#i’d go for touya | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gardenofnoah · 1 year

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i’m coming up on a year of having this blog and i thought i’d do something with this drabble that i can’t stop thinking about so. yeah! thanks for reading my little stories and saying such nice things to me for a whole year <3 love u

summary: in his 40s, touya isn’t expecting anything outside of his normal, comfortable routine. you come along and give him far more than he ever wanted. oddly enough, he doesn’t think he minds.

tags: MDNI, i’ll call this a medium burn, mentions of drinking, reader uses she/her pronouns and is called a lady,etc, age gap (unspecified but like 10 years--both are consenting adults), very little angst (like, the least i’ve ever written. this is just cute, if you can believe that.), smut (dry humping, oral), this is very much a comfort fic to me idk. wc: 10.1k

much to his utter disdain, Touya sees you everywhere after your first encounter. and often.

you have this awful habit of just popping up. in the stool next to him at the bar, with such regularity that his friends now joke about it being your stool, and then around town—everywhere he goes. it’s a small town, sure—but he still finds it ridiculous. even more ridiculous—the fact that you might be growing on him, despite all his resistance.

he doesn’t know when he started expecting you to hop up on that stool every friday. has no idea when he memorized your drink order, or when he started ordering it for you preemptively. this goes on every friday for weeks—until you don’t show up.

and he’s irritated then, because it makes him sore—where else could you possibly be?

“where’s your girl?”

“don’t know,” he mutters. he catches the smirk on his friend’s face out of the corner of his eye. “and she’s not my fuckin’ girl.”

that makes him laugh, and Touya turns away in a huff, face burning.

“sure she’s not.”

it’s another two weeks before he sees you. not that he was counting.

when he sees you again, it’s a tuesday, and he’s just wrapped up at his neighbor’s house. he carries two loaves of bread in one arm, and his toolbox in the other. the old woman had chased him out of there early, telling him, “it’s a nice night. go out there and find you someone!”. he snorts, kicking a bit of asphalt down the pavement. that old bat acts worse than his mother.

there are a few vendors lined up along the road, so he lets himself take his time—strolling casually, eyes raking over the stalls. it is a nice evening—warm, but the breeze is cool as it rustles through his hair. he sees a white tip from the corner of his eye and it almost startles him. it doesn’t matter how much distance he puts between himself and Dabi—it still surprises him when he realizes that he is not the same. physically or otherwise.

lost in his thoughts, he finds himself nearly home when he sees you in his peripheral, taking something from the merchant of the produce stall across the street. he has half a mind to turn and walk the opposite way (away from his house) just to avoid this interaction—still wholly irritated over wasting the $7 on your stupid little drink, and that’s all—but you seem to have a weird sixth sense when it comes to him, and your head snaps up in his direction right before he can make a break for it. you give him that stupid smile that he has to look away from, waving at him happily before you take off in his direction.

he considers if he still has time to flee, but then you’re there in front of him.

“Touya!” you beam up at him, totally ignoring the scowl he levels you with, “what are you doing here?”

“i live here,” he grumbles, looking away from you again, “what are you doing here?”

“ah, i visit my family on tuesdays. whatcha got there?”

he pointedly looks down at the bread in his arms, and back up at you. you’re looking at it a little too intensely, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re trying to figure something out—and then the moment’s gone, and you’re smiling up at him again.

“want to share?” you ask, holding up your bag of produce to him.

he doesn’t, but he finds himself next to you anyway, sitting on a retaining wall while you chatter away—kicking your feet out and handing him slices of an orange between your own bites.

he learns more about you. early 30s (so not as young as he’d guessed, but still young enough to make him cringe), living alone like he is. you grew up in town, moved away for a while, and then came back. you don’t really like sweets but you do like fruit—hence the overflowing tote bag full of it—and you’re more inclined to reach for tea than coffee. you own the little flower shop a few blocks down. he thinks it suits you—and then he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

“i’m having an issue with the floor though, so part of the shop has been blocked off for a few weeks. not great for the foot traffic, but what can you do,” you shrug absentmindedly, more focused on digging another piece of fruit out of your bag. you settle on a peach, and it’s quiet between you for a beat. as if waiting for the silence, the thought that he’d been holding back for the better part of an hour finds its way out of his mouth.

“haven’t seen you at the bar,” he mutters, picking a stringy bit of peel off the orange piece he’s been holding.

“huh? oh, yeah. i had a wedding order that i was working on. it was so….much,” you shudder like you went off to war instead. “why, did you miss me?”

he looks away, eyes narrowed in a scowl. “just was a waste of a drink, s’all.”

he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“a drink? my—oh. wait.”

your eyes go wide—he should’ve known you’d catch on to the meaning behind his words and he wants to die—

“forget it—“

“Touya,” you cut him off, and he can hear your shit eating grin, “were you hoping to see me?”

he’s sure he’s gone bright red and resists the urge to recede into himself like a snail into a shell. now he’s irritated, because did you think your drink just magically appeared in front of you every friday? he can feel the smugness radiating off of you—you want him to say it. he huffs, still looking away from you.

“just…was a waste of money,” he grits out, knowing fully that he hasn’t worried about money in quite some time, “figured you’d be there.”

you hum, and he still can’t look at you. refuses to, actually.

“sorry, Touya,” you tell him, and it sounds so genuine that he finds himself turning to you, just to check—to make sure you’re not fucking with him. “i’ll be sure to let you know the next time i won't be there.”

he rolls his eyes at the way you’re smiling softly at him, always like you know something he doesn’t. he mumbles out a clipped “whatever” and he hates the way he sounds like he did when he was 23. you don’t pay it any mind though, right back to talking his ear off.

“so do you live, like, really alone? or do you have a pet? you strike me as a gerbil guy.”

he huffs out a laugh at that, caught wholly off guard at the thought of being the gerbil guy (have you seen him?) and you smile at the sound, clearly pleased with yourself.

“no gerbil. a dog,” he finally takes a bite of the orange he’s been cradling in his palm for the better half of the last 20 minutes. your eyes don’t leave him.

“mm. chihuahua,” you say solemnly, and he whips his head around to look at you, expression all twisted and incredulous.

“a big fuckin’ dog, you brat.”

you laugh at his outburst, seeming to get some sort of pleasure out of riling him up.

“can i meet him?”

he looks at you then, and you’re really laying it on thick—wide eyes blinking up at him, bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. he can’t find it in himself to say no to you. with a sigh, he pushes himself up from the wall.

“c’mon then.”

it’s a short walk to his place and you’re vibrating behind him. shoving his key into the lock, he hears the familiar thumping of a tail, at about the same frequency as your incessant excitement at his back—he wonders just what he’s done to attract this level of energy.

“wait a minute—he’s going to jump at you—“

“oh, who cares. let me see him!”

he shakes his head, swinging open the door. he sees his big oaf of a dog rear up to jump, and then—

and then his jaw drops, because for what may very well be the first time, his dog is suddenly sitting.

you squeal and the dog isn’t much better off—practically wiggling away from his spot on the floor and whining at the sight of you, but still sitting.

“Touya!” you laugh, shoving past him to throw your arms around the dog’s neck, squeezing him tightly, “i know this dog!”

“you—huh?”

“i—“ your own laugh cuts you off, giggling while the dog fights your grip to lick you directly on the face, “i know him! did you get him at the shelter in town?”

“…yeah?”

“oh man! i used to volunteer—i was there when he was dropped off. i was with him all the time—taught him some manners—but then i took that job out of town for a little bit, so i didn’t get to see him after that.”

Touya, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his dog is sitting, can’t bring himself to formulate a coherent reply.

“oh, i was so worried about him,” you say quietly, hugging the dog tighter, “i’m really glad you have him. what did you name him?”

that snaps him out of it, and he looks away, sheepish.

“i—uh. didn’t.”

you blink at him, processing, and then you frown.

“are you kidding me?”

he shrugs, looking at the dog— who, also for the first time, seems to be glaring at him with the same sentiment.

you sigh, shaking your head. “that won’t do,” you mutter, more to the dog than to him. “i think i called him Buck.”

as if on cue, Buck’s tail thumps against the floor.

“why?”

“not sure,” you say, scratching behind a fuzzy ear, “he just reminded me a little bit of a deer.”

Touya scoffs, completely in the dark as to how the two were even remotely similar.

“alright. Buck it is, then.”

you smile, patting the dog on the head as if he’d done anything worth rewarding. with a sigh you get to your feet, stretching a bit.

“i really do have to go see my family now,” you tell him, and he swears he hears a tiny bit of regret in your voice, “but thanks for letting me see Buck.”

he only nods, watching you bend down to kiss Buck square on his stupid blockhead.

“see you Friday?”

he swallows thickly, nodding again. your eyes are too bright.

“okay. see you, Touya.”

“hey,” he stops himself from reaching for you as you go to open the door, “i can…look at that floor for you. if y’want.”

every time he thinks he’s used to the way you just throw your emotions around like live grenades, he’s not—you smile at him so brightly he thinks you might just kill him.

you have a hunch that Touya is secretly a really good guy.

it’s almost endearing—how hard he tries to be so prickly—but it’s always all for naught, because he can’t help but go out of his way to do things for you.

you don’t know what to call the relationship—you gathered enough information from hushed whispers to his friends anytime he left his stool at the bar to know that he pointedly did not seek out the affections of women (“or men,” one of his friends said with a shrug, like they weren’t really sure). you weren’t clear on where that left you, so you were content to keep learning what you could about him—to stick around, as long as he tolerated you.

and he just barely does that, but you have a hunch it’s a farce. especially when take out cups full of freshly steeped tea start appearing on your counter in the shop, more days than not.

you lean against the wood top, sipping today's tea with both hands to warm yourself while you watch Touya work. autumn was in full swing now, and you had some difficulty keeping the shop to your preferred level of warmth, but it didn’t seem to bother him. your eyes linger on the hem of his old t-shirt, rising up in the back just a little when he reached for a different tool. it was obvious that time had softened him a bit, but he was still in shape. your vision followed the faded, looping scar that moved with the curl of his bicep as he worked each tool. it was hard not to stare.

it was even harder to get away with it.

“you’ll burn a hole in my head, brat.”

“just checking your work,” you tell him through a grin. trying very hard to feign nonchalance.

“oh yeah?” Touya looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you. you feel it bodily. “what’s the verdict?”

“looks….” you pause, examining the array of tools and the sizable hole he’s created in the floor, “yeah. yep. like good work.”

he scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the task at hand. you resist the urge to slam your head off the counter—settling for tapping in lightly as reprimand for your less than intelligent response.

you decide that the best way to get the embarrassment to dissipate is to do the thing that is quickly becoming your favorite activity: bothering him.

“pick a color.”

“what?”

“i said pick a color, grandpa.”

the sigh he lets out makes you laugh. “you fuckin’—fine. red. what’re you doing?”

you smile at him, and you watch him flush. it makes you giddy.

“nothing,” you drawl, sing-songy and incriminating, “don’t you worry your little heart about it.”

“you are the worry to my little heart,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up from the measurement he’s taking.

another thing you learn about Touya—he’s got a bit of a (dry) sense of humor. he seems to enjoy making you laugh.

there’s a lull in customers and you use it to your advantage—you go around to every bucket to ensure that each cut stem is submerged, and take out the wilted ones to dry. you don’t sell those ones—you just hang them up around the shop. you think it’s better not to waste them.

you also pull out some good looking red ones, as inconspicuous as you can—you gather a tulip, a few poppies, a peony, and a big, variegated chrysanthemum for the center.

you hold the makeshift bouquet behind your back as you approach Touya—padding over to him quietly until you’re close enough to lean into his space.

“whatcha thinking about?”

he spares you a pointed glance over his shoulder. “pest control.”

