My Brand Of Crazy

Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs.

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm.

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up.

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!”

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question.

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push onto the broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man.

“No love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person.

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.”

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed.

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?”

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch.

anxietysucks reblogged

summary: Yuuji finds himself sick, and it gives him a perfect opportunity to spend time with his older brother.

wc: 1.8k

a/n: its back friends. all i think about is them.

Yuuji lets out a mucus-filled cough and Sukuna cringes. The toddler turns to him and sniffles with a frown on his face. The elder, in return, rolls his eyes but readjusts the cool rag on his brother's forehead. "Don't look at me like that. Whose fault is this? If you do stupid things, you have to pay the consequences, little pest."

The boy doesn't move; instead, he just stubbornly shakes his head. "W-Wanted to play!"

"In the rain? Without any warm clothes? You truly are an idiot," Sukuna scolds, grabbing Yuuji's water bottle from the nightstand and forcing it into the little boy's mouth.

Yuuji developed a fever this morning after sneaking out into the backyard last night to play in the rain puddles. Now he was stuck in bed, which was hard for the toddler who was always on the go and harder for Sukuna, who has to pretend that he isn't worried sick.

You walk into the boy's room, and Yuuji immediately looks towards you. He tears the sippy cup from his mouth and lets out a high-pitched whine, already beginning to reach his arms toward you. He knows youll coddle him, unlike his brother, and the exhausted boy was craving attention. When you make it over the bed, he reaches his hands upward to you and pleads, "Up! Up!"

You frown at the boy, already reaching down to scoop him up, but Sukuna quickly intervenes, gently slapping your hand away. "No. He might get you sick too. Brat, you stay in bed."

The toddler opens his mouth to protest, but another cough cuts him off. Then, with watery eyes, he turns to Sukuna and nods. "Yes, b-brother."

You coo at the boy, using your palm to cup his warm cheek and thumb at the soft skin. Yuuji rests his entire head on the touch, and you frown. "Poor baby," You sigh, and Yuuji, ever the one to love being doted on, nods pitifully, adding an extra sniffle for effect. Sukuna almost rolls his eyes at the action.

"Why don't you coddle me like that when I am sick?" Sukuna complains before reaching over and pulling the blanket higher up Yuuji's chest. The boy mumbles out a thank you, but the elder ignores him.

"You whine too much, act like you are dying. Yuuji isn't being dramatic, huh Yuuji?" The boy nods, gripping your arm and rubbing his face into your hand.

"No," he mumbles, "Not being dramatic!" He lets out a loud whine, and Sukuna already knows what's coming. "Feel so bad. Hurts!"

The boy seems to curl around your arm, and Sukuna sighs. "Yeah. Not dramatic at all." The kid sounds exactly like Sukuna when he is sick. Just minutes before, he proclaimed to Sukuna that he wanted to play again, even if he was still immensely ill. He just wanted attention, and it was obvious to everyone but you.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Yuuji. I brought you some medicine that will make you feel better." The boy's face drops at the word, and he hesitantly lets go of your arm. Sukuna barks a laugh at Yuuji's now twisted face.

The toddler shakes his head gently, too tired to show his real disapproval. "N-No! No medicine!" It always tasted horrible to the toddler, and he knows that if he whines enough, he may be able to get his way.

Sukuna sighs, holding out his hand to you, and you drop the bottle into it. Then, he pours a copious amount of the pink strawberry-flavored liquid, made specifically for children, into the small measuring cup.

Yuuji starts to scoot backward on the bed, trying to create some distance between the two. The elder does not let him go far – he grabs Yuuji's hand and places the small cup into it. "Now drink it, or I'm forcing it down your throat."

The boy gulps, glancing at you, who gives him an encouraging nod. Then he places it to his lips but pauses. "Go on," Sukuna demands.

"I want a treat after!"

Sukunas barks a malicious laugh, and you raise your eyebrows at the boy. You have never heard him try to negotiate before. "Bullshit. Your "treat" is not to be stuck in bed, weakling."

You narrow your eyes at him when you hear the curse word, but Sukuna shrugs it off. Yuuji, on the other hand, eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "Bad word!" He then turns to you in confirmation, pointing at his brother. "He said a bad word!"

You nod your head at him, trying to hide a smile. You were glad that your lessons of not saying curse words stuck with the boy, even with his brother's foul mouth. "Yes, he did. Sukuna, now you definitely owe him a treat afterward."

Sukuna glares at you, but you are used to it, so you instead just flash him a grin. You have told him a multitude of times how you feel about him saying curse words in front of the kid. You didn't want him to grow up so similarly to Sukuna; as much as you love the man, his dirty mouth is not something you hope Yuuji will inherit.

Sukuna turns his attention back to his brother. "You little–"

"Please, Kuna?" Yuuji pleads, letting out another cough that makes him nervous. He rubs at his temple.

