhabitant, no focus. 

A ghost town. 

“A true hero is grateful. And recognises every bit of effort someone else put in order to get them to where they are now.” 

His gaunt eyes found yours, casting an unfamiliar chill in your body. They were sunken in, casting his gaze in dark shadows– an abyss impenetrable by light. 

“You got your quirk stolen, Y/N. But you cannot get that back anymore. But it’s been years, I expect at least some gratitude considering I did you a favour by adopting you.” 

He had left a clot that blocked your heart.

“Because no one else would have wanted you.”

It is always the one closest to you that hurts you the most. 

The man you called your father had waited until the last second to take the satisfaction of crushing your heart, flesh against flesh. 

Humans evolved to gain resistance and immunity against everything that threatens their survival.

Therefore, living with this man only meant that you had to gain immunity against pain and humiliation, because that was the only thing that could guarantee your survival. 

So when you shook off the heaviness in your lid and focused onto your father’s face, you could only lift the corners of your lip.  

“If you didn’t want me. Someone else would have adopted me instead. Like you did. No papers, no nothing– I’d slip under the radar, at least I’d still have my quirk, and end up on those headlines.”

“How dare you?” he uttered, face contorted in malice.

“I was five. That’s why you adopted me. Don’t deny it” 

Toshinori stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His shoulders, broad and hubris, had become small and meek. You watched him contemplate: his eyes, vindictive and daring, were cast down, hiding amongst the Tatami flooring. 

“My child…” he began, his voice softer. “After your quirk had been stolen, I could not risk making you the target again. That’s the reason I don’t come to your events. It’s because you’ll become the target everyone goes for because they know you’re my daughter”.

“They’ll know?” your lips had pressed into a thin line. “Like how Midoriya knew I was your daughter? Like how the media knows?” 

In the stifling air, your dry laughter bounced off of the discomfort. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t ashamed of me.” 

Your face had settled into a stone. 

“It’s not about me being a target. It’s about protecting your image.”

“My daughter-”

“You have lost the right to call me your daughter. If I was such a disappointment after my quirk was ripped away from me, why did you keep me? You could have sent me back. Why did you keep me, dad, why did you keep me!”

Those closest to you, leave irreparable wounds. 

But there was a reason they were close to you. A reason that subsided in love, care, and hope. 

Your crushed heart was surviving on its last breath, waiting to hear something that could revive it. 

Toshinori lifted his head again, his eyes flickering behind you. 

It locked onto an object that somehow gained more attention than you ever had in your entire life. You risked a look over your shoulder, only to see the picture of your father and Midoriya, smiling–almost mockingly– back at you. 

You knew what the answer was going to be. 

“I’m beginning to question the same thing.”

A flat-line. 

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I have no obligation to stay here anymore.”

You drew your breath in, words suspended at the tip of your tongue. 

“I wish you and your student the best of luck, All Might.”

[beybuniki]

AU where Deku stays quirkless and he enrolls in UA's support department, he and bakugo befriend each other because they take the same train to school & Deku approaches him because they're both batfam fans :) they bond over common interest which also inspires them to work togetherrrrrr

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 187

Clockwork would openly admit that he couldn’t see Danny’s timelines. Not since the moment he stepped into that portal and became something more. A child of Infinity, of the very Realms itself. 

But he’ll also admit that it always meant that the child surprised him all the time. This just happened to be a startling surprise, and an admittedly amusing one, even if Danny was openly complaining about the situation. 

“It’s not fair! You have to be able to fix this, right? Right?!” the ghostling, quite literally now, practically yanked at his cloak. “Clockwork, I was going to graduate, I can’t be two! Please, you’re the master of Time, you can fix this right!?” 

No, no he could not, seeing as young Daniel was in fact, immune to timeline machinations, doubly so for his own. To the ghostling’s open distress, which he did his best to soothe. What he could do instead, was stop time in his home dimension, and instead let him age back up again. 