“har har,” you plop down right next to him, grinning at the way he bristles. of course it’s all for show—he doesn’t move an inch.

“made you something.”

“hm?”

you bring the bouquet out from behind your back, brandishing it in front of him dramatically. “tada!”

his eyes go wide—you see it take a minute for him to process that you’re giving him a gift. he sets his tools down and reaches for it, tentatively, like you’re going to fake him out at the last second. you meet him halfway, setting it in his hands.

“well?” you ask after a minute, “what do you think? i do pretty well, right?”

he’s quiet—turning the flowers over and back again, like he’s committing all of the little petals to memory. “what are they?”

you tell him about each flower—where they grow naturally, what conditions they like to live in, how to take care of them. he listens intently, never looking away from them.

“you don’t have to keep them,” you tell him after another moment of silence, “it was just a silly thing.”

“no,” he says, firmly. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath, looking back down at the flowers. “s’nice. thanks.”

you have to physically stop yourself from jumping up and cheering.

“you’re welcome, old man,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own.

he groans, grumbling a lighthearted “get away from me” as he shoves you back playfully. you let out some sort of dramatic squeal as you topple over, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that stretches across his face as he sets the flowers down next to him and gets back to work.

customers come in and out throughout the afternoon—most not paying any mind to Touya as he works. there are a few customers that eye him hesitantly—and there are one or two that stare pointedly at the scars that split his face. it feels like second nature to drop the customer service persona then—and to do things like drop their change on the counter and revel in the way they scramble to catch it before it rolls off onto the floor.

“have the best day,” you say to one particularly rude customer, all but shooing her out of the door.

Touya huffs out a laugh when you walk back toward him. “didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”

you cock an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“surprised you didn’t kick out her kneecaps on the way out.”

“yeah, well,” you huff, waving a hand at the thought of someone so dreadfully rude, “she would’ve deserved it.”

“why’s that?”

you meet his eyes, then, and for the first time since you met him you think about the fact that they’ve seen terrible things. you knew of Touya, of course—all of Japan did. you knew he’d been through something awful and did things that you couldn’t imagine the man in front of you doing now. you know that he would not be surprised if you told him the reason why you felt she deserved it. you wonder if it bothers him the way it bothers you, or if time has hardened him to his own mistreatment.

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, walking back behind the counter.

you haven’t seen much of Touya for the last few weeks.

you’d gotten another big order—what would probably be one of the last before winter really set in— so you were busy. he’d stop by sometimes with the excuse of checking the floor (and always with a tea for you in hand), but you learn that he’s uncomfortable with lingering, and he’s usually gone as quickly as he came.

you don’t mind—it’s nice to know he’s thinking of you. you’ve just been wondering if it’s in the way you want him to—and a lot more than you should be, lately.

you concede to having a little crush on him. who wouldn’t? he’s incredibly sweet in his own way and very nice to look at and you suppose anyone would if they’d gotten the opportunity to get to know him over the several months that you have. so what if you’re thinking about where he’s at or if he’s eaten lunch or if he’s at the bar without you, more often than not? it’s just a little secret you keep to yourself.

you try not to think about how it’s one that would make him never speak to you again if he found out about it.

you let out a groan, looking down at the half-formed bundle of alstroemeria and eucalyptus in your hands. you’d been staring at it for 20 minutes now and the motivation to continue just wasn’t coming. you suppose it was as good of a time as any to take a break.

standing up from the floor and stretching your arms above your head, your spine rewards you with a few satisfying pops as you get yourself moving again. your eyes scan the shop, surveying the damage—most of it caused by you in the last few weeks, with scraps of paper wrap and loose stems strewn about. the shop could definitely use a deep cleaning, but little things like that were just part of routine upkeep, so you don’t mind. it’s only when you roll out your neck that you spot it: a tiny, but noticeable, brown stain on the ceiling that certainly wasn’t there before. you lift your phone above your head to snap a picture of it.

sent 5:57pm>>> hi. do you think this is a big deal

received 5:59pm>>> looks like water damage

received 5:59pm>>> when did that happen?

sent 6:00 pm>>> not sure. just saw it

sent 6:00 pm>>> if i just pretend it’s not there will it go away?

received 6:01 pm>>> that ever worked for you before?

sent 6:04 pm>>> i don’t like your tone

received 6:06 pm>>> cry about it. i’ll be over to look at it tomorrow

you smile at his brashness, setting your phone down on the counter. it really was very hard to not be enamored by him. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought like a wrong answer in a magic 8 ball. you have no such luck, but you realize what time it is and feel relieved. It’s tuesday—you can finally start getting ready to see your family.

you clean up and pull on the spare coat you have in the shop storage room, locking the shop door behind you as you leave. your grandparents don’t live far—just a mile or so down the road, and it’s not too cold to walk yet, so you don’t mind the trek.

you have a standing weekly visit at your grandparents’ place. they’re just about the only family you have left, and they’re slowing down a bit. it’s meaningful to you to spend time with them when you can—even if your grandmother insists on filling it with her insistence that you find a boyfriend.

you know she means well, so you tolerate it. your grandparents’ love story is one for the ages—high school sweethearts, together and in love ever since. the dynamic is an amusing one—your grandmother, ever the chatterbox, and your grandfather, only ever amused and endeared by his wife’s inherent ability to take up space. you have always really admired their relationship, but a small part of you believed for a long time that there was something wrong with you for not being able to have the same thing. now that you’re older, you don’t feel that way—but that doesn’t make being on the receiving end of the badgering any easier.

like you’ve summoned her with your thoughts, she��s on the front stoop when you approach the house—hand already on her hip like she’s winding up to start her lecture.

“i was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”

“am i late?” you ask genuinely, pulling your phone out to check the time. 6:26pm—you’re early.

“you might as well be!” she quips, pulling you into a hug. you can smell dinner cooking through the open window behind her. you close your eyes, content to be held in the moment. you miss this feeling of home every time you leave—

“alright you old bat, s’fixed. you gotta quit dumping cooking oil down the—oh.”

your eyes snap open at the familiar voice and you find blue eyes staring back at you, shocked as you’ve ever seen them. you blink, still mid-embrace and trying to comprehend why Touya is standing in your grandmother’s doorway. or why he’s a little sweaty and dirty and wearing that tight old t-shirt. if he’s always worn a bandana to keep the hair out of his eyes, or if that’s a new thing and either way, why haven’t you seen it? it takes another long minute before you remember how to get words to come out of your mouth.

“i–uh. hi...hi Touya.” you stutter a little, and your grandmother notices that you’ve gone completely rigid in her arms. she pulls away to look at you, and then at Touya, and back to you—

and your stomach drops when you see the most shit eating grin spread across her face.

you give her your best you wouldn’t dare look.

she just smiles at you sweetly as if to say: i absolutely would.

“do you have dinner plans, Mr. Todoroki?”

he blinks. “i–uh–”

“no? excellent. go wash up! you can join us.”

she starts back up to the door with more pep in her step than you’ve seen in a long time, patting Touya’s shoulder before shoving him unceremoniously to the side with surprising strength and walking back into the house.

you’re left out there together, both clearly still trying to play catch up. true to your nature, you’re the first to break the silence.

“i see you’ve met my grandmother,” you say with a laugh, starting up the steps. he shakes himself in time to open the door for you.

“you’re related to that dinosaur?”

you pin him with your best glare. “that’s not nice. she came after the dinosaurs.”

he follows in after you, the smallest smirk on his face. that you caused it makes your chest feel light.

dinner is relatively tame. to your genuine surprise, your grandmother sticks to easy topics, save for one comment about how you’re “getting up there” and should start thinking about children.

“oh my god, Mam,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, exasperated. you look to Touya for help—who is clearly very amused and not interested in saving you from this.

“i’m just saying,” you grandmother waves a dismissive hand at you, “now who wants dessert?”

you leave the house a few hours later—with Touya in tow, because he refused to let you walk home in the dark by yourself. you certainly don’t mind the company.

“i can’t believe i didn’t put it together that you knew my grandparents,” you say, shaking your head. no wonder those bread loaves, months ago now, had looked so familiar.

“been helpin’ them out with maintenance stuff around the house,” he mutters, the hands in his pockets the only indication that he feels the evening chill, “they’re good people.”

the way that he talks about them makes you feel warm. “i’m really happy to hear that,” you sigh. you bump into him, and he stays close. “i’m sorry you have to put up with all of my grandmother’s antics though.”

he huffs a laugh, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “s’not so bad. except maybe when she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me with half the town.”

“oh god,” you turn to him in absolute horror, “she does that to you, too? i thought it was just because i’m her grandkid. she really wants to have great grandkids.”

he laughs when you shudder. “what, you’re not gonna give ‘em to her?”

you make a face at that. “no. kids are great, just…not really something i ever wanted.”

you think you see him physically deflate with something akin to relief out of the corner of your eye. you smile and try not to read into it.

the wind picks up and you shiver. Touya blinks down at you.

“you didn’t think to wear a thicker coat?”

you roll your eyes pointedly at him. “no, dad, i didn’t.”

he scowls at you, clearly not entertained, but then he’s shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“what are you doing? it’s too cold!”

“s’fine,” he mutters, brushing up against you with each step, “can’t really feel it.”

you go quiet while you consider this, eyes drifting to the textured skin that wraps around his bicep. there’s an ache in your chest that flares up whenever you think about Touya, small and proud and burned within an inch of his life. you wonder if he still feels it, 30 some odd years later. you want to reach for him, but you think better of it.

“do they hurt still?” you ask quietly, after a moment.

“sometimes.”

you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind if you asked more, but you’re not sure what to say. you don’t think it would be fair to ask him to relive any of it to satisfy your own curiosity. there’s just one thing you’d still like to know.

“are you angry?”

he gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks down at you. his gaze is searching, like he’s looking for your fear—fear of him, of what he’s done. you know he won’t find any.

“no.”

the rest of the walk home is shrouded in comfortable silence, save for the crunch of shoes against pavement. all too quickly you’re at the door to the shop again.

you dig for the keys for your apartment on the second floor while Touya leans against the door frame, watching you.

you feel the metal dig into your palm when you close your fist around them. you look back up at him, and it’s almost startling how soft he looks right now. unguarded.

“can i hug you?” you ask, startling yourself a little. he’s so clearly not a touchy guy, but you hope he’ll indulge you—just this once.

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then his face smooths back into his practiced stoicism. he rolls his eyes, but steps forward anyway. you feel like you just won the lottery.

“make it quick, brat.”

you nearly tackle him in your excitement and you hear him grumble next to your ear. you feel an arm loop around your shoulders, and you are suddenly very aware that your little crush is far larger than you thought. you file it away for later, because the beat of his heart against your ear feels far more important right now. everything about him is warm—you stifle a sigh at the immediate comfort that rolls over you like a wave.

“now go inside before y’get sick.”

you resist the urge to pout. you stay there for another beat—and he doesn’t move either.

you untangle yourself from him with a sigh. if you didn’t know any better, you’d interpret the look on his face as something close to disappointment. you start shrug your shoulders out of his jacket to hand it back to him, but he stops you.

“just, ah—” he starts, looking away from you, “give it back to me tomorrow. when i fix your fuckin’ mess.”

you raise an eyebrow, posturing to argue, but something in his expression tells you not to.

“okay,” you say finally, quiet between you, “be careful going home. goodnight, Touya.”

he lingers for a moment more before letting out a little grunt and turning on his heel. your eyes trail over the expanse of his shoulders as he grows fainter down the road until he disappears into the dark.

you drag yourself up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. you stumble through the dark of your apartment until your knees knock into your bed frame. you fall into bed face first, not bothering to change or even get under the covers. still wrapped in the jacket that smells like him.

you dream of fire that warms but doesn’t burn.