"Fine. Whatever. Just drink it, you manipulative brat." Yuujis eyes lighten up, and he brings the artificially smelling liquid to his mouth, cringing but drinking the entire thing. When he pulls away, his face is contorted in disgust, and he looks toward you. You run your fingers through his hair and praise the small boy, grabbing the small cup from his hands.

Sukuna curtly nods his head. "Good. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, brat, but we are out of chocolate. No treat for you," He fake pouts at the boy, but Yuuji, in turn, just shakes his head with a small smile.

"Not what I want."

Sukuna raises his eyebrow, thinking for a second, before sighing. "We are out of popsicles too."

"Not that either!" Yuuji shakes his head with this one, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

Sukuna borderline growls at the boy. "We are not watching Human Earthworm 2. Last time you nearly pissed yourself from how afraid you were." You laugh at the memory, remembering how much Yuuji pleaded to watch it for days, only to have it be turned off twenty minutes into the movie. The poor boy would make Sukuna walk him to the bathroom at night because he was so afraid of being alone in the dark.

Yuuji pouts at him, and another small cough it let out. You grab him some more water, and the boy mumbles a thank you before turning back to his brother. "I wasn't scared! And no, not that either!"

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose his temper. "What do you want then?"

The smile on Yuuji's face returns, even with the pinkened cheeks and the little bits of sweat on his temples. "Want Kuna to cuddle me!"

Your eyes widen, and you can't stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Sukuna, on the other hand, goes silent for a long moment. "Not happening. Pick something else."

Yuuji whines out, shaking his head stubbornly. "Nooooo. You said I get a treat!"

"You are going to get me sick."

The boy sniffles at him, shaking his head. "Th-Thought brother was the strongest…"

This makes you grin, knowing your lover's ego well. And just like you thought, Sukuna lets out a dramatically large sigh. "Fucking–Fine. Whatever. Scoot over." You and Yuuji both let the curse word slide, being shocked at him actually agreeing.

Yuuji slides over, and Sukuna forces his way under the blankets beside the boy. You sit and watch as Yuuji basically scampers up Sukuna's chest until his head is placed in the elder's neck and his entire body is on top of the man. "Okay, really?" Sukuna grumbles, and you chuckle at him. "Are you some sort of spider monkey now?"

The boy hums in agreement, pressing himself impossibly closer to his brother. You take this time to stand up from the bed, having no room to fit you both. Sukuna watches you begin to leave and frowns at you. "Where are you going?"

This was a perfect time to give them some bonding time. So you shrug, "I'll be right back."

"You better be," Sukuna grumbles and Yuuji coincidentally sneezes into his neck. The man's whole body jerks, and he cringes. "Hey! None of that, that's disgusting!"

Yuuji whimpers, wrapping his arms tighter around his brother as if he was afraid to leave. Then he whispers an apology, and Sukuna rolls his eyes again.

You grab the door to the handle and step outside. "Well, have fun you two. Yuuji, feel better!"

Yuujis cranes his neck to look at you and waves back to you with a small smile, content in his position. Sukuna, on the other hand, glares at you. "Dont you dare leave me here with this brat."

You huff a laugh, ignoring him and already planning what movie you will watch by yourself. "Love you!"

"Hey!" He yells when you shut the door on him.

And, of course, luck is not always on Sukuna's side. When you come to check on them two hours later, you find them both passed out – Yuuji practically smothers Sukuna with his tiny body, drooling on the elder's face. You leave them like that, not thinking much of it.

But three days go by, and somehow Sukuna finds himself stuck in bed with a fever. He never dared to mention that Yuuji probably got him sick, his pride getting the better of him.

You and the kid walk into your shared bedroom, Yuuji with a massive smile, finally feeling better, and you with a content grin. Sukuna slowly peers over to the door and groans out loud and dramatic.

"Dont worry, Kuna! Dr. Yuuji is here to take care of you!" He cheers, grabbing his toy stethoscope and shuffling over to the bed. He manages to climb onto the bed with his brother without much trouble, and you follow him, sitting on the bed next to your lover. Like you did with Yuuji, you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him.

Sukuna peers at you, eyes slightly lighting up and a familiar grin pulling at his face. You already know something inappropriate is about to leave his mouth.

"I would feel so much better if you were in a nurse costume right now." But before you could try to reply, Yuuji shuts him up by shoving a toy thermometer into his mouth.

anxietysucks reblogged

summary: Sukuna tries to teach Yuuji self-defense, but of course, he happens to forget how helpless the toddler is.

cw: mentions of death/kidnapping, reader gets called helpless

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love them so much. its so fun to write this au!!

When you walk into the living room, you can’t help but smile. Truly, was it a rarity to see Sukuna and Yuuji getting along nicely. Of course, Yuuji was always sweet, but Sukuna was a brat and found that hanging out with a four-year-old was not really his cup of tea. Or at least, that’s what he proclaims to you.