Which the young halfa wasn’t happy about, but it was the best thing they had, so Clockwork supposed he had a ghostling now. A tiny adorable ghostling who kept pouting each time his much younger body had any sort of effect on his behavior. 

He’d never exactly had a ghostling before, nevermind one who was part human, but he would admit he honestly was enjoying it. Most time was spent alone, something he hadn’t realized until Danny ended up crashing into his unlife. 

Honestly he would openly admit that he absolutely adored his little ghostling. Who was now around four, at least physically, and had gotten into the adorable habit of curling up in the pendulum in his chest. Which was honestly the safest spot in Long Now, he’d admit. 

The singular issue however, with this habit, was that when someone attempted to summon him, they got his ghostling as well. And well, normally he could very much control himself for these summonings that happened every few hundred or so years, but well. There was a reason why even the Observants had stopped popping in the moment they realized he had a ghostling. 

Nesting ghosts do not mess around should they feel one is messing with their very vulnerable child, and really it’s not his fault the mortal cultists woke up and startled Danny. Perhaps deleting them from the timeline was a bit too far, if the other mortals rapid paling was to go by, but oh well. 

[canisalbus]

For some reason, I was always under the impression that Machete (through various misfortunes and happenstance) just sort of... BECAME a priest - I wasn't aware that be actually WANTED to be one :0 what was his reasoning for that line of work? I mean, I guess growing up in and around the church might foster an interest, but...?

Well, priests were held in extremely high regard at the time. Apart from nobility who had the benefit of proper education, they were usually the only people who were literate, and being able to read was a massive advantage. Social classes were extremely rigid, if you were born a peasant you died a peasant and so on. But if you managed to join the clergy, had luck on your side and didn't do abysmal job, you might be able to ascend to a higher status, accumulate more wealth and live reasonably comfortably regardless of your origins (to my understanding the main reason people didn't choose this path to escape poverty and hardship was because of the literacy requirement. I've read that some village priests could only write their name and memorized everything else, but for the most part you had to be able to write, read and speak at least passable Latin). Committing crimes against men of God was a severe offence, more so than regular laypeople, and (at leasts in some eras and places) priests themselves couldn't be tried in regular courts and had their own ecclesiastical courts instead, all of this made clergy kind of a protected class.

Machete spent his early childhood in a monastery, after his parents left him there (he was sickly and his family was stretched thin and couldn't care for him anymore. Before orphanages monasteries sometimes housed orphans and foundlings until they were old enough to be apprenticed). He grew up in a strongly religious environment so a certain sense of spirituality and fear of God was ingrained in him from early age. He was a quiet, meek, punctual and polite kid, and because he didn't like to play outside and was so well behaved, he was allowed inside the scriptorium and the library. He was inquisitive and very fascinated by books so the monks taught him to read, and when they commented he'd make a good priest he was instantly entranced with the idea. He wasn't interested in preaching, but if there was a chance he could be safe and respected, even regarded as holy, he felt he had to do everything in his power to attain that. Sure he was sort of guided and trained towards that goal all along, but he also genuinely thought it was something that would give his existence meaning and significance, after being discarded by his birth family and feeling vague worthlessness and lack of belonging ever since.

[champion-prism]

but all might's characterization drawing so much strength from mother figures. his victory pose, his laugh, from his earliest memories with his mother. learning to smile and be strong from nana. thinking of nana in his worst moments and gaining strength- i thought of her as my own mother, being formed as a person by nana's life and death. i dont know why hori specifically chose to make the seventh holder a woman (shigaraki's story would have worked if nana was male) but i love that toshinori yagi is a mama's boy.

so much of the media i love has cool male mentors or emphasises fathers, male mentors, or if women are a source of drive or inspiration they exist in that capacity as lovers; but to have an Incredibly Powerful male hero that goes "yes, i derive all my strength from my mother-figure mentor" is so dear to me. his earliest memories of his happy childhood featuring his biological mother.