“good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”

Touya nearly comes out of his skin, hissing as he hits his head off of the counter he’s crouched under. it would be impressive, how stealthy the old bat was, if it wasn’t so god damned annoying.

“how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head as he gets to his feet. she only chuckles.

“you’ll have to forgive me for not addressing you with the same familiarity that my granddaughter does.”

he whips his head around to look at her—which he finds to be a mistake, because she’s just looking at him with that knowing old lady smirk that makes his skin itch.

“don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mutters, stooping down to lodge himself as far under the counter as he needs to to avoid the rest of this conversation.

“oh, please. do i look like i was born yesterday?”

he pauses, mid crouch, to look back at her over his shoulder. she clicks her tongue at him. “don’t answer that.”

“i think it would be nice for you both to have…companionship,” she settles on the last word like it’s not really what she wanted to say, and it reminds him far too much of his mother. usually he’d shut this conversation down, but for a reason unknown to him, he doesn’t.

“don’t y’think i’m a little too old for her?” he asks, half-joking. he’d be a liar to say that he hadn’t thought about it at length.

she waves a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes. “oh please—you wouldn’t know too old if it hit you upside the head.”

he hides another smirk from her—which she seems to expect anyway, shaking her head with a sigh.

“you’re both babies still,” she says quietly, with all of the wisdom and yearning of someone who has lived as long as she has, “you have nothing but time. just don’t waste it.”

Touya’s not sure when the shift happened, but he’s acutely aware that it has happened.

he’s doesn’t know when he started allowing you to touch him. he’s usually uncomfortable with that sort of thing—it tends to aggravate his skin and it does well to make him feel queasy. but you lay your arm over his to show him something about your flowers on your phone, and he doesn’t feel any urge to reel back from you. he wants to be surprised at his lack of reaction, but he supposes he’s not—proximity to him has always been something you’ve insisted on, physical or otherwise.

the bar is crowded tonight, which leaves him feeling uneasy. the noise level grates at his nerves and he finds himself having to lean into you just to hear what you’re saying. it sours his mood immensely.

he’s scowling into his beer when he feels you crowd his space. his head snaps up, ready to gripe at you, and he finds you’re turned away from him. he looks around you and sees that your space has been crowded—by some rowdy little punk he’s never seen before.

immediately and on some sort of primal instinct, Touya wraps an arm around you, yanking you into his side. you brace yourself with a hand on his chest to avoid flat out headbutting his chin.

“hey,” he snarls over your head, eyes like daggers at the offender, “watch where you’re fuckin’ going.”

the man turns around, posturing to defend himself, but one look at Touya has his eyes widening in the same expression of fear that he sees on everyone else’s face. usually the reaction sits in his stomach like a rock, but this time, he revels in it. “and while you’re at it, you can apologize to her.”

his looks down at the ground immediately, unwilling to spend another minute under scrutiny.

“sorry about that,” he mutters dejectedly. Touya feels your grip tighten around the hem of his shirt, but to his surprise, you say nothing.

“get the fuck out of here,” he barks, and he holds back a laugh as the man does just that—completely forgetting about the drink he ordered.

shaking his head, he lets you go—expecting you to scramble away from him and back to your stool. he feels himself cringe—he probably embarrassed you.

he’s worried when he realizes you’re still tethered to him by the fabric of his shirt.

“hey,” he murmurs, trying to push you back gently to look at your face, “you alright, kid? you’re not hurt, are you?”

you let go of him, albeit reluctantly. you only move back far enough to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. he can only think of how close you are.

“Touya,” you rasp, cheeks flushed and looking at him through half-hooded eyes, “that was, um—really hot.”

he blinks at you, a little dumbfounded. his eyes rake over your face, trying to find the punchline somewhere. wholly anticipating you to snap out of it and laugh at him—to tell him what a fool he is for falling for such a cruel joke.

but your expression never changes, and he realizes at once that it’s one of desire.

a shudder wracks up his spine. he pulls you toward him again, splaying his fingers across your back to feel the way it arches into him. he dips his head down, lips next to your ear. fighting a smirk at the way you shiver in his hold.

“come back to mine?”

you nod emphatically, and he’d tease you about it if he wasn’t feeling the same level of urgency. he throws a couple bills on the bar top and all but hauls you out the door. he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s half out of his mind right now and can’t find it within himself to think it over before he does something he might regret.

his own desire is nearly stifling, and he finds he can’t go another minute without something to satiate him, if only for a moment. he pulls you into the alley next to the bar, crowding you against the brick.

“you drunk?” he asks suddenly—slivers of rationality making it through the haze of such thick lust. you laugh a little, breathy and overwhelmed. he can see the puff of steam from your exhale between you in the cold.

“not at all,” you murmur, reaching for him. you wrap a finger around one of his belt loops and pull him toward you—he knows with an unsettling certainty that he’d do whatever you asked him to right now. the knowledge burns him from the inside.

“tell me to stop,” his lips are only a breath away from yours, and yet he almost wishes you would tell him to stop, because he’s not sure what comes after this. he’s alarmed by the weight of his own need, and he has a hunch that whatever happens next may not be enough to quell it.

he has the sudden and sobering thought that he may never get his fill of you.

“no,” you breathe, and it’s all he needs to bridge the distance. he’s instantly overwhelmed by the soft warmth of your mouth, and lets out a quiet groan when he feels your tongue swipe at the seam of his. he opens his mouth to taste more of you, and he truly cannot get enough. you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and he is nearly frantic when he pulls away from you. he feels absolutely debauched and a little humiliated—in his 40-some odd years, he’s never known himself to get so worked up over some kissing.

“we need to go right now,” he rasps, panting against your mouth. he feels your smile against him and wants to swallow you whole.

“lead the way, old man.”

he barely registers making it through the door—has no idea how he managed to unlock it, let alone open it—before he has you pressed up against it. to touch you like this feels foreign, and he wants to feel everything. after a moment, he gets impatient with himself. he grabs you around the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he has half a mind to thank Buck later, for not bounding between the two of you and ripping him from whatever trance you have him suspended in right now.

he drops you onto the bed unceremoniously and is quick to follow, mouth chasing yours on the way down. you pull your shirt off and he helps you with your pants—he can’t help but pull back to marvel at you.

your demeanor changes immediately.

you're entirely too tense, breath hitching and your grip on his arms uncomfortably tight. he pulls back to look at you and you flinch.

“jesus—the fuck are you so jumpy for?”

"i don't know!" you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, red when you look away from him. "maybe i just don't do this as often as you, okay?"

he snorts, rolling his eyes. "i don't do this often."

it’s not exactly the truth—because the truth is that he doesn't do this at all—but he's still got his pride. he’d been touched before, but mostly in his 20s and only when he was just shy of belligerent. only when he could go numb with the certainty that it would be over quickly and that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

no one could hold a flame to you, though—sprawled out underneath him, chest heaving and eyes hooded with unbridled desire. something about it makes him want to reach into the ether and stop time with his bare hands. he wants to savor every bead of sweat that rolls down the curve of your breast, every touch that makes your pupils dilate—the primal need to know takes over everything else.

“i just…” you start, lip jutting out with the tiniest pout. he feels insane. “i feel nervous.”

something inside him twists at your admission, and he finds himself wanting to comfort you. it’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, but he leans into it.

"relax," he murmurs, unwinding your arms and replacing them with his full body weight, directly on top of you. you squeak, and he presses his smile into the crook of your neck. "don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

he feels you slump underneath him—however minutely—and it feels like a reward. and then your hips kick into his, and his brain short circuits.

he pushes back onto his forearms to look at you, and he's endeared by the flush that creeps up your neck as you avoid his gaze. he finds it cute, how quickly you lay your ego down for him. that in itself is another reward, and one he doesn't take lightly.

you might be a little embarrassed under his stare, but that doesn't stop the roll of your hips. yours is a slow grind up into him and he meets you with one of his own, firm and demanding. your mouth drops open and the way you shudder under him pulls a groan from him.

"feel good?" he rasps, sneaking a hand around the back of your neck and holding you there, nosing against your cheek until you turn to him.

"yes."

it's borderline pornographic when it leaves you and his hips stutter—he feels it buzzing underneath his skin as it pushes him closer to a place wholly unfamiliar.

through his jeans, he's sure you can feel him—hot and aching against the flimsy material of your panties. he huffs a laugh against your lips—suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that he may cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.

you seem to be aware of that, too.

you kiss him hard and he nearly whines, and then he actually does when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. he reels back from you to catch his breath and you don't let him go very far.

"you feel so good," murmured into his mouth, it's nearly his undoing.

"you gotta stop," it sounds a lot like a plea when it leaves him, "i can't—i'm gonna—”

you hook a leg around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. he knows at once that he is well and truly fucked in a fundamental and totally unrelated way.

"no," you drawl, and it's almost a coo in his ear, "i don't think i will."

he doesn't know when you took the upper hand and he doesn't even care. he's lost in the movement of your hips and he knows that there's a mess between you both—he hears the tacky click of damp fabric meeting with every grind into you.

"you're—fuckin' wet," he grits out, and he's so close. the knowledge of your arousal has him curling in on himself.

you chuckle, like he's stating something so obvious. "how could i not be?"

he rewards you with a particularly sinful thrust, and you keen underneath him.

"please," you arch into him, "want you to cum."

and he does just that—all the breath is battered out of him with the force of it. his cock throbs with every wave of release in his jeans and he keeps himself pressed snuggly to you, hips thrusting with no particular rhythm as he rides out the last of it. he keeps his face pressed into your neck and lets out a long, broken groan. he stays there—full body weight collapsed on top of you again—and it's a moment before he comes back to his senses enough to feel your fingers scratch over his scalp.

"fucking hell," he presses a kiss to your throat and you giggle. it warms something inside of him that's hard to shake once it starts. he has the sneaking suspicion—in this fleeting moment of vulnerability—that it started well before now.

he gathers his wits and pushes back from you. he sees the look on your face and finds that he couldn't go any farther than an arm's length away, even if he tried.

adoration. it could only be that—you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it twists in his gut. he doesn't understand—he's done so many wrong things. you look at him like they don't hang above his head—like you can't see them there.

what a sweet little thing that's found their way into his bed. and deeper than that, it seems.

"want to taste you," he murmurs, leaning back down to drag his lips over the curve of your jaw. you draw in a shuddering breath, nodding, and it fans his ego immensely.

he takes his time, then—there's intention behind every warm press of his mouth to every inch of your skin. he takes note of the way your breath hitches, and of what makes you squirm. you tip your head back with a moan when he catches a bead of sweat between the valley of your breasts with his tongue.

you breathe out a whisper of his name when he latches on to the skin that stretches over your ribs, and he feels his own arousal swell again—sloshing around in his gut, thick and needing. he finds himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him—lazy, really. just enough to dull the ache.

"hold on," you croak, and he looks up at you, "you’re too dressed."

he looks down at himself and realizes that you’re right—he’s still fully clothed. he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his own one track mind, and sits up to take care of it.

he grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a fluid motion. he feels your gaze on him and feels a little bashful. he’s even quicker with the jeans—soiled and gross as they are now—shoving them down his hips and kicking them from his ankles until his clad in only his (also gross) boxers and leaning over you again.

you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over the scar across his chest. he half expects you to pull away—to recoil from him like you should—but you don’t.

“need you, Touya.”

he could just die.

"s'that right?" he bends down to press another hot kiss to the skin that stretches between your hips. he fixates on the softness of it, and has to stop himself from nuzzling into it. he'd love to draw this out—to really get you pleading for him like he hopes you would, writhing and so wet underneath him. but his own patience nears its end, so he decides to be merciful. he shuffles down until he's eye level with the damp spot in your panties that makes him curse under his breath.

