Okay, here's a story based on your prompt, told from Tomura Shigaraki's perspective:
The sterile scent of the architectural firm still clung to me as I unlocked the door to our surprisingly normal apartment. A far cry from the decaying hideouts I used to frequent. It was a Thursday, which meant football practice for Riku, homework for Rya, and… well, chaos for Teka. I was usually braced for something when I walked in, but today felt different, heavier.
Teka, my ten-year-old whirlwind of destruction and repair, usually greeted me with a barrage of questions or demands. Today, silence. Rya, ever diligent, was hunched over her textbooks at the kitchen table, her red hair a vibrant splash of color against the muted surroundings. Riku, though… Riku wasn't back yet.
"Hey, Rya," I said, dropping my briefcase on the floor. "How was school?"
"Fine," she mumbled, not looking up. "Dabi-san helped me with calculus. He's actually pretty good at it."
Dabi. He'd been hovering around more lately. Protective, almost. I didn't need protection. I was Tomura Shigaraki, for god's sake. I was capable of handling… well, everything. Or so I told myself.
I walked down the hall towards Teka's room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear muffled sobs. Red flags went up. Teka was emotional, sure, her quirk made her prone to extremes, but she usually bounced back quickly.
"Teka?" I pushed the door open gently. She was curled up on her bed, her blue hair a tangled mess around her face. Her red eyes were swollen and brimming with tears. I knelt beside her, my heart constricting.
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
She just shook her head, burying her face in the pillow. I reached out and stroked her hair, the familiar gesture soothing both of us. After a moment, she finally looked up, her face contorted in distress.
"There's… there's blood!" she wailed, pointing to her skirt.
It took me a second, maybe two, to process what I was seeing. A stain, a dark, crimson stain. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Then it hit me.
"Oh," I said, feeling a wave of… something. Panic? Relief? A weird mix of both. "Oh, Teka. It's okay. It's… it's perfectly normal."
Normal. This was normal. This was something I had to deal with. Right now.
Later, armed with pads and a crash course from Rya (who handled the whole thing with an unnerving level of maturity), Teka was calmer, though still understandably shaken. As I tucked her into bed, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. I was a villain, damn it, not a… a parent handling puberty.
The missing piece was Riku. He'd been off for weeks, moodier than usual, snapping at everyone. Teen angst, I'd figured, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something I couldn't quite place. He was a ticking time bomb and I dont know why?.
He finally came home as I was making dinner, the slam of the door echoing through the apartment. He stomped past me, not even acknowledging my presence, and headed straight for his room.
I sighed, stirring the pasta sauce. I needed to talk to him, but I wasn't sure what to say. Before I could decide, I saw his phone lying on the kitchen table. He must have forgotten it. It vibrated, a new message popping up on the screen.
It was from Y/N, his mother. "I know it's been a long time, Riku, but I want to apologize. Can we talk?"
My fist clenched. Talk? After all these years, after abandoning them? But that wasn't what caught my attention. Another message appeared moments later. This one was from a number I didn't recognize.
"When are you going to tell your dad you like guys?"
I froze, my blood turning to ice. My breath hitched. Like guys? Riku? I stared at the screen, my mind reeling. I scrolled back through the messages, a knot forming in my stomach.
The conversation was between Riku and someone named Hira. It was a mix of nervous jokes, shared anxieties, and tentative confessions.
"Dude, I'm so messed up," Riku had written a few weeks ago. "I don't even know what I am."
"You're you," Hira had replied. "And you're awesome. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Besides, labels are dumb anyway."
Further down:
"I can't stop thinking about you," Riku had typed, followed by a string of embarrassed emojis.
"Me neither," Hira had responded. "Wanna ditch practice tomorrow?"
And then, the message that made my gut clench:
"It was… amazing," Riku had written, "But I'm so scared. What if someone finds out? What if Dad finds out?"
"He'll be okay with it," Hira had reassured him. "He's your dad. He loves you."
Love. Did I even know what that meant? My own father had been… less than supportive. He'd shaped me into a weapon, not a person.
I stood there, paralyzed, the phone slipping from my grasp. A wave of emotions washed over me: shock, confusion, fear, and, buried deep beneath the layers of hardened cynicism, a flicker of… understanding.
I didn't know what to do. I needed to talk to someone.
I found Dabi in the living room, sprawled on the couch, looking bored. Rya was at the table, still working on her homework.
"Rya, go to your room," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
She looked up, startled, but obeyed without question.
I sat down next to Dabi, the silence thick and uncomfortable. He raised an eyebrow, sensing my unease.
"Something wrong, Boss?"
I hesitated, but I couldn't keep it in. "Riku… I think he's gay."
Dabi didn't react, his expression unreadable. "So?"
"So? So, I don't know what to do! I don't know how to talk to him about this. I don't know how to be… supportive."
Dabi chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "You? Supportive? That's a new one."
"Shut up," I snapped, but there was no heat in my voice. "I'm serious, Dabi. I don't want to screw this up. I don't want him to end up like… like me."
Dabi was silent for a moment, then he said, "Just… listen to him. That's all you gotta do. And maybe lay off the villain monologues for a while. He's a kid, Tomura. He needs a dad, not a lecture."
He was right, of course. He usually was.
After talking to Dabi, after letting him talk sense into me, I knew what I had to do. I had to talk to Riku.
I found him in his room, headphones on, staring blankly at the wall. I knocked on the doorframe.
"Riku, can we talk?"
He looked up, his eyes wary. He took off his headphones. "What's up?"
I took a deep breath. "I saw your phone."
His face paled. "You… you saw?"
"I did. And I need you to know that… that I'm not angry. I'm not disappointed. I just… I want you to be happy."
He stared at me, disbelief warring with something else in his eyes. "You're not mad?"
"No, Riku. I'm not mad. I'm… I'm trying to understand. Tell me about Hira."
He hesitated, then started to talk, the words tumbling out in a rush. He told me about their friendship, about their shared fears and insecurities, about the first time they kissed. He told me about the confusion, the excitement, the terror of being different.
I listened, really listened, trying to absorb everything he was saying. I asked questions, not judgmental ones, but genuine ones, trying to understand his perspective.
"Your mother…" I began, then stopped. "She left, Riku. That wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault but her decision. And you deserve someone who will love you, someone who will stay."
He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"And Hira?" I asked. "Are you… safe?"
He flushed crimson. "We… we use protection," he mumbled.
I felt a pang of something akin to… pride? He was being responsible. More responsible than I had been at his age, that's for sure.
We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. About Y/N, about his feelings for Hira, about the future. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was connecting with him, not as a villain, not as a boss, but as a father.
As the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the apartment, I put my hand on his shoulder.
"I love you, Riku," I said, the words feeling foreign and awkward on my tongue. "Just… be careful. And know that I'm here for you, no matter what."
He leaned into me, a small, fleeting gesture of affection. It was enough.
I didn't know what the future held. There would be challenges, no doubt. But I knew one thing: I would face them with my children, together. I wouldn't let them end up like me. I would give them the love and support that I never had. I wouldn't be a perfect father, but I would try. God, I would try.