Various anime one shots book 2

Mistletoe (Maddie)

With a bit of a grunt, you limp your way around, trying to escape. I can't believe I just lost. Yes, you should have listened. No, you never considered listening. Fighting the number one hero was a very, very bad idea. One that you don't really regret. Deku is just a thorn in every villain's side, so it's only right that you've had your fair share of wrath. Even though he's chasing you and it's physically impossible to outrun him. And yet you still try to.

"Stop!" he calls from behind you. "You're bleeding out! You need medical attention!"
You're not fooling me with that.
He grabs your arm. You bite back a scream. This won't be very good, you foresee.
"Please," he begs.  "I don't want you to die. Let's go see Recovery Girl so she can help."
Hardening your eyes, you pull yourself from his grasp, trying not to show how much pain you're in. "And then you'll arrest me?"
He quiets.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." You take a step, but everything goes black and you feel a rush of hurt. as your body hits the ground.

0.0.0.0.O

"Hey."
You see the face of Deku above you, wearing a concerned look on his face. It's clear you're in a prison cell, but you're not in as much pain as you were before. Little hero must've got me medical help.
"Leave me alone. Let me be a normal prisoner and sleep."
"Miss, what's your real name? There's no records."
"What kind of villain would I be if I just gave out my personal information?"
"Your villain name is Briar. Your hair is made of thorns and roses that you can make larger and break off. Often, you use them in combat. You're surprisingly good at close combat, though neither agile nor nimble. It's clear you have no training, thus I could beat you. Other than that, I have no information on you."
"Good."
"I'm Izuku Midoriya."
"I don't care."
"I'm twenty-five and I'm the number one hero of Japan, Deku."
"Shut. Up."
"I graduated from UA High School and inherited my quirk from All Might,  my quirk being One for All"
"I. Don't. Care."
"Most of all, I know villains are made, not born. And I'm also aware they can be saved. I've learned the hard way that they're the ones who most desperately need it, actually."
"I don't want nor need your help."
He smiles softly and kindly. I hate it. You hate the slight curve of his lips. The empathetic look in his eyes. Those darn freckles. Everything. You hate everything about him.
So much so that your chest tightens, face heats, and the urge to kiss him comes into your mind at the same moment the urge to strangle him does.
"Briar, I promise I just want to help. Let me, okay? I-." He licks his lips. Nervous tick. "I can tell you're not happy this way. Let me help you. Really."
"I don't need it. I am perfectly content. I just regret getting caught."
"No, you're not. There's rehabilitation for villains. I can -"
"What? You wanna send me to some asylum?" You get up, pulling a thorn off your head. But it crumbles in your hand. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. It's just a quirk canceling cuff for precautions. It's not dangerous. It won't hurt you."
"Let me out of here. I can't- " You start pacing, suddenly claustrophobic. You haven't dealt with this in years. You forced it out of your system. Pushed yourself and pushed yourself and pushed yourself until it became second nature to you. So what is this?
"What's wrong?" He touches your shoulder, likely trying to get you to sit down a moment.
For you to calm down. But you can't.
"Briar, tell me what's wrong?"
By accident, you meet his eyes. Then it's like something registers in his mind.
"Claustrophobia?"
Now you're biting back tears and shaking. Like a helpless child. You just nod, still pacing and breathing heavily though feeling like you're not breathing at all.
"Okay. Uh-"
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"It- it's not that simple. Legally, I can't-"
"You little-"
"You can curse me out in the middle of a panic attack?!"
"Yes!" You start to shake and keep pacing and ramble and cuss him out and yet nothing is helping.
The next thing you know, someone is holding your hand and taking you out of the room, where there's space and light and you can breathe. You grab onto the railing, likely to keep people from falling off the ledge. You're several stories high but you really don't care right now. Finally, you take deep breaths and calm yourself down.
"Are you okay?"
"I think so. I'm not really sure."
"Then are you willing to talk? I really want to help you."
"I'd rather die of a panic attack than accept your help."