"look at you," he breathes, dragging a finger through the mess. you let out a whine, arching to chase what little stimulation he's giving you. "poor thing. y'really do need it."

he doesn't wait for your response before his hooking a finger through the fabric and dragging it off of you. a string of your arousal stretches and snaps with it, and he commits the sight to memory.

he wastes no time—he sticks his tongue out flat and drags it through your folds, groaning at the slick that coats it.

"oh fuck," you wheeze, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair to keep him there.

as if you'd ever need to do that.

he can't get enough of you. so swollen and sweet against his tongue, he's nearly out of his mind with the need for more of it. he dips the tip of his tongue inside you and feels you squeeze around it, and it's unbearable how badly he wants more of you.

"Touya," you groan out, eyes squeezed shut tight as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, "please—please don't stop—"

he thinks you're fucking insane for ever believing he would. he pulses his tongue against your clit and revels in the way your back arches as you wail—he reaches up to pinch a pebbled nipple between his heated fingers just to feel you.

"oh fuck, fuck fuck—" the words tumble out of your mouth, slurred and nearly incoherent as he flattens out his tongue and lets you chase your pleasure.

in the throes of it, you reach down to tangle your fingers between his own. he's not sure if you even know that you've done it, but the knowledge that you seek him out for such an innocent display comfort has his heart fluttering in his chest. he gives your nipple a particularly harsh tug with his other hand.

"oh i'm gonna cum—" you cry, hips stuttering with every drag of your sex over his tongue, "please, Touya, i'm gonna—"

he squeezes your fingers when you do, and you let out a sob that goes straight to his cock. he feels you tense up—every muscle rigid for only a moment—and then you let it go, and he's mesmerized. it moves through you violently, like waves crashing into the shore during a storm. he keeps your clit between his lips as you thrash, letting you buck against his face, dragging it out for as long as he can.

he waits until he hears your breathing return to a semi-normal pace before he cleans you up—with his tongue, light and gentle through your folds, not wanting to waste any of the mess you reward him with. he forgets himself and slips his tongue inside of you—drinking up all of your slick. basking in the way you flutter around him and the sweet slide of you down his throat. he only comes back to himself when you start to tremble, whining at the overstimulation.

he rests his head on the inside of your thigh and closes his eyes, breathing you in. never in his life has he ever felt so satiated by something—it confuses him, to get so much pleasure from you without you ever even touching him. he feels you squeeze his fingers and realizes he's still holding your hand.

"you with me, kid?"

you sigh, stretching your free leg out. "think so, old man."

he untangles your fingers to rub at your leg, reaching down to knead at the muscles in your calf. you sigh, light and content, and it makes him smile. it's quiet between you then, and he's grateful that you don't feel the need to fill it. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, moving to massage the outside of your thigh.

"good to me," you sigh sleepily, and he knows you're only a second from falling asleep.

he doesn't answer—his throat suddenly feels too thick and he doesn't think he can—he just keeps rubbing your muscles gently until your breathing evens out.

he finds that he doesn't mind being trapped between your legs like this. when he thinks he might even be able to fall asleep, he realizes for the second time that he's in far deeper than he thought he'd be.

he lets his eyes flutter closed and has a hard time thinking of anything wrong with that.

there’s another shift, after that. the only person that seems to be oblivious to it is you.

it’s not that you haven’t noticed, because of course you have. Touya becomes uncharacteristically touchy, literally overnight. you bask in it when you can, because you know it’s fleeting.

that’s where you split off from, well—everyone else.

“c’mon kid, you can’t honestly think that.”

you huff, glaring into your drink. Touya’s friends had jumped at the opportunity to heckle you the minute he stood up to go to the restroom. you find it endearing, the way they act like little old ladies, gossiping amongst themselves.

“we’re not together,” you repeat, albeit bitterly, “it’s not like that for him.”

the friend closest to you barks out a laugh, and you pin him with your meanest stare. it only makes him laugh harder. he’s wiping tears from his eyes when Touya comes back, filling the space between you.

it hurts tremendously to know that this is temporary, and you feel ridiculous for feeling that way. it’s not like it comes as a surprise—you knew very well that Touya wasn’t one for romance or love. you thought you could live with that, especially with the sex being as good as it is—but it was just so easy to believe the opposite was true, because he really was good to you. if you allowed yourself to forget, it was nothing at all to pretend he was because he wanted this, too.

still—like a magnet, you’re drawn to him. you hop down from your stool to stand beside his, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“you hungry?,” he turns to murmur into your hair, “i’ll get you fries or somethin’.”

“wow, fries” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “how chivalrous.”

you feel him grin. “wasn’t raised in a barn.”

it’s a bad joke. it lodges itself in your skin and makes you ache for him. you try not to dwell on it.

“you could’ve fooled me.”

he rolls his eyes back at you with a little tch, but it’s lighthearted. he slings his arm around your neck and pulls you closer until you’re pressed into the warmth of his side, and presses a kiss to your temple.

“you know, most men would give up their seats for pretty women.” you tease, leaning into his touch.

“let me know if you see one, then.”

“hey!”

he laughs, brushing his lips against your forehead again before leaning back, patting his thigh.

“c’mon then, pretty lady.”

you feel warm as you climb up into his lap, and when you settle in, it’s like a key inside of a lock. you pointedly ignore the knowing glance from the man to your right, choosing instead to feel every inch that connects you to Touya. it feels like a reward, to mold to him this well—like something you’re owed after trimming off every one of his prickly little thorns for as long as you have. you want to tell him so, but you know he’d clam up or shove you off of him. you keep your feelings where they simmer under your skin and focus on the way his hand trails over the curve of your hip—back and forth, like he means to soothe, but his warmth feels like a brand. you close your eyes and imagine a reality in which he does it because he loves you.

“you alright?”

it sounds odd, coming from him—like he’s not used to asking the question. you suppose he’s not—he’s never had anyone to check up on. he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers linger over your brow bone.

you’d been quiet since you left the bar—you’d followed him back to his house with an uncharacteristically little amount of banter. you’d been pliant as he pulled you down on the bed with him—nearly boneless and without so much as a teasing bite on the way down.

despite yourself, you feel your eyes start to burn. you let out a clipped curse, blinking rapidly and looking pointedly away from him—hoping he wouldn’t press you about it.

he does.

“hey, hey,” he says softly, reaching to grab your chin with warm, calloused fingers and turning you to face him, “what’s goin’ on?”

his blatant concern makes it worse—drives the knife a little deeper into your side—because it’s so starkly different (and far more intimate) from the Touya you started with. it only serves as a reminder of your original suspicion having long been confirmed—that he cares for you because he’s good. not because he loves you. not because he feels this unbearable, aching need that you do. you know there’s no escaping him now—he’s seeded himself somewhere deep in your chest and taken root. when his thumb brushes down over the curve of your jaw, you know that there’s no stopping the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“i love you,” the tears crest and fall, and you ache when he brushes them away before they can slip down your temples, “i’m really sorry.”

you’re a little surprised when you see his eyebrows knit together slightly in an emotion that’s definitely not the overt and immediate dismay you thought it would be, but you close your eyes before you can see anything else—before you can watch him pull away from you, genuinely and for the last time.

you go rigid when you feel his forehead knock into yours, gently and only for an instant.

“s’that such a bad thing?”

your eyes snap open, and you think the sight might kill you—he’s open and giving you everything with a willingness that makes your breath stutter in your chest. he has his head propped up on his hand to look at you, and it’s almost enough to disarm you completely.

“don’t be cruel if you’re going to leave,” you hear yourself plead, despite what you’re seeing. he only snorts.

“and what makes you so sure i’ll do that?”

“i know that you don’t do this shit.”

he smiles at that—a little thing that stretches across his face slow. it amuses him to hear you swear.

“you’re right,” he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers over your jaw again. holding you there so gently that it aches. “i don’t. s’different now, though.”

you blink at him through the sting in your eyes, more confused than anything. he lets out a slow sigh, but it’s not in frustration.

“you’re stuck to me now,” he says with such a fondness that you feel the words stick themselves to your bones, “m’not going anywhere.”

“i’m not trapping you here, Touya—“

“you’re not,” he agrees, with more patience than he’s ever afforded you. something starts to click in your mind, but for some reason, you find yourself fighting it.

“you don’t—you’re not—“

“hey,” he cuts you off with a flick to your forehead, “listen to what i’m tellin’ you.”

“it’s…hard. for me.” he says after thinking for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again like he’s trying to make up the words from scratch. “i‘m used to bein’ alone. never really thought about anybody else.”

you’re silent then, mostly stunned, because you don’t think he’s ever said so many words to you. not like this.

“i’m outta my depth here, kid,” it’s nearly whispered and it feels sacred, like a confession between you. you’re suddenly very aware that he’s giving you something that he’s parting with for the first time in his life. “but i can’t think about ya anywhere but here now. makes me feel a little sick.”

you reach for him then—tentative fingertips brushing over the rapid fluttering of his heart. he gathers them in his hand and holds you there.

“i might not be any good at this. but i’d like to try.”

his words hit your ears one at a time, like coins slotted into a carnival game—they reach your mind with a heavy clink and only when the last one drops in do you really hear him. he’s no casanova, but you understand the sentiment under his words as if he’d spoken it aloud.

you close your eyes and draw in one more shuddering breath, and it knocks loose the last of your reservations. you turn on your side, facing him fully, meeting the blue of his eyes with a slow smile that makes them narrow at you in suspicion.

“jeez. you didn’t have to go all soft on me.”

he scoffs, shaking his head. “glad to have you back, you fuckin’ brat.”

you laugh and he chases the sound, leaning forward until your foreheads knock together again. this time, he stays put.

“tell me again,” he murmurs, and your heart balloons inside your chest.

“i love you.”

epilogue—1 year later

Touya trudges up the steps to your apartment after finishing up at your grandparents’. you’d think he’d agreed to remodel the whole house, with how often they call him over now.

he had a hunch that he wasn’t really there just to make repairs, and he didn’t mind. he knew how much your family meant to you, and he’d be lying if he said they weren’t growing on him, too.

“you bring our girl over here to see us,” the old bat called after him as he walked out the door, “don’t let her work herself to death.”

he was quick to agree, because his concerns were similar—you’d gotten busy as the weather started to warm with the first hint of spring, and you did not appear to be particularly skilled at taking breaks or prioritizing yourself. predictable, but no less annoying.

walking up the steps to the home you now share, he looks down at the squirming thing in his arms and lets out a sigh.

it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to move in. he got to see you everyday (which allowed him to ensure you were, at the very least, feeding yourself) and Buck was over the moon at living in a new space if that meant he could be with you all the time. he couldn’t find a reason to say no (and he really, really didn’t want to), so it was easy to say yes. the smile you gave him when he agreed is imprinted on his heart.

“babe? you here?”

you call to him in response from the kitchen, not looking up at him when he walks in—you’re hunched over the counter in front of your laptop, going through orders while Buck lays at your feet. he makes no move to greet Touya—in fact, the only acknowledgement Buck spares him is a few thuds of his tail against the tile. Touya narrows his eyes at him. traitor.

“hi,” you murmur, turning your body like you’re going to look at him—except you don’t actually look away from the computer.

“hi,” he grins, not moving in to kiss you like he usually does. waiting for you to turn to him.

“what did Mam need—oh.”

you’re finally looking at him—except you’re not really looking at him at all, because your eyes are focused on the shivering thing in his arms.

you look at it, and to him, and then back to it. you’re quiet for a beat, clearly trying to process, and then the thing nearly jumps out of his arms when you throw your head back and laugh.

“what the hell is that—” you say through a wheeze, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, “Touya—oh my god—where did you get that?”

you close the proximity between you—finally, he thinks—and he bends to kiss your temple when you take the chihuahua from his arms. instantly Buck is on his feet, sniffing the air but otherwise content just to look at the dog in your arms. Touya feels relief at the non-reaction—you really had taught his dog some manners.