[vampyre-kin]

† Midnight Mass. †

[transmascissues]

i could honestly write a whole essay on how the internet’s obsession with romanticizing ‘girl dads’ while simultaneously making fun of ‘boy moms’ and gender reveal parties is directly related to a pervasive lack of care for trans men&mascs even among supposedly pro-trans people.

[pharawee]

🇹🇭🏳️‍🌈 But it is now confirmed!! https://x.com/saksithcna/status/1772884245981123020?s=46&t=mvTAw9jWfh8OZn8f86CleA

Thank you, anon. I've been excited for this the whole day. 🥳

I just hope they ultimately decide on the best possible version of the equal marriage act with full gender equality and equal rights when it comes to adoption and parenthood. 🙏

[horribluh]

hilarious mpreg zosan thought, sanji has a kid that has green hair but its not zoros kid. he has in fact never disclosed who the other father was (choose ur own adventure dead beat dad edition) and his siblings already have amazing technicolour hair so its not outside the realm of possibility for his biological children to also have weird hair colours. but when the kid pops out with green hair everyone immediately connects the dots that hey, doesnt the strawhats first mate that sanji famously doesn't get along with also have green hair? is this why sanji never said who the other father was? hes a fucking dead beat! get his ass!

this misconception integrates into everyones mind bc it makes too much sense to not be true and everyone is suddenly deadset on "protecting sanjis honour" and making zoro "take responsibility"

sanji is screaming crying throwing up disgusted bc no!!! the shitty mosshead is not the father!!! stop saying that!!!! but since he still wont say who the actual father is, everyone is just like its ok sanji, you dont have to defend a deadbeat even if he is your crewmate and sanji has no choice but to kill himself and also zoro for daring to have green hair

when the strawhats show up for sanjis baby shower they also unanimously come to the misunderstanding that sanji and zoro totally boned. franky goes as far as to call the kid mini marimo. brook makes a hundred innuendos, chopper is upset at the implication of them having unsafe sex, and robin alludes to "knowing all along" in a very ambiguous way. usopp is the only one who refuses to connect the dots and he is sanjis favourite strawhat fr. jinbei pats sanji on the back and says he hopes they work through their differences for the sake of their kid. sanji is dying, youre killing him, you're killing your cook

even more shenanigans ensue when zoro shows up 3 whole days late to the baby shower and is gaslit into thinking hes the father by everyone in attendance despite being Pretty Sure that he and sanji never fucked. zeff gives a pretty good shovel talk and nami gives an even better one (debt increment is involved) while zeff nods approvingly behind her and then luffy slingshots in all parents should be married right? and doesnt wait for an answer

anyway, like 2 hours later zosan find themselves standing at a makeshift altar on the thousand sunny, saying their vows. sanji insists to the very end that zoro is not the father so they dont need to get married but alas luffy isnt giving him a choice in this (he wants to eat wedding cake)

to sanjis eternal despair, the kid grows up to really like swords

additional zosan thought, sanji does not help things by shouting "this is all your fault!" the moment he sees zoro. zoro is futher gaslit

[starbuck]

the only coping mechanisms black sails characters know are

- gay sex

- repressing every emotion

- mass murder

[inkskinned]

this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.

it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?

it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.

as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.

on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.

and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.

and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.

as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.

[jomamaofficial]

Not sure if u do all Mha characters but could u do an all might angst of him having a daughter he doesn’t pay attention much too?

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: Anon, I’m not going to lie, when I first read this request, I was like ehh… idk if I’ll enjoy writing that. And then I actually sit down and write it, and I’m like, WHAT IN THE WORLD, WHY AM I SO INVESTED IN THIS. So anon, you are a genius and you made my day with this request <3. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. TW: Mentions of blood. Masterlist  Edit: Part 2 Word Count: 3548. Summary: Adopted by All Might at the age of five, Toshinori Y/N was being trained to become the ninth user of One For All. With the quirk Element which gave you the ability to control all four classical elements: Air, Water, Fire, and Earth, you were set for victory in the hero-society. However, after your quirk was stolen, your path led astray, the clear neglect was getting obvious, day by day, as your father found a new student to mentor. 