Yuuji throws a punch at his brother’s hand, brows furrowing in concentration. Sukuna sits on the floor, cross-legged, and in front of Yuuji, who was standing at his full height. The older sighs, “Well, that was pathetic. Harder.”

The boy nods, obviously trying to hold back a smile. He wanted to seem just as serious as Sukuna did, but it was hard for the toddler due to how smiley he always seemed to be. But he lets out a tiny huff and brings his fists up to his face. Then, he makes a little “Hii-ya!” noise and slams his fist into Sukuna’s open palm.

“Okay, this ain’t working. Fuck, how are we of the same bloodline? I was not this weak,” Sukuna complains to himself, pulling his hands down.

You roll your eyes and step into the room. “Maybe because he is a four-year-old. Don’t think it’s his job to be strong,” You say, and Sukuna’s eyes flicker to you. A smile pulls at his lips, and the man begins to stand up from the floor to greet you. Yuuji beats him to it though, letting a high-pitched squeal in excitement before running over to you.

You grin at the noise, watching the boy waddle over to you with bright eyes. You crouch down to his level and greet him, ruffling his hair. Then you pinch at his cheeks, ignoring the whine of complaint from Yuuji. “You are way too cute to fight! Huh, no fighting for you. You just gotta stay this small forever!” You coo, peppering kisses to the boy’s cheeks and forehead.

The boy lets out a fit of giggles and a “Noooo! Wanna be big like Kuna!”

You shake your head, a fake pout on your face. “But Sukuna isn’t cute at all,” You half-heartedly complain, sparing a glance at your lover.

He walks up to the two of you and picks up Yuuji by the back of his hood, causing the kid squirms in the air. Sukuna pays no mind to it, instead looking toward you, who is standing back up. “Don’t lie,” He scolds, and you raise your eyebrows, “I am adorable.”

You chuckle at him, rolling your eyes, and he in return presses a quick kiss to your lips. His brother begins to whine in complaint, causing the older to roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, quit whining. I’ll put you down in a second, little pest, but you need actually to put in some effort to fight me.”

“Okay!” Yuuji exclaims, and Sukuna sighs. Yuuji was so agreeable. When Sukuna was that age, he was supposedly a brat who argued with everyone, or at least that is what he had heard. Yuuji was strangely different than him. He didn’t know if he minded it or not.

Sukuna puts the boy down and sits again on the floor. He glances at you, who is taking a seat on the couch. Your eyes seem to read, play nice. It makes Sukuna want to roll his eyes, but the kid distracts him again, his tiny hands placed on the knees of Sukuna’s sweatpants while he grins up at his brother. The little beast had no concept of personal space, and the older of the two swears he can feel his brother practically breathing on him.

Sukuna pushes the boy off, sending him falling on his backside. “Sukuna,” You warn, but he ignores you. Yuuji only frowns and gets back up again, climbing back over to the other.

“Pretend im a kidnapper,” Sukuna demands, straightening his back and moving closer, taunting the small boy. “I am a very bad man who is going to take you home with me and lock you in my–”

“Sukuna!” You interrupt before Yuuji could hear his brother’s unneeded explanation. Yuuji seemed to stare owlishly at his brother, a little nervous but mostly confused about what he was talking about.

The man grins at you and shrugs his shoulders. But he abides to your wish with a scoff. “...Do bad things to you,” He weakly finishes. “Now, defend yourself!”

Yuujis’s hands go up into his mouth, tiny fingers playing with his lips, and he shakes his head with a giggle. “But big brother will protect me!”

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, and you let out a small laugh. “I’m dead.” Yuuji’s face visibly falls. “The kidnapper killed me because you were too weak to defend yourself and save me. Now look, Y/N is all alone and helpless because of you.”

Your mouth opens in shock at the bluntness of it all. Yuujis eyes are wide, and he goes silent for a second. Then, his mouthline begins to wobble, and his eyes begin to water. “Kuna gone?”

Sukuna begins to backtrack, not wanting to deal with his brother’s tears. He stumbles toward the child, eyes wide. “It’s a hypothet–”

Yuuji’s scream sends you scrambling to your feet and over to the pair immediately. You grab Yuuji by the waste and swing him around, a huge, forced smile on your face. “And boom!” The force of it all startles the small boy, and he pauses his cries for a moment with owlish eyes while you continue to swing him around. “Y/N comes in and saves the day! And guess what, Sukuna was just sleeping!”

You place Yuuji on your side and help wipe his tears away. Only about two or three fell before you grabbed him, but still, his eyes seemed to be slightly puffy. The boy continues to sniffle, hands rubbing at his eyes. “Just sleeping?”