“the fuckin’ thing was rooting around in the trash,” he mutters, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “figured you’d be mad at me if i left ‘im there.”

you roll your eyes and he knows you know it’s a lie—he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d left the dog there.

“are we keeping him?” you ask absentmindedly, scratching his tiny head. it works to subdue him—the shaking stops (mostly) and he lets out a little huff before relaxing in your hold. it makes you smile, and Touya thinks he’d fill this whole fucking house with chihuahuas if it meant he could see it again.

“do y’want to?”

you let out a stray chuckle, finally looking up at him. “i guess he’d fit, won’t he?”

he feels the grin stretch across his face. “i don’t know. it’d be a tight squeeze.”

you snort, reaching with your free hand to poke at his ribs. “you have to name him, you know.”

“fuck,” he groans dramatically, pulling another giggle from you, “fine. what about…” he trails off, wracking his brain and looking around the kitchen, praying for even a semblance of inspiration. he sees your half-eaten lunch on the counter, and he thinks about the moldy cold cut he’d had to wrestle out of the little shit’s surprising tight grip—

“lunch meat.”

“...i’m sorry?”

“his name is lunch meat.”

you laugh at that, and the sound reverberates off every cell in his body.

“it’s a good thing we’re not having kids,” you say through a giggle, “they’d have the worst names.”

he grins at you and you just shake your head, cooing to the tiny dog in your arms. Touya peels himself from you, settling against the counter just to watch. the other surprise—the one he’d actually planned—involved a fancy dinner in the next town over, because it is your anniversary, after all—but right now it feels like he has nothing but time, and to do anything but stand here and feel every second with you would feel like a waste.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

#am i....a sap?#i love him. oh my god do i love him #my baby deserves a good fucking ending #glares at horikoshi #todoroki touya x you #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya fluff #touya x reader #fic: when fire doesn't burn

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wttcsms · 5 months

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WAIT DON'T CLOSE IT YET!!!!! the 'love story told in untraditional format' prompt and DABI??? mm.

would like to meet, touya todoroki ;

pairing touya 'dabi' todoroki x f!reader word count 1.9k synopsis the dregs of society run rampant on hinge, and everyone knows you're not going to meet The One on there. but you know the saying... love does come when you least expect it. alternatively: catching feelings through the hinge dms. content contains one reference to jumping off a building, some sexual jokes author's notes OK not necessarily a love story, but there are feelings in involved, i swear. this is supposed to be fun & silly!!!!

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Download Hinge, your friends encouraged you. It’ll be fun!

You frown at Shigaraki’s ever-so-eloquent opening line of I’d blow yo back out. Yeah, you can see why this app was designed to be deleted. The fucking dregs of society are crawling all over this thing. Just one nice, well-adjusted individual. That’s all you’re asking for!

Apparently, any decent guy is either taken or not on Hinge. You debate throwing in the towel and just meeting someone organically, like, out in public, exactly as the good lord intended, but right before you do, your phone vibrates.

New Notification!

Hinge | Dabi liked your image!

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It’s a Friday night, and you know for a fact that there is not a single sane man on this app, especially at this hour. Considering the fact that you’re sitting in bed right now, about to rewatch Pride & Prejudice for the sixth time this week, what else do you have to lose? Dignity? You open the app.

Apr 22 10: 24 PM

Dabi: You’re hot, what’s wrong with you

You: ??

Dabi: You’re too hot to be single and on here. What’s your deal

You: you’re on here too? 🤨

Dabi: Would you say I’m too hot to the point where it’s suspicious I’m on here

You: i’m not here to give you an ego boost

Dabi: Then what’s the point of being on here

You: so you just get on here for free compliments?

Dabi: Maybe I have premium. Maybe I pay for these compliments

You: yeah, you look like the type to pay for hinge premium ngl

Dabi: Bye I’m going to talk to girls that are easier to manipulate

You: please do 🙏

Apr 23 1:21 PM

Dabi: Did you miss me

Apr 23 3:15 PM

You: so much

Apr 23 4:47 PM

Dabi: How much

Apr 23 6:01 PM

You: i was going to jump off a bridge if u didn’t text me

Apr 23 8:01 PM

Dabi: Damn that’s crazy

Dabi: How I don’t care

Apr 23 10:15 PM

You: don’t you have anyone else to bother

Dabi: I want to bother you though

You: you probably scared off every girl you’ve ever come in contact with

Dabi: True

Dabi: Except for you because you’re stupid

You: you pay for hinge premium, there’s an idiot in this conversation but it’s def not me

Dabi: I was joking

Dabi: I don’t have money like that

You: i can tell

You: you probably take girls out for coffee as a first date, and then make them venmo u their half of the bill

Dabi: Nah

Dabi: I make her pay the full amount

You: i’m not surprised

Dabi: That was a joke too

Dabi: I never take girls out

You: thank God

You: you’d probably be every girl’s worst date story

Dabi: Want to test that theory out

You: no thanks, i don’t feel like being content material for some crime podcast

Dabi: Smart girl

Apr 24 12:13 PM

Dabi: Wyd

You: at the police station, filing a restraining order on you

Dabi: Damn

Dabi: You want to be the one to put me in cuffs

You: the officer here actually has pink cuffs, i know some guys find that emasculating but you seem like you wouldn’t mind

Dabi: I love pink actually

Dabi: I’m so down

You: i think you’re my dream guy

You: more like my sleep paralysis demon, but same difference

Dabi: Aw you think of me when you sleep

Dabi: You’re that obsessed already

You: stfu

Dabi: Don’t feel bad

Dabi: I’m a munch fr

Dabi: I need u

You: what you need is to be put on some medication

Dabi: Yeah you’re my medication

You: you need to be psychologically evaluated

You: r u a social experiment

Dabi: Stop flirting with me

You: you’re so childish

Dabi: Am I bothering you

Dabi: Do I elicit strong emotions

You: you don’t look like someone who knows the word elicit

Dabi: I’m in grad school

You: wow

You: this is the first time you’ve left me genuinely speechless

Apr 24 3:55 PM

Dabi: Yo when’s ur bday

Dabi: Do you have any siblings

You: are u gonna ask for my mother’s maiden name too

Dabi: Yeah actually

Dabi: Give me your ssn while you’re at it

You: ur a creep, ur lucky ur cute

Dabi: Wow, you can’t have deep convos with anyone any more without being accused of trying to get answers to their security questions

You: tell me something abt you first

Dabi: My dad sucks

You: yeah you look like you would have daddy issues

Dabi: Lmao

Dabi: I’m being fr though

You: yeah, a lot of dads do suck. what abt the rest of ur family?

Dabi: I haven’t seen them in years

You: oh

You: do they suck too?

Dabi: Nah

Dabi: I moved out as soon as I could

You: your dad was that bad?

Dabi: The worst

You: are you trying to get pity pussy rn???? don’t tug on my heartstrings if it’s all just a lie

Dabi: Damn wtf

Dabi: But also depends. Do u wanna give me some pity pussy rn

You: bye i thought we were actually having a serious moment

Dabi: I wasn’t lying. Swear

Dabi: Now tell me something too

You: im an attention seeker. that’s why im on here

Apr 25 1:56 PM

Dabi: Did u miss me not giving u attention

Apr 25 3:56 PM

You: sorry, i was having really crazy sex waiting for u to come back

Dabi: Fire

Dabi: You deserve it

Dabi: Me next?

You: only if you promise to tell me u love me before the post nut clarity hits

Dabi: I love manipulating women during sex

Dabi: Anything for u

You: you say that but someone else is in my dms telling me that i can be his housewife and raise our kids and never work a day in my life again so pls top that offer

Dabi: DAMN

Dabi: I bet he’s boring

You: he’s not boring, we’re actually getting married and gonna have a big family

Dabi: Well clearly the fact that ur talking about him to me shows that u aren’t interested in him

You: i’m telling u abt him so u have something to aspire to

Dabi: Damn you should date him then

You: that’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said

Apr 26 7:00 AM

Dabi: I hate you

Dabi: Wyd today

You: pls mind ur own business

Dabi: Smd

Dabi: Tell me or I block you

Apr 26 8:19 AM

Dabi: U suck

You: and swallow

Dabi: No you don’t

Dabi: You probably spit it out

Apr 27 9:34 AM

You: true but in my defense, you look like you would produce something that tastes like toxic waste

Dabi: Were u deadass ignoring me

You: don’t be so needy, dabi. it’s not a good look

Dabi: Sorry that was a moment weakness

Dabi: So what now

Dabi: Is this when u give me ur insta

You: i don’t have any social media

Dabi: Nah you’re a catfish

You: maybe

Apr 27 1:34 PM

Dabi: Wyd

You: you’re a true wyd warrior, do u realize that

You: i’m currently getting my back blown out by a dude who posted his headshot as one of his hinge pics. i am not even faking my moans.

Dabi: Stfu 😂

Dabi: Do u even know what sex is

Dabi: Name one position

You: easy, missionary

Dabi: Well you’re on your phone so obviously the sex you’re having isn’t that good

You: im just a good multitasker

Dabi: tell me if ur shit is grippy

You: hold on, let me ask him

Dabi: Whats his name

Dabi: Whats he saying

You: don’t worry abt his name

You: he told me im gripping him so tight, it’s like i’m trying to take his blood pressure rn

Dabi: LMAO

Dabi: That means ur not attracted to him

You: wow, a guy who knows that tight doesn’t equal aroused, i’m genuinely impressed w you

You: and for the record, i would never actually fuck a guy who posts a professional headshot as one of his pics on hinge

Dabi: Oh now you tell me

Dabi: Guess I have to cancel the appointment I just made to get a headshot done

Apr 28 6:20 AM

Dabi: Im leaving Okinawa to go back to work. I’m sad, cheer me up

You: just commit a crime so they won’t let you leave

You: also i think maybe u need a psych eval or smth bc why are u still talking to me 🤨

Dabi: Nah tbh you’re the most interesting person on here

Dabi: I’m gonna go to tokyo and commit a crime on u

You: yea, u not being in my guts rn should be a crime

Dabi: Chill my dick isn’t big enough for that 😂

You: i want you to seek professional help

Dabi: I want u to seek these nuts in ur mouth

You: when should i ghost you

Dabi: Whenever u want bae you can ghost me anytime

Apr 28 7:26 AM

Dabi: REPLY

You: u literally told me i could ghost u anytime WHAT IS UR DEAL

Dabi: Damn ok well when you do at least say goodbye

You: when i do, i’m reporting ur hinge account in the hopes that u get banned and have to resort to meeting women irl

You: i’m actually reporting ur account rn

Dabi: Good idea

Dabi: I’ll report u too

Dabi: Before you get banned from hinge, can I have your number

You: no

You: i don’t give my number out to random ass strangers online

You: and ‘dabi’ is a weird name to have saved in my contacts

Dabi: Touya

Dabi: That’s my real name

You: oh

You: who the hell uses a fake name on a dating app??? 😭

Dabi: Stranger danger is real

Dabi: If I take you out on a date will you give me your number

You: a REAL date???

Dabi: Yeah I’m actually a gentleman in case you couldn’t tell

You: i don’t know how i could’ve missed that fact.

Dabi: I’m being fr though

Dabi: Dinner reservations and everything

You: are you paying the entire bill 🤨

Dabi: Why wouldn’t I

You: hmmm

You: every sex joke i made was definitely just a joke though, pls don’t get any crazy ideas

Dabi: Obviously you were joking, I’m not an idiot

You: you’re not gonna try to hit on the first date?

Dabi: If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll tape a 10 ft pole to my chest so I can’t get anywhere near you

You: cute

Dabi: Dinner tomorrow?

You: yes, dinner tomorrow

Dabi: And if I do well, I get your number?