——————————————————————————————————

The phone didn’t even ring for a second and he had already picked it up. 

“Y/N, my child, could you get the door? Midoriya-Shounen has come to visit.”

Silently, you obeyed your father as you promptly left your work. 

Midoriya Izuku. It was a popular name in the Toshinori household. His name managed to sneak into every dinner conversation, and every evening walk.

And now, he was just outside the door, seconds away from intruding your peace.  

You released a breath, fingers on the door handle. Your shoulders dropped down low and you straightened your spine, standing an inch or two taller. 

It was finally time to meet him. 

So with your best rehearsed smile that still didn’t reach your eyes, and your well rehearsed speech playing continuously in your suffocating mind, you opened the door. 

A bouquet of flowers and an earnest grin– this was the first time you met Midoriya Izuku. 

A few seconds passed as both of you stood still, your throat running slightly dry as you saw confusion build up in the young man’s face. 

“Um”, he took a gulp and stepped back. “I’m looking for the Toshinori household…?” 

You blinked at him before clearing your throat. 

“Yeah, you’re at th- um, yeah this is- I mean, I am-”

“Midoriya-Shounen!”

A loud and hearty voice greeted the young boy with a warm hug, apron on, spatula in one hand. You winced as you rubbed the shoulder your father swiftly brushed past. 

You pressed your lips together as you stood beside the embracing pair, hands behind your back as you hid them further into your sweater. 

“Five minutes early as always, my boy! Come on in!”

With an excited nod, the boy stepped inside the house, slipping his shoes off into the side of the genkan before following your father into the living room.

Unspoken words remained discarded in your mouth. 

And they led, and you followed. 

“You have a lovely house, All Might! I was really afraid I was going to run late. I had a bit of a heart attack when someone else opened the door… I thought I took down the wrong address, my mother told me it would happen but I was so surprised that I didn’t even think to confirm it beforehand or anything and it was so-”

“Midoriya-Shounen, please. Relax,” Toshinori chuckled, resting his hand on the worried boy’s shoulders. “You are here now. Please, sit down.”

Midoriya ran his hand to the back of his hair, sheepishly rubbing it as he took a seat across from you. His cheeks became flushed as his fingers adjusted the neck of his sweater. 

Toshinori rushed into the kitchen without another word, grabbing a plate of meticulously placed mochi in one hand, and a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of water in the other. 

Midoriya immediately got up as he saw his mentor struggle through the narrow doorway, extending his arms to take the tray from him. 

They set the delicacies on the glass table, and without being told, Midoriya placed three coasters that were piled on the side of the table. His nimble hands made quick work of removing the glasses and pitcher from the tray. 

“Always a step ahead, my son!” Toshinori commended with a proud grin that stretched across his tired face. 

You moved to the side to make space for your father, tensing your legs so you could cramp yourself in the tiny corner of your tiny sofa. 

‘My son’. 

You watched as your father approached you, a glass of water in hand. Your eyes brightened. 

But your fingers barely brushed the cold glass before your father walked past you. 

The loud shut of the door shut the sparkle in your gaze and your jaw seized as you observed Midoriya, who moved to the side for your father who sat in the remaining space.  

Your hands immediately guarded the sliver of your exposed neck, the pads of your finger rubbing against your collarbone. 

Their lengthy conversation bled into a distance, and like a required prop, you just sat in the corner, spacing out onto the clear surface of the table that stood in between, dividing the pride and the disappointment. 

Your lips became dry as the shallow inhales and exhales latched onto the chapped skin of your lips. 

Water. 

You needed water.

But the only glasses in the room glared back at you, half-empty. 

“Oh, I’m sorry… Did I take your glass by mistake?” 

