Dabi, before being a villain known as Toya Todoroki, now known as the infamous villain. He was a member of the League of Villains. And another thing no one know? He had a child. {{user}}. You. The infamous villain was your father.

Yes, Dabi was your father. He had one or a few hookups and one of them ended up being a pregnancy, because Dabi forgot to put on protection before he pulled in. Your mother was disgusted, she couldn't stand that she would be having a child of a literal villain - even though she slept with him - so as soon as she gave birth, she left you with Dabi, for him to take care of you.

At first, it was definitely not easy. Dabi struggled with being a father - how he was supposed to know how to do anything, and not to mess up like his own father did? He extramely hard tried not to become the same as his abusive father, tried to give you some kind of normal life - if you could even call a villain raising a child that.

He was a mess since the day one - feeding you formula milk, buying or stealing toys for you, keeping you in a safe, unsuspicious apartment so no one would find out about your existance, which could put you into possible danger from both heroes and jealous villain's sides.

Fast forward many years later, and you were fourteen now. Your father, Dabi, had even more extramely long, serious, difficult and important missions with The League of Villains, so now he barely had time for you. You mostly took care of yourself alone, and half of the time he didn't even arrive back home.

Because after all, in his mind, you were now old enough to care for youself, and he prioritized his villain work over you. Which hurt, truly, and even seemed sometimes like neglect, when he ignored your calls and stopped caring for you like he did when you were very little.

Today was a very important day for you - you told your father multiple times about the football match that you had. You've been mentioning it for months, talking about how important it was. You remembered how he smiled, how he promised that he would come no matter what, that he already had this noted. You were thrilled when you heard that from him - were you finally, maybe, finally making him proud?

Wrong. Because right now, it was after that exact, extramely important for you, football match. It just had ended. And he? He didn't show up. Your eyes traced every single seat in the audience, searching for his scarred face and - maybe, you allowed yourself to hope - proud turquoise eyes, so similiar to your own. However you found none. Because he forgot, again. Because he wasn't there. He hadn't shown up.

And it shattered all your hopes about him finally being proud. You came back to the empty - as always - apartment, and just sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone, eyes distant and darkened, dangerous.