You: hmmm

You: i guess

Dabi: Fuck yeah

Dabi: I’m tired of texting you through hinge

You: you only get it IF you do well

Dabi: I’m gonna rock your shit

Dabi: Romantically

You: sure you will

Apr 30 12:01 AM

Are you sure you want to delete the Hinge app?

Yes | No

You selected Yes! Reason for deletion?

[ ] No new matches

[ ] App is difficult to work with

[ ] Found another app to use

[ X ] I met someone

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #one shot #drabble #fluff #imagine

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phantasmiac · 1 year

Text

best friends brother!touya who has had his eye on you longer than you realize

cw/tw: reader is in college, reader is 18 and touya is 19, one mention of touya smoking, fluffy fluffy fluffy

wc: 2.3k

a/n: this is part two of my bfb!touya au. part one can be found here.

if there was one thing that had always prevented your crush on touya from being a total cliche, it was the fact that you had a good relationship. you were never reduced to being just his baby sister's equally babyish friend, there to ignore or treat like a nuisance. whether he really knew it or not, touya was your friend, too; and you were his.

it’d be inaccurate, however, to describe your current predicament as a “friends” quarrel. it might even be inaccurate to call something so one-sided a quarrel at all. all you know for sure is that touya’s been giving you the silent treatment for far too long, and you’re going to do something about it.

after weeks of avoiding you and his own house, he’s forced to reappear for shouto’s birthday (although you think rei repeatedly asking him if fuyumi is now her oldest child during their daily phone calls should also be credited). it’s meant to be a small celebration between the family that they all insist you’re a part of. shouto has plans to spend the rest of the evening with his new school friends.

“you still friends with the little shit that looks like he bites, shou?” touya asks while rummaging through the kitchen drawer for candles, unbothered by rei’s soft swat on the back of his head and hissing of his name. it’s the second one he’s received from her since he’s arrived, the first having been provoked by a new tattoo taking up a large portion of the side of his neck (needless to say, it made you feel a bit delusional for thinking you were entirely to blame for his lack of visits).

despite his crappy description, shouto understands enough to mumble an “mhm”.

“what about the one with the freckles? he’s a good kid. i’d keep him around if i were you.”

“thank god we have such an upstanding citizen for a brother,” natsuo teases, large enough to ruffle his big brothers white head of hair while he’s still sat. “share some more of your wis— get off of me!”

touya’s interest has shifted to putting natsuo in a headlock, wrestling him to the ground in a competition he’s bound to lose, if their past scuffles have anything to say about it. the box falls from his hold, spilling dozens of multicolored candles all over the kitchen floor. the sounds of the sticks crunching and breaking under shoes puts a halt to their little match.

touya pulls away, unaware that you’re already crouched under the table trying to recover the salvageable candles yourself. it’s his hand landing on top of your smaller ones that alerts him, eyes shooting up to meet yours like a deer caught in headlights. the constrictions of the tight space causes you to nearly knock face first into one another. despite the proximity, you’re suddenly reminded that you’re not nearly as close as you were weeks ago, when your tongues were down each others throats.

it takes all your willpower not to squeal from embarrassment as you squirm your way out from underneath the table, body running dangerously hot. it’s ironic, you think, that you’re the first to back away after begging for a chance to be near him again all this time; but more so the fact that touya is the one left with a sad, longing expression on his face when he stands.

light snow is falling by the time shouto’s celebration comes to an end, accompanied by bitter cold weather. kind of depressing, but touya figures that’s just how his oddball little brother would like it. it’s only four thirty in the afternoon, but the lamps lined along the pathway in front of the todoroki household are already on. his black down jacket is zipped all the way to his nose, hood struggling against the unruliness of his hair. the crunching of the snow underneath his boots brings him a nice calm — ruined by the sound of your warm voice.

normally, your shouts of his name were more than welcome. but given the circumstances, he can’t help but feel a sense of impending doom. he turns on his heel to see you running down the yard without a care in the world, and fights the urge to yell at you to be careful (though the thought of you slipping and landing on your butt is kind of endearing too). by the time you reach him, you’re out of breath. it comes as no surprise to the creep who’d spectated you in the past during your high school sports festivals.

“touya,” you pant, hand on his shoulder. “walk me home, will you?”

you’re cruel. it’s a request he can’t say no to; you might as well have put a gun to his head. there’s a sadistic, pleased little grin on your face as you start waddling alongside him. touya figures it shouldn’t be too difficult taking you home without sparing a word; you only live about ten minutes away. what’s ten more minutes after weeks of keeping this up?

he fails to take into account that having you this close strips him of all immunity to your charm, especially when you look this adorable. you look well prepared for an expedition to the antarctic, in your oversized puffer jacket, winter mittens, gloves and scarf. all the bundles practically swallow you whole, only leaving your cute little face exposed.

there’s students roaming the streets, probably heading home from their after school clubs. you’re people watching; touya knows you’ve always had a knack for that. he quickly averts the side gaze he’s had on you when he notices your head turning up towards him.

“did you ever realize how popular you were in high school?” there’s a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

you receive a shrug in response. “not really.”

“everyone in my year was in love with you,” you chuckle into your scarf.

touya’s eyebrow quirks up. everyone? even you? he wills himself not to say. your new boyfriend probably wouldn’t like that.

but your power over him must have upgraded to telepathy, because you proceed to answer his question. “even i was a victim to the touya disease, you know.”

“oh yeah?” even if he can’t steady his heart rate, he’ll maintain his cool.

“oh yeah. i think everyone would agree it was hard crushing on someone who didn’t even know they existed.”

touya digs his face deeper into his jacket, hands curled tighter in his pockets.

“right.”

touya’s ears pick up on your voice before he actually sees you for the first time. just standing in the school library is enough to send shivers down his edgy spine, but he’s willing to make the sacrifice to wait around for his buddy, who’s been forced into tutoring sessions. he’s made himself busy scanning through the aisles for books that pique his interest, a safe distance from the tables where you and his friend had agreed to meet up.

“hey, that’s alright! even i struggled learning this at first. you’ll get the hang of it in no time. i believe in you.”

touya snorts. he can imagine his friend currently trying to dig his fingers into his eyeballs. but even funnier is the sweet voice you're using and your gentle words of encouragement. most people fearfully trip over their own feet and fumble their words at the mere sight of his group of friends: yet you’re treating the scariest looking one of the group like a grade schooler learning his times tables.

touya had promised to make himself invisible while waiting around; his friend was already humiliated by just the prospect of needing tutoring. but his curiosity always came out victorious, and he’s soon peeking from behind the shelves just to catch a tiny glimpse of you.

your pretty face matches your voice.

the next time touya catches a glimpse of you, your back is turned to him. he’s performing his regular routine of sneaking out of his p.e. class in order to head to the bathroom for a smoke. you’re walking down the halls with your headphones in, completely oblivious to the presence behind you, and through the silence he can faintly hear the instrumental of whatever it is you’re listening to. he knows it’s a shitty thing to make judgements about someone he’s never even had a conversation with, but he can’t help but think whatever’s playing in your headphones is far different from what he’d expect someone as soft as you to listen to. he’s able to make out the sounds of heavy drums and electric guitar riffs. it’s as if you lived to surprise him, he thinks, when you start whispering the lyrics to the song; one that’s been on nearly all of his playlists.

touya thinks the universe is trying to get him arrested when he finds himself coincidentally trailing behind you on the way home a week later. he also thinks you should have more concern for your safety, seeing as you could’ve had a full fledged stalker at this point and had no idea. five minutes into your journey home, he watches as you come to a stop under a lamp post, and reach into your backpack. maybe you’re finally taking out pepper spray, or a pocket knife, touya guesses (and secretly hopes). instead, you pull out a can of food, kneeling down and placing it in front of a nearby bush. there’s a rustling and the sound of a meow before a stray ball of fluff comes running out, circling and rubbing his head against you in familiarity before indulging in your offering. as he watches you coo and gently scratch around the cats ears, touya comes to a conclusion: he has a fat crush on you.

for the next year, touya’s attempts at doing anything about his crush on you don’t surpass staring at you from afar for no more than three seconds at a time; and that was just fine for him. leave it to his little siblings to screw it all up. granted, the last of his siblings he would have expected to act as the agent of chaos was fuyumi. the day he came home to find you sitting at his kitchen table and giggling with his little sister, touya knew he was well beyond fucked.

there’s a tug on the sleeve of your jacket that forces you to stop in your tracks. the snow that’s now been disguised by the complete darkness of the evening is reilluminated by the light radiating from the lamp post above you.

“i’ll cut the bullshit. i like you. a lot,” touya declares, blinking away the snowflakes that make his eyelashes look impossibly prettier. “hearing that you had a boyfriend fucking sucked, and i had this petty, stupid idea to bring some girl over. i don’t know what exactly i was trying to accomplish.”

you’d had a whole speech planned and written in your heart for the boy looking down at you; you figure you should also correct his faulty assumption, but his confession leaves you tongue tied.

“but then you had this sad look on your face the whole time and that’s all i could think about for the next day. kissing you was a dick move, i know but….” he sighs, looking up at the night sky as if it might throw him a bone. “but you kissed me back. and i don’t want to be like… your side bitch, or something.”

you’re able to read genuine hurt in touya’s eyes, but his claim and it’s wording throws you into a fit of giggles. even as you’re laughing at his misery, touya can’t help but have goo-goo eyes for you.

“i’m serious! i went back to my room with a sad boner, you know! and it’s honestly blasphemous for you of all people to two time your poor boyfriend. i thought you were supposed to be a saint!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it’s just— you’re so stupid,” you wheeze.

it’s difficult for touya to take the fact that you just called him stupid to heart as you unsuccessfully attempt to wipe your tears away with your mittens on; so he does it for you. you give a soft smile of gratitude in return, a glint in your eyes. you take off your gloves so that you’re able to pull down the zipper covering his face. and despite his declaration that he didn’t want to be your “side bitch”, touya doesn’t stop you when you get on your tippy toes and loop your arms around his torso to plant a soft kiss on his lips; nor does he complain when it lands on his cupids bow instead. the softness of it all only makes him blush even harder, an effect he hopes is you’ll blame on the cold weather.

you don’t.

your chin is propped on his chest as you look up at him with a goofy smile. “i’m not dating that guy. i was peer pressured by fuyumi into going on one date, but nothing came out of it. you’d know that if you hadn’t stormed out of the room like a big baby. i kissed you back because i have feelings for you, dummy.”

with wide eyes, touya lets out a breathy laugh, before pulling his hands out of his pockets to grab your face and crash his lips into yours, hard and needy. you’re lips are locked for what feels like far too little a time before he pulls away.

“if i were you i probably wouldn’t want to date such an idiot after all this but…. will you? date me?”

“i’d love nothing more than to date this idiot.”

touya’s going to have to tell you later how you got together in the same spot he fell for you; but his first order of business is to take you back to his place and make up for lost time.

★ tag list: @ushygushybaby @stvrrlight @gbbibbi @julietdelamare @dabisearpiercings @gracefulbumblebee @sky-casino @twerkformammon @mika-writes-fanfics @iheartgeto @doulcha @aicakee @alondraapple19 @imeverycliche

#dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi drabble #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #dabi angst #dabi fluff #dabi fanfic #touya todoroki x reader

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autumnmobile12 · 2 months

Text

The Sekoto Peak Tournament

It’s kinda funny how My Hero Academia is pretty much told through the lens of Midoriya’s perspective to the point where all other professions that have a fan following: athletes, actors, singers, etc. just go completely by the wayside. Just once, it would have been great to have Kirishima or someone mention a household name and Midoriya’s all, “…..?”

“Y’know, [insert name here?] Legendary boxing champion?”