Midoriya caught on quickly, his eyebrows furrowing apologetically. 

You opened your mouth, drawing a breath in until-

“Fret not Midoriya-Shounen, the glass was yours. I must have forgotten to bring the third glass, there wasn’t enough space on the tray, you see.”

Your father had responded once again. And your unspoken words were discarded before they could even be said. 

“Y/N, go get yourself a glass, if you please. And on your way, maybe refill the jug too?” 

Midoriya stood up with the jug in his hand, “allow me to help you Toshinori-san!”

“Ah nonsense, she can do it herself, my son.” 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, your father sat Midoriya back down. “We don’t need to ruin the flow of our conversation, young man! We have much to speak about.” 

Midoriya tensed his brows as his gaze lowered. But in the end, with a curt nod, he settled into the comfort of his seat and the jug was placed back on the coaster. 

Hours passed. Evening twilight wound into night darkness. The bags under Toshinori’s eyes held greater weight, yet his dark vacant eyes held the reflection of the green-haired man in front of him, gleaming in a halo of pride.

It wasn’t until Toshinori’s lungs gave way to a bloody cough that the pair realised that the jug was empty. 

It wasn’t until the pair halted their conversation, glasses in hand, that they realised that the sofa in front of them was empty.

-

After the last few finishing touches, you stepped back with a breath of relief; your aching hips required some support from your hands, but the corners of your mouth twitched. 

An infectious pride was blooming in the depths of your chest, painting a ray of sunshine onto your cloudy face. The apples of your cheeks, full and bare; the crinkle of your eye, unfamiliar but genuine. You held your chin up high with your sleeves rolled to your elbows. 

“It looks amazing, Y/N-chan!”

You basked in the sonorous sound of your supervisor, who had just stepped besides you. 

“This is revolutionary, Y/N-chan, it truly is… I expected one or two sketch designs, but you… I have no words for how proud I am…” 

Your lips turned upwards as you met your supervisor’s eyes, beaming her a wide grin before turning back to your exhibition where before you, set delicately, was the accumulation of two years of hard work. 

Five scaled down prototypes of iron suits were set on display– standing tall and noble.  Each suit was paired with leaflets in their respective stands, with a bold font printed across the face: ‘The Iron Suit and the Quirkless Hero’. 

“I couldn’t afford any mistakes sensei… I just couldn’t. This was my dream. It’s been my dream since I was a child...”

And your inner child couldn’t let it go. 

So you grabbed her tiny hand, and pulled her far away from her sorrows, protecting her, nourishing her. 

The manifestation of the first quirk was regarded as a mystical phenomena; straight out of a sci-fi movie. But as time passed, quirk manifestations spread into common reality. ‘Professional Heroes’– a profession that would have garnered snickers and laughs a century ago, became the most sought after job globally. As the occurrence of a quirk grew, the government instilled quirk academies to scout the best and strongest quirk. Businesses began funding them when the first few heroes were churned out, and so the race to become the number one hero began from age five for many families. 

Like all races, it was a test of strength, endurance, and resilience. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, and only the most courageous could join it. 

But there were some who just couldn’t join the race? Not because they didn’t want to, no. But because they didn’t even have the legs to reach the starting line. 

Toshinori Y/N was adopted by Toshinori Yagi at the age of five. And already, by such a young age, you were sprinting far far ahead. 

Your quirk was Element– the ability to control all four classical elements: Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. Your father watched as he created the most powerful vessel for his ultimate goal: to turn his daughter into the ninth user of One For All. 

You had the motivation, you had the strength.

You were thrown head-first into the twisted fate of hero society where nothing could bring greater joy than breaking yourself in the name of progress. 

Hero society was a place where the pain of training was the sweetness of improvement, and the scars and fractures were the evidence of determination. 

So one fateful day as all good things came to an end, you were walking back home, hair pulled back in two pigtails with a kitty lunchbox in one hand. A bag way too big hung on your ten-year-old shoulders, and your quirk was ripped away, gone forever.