Before you could answer, Sukuna tears the boy from your arms. He holds him up in front of him by both of Yuuji’s underarms, causing the boy to dangle in the air. “I’m offended that you would think I would die so easily, brat.”

A smile begins to crawl up Yuuji’s face, but he shakes his head, and his voice holds a whine to it. “Don’t. Don’t like it.”

Sukuna sighs before placing the boy on his hip. Yuuji seems to find comfort there, burying his head into his brother’s shirt. It was rare to be held by Sukuna, and Yuuji obviously wanted to soak up all the time he has up there. “Yeah, I don’t think I would like being dead either. Luckily, your brother is the strongest, so you won’t have to worry bout that, yeah?”

Yuuji nods into his brother’s side, grinning and possibly wiping snot onto Sukuna. You take this time also to add your say in the matter. “And I’m not helpless.” You glance at the man who was just remembering what he said in the moment.

“C’mon, maybe just a little?” He teases, and you step closer to the pair, fighting back a smile. But before you could retort another teasing bite, the boy interjects his opinion.

“Nuh-uh! Y/N saved us. You sleeping, Kuna!”

You fake gasp in realization of his words, and Yuuji’s eyes light up. “Oh my, you are so right, Yuuji! Don’t you think he is the helpless one?” You coax, and Yuuji seems to lean toward you at your excited tone.

He nods his head rapidly, not really knowing what he is agreeing to but just trying to mimic your actions. “Kuna helpless!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at the two of you and pinches the boy’s cheek, looking down at his brother. “Says the one who had a whole breakdown over the word–”

“Sukuna.”

Sukuna takes a deep breath and glances at you and Yuuji’s big dark eyes. He shakes his head in defeat, “Yeah, guess I am, ain’t I?”

You crack a smile, and Yuuji squeals in delight, digging his tiny hands into his brother’s shirt. Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair.

anxietysucks reblogged

summary: Sukuna might not be the best older brother, but at least Yuuji doesnt seem to mind.

wc: 1.6k

a/n: wrote this instead of kinktober. oopsies. i was feeling soft, ok? leave me alone.

Two little fists bang at the door and you find yourself awoken from your sleep. In your half-sleep state, you manage to hear the desperate rattling of a door, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then, a sniffle, and a broken sob. “Brotherrrrr!”

“No Yuuji!” Sukunas voice echoes in your shared room, and at this, you seem to jump awake. Sukuna, turns his stare from the door back to you, and his lips curl upward. “You awake? C’mon lets go for round two. Been waiting hours.”

You pull yourself up, ignoring the suggestive kisses that your lover places down your neck. Another cry is let out from behind the door, and more pounding. “I-I'll be a good boy! Please, please, please Kuna!”

Sukuna growls into your neck, pulling away and yelling back a, “Yuuji, I told you it's adult time. Go watch your cartoons before you piss me off!”

A whined, “Noooooooo!” Is let out, and Yuuji by now must be sobbing, clawing at the door like some sort of puppy.

You turn to Sukuna, and his cocky smile returns, leaning forward to press more kisses along your cheek. You pull away, a scowl on your face, and he groans knowing what's to come. “Aw cmon, don't be mad. You promised me we would go again. ‘ts not my fault the brat is a clinger, Uraume is supposed to be watching him.”

You pull the sheets away from your body and Sukuna makes a noise of complaint. “Hand me your shirt,” You demand, pulling on your underwear as quickly as possible. He rolls his eyes at your tone, but pulls the cloth over his head and throws it to you. You are quick to put it on, satisfied when it comes just above your knees.

Then you pad over to the door, while Sukuna sighs, and pinches his brows. He isn't getting lucky for nights to come, you've already decided.

When you open it, you find Sukunas four year old brother standing with his bunny stuffed animal, and tears streaming down his face. When he finally processes that its you, he immediately drops the bunny, and stumbles over to you as quickly as he can, the cries coming louder. His arms shoot up and he is warbling a, “Up! Up!”

You are quick to abide by his request, picking him up and pressing the boys body to yours, and shushing him when he sobs into your neck. Your hands run through the near identical pink hair, and you mumble out a, “I know, I know. Sukuna is so mean. Its okay. Shhhh, don't cry.”

The boy fails to listen, and you don't blame him. He must have been really hurt by his brother blatantly ignoring him. You glare at your lover as you make your way back toward the bed. He holds his hands up sheepishly, and you roll your eyes. You crawl back into bed, resting your back on the headboard, while the four year old straddles your lap, crying into Sukunas shirt.

“You coddle him too much,” The pink haired man complains, glancing at his brother who was staining his shirt.

You scoff at him, continuing to run your fingers through the boys hair as he finally begins to calm down from his wish being granted. “So you were going to let him just cry out there?”

“It's what our parents did to me, and I turned out just fine.” You bite back a frown, but place a comforting hand on his own. His eyes flicker to you