BNHA Oneshots !

dabihawks / angst

synopsis:
in which hawks is kidnapped and tortured by a villain he believes is dabi

warning: torture, gore, burns, emotional manipulation

—

Hawks wasn't sure how he ended up here. One second, he was finishing up a patrol, heading towards the designated meeting place Dabi had texted him, the next, he was tightly bound to a cold, metal chair, wrists in shackles behind his back.

He couldn't seem to process anything at all—his surroundings a piercing barrage of pure white, the light intensified by whatever drug they had injected in him. A plangent screeching sound ricocheted all around him. His head lolled around feebly as he attempted to get a grip on something, anything. The influx of all these different sensations drowned him in different shades of misery.

He wasn't sure if he had resisted against his captors, his memory was fuzzy at best, but every bit of movement made the shackles slice into his bare skin, abrasions freshly stinging.

Everything hurt. It was too loud, too bright, too painful.

"What a pretty little bird," he heard a familiar voice sneer from behind. He knew that voice, knew that nickname, but couldn't place a name or a face. Not when all his senses were crashing onto him. Footsteps echoed behind him, as the source of the voice drew closer.

He wanted to thrash, to speak, to open his wings—do anything to ease the agony clawing at him from all angles. He could only suppress a grunt of pain.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" The voice continued in mocked sympathy. He felt him lean closer to his ear. "I can make everything better, birdie, but it all comes with a price." The voice whispered, running a hand through his golden locks.

Hawks could only stare feebly ahead, the drugs in his system, the throb in his head, the god awful screeching impeding him from retorting back or making any sudden movement.

They had prepared him for situations like this—engrained it in his brain over and over again—but in this state of mind, he was useless, he was weak, he was vulnerable.

"You want it to stop, don't you?" The voice purred. Yes. Yes. Fuck. Yes.  "Let's make a deal, hm? I'll take it away." He felt a soft fabric graze over his face and suddenly he was in a blanket of darkness. A blindfold? Relief flooded his bones as the screeching sound slowly died down as well.

"The drugs will wear off in a couple of hours, don't worry. I'll be back by then."

—

The sun was hot, a scorching ball of mass that could fry anything into crisps in an instant if it got too close, yet Hawks enjoyed the thrill of it all.

He had traded a somewhat semblance of normalcy after his usual patrols with a gamble with darkness.

It took a while for Dabi to lower his guard around him, but he eventually did. Most nights would be spent in hushed conversations—the league, the crappy system, stain's legacy, nomu plans—things Hawks never knew he wanted to talk about until they did. He knew he had to keep his walls up in front of the man, he was an arsonist and a murderer after all, but he couldn't help the feeling of ease that came with these talks.

They never talk about their past, knowing there was a spirit that had died within both of them that could never be rekindled. Not with the state of the world. Not with their strange relationship. Too many vulnerabilities.

A part of him was stressed as fuck. Balancing his hero duties as the number 2 while two timing the nefarious group was anything but enjoyable.

Yet another part of him relished it. Perhaps it was greater than his stress. He found himself looking forward to seeing Dabi at the end of his patrols.