The planes of the neighbourhood harboured pained screams of a disturbed soul that haunted every passing parent for the next two months. 

Your legs were torn away in the middle of the race. And all you could do was stare at the passersby who mocked you as you tried to contain your spilling blood in order to survive. 

Your smile faded and the storm had returned. Your memories were a recurring nightmare. 

And you couldn’t wake up from them. 

“Your father will be so, so proud of you, Toshinori-san.”

“Mmm…”

You pressed your lips together, lowering your eyes. 

“I know he’ll be proud of you.”

You felt her comforting hand squeeze yours. 

“Yes, sensei. He will be.”

-

Hours went past since your exhibition started. Countless people and countless pats on the back. It was a haze. 

“Your call has been forwarded to the automated messaging sys-”

“For god’s sake.” 

You cut the phone. 

The lines on your forehead deepened as the number of missed calls grew. 

Where was he? 

Mentally, you replayed this morning’s conversation with your father. You had vividly remembered that you told him three times: “my exhibition is at five, dad. Please don’t be late.”

You had set alarms on his phone with small reminders attached to them: one at 4:00 PM, one at 4:15 PM, and one at 4:30 PM. 

Where was he?

Your heart beat a bitter drum as you watched some fathers with roses in one hand whilst the other was pressed against their hips as they gasped for air.

“I couldn’t be late for my angel’s exhibition now could I?”

It was 9:00 PM. 

The crowd had died down and you watched as they drained out: proud fathers holding their daughter’s hand, embracing them in unconditional love. Your once eager eyes were tired, exhausted from searching and scanning for the only face you had internally begged for. 

Had you not expected it, you would have cried. 

Your thumb hovered over your father’s name on your phone, hesitant. 

But there was no point. You switched your phone off. 

“Hana,” you asked the few friends that were left, “can you help me pack my things please?”

-

The pitch black darkness dragged the walk back to the nearest bus station. With your hands occupied with bags that contained the remains of your exhibition, periodically, you peered at the dimly-lit empty street behind you. 

The street lights flickered sporadically, teasing your lone steps that were getting faster and faster. 

The bus ride home was fine. You met a few friends waiting at the stop with their parents. Although when alone on the outer seat, hood still up, your eyes may have lingered too long at the napping daughters resting their head on their smiling fathers’ shoulders. 

Your stop approached in forty-five minutes. 

It was 10:36 PM when you got off the bus. The usual hustle of your neighbourhood had settled, so it wasn’t too hard to spot a head with green, curly hair leisurely walking towards your bus stop. 

“Midoriya-kun?”

The young boy lifted his head from his phone to look around. 

You gave him a hesitant wave, receiving a warm smile in return. 

“Toshinori-san?” he asked, taking off his earphones. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s me.”

You shoved your hands in your pockets. 

“Wha- what are you doing here?” you blurted, staring at the ground. 

The abrasive nature of your words caused Midoriya to stand straighter. He blinked a few times before answering. 

“Oh um, All Might called me over for a chat. He told me you weren’t home so he said it would be a good chance to discuss more… things?” 

The young boy ended his sentence with a wavering voice, getting quieter as he saw your body stiffen. 

In the moments of your wordless exchange, a warm ache began to develop in the walls of your skull. 

Midoriya’s gaze, which was travelling to and fro, fixed upon the bags hanging from your wrists. 

“How about you? Um… Where did you come back from?” 

Your mind tried to console your heart, hushing the bubbling feelings of resentment towards the boy in front of you. 

You let out a sigh, letting your shoulders drop low. 

You were tired. 

“I came back from an exhibition.”

“Oh really? Were you presenting? Is that what the bags are for?” 

Your lips found themselves smiling at Midoriya’s observation. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “they have my exhibition prototypes in them.”

Your ears perked up at the approaching sounds of relaxed footsteps. 

“May I see them please?” Midoriya asked. 

Finally, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. 