My point is, other professions outside of hero still exist and are probably just as popular as they’ve always been, so here’s the ‘Young Rei used to snowboard competitively’ headcanon. This started as a piece I did for Inktober with a, ‘Rei’s a refridgerated character. Don’t love that,’ attitude. Because aside from finally making an attempt to fight for her family (a little late, sure, but I’m not here to do a character analysis right now,) Rei doesn’t have much characterization beyond being the victimized mother in Shouto’s story.

So two things to consider:

1.) Snowboarding is a high-intensity activity. High intensity activities are known to reduce stress, anxiety and depression. So Rei having this career before marriage (and possibly a little after) would have had a very positive impact on her mental health. But after having four children, something this intense would be difficult to restart and being in her late twenties when Natsuo and Shouto were born, her professional career would have been effectively over. Being cut off from snowboarding and its mental health benefits would have definitely contributed to her downward spiral in a more significant way than if she had never done it. In its own way, this is also a reflection of Touya having all his energy and ambition and nowhere to put it, contributing to his own mental break.

2.) In both my Inktober post and this piece, Rei won gold and she’s wearing a different jacket, showing these were separate competitions. Winning gold wasn’t a one-off moment; she was relatively successful and that may have served as some unspoken tension/resentment between her and Endeavor if she was one of the top competitors in her profession while her husband never made it past second place until over two decades into his.

I like the idea of this background for her. I want to explore it further possibly as a one-shot, but I have a lot of ongoing projects right now (plus I’d need to do a little more research on how professional snowboarding competitions work,) so it’s a little up in the air whether or not an actual fic will happen. For now, I hope you enjoy the artwork.

…

I also referenced Touya’s freaky smile for these, albeit not quite as intense. He got that from someone, and my money is on Mom. Mostly because I am entertained by the idea of a much younger Rei rocketing down a mountainside and terrifying other snowboarders with the same ecstatic, unhinged smile her son has. And that footage probably exists online somewhere, someone in Class 1A is going to find it, and be all, “Uh, Todoroki, I think I found a video of your mom.”

…

And just in case anyone asks: Yes, that is Korra in the back. I like to sneak crossover cameos into both my fanart and fanfics, and when thinking of characters, I remembered a behind the scenes LOK fact that Korra’s character design was partially inspired by female snowboarders.

The third snowboarder is also a cameo from a more obscure, nostalgia cartoon: Suzy Lu from Storm Hawks.

#my hero academia #rei todoroki #rei himura #young rei #touya todoroki #boku no hero academia #my hero academy fanart #bnha #mha #avatar legend of korra #storm hawks #reference #cameo #fanart #headcanons #snowboarding

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itsnothingofinterest · 10 months

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So I know this is the farthest thing from a lot of our mind with the current fight; but it's been a while so I want to talk again about my faves in the League, & their heroic foils, and how their saves have been going so far. Because looking at how the past few fights have been concluding, well I just don't think the saves have been going as well as some of us hoped.

Dabi is heavily damaged, still suicidal, and still hates his family. That’s not great. Dare I say I’m afraid I gotta give Shoto a fail for that one. I can't really say he's saved his brother in this arc if he effectively ended in as bad or worse a state than he started.

I know some people read Touya & Shoto wanting to argue more as a guarantee that the whole Todoroki mess will get sorted off-screen; but I take that as no more than a sign they need to talk far more on-screen.

I thought Uraraka was really close, but it turns out she kind of, technically, drove Toga to suicide. No matter the noble intentions on all parties involved, I gotta give that a fail.

Toga coming out of this wanting to save Uraraka is good, but this level of self-sacrifice is not. And her complete lack of faith in hero society even with Uraraka’s influence is also of note, especially given how much evidence points to her being justified in feeling this way.

And Shoji…barely talked to Spinner (or rather Spinner could barely hear him and then just moved on from the conversation), so he's largely unchanged from their meeting. And what he said to the rest of the crowd, that prejudice will stop if they're all nice & inspiring enough, amounts to what heroes already do. It's also what Shoji did as a kid in his backstory, and it kind of proved proved his plan doesn’t work. I'm afraid in terms of saving your opponents, that’s a fail all around. Sorry buddy but you can't keep doing the same thing and expect different results.

So we’re 0 for 3 here with generally few solid signs of further progress after the war arc. All three of these hero kids have talked down a mob, stopped a bomb, or halted an army of clones; impressive feats for some future pros well on their way to standing with their predecessors. But they haven't really saved their villains, and they don't looks like they're really surpassing their predecessors as much a lot of us expected they would by now. Or much as I think they need to.

It's a big reason why I'm still holding out hope for that My Hero part 2 I keep talking about; so it'd give everyone a lot more time in the character development oven so the kids can get better at talking to their villains and addressing their real problems. Even if I were confident in Deku doing better at saving Tomura than his peers did their foils, I’d still be hoping for a part 2.

#bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #shoto todoroki #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #spinner #mezo shoji #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #paranormal liberation front #PLF #class 1a #my stupid long term predictions

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mackenziebrooks · 5 months

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Touya could only sigh as he pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head as he walked away from his family’s house. He lit a cigarette and took long drags as he made his way back to the apartment he shared with you. He dreaded this day. He didn’t really care for his birthday now of days. To him he felt like he shouldn’t even exist, due to all of the pain his father put him through. His scars showed what happens when you push yourself to much to prove yourself, but it’s all gone now. He didn’t care about that anymore.

As he stepped up the steps and unlock the door, he was taken back to see you standing there smiling. A simple little gift box in your hand. “I know you don’t really care for your birthday or celebrate it but I thought I’d tell you happy birthday” you say softly. If anyone could make Touya feel better it was definitely you. As much as he wanted to not celebrate, he was more than happy to do it with you.

Touya shut the door and took the gift from you, then he pressed his lips against yours to give you a long, passionate, loving kiss. “I’d much rather celebrate my birthday with you princess, thank you”. He says as he takes your hand and you two go sit down on the couch.

He opens the the small little gift box and it reveals a couple new tongue piercings, and a new lighter since he always keeps losing his. It wasn’t much but he smiled and spoke “Thank you princess, I enjoy them. It’s the thought that counts”. You play with his hair and kiss his cheek. “Happy birthday Touya”.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #mha dabi #touya fluff #touya headcanons #touya x reader #mha touya #touya x you #touya x y/n #bnha dabi #bnha touya #touya imagines #mha headcanons #mha imagines

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dabislittlemouse · 1 year

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i have this headcanon that dabi is really into astronomy, and really loves stars??? he just loves laying down on the grass and looking up to see pretty twinkling lights and looking over to you laying next to him and seeing those same pretty twinkles in your eyes.

YESS ANON YOU GOT IT !!!! I remember posting about this here on tumblr 2 yrs ago, how much Dabi likes stargazing, and I stand by this even now

𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ✩‧₊˚

As a kid, when he was still Touya, he’d throw himself on the ground to take a break while he was training in Sekoto Peak. As he tried to relax his body with those new fresh burns, he’d try to distract himself by looking up at the dark sky and counting all the stars. Sometimes so much time would pass as he sat there, wondering what is out there, how endless is the universe, how far are those stars? Were those stars maybe hotter and more powerful than his flames? No way they could be, his flames are the strongest! And with that he’d stand up, shake his head from the thoughts and get back to training.

Those are some faint memories that Dabi remembers from his childhood, whenever his chest would explode from the overwhelming emotions he was feeling, he’d go outside, preferably during the night, and just stare at the sky, count the stars, it brought him some sense of comfort, it’s like the stars were keeping him company when he felt so alone.

He still does it as an adult, you’ve also noticed, either by the beach or in a field, he is laying down and looking at the stars, his head full of thoughts but at the same time empty, it’s like time always stops when he is looking at the endless darkness up there.

“Have you ever counted all the stars?” you quietly ask as you lay beside him, your fingers touching his.

“Hm.. I’d think they’re endless, but I assume I counted most of them.. though I always felt like one star was missing and the counting never ended..” he mumbles to himself.

“Which star was missing?” you ask him confused, your eyes blinking in curiousity. He turns his gaze towards you, giving you a small grin before you start giggling when the realization hits.

“Don’t be cheesy now” you joke, pinching his cheek slightly as he laughs.

“Tch..can’t a guy be a little romantic..” he sighs dramatically before wrapping an arm around you and bringing you closer to him. Then he proceeds to show you some of the constellations he knows, pointing up to the sky with his finger to help you see it better. It’s amazing really, how much he actually knows about stars, universe.

Dabi isn’t a man who easily gets entertained, but for some reason the mysteries of the universe are the only thing that he is surprisingly passionate about. And you love to see it, you want to discover even more what he hides behind his cold villain self.

At some point now whenever you look up at the stars in the sky during the night, Dabi always comes in your mind.

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #dabi fluff #bnha fluff #mha fluff

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dira333 · 7 months

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Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XIV

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 14 - Finale: (3,3k words)

It’s the same judge as last time, looking down at him with strangely empathic eyes.

“You’ve done well for yourself.” He says. “How do you plan to keep up? How do you see yourself in the next few years?”

Not for the first time Touya’s glad that his case has so much attention on it that it’s handled behind closed doors.

Behind him sit only his rehabilitation officer and his lawyer, two people he’s always had a professional relationship with. There are no other people here to listen to him speak and it helps him to be as honest as he can be.

Still his voice shakes as he starts to speak.

“I know I’ve done a lot of bad… bad things, in the past. It feels like a different life but to others, it isn’t. It’s still me, who did these things, who gets to live while others don’t and I get-”

He’s running out of breath and the judge, the name tag reads Morisaki, offers him a rare smile.

“Breathe, son. You have nothing to fear in here.”

There are tears pricking his eyes and he doesn’t want to cry, wants to stay strong until the end, but he’s wiping his nose with his hand now, fully aware that that won’t look good in any way.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he starts anew, “But if I could, I’d want to keep doing what I’m doing. It’s not much, but taking care of plants, caring for something that’s not myself, feels like something that I have to do. Like I was meant to do it as if my quirk was assigned wrong at birth. I know that the business has grown and I’m not mad about that, that more and more people enjoy plants and are learning how to care for them. I like showing others how to care. I wasn’t ready when Mari came but I’d want to try again, to help someone make a change, to help someone find their place in the world.”

“What about your quirks?”

Touya looks down at the table in front of him and thinks of you.

“I’d love to explore my ice quirk. If I really have one, if I could use it without hurting myself. But the fire-” He almost chokes on the word and has to try again. “The fire quirk… I don’t… I know it would be useful, at least if I still was fireproof, in case of a fire. And I’d love to be able to help but I… I don’t want to use it. I have hurt too many people with it and if you have to take it away, I will accept that. Gladly.”

“Your therapist has mentioned the possibility of lasting trauma. You could regret that decision once you’ve overcome it.”

He looks up at the man, into those strange eyes and swallows thickly before he speaks.

“I would not regret it. I’m not allowed to regret it.”

Silence fills the room. No one speaks for a while and there’s only the digital clock hanging on the wall above the judge that reminds Touya that time hasn’t frozen.

“Son,” Judge Morisaki starts and the word pierces his heart, has him bleeding out even before he hears the rest.

“I think you’re doing just fine. I want you to keep doing what you’ve been doing, but I have some restrictions for you, which you must have anticipated. You may not leave Japan. At least for the next five years. In case of a medical emergency or the like, you’d have to file for an exception, but I have to tell you that there’s not much leeway there. I want you to keep going to therapy and if your therapist thinks you’re ready for it, you will receive training in using your ice quirk. I don’t like taking away quirks and I don’t think you should give yours away freely. And I want to see you again in a year. Just because I like listening to your story.”

Touya looks up at him, at his wrinkly face and freckled hands, and wonders how he’s ever been able to question the good in this world.

It’s still here, hidden in the faces of people around him, lurking in their words and actions, their decisions.

