𝐑𝐄𝐃 // 𝐄. 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

𝟭: 𝗙𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

This is a Kirishima x black reader book, and here are some things you should know before reading:

~This is (obviously) a Kirishima x black reader book

~Your quirk is called Inferno. You can generate flames of any color with different levels of hot or cold. The color your eyes glow coincides with the color of flames. (It will be better explained in later chapters)

~This is NOT the angry black woman stereotype🙄if I see a comment talking about "I stg all black women/people are like this" your comment will be deleted and you will be blocked.

~AAVE will be used so don't complain about it in the comments.

~TW⚠️: abuse

Thank you, and enjoy the book

☀︎

Family; noun: A group of one or more parents and their children living together as a unit.

At least, that's the internet definition of it. In reality, a family can be anybody, friends, classmates, teachers, or even a pet. Family can be anyone who gives you that comforting feeling of familiarity, family is the group of people that accepts you for you. A family is supposed to make you feel safe, comfortable, loved.

Your family, however, was hell on Earth. Well, at least your stepdad was. Once upon a time, you, your mom, older brother, and sisters, one older and one younger, were happy. Then, some dumb villain had to ruin everything.

Your mom ended up getting remarried, to the number 6 ranked Pro Hero, Shadowman, aka Malik Johnson. To the media, he was a family man, one of the model pro heroes. He was nice to children, happily signing autographs and taking pictures, and being very respectful to the adults and the media.

But when the cameras were off, he was a fucking asshole.

"MALIK STOP IT, YOUR'E HURTIN' HER!" A brownskin woman yelled, trying to pry Malik's large hands from your shoulders, them forcefully pinning you down to the ground, while you angrily kicked up, merely missing his face while you yelled obscenities at the tall, burly darkskin man.

"NAH, SHE WANNA FIGHT ME LIKE A GROWN MAN, C'MON THEN!" He yelled angrily, pulling you up by your shirt off the cold tile of the kitchen floor, shoving you back roughly against the pantry door, the force from the push breaking the door off of its hinges.

You grunted from the pain throbbing at your back, mostly feeling it in your shoulder blade. You huffed your hair out of your face, your fiery red hair looking disheveled and messy, your breathing rugged as you roughly wiped the blood coming from your split lip, a vicious look in your eyes.