You mumbled, passing him the bag with your prototype inside. “Yeah… sure.”

Minutes passed in complete silence. Timid glances found themselves analysing the look on Midoriya’s face, who was carefully reading the contents of your pamphlet, cross-checking it with your prototype. You felt a warm flush on your cheeks as the boy looked up at you, eyes wide and bright. 

“You made this? By yourself?” 

He was baffled: eyebrows raised, eyes twinkling. You pressed your lips together in attempts to hide your grin as you nodded. 

“It took me two years.”

Midoriya carefully placed your prototypes back into their respective boxes, passing the bag back into your hands. 

“I didn’t expect this at all- I mean, of course, you’re All Might’s daughter but just, being quirkless and everything? I just-” his expressive face comforted yours.

“You’re so cool, Toshinori-san. You’re so cool!”

The swells of your cheeks began hurting as you stared at Midoriya, your waterline becoming annoyingly emotional. 

“Thank you, Midoriya-kun…” 

“Please,” he chimed, “call me Izuku.”

You let out a chuckle just this once, sneaking a swipe to wipe the corner of your eyes. 

“In that case, please call me Y/N.”

Izuku’s wide grin ignited a mellow flame in your disappointed heart. You cursed your heart for every ill thought that crossed your mind about the boy that stood in front of you.  

“I am honoured to meet a brilliant mind like yours Y/N-san… The amount of lives this can save… The amount of innocent lives this can protect from harassment… You’re amazing Y/N-san,” he repeated, bowing down. 

You blushed, your hands immediately reaching out towards the young boy to lift him up, “oh, Izuku-kun, please don’t bow…” 

“My younger self thanks you Y/N-kun…” he whispered. 

There was a small crack in his soft voice. 

Your eyebrows twitched and the cold air travelled through the small opening in your mouth. 

“What do you mean, ‘younger self’...?”

Midoriya’s big green eyes were frosted on the surface. He straightened his back, staring off into the distance. 

“I’m sure your father told you, Y/N-san”, he cleared his throat. 

“I was born quirkless.”

Your fingers felt cold. 

“Quirkless…?”

“Yes. I was born quirkless. The doctors didn’t know what caused it. My parents had a quirk. My mother can float small objects towards her. And my father has a powerful quirk: fire breathing.”

His voice began quivering and the young boy had to take a pause.

“All I wanted as a young child was to become All Might. I still do, to be honest. I had a little All Might onesie. And my mother bought me all the All Might action figures. I would play hero with her. She used to act like a citizen in distress and for that short amount of time, I was her hero. And that led to me wanting to become everyone’s hero.”

His tears reflected the moonlight waning in the sombre sky. 

“I was five years old when I was told my dreams were basically worthless. That I should give up… and become a police officer.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, hiding your hands inside your pockets. 

“I didn’t eat for three days. I couldn’t stomach anything, so at some point, I-I guess I ended up fainting, and my mom had to rush me into the ER.”

Two bodies stood underneath the cold, clinical street light, incredibly still. 

But the loud noises pinched you to disturb the silence. 

You had to know.

“But… what about your quirk now?”

-

The door creaked open into a fully-lit living room. Toshinori was sitting in front of the television, phone in hand, swiping through his texts. 

Trays and glasses– two glasses exactly– were lazing on the table with cubes of melting ice piled up on the bottom. The cushions were moved to the side, and the couch covers relaxed comfortably with deep wrinkles.  

An unnoticed figure slipped inside the house and Toshinori felt two eyes settle onto him. 

“Y/N, when did you come back?”

Nothing. 

“My child,” he stood up, reaching towards your shoulder. 

You shrugged his hand off as soon as it touched you, lost in the voices consuming your mind. 

“Y/N! What is the meaning of this?”

“It’s eleven.”

“What do you-”

“It’s eleven!” 

Your father’s body tensed as he stepped back, his brows knitted in pain and confusion. 