When he steps out of the room, he’s not surprised to have no one waiting for him.

He’d told everyone to stay back, that he did not need anyone there to support him.

It had been his decisions that led him here and it would be his decisions that would lead him away again.

He rounds the corner to the foyer only to recognize the bright red hair and the massive build.

“Dad?” His father looks up from his phone and pockets it, rising to his height.

“Why aren’t you a work?” Touya asks but Enji shrugs.

“I couldn’t stay away. I know you didn’t want anyone to be here, but-”

Touya steps forward and hugs him, face pressed into that broad chest that only recently has started feeling like home.

A part of him feels four years old again, proud that he’s like his dad, a fire quirk user.

A part of him feels six years old again, hurt from training, desperation burning in him. He needs to be better than Allmight. Better than everyone before him.

But there’s his dad, holding him like everything’s going to be okay.

A part of him feels thirteen, ready to kill Touya so Dabi will live, but there are his father’s arms around him, holding him, grounding him, reminding him that he is, after all, himself.

A part of him feels twenty-six years old, a little bit lost and a little bit found, knowing not much but at least that… His father will always be there to catch him.

“You’re not coming?” Touya asks when the car stops.

Enji shakes his head with a knowing smile.

“I don’t think you want customers right now.”

“I don’t even know if she wants to see me.”

“I think she will. Just be honest.”

“Yeah.” He sighs and gets out of the car. “Hug Mom from me.”

“I will.”

He watches the car drive off and turns to look.

The flower shop is small, crammed into the space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, a brand new canopy to protect the display outside from the rain. Wooden chairs and tables are lined right outside the big windows, but devoid of plants.

He tries the door, surprised to find it open.

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but smile at the interior.

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings. There’s Bob Junior, the Pancake Plant. A fresh cutting of his Holiday Cactus is on sale. A Peony Bush that will be planted this week.

The smell is intoxicating and he takes a deep breath and feels himself coming home.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “Anyone home?”

Somewhere in the back, he hears a squeak and the sound of quick steps.

“Touya!” Your smile is there but he can tell that you’re holding yourself back, cautious like a shy bird.

There’s so much he wants to say, so much feeling he wants to portray.

“Did I miss the opening?” He freezes when he hears himself speak, the words not what he had intended to say.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was just getting everything ready.”

“Why’s the door open then?” He asks, realizing he’s clinging to a safer topic.

The light in your eyes shifts. “I told you. The door’s always open for you.”

There’s a moment of silence, just you and him, one breathing out, the other breathing in.

“Can we close the door then?” He asks, stumbling over his words, “I don’t… I want to talk to you. Alone. Without a customer coming in.”

“Yeah sure.” You nod stiffly and he turns to lock the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help with moving.”

“Rico helped.”

“Yeah but it was supposed to be my job.” There it is again. Or maybe it never left. That tense silence that seems to slip inside his lungs and keep them from expanding, into his stomach that is clenched.

“What did they say?” You ask, voice soft like velvet or flower petals.

His hand is still clutched around the doorknob.

“I can’t leave the country for the next years. Still have to go to therapy. If my therapist thinks I’m ready I can start retraining my quirk.”

“That’s good, right?”

He turns, looks for your eyes. Holds out his hand.

It hangs there, pale in the dim light, scarred and shaking. For a moment he fears you might not take it but then you’re there, your grasp firm.

Maybe you aimed to shake it, like a business deal, but he folds his hand around yours.

“I love you.” The words don’t stumble from his mouth, they don’t slip. There’s nothing accidental about the way they leave him, not like a confession but something that has always been there. An universal truth.

“I know.” You say.

“And I don’t know how I could possibly deserve you, but I… I want you. All of you. Tiny apartment upstairs and cheese sandwich for dinner. With dirt under our fingernails and leafs everywhere. If you still want me-”

You cut him off in the best possible way, one step forward, your lips pressed against his.

When you move back, it’s only the shortest distance.

Your breath washes over his face, your nose is almost touching his and there’s a fire in your eyes he could never be scared of.

“I don’t deserve you.” He doesn’t really know why he says it again. Maybe he wants you to tell him he does, even if he could never believe it. But that’s not you.

You, who always seems to know what to say. You, who cradles his face in her hands as if he’s a flower in bloom.

“This isn’t a gift exchange,” you tell him softly. “This is love.”

Your breath washes over his face and he’s getting lost in your eyes.

His thumb moves across your cheekbone and your lashes kiss his knuckles as you blink.

Time’s frozen, right here in the flower shop, right here with you so close.

“Kiss me,” your eyes whisper. So he does.

🌺.

Passing Peonies,

on my walk,

I catch my breath.

There is something

so endearing

about the way

they hold themselves

so tightly in a fist.

I don’t think they know

their loveliness

or perhaps they do.

I wonder, do they fear

their brief opening?

(Passing Peonies, Cindy Smith)

🌺.

Summer is turning into fall again, the days turning shorter and the nights colder.

Someone left the window cracked during the night and Touya shudders under the cold breeze, drawing further under the blankets, further into you.

You don’t seem too happy about his warmth though, because your knee digs into his back until he groans and slips out from under the covers to close the window.

Your snoring doesn’t stop and he snickers to himself, leans down to place a kiss on the back of your head, and moves toward the bathroom.

He started jogging soon after the flower shop reopened in its original home. It was recommended to him by his therapist and it does clear his head - he just wishes he could convince you to join him.

The air is cool around him as he runs, past the coffee shop and through the park. He can see the peony bush you planted back then, now almost ready for his winterly slumber.

About halfway through, his phone rings and he picks up, glad he remembered to take his headphones with him.

“You’re awake already?” He asks when Hawks groans into the phone instead of a greeting.

“More like still awake. I’m running errands for Rumi. Why do pregnant people always have these crazy food cravings?”

“Isn’t that just outward signs of what the baby wants?”

“I hope not. I can’t have a child that wants to eat one specific kind of gummy bears at fivein the morning. I bet she’s going to be asleep anyway when I come back.”

“So why do you buy them then?” He asks, rounding the corner.

Hawks sighs and there’s a forlorn sound to it Touya knows all too well.

“I don’t know. I just love her, I guess. It’s the way she looks when I hand her the food, it just… you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“How did the quirk training go yesterday? I meant to ask you right after but we got kind of busy, you know how it is.”

“I’m still afraid of using the wrong quirk even though it looks like I won’t be able to use fire anyway. But I managed to make an ice rose yesterday, so that was cool.”

“Awesome. Did you gift it to the lady?”

“Not yet. Wednesdays are for Toga. Besides, I just fell into bed and was out like a light.”

He’s just turned the hot water on when the shower curtain is pulled to the side and you stumble into him, naked and still mostly asleep.

“Mornin’” You mumble and let yourself fall into him, trusting that he’ll catch you.

“Morning.” He kisses your wet forehead. “Slept well?”

“Mhm.” He can feel you going slack in his arms and snickers.

“If you want to sleep longer, you should stay in bed. I can’t have you drowning in here.”

“Bed’s empty.” You mumble, fighting against sleep as he washes your hair.

You cling to him like every morning, barely awake but too stubborn to stay in bed longer now that he’s up.

He lifts you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel, asks you about last night to keep you from falling asleep as he dries your hair.

“We need to buy more roses.” You tell him. And: “Toga mentioned she’s thinking about getting a cat.”

“What kind of coffee syrup do you want today.” He asks in between. And: “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

By the time you’re ready to go downstairs, you resemble a human being, or at least the person he’s grown to know.

After six months of waking up to you at least once a week he’s still not gotten over learning, over knowing you. There is no sweeter thing than finding out something new about you.

Touya turns the key and enters the flower shop, taking a deep breath to inhale the aroma he’s grown so fond of. This is home, he thinks, where it smells like earth and flowers, like silk ribbons and dirty hands.

He turns on the lights and preps everything for the day ahead before stepping back into the backroom where you’re staring at the coffee dripping into your cup.

“Another coffee?.” He asks and leans forward to kiss you.

“It’s too early.” You groan, sinking back into his chest, and closing your eyes.

“I’ve been telling you to go to bed earlier.”

“Mhm.” You mumble. “I don’t remember.”

“Sure you do.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You can take a nap if you want. I can handle the shop until ten.”

“I might take you up on that offer.” You hum. “Tell me about the day.”

“We’re almost out of pre-made bouquets so I’ll be teaching that today and making a few on the side. That Deku kid usually comes in around eleven to have a chat and buy a dozen pink roses, so we gotta make sure there are still some left by that time. There’s that guy with purple hair that’s friends with him, Brainwash or something like that, who buys catnip every two weeks, he should be in today too.”

“You remember all of their orders?” You ask, pulling the full cup from the coffee machine and handing it to him for the extras. He snorts and pulls away to prepare your coffee while you wait.

“Only the ones who are predictable.” He defends himself. You giggle.

The bell chimes and he calls out. “We’re in the back.”

“You better not be making out.” He hears the voice of their newest employee and rolls his eyes in your direction.

“Be nice Touya,” you say when the door opens and Toga steps through, immediately scrunching her nose at the smell of coffee.

“I brought second breakfast.” She proudly presents a bag of puff pastry. “Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Make it yourself.” She sticks her tongue out at him and you cluck your tongue.

“Touya’s going to show you how to do Bouquets today.” You tell her and she gleams with pleasure.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But stay off the pink roses. Deku’s coming in and you know how he’s about them.”

“Yeah, yeah. All pink roses are reserved for Ochako, I know. And the Daisies are reserved for Shouto.”

He furrows his brow, even more so when he sees you shush Toga, a finger pressed to your lips.

“What? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing, baby.” You try to calm him unconvincingly.

“He’s in looooove!” Toga sings instead. “He just doesn’t know it yet. Buys flowers for someone at his agency each weak when you’re not looking.”

“No!” Touya blinks. “Really? Did he say something about them?”

“Touya.” You chide him again but he’s too invested now.

“Well, he said they really like cheese and asked if I knew where to get some. I didn’t know but Boss knew this great restaurant.”

“Oh, I wonder which restaurant you recommended.” He says and you shrug, but don’t bother hiding your smile.

The day is long, as it always is.

Deku and Ochako take Toga out for lunch and Touya’s not mad about having you all for himself even if he has to share your attention with a few random customers coming in.

“How long did Toga stay last night?” He asks when you’re alone again, handing you a ribbon to tie around his newest bouquet. He’s still struggling with those fuckers.

“I took her home around midnight.”

“She comes over too often. We should get her a kitten.”

“She’s lonely. But it’s not a bad idea. Also…” Your voice drops a little lower as you whisper the next part. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this but I think Rico’s falling for her.”

“He better.” He starts prepping a new Bouquet. “Because she’s definitely interested in him too.”

“Huh. She didn’t tell me that.”

He grins. “Didn’t need to. I just know her like that.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask when you place your sandwiches on the little table.

“Just admiring the view.” He tells you and you snort, climbing into his lap instead of taking a seat at the table.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He kisses you softly.

For a moment, time freezes.

There’s only you and him. A million plants to care for, sandwiches and miso soup that are going to get cold. Just life how it’s supposed to be.

In a minute, he’ll show you the ice flower he made yesterday. He might ask you if you’d mind him moving in completely or if you prefer having one night per week for yourself - he knows you don’t. You always complain about missing him.

You might watch a movie on the TV set that Shouto bought you or read that poetry collection about flowers together he found last month.

But right now, that’s not important. All of that can wait.

Life is good, because he’s with you.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake @tiredslepz @frozen-phoenix17 @spltbtch @touyasprettydoll @dream-girl-stuff

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#my writing #Passing Peonies #touya todoroki #touya x reader #touya fluff #soft touya #dabi x reader #Dabi #Dabi fluff #Soft Dabi #mha x reader #mha fluff #my hero academia #todoroki family

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