Your throat, strained and dry, struggled to find words as it battled against the bitter rise of bile. 

Your jaw trembled as your eyes burnt with unshed tears in the now blurring room. The cries of betrayal felt so weak. What should have been anger– a hellflame spreading throughout your house, came out a sniffle and singular tear. Anger that should have engulfed the sounds in the room and overpowered the drone of the television and the tick of the passing time was nothing but suppressed by the overbearing eyes that scrunched in concern. 

“What do I have to do to get you to pay attention to me, dad? What do I have to do…” you weeped, your hands consoling your own body because no one else present could. 

The cries of betrayal felt so weak because it was someone else’s incompetency, someone else’s fault that pained your wailing heart. And the cries of a wailing heart begging to be loved was a silent sound that overpowered all sense of self. 

“What does he have that I don’t, dad? What did he do that I failed to do?” 

You broke down into his arms. You found refuge despite his false embrace; it repulsed you because you knew it was going to be short-lived. 

It was a fake. 

“Why did I have to find out that my father was quirkless from someone else’s mouth?” 

You felt his chest fall as your father squeezed you tighter. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, dad?” you whispered.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so sorry…” 

“Am I not worthy enough… Was I not worthy enough to find out?” 

Your ears preened, begging for reassurance, begging to hear: ‘that’s not true my child’. 

But it never came.

“I’m sorry for not being strong enough, dad… I’m sorry for letting him steal my quirk, dad.”

You tore away from his chest, sniffling away your tears for the last time. 

“But why didn’t you tell me that One For All could work with quirkless too?”

Toshinori crossed his hands in front of him as he averted his gaze from yours. 

“Why can’t you talk to me? Was I not good enough! Am I so weak without my quirk? That you blindly gave your power away to a boy you met a day ago! Dad, look at me!” you screamed, far too lost to control yourself. “Why couldn’t you give it to me, your own goddamn daughter? What did I not do dad, what did I not do!”

Why did All Might extend his hand to save Midoriya, when his daughter gave up her whole life to burn for his dreams?

His silence spoke a thousand words, so it was about time you spoke your final words. 

“You’re a great hero, dad. But that’s all you’ll ever be… you’ve been a great hero but you’ll never be a great dad.”

[noramsblog]

👨‍👦

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 208

So Danny would feel exasperated, and probably should. But Dan is actually doing good and hasn’t even bitten anyone during this situation so that’s a win in his books. Now if the turned-into-a-four-year-old could tell him where he managed to grab this other child when he was supposed to be at the babysitter’s, that would be swell. 

Or why there is a hero who nearly broke the door down in a right panic. 

Like genuinely, he doesn’t know who was more surprised, him, or the hero who came running up half in a panic attack. 

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

i feel like maul would get into tea because the perfectionism and theatre of good tea making would appeal to his inner neurotic thespian. he would also just enjoy flavors, after knowing food scarcity. a small 6oz cup is probably the right rate of hydration for him post lotho minor, on fuckin repeat all day of course, so i imagine he picked the habit up naturally.

[spacedace]

Maybe I've just missed it, but I feel like there's not enough discussion on Catholic Jason Todd and his feelings on being seemingly resurrected by God Jeesie-Chreesie style.

Like, we as the readers know that it was a reality bending punch from Superboy Prime that brought Jason back, but in canon no one has any explanation at all for how that happened.

The Lazarus Pit fixed him, but he was already alive (just in super bad shape) to be fixed. He woke up in his own coffin and had to claw out of his own grave and no one in-universe can explain how or why it happened.

And that alone would fuck someone up, but add in Catholic Guilt (TM) and references to the resurrection floating around every Easter and Jason's gotta wonder at least a little bit if the Big G brought him back and if so has to absolutely agonize over what he's done with his big second chance.

I just wanna read 100k words of Jason's complicated feelings on his death, rebirth (resurrection?), Red Hood, God, Bruce and what it all means, if anyone's got any recs please share them I'm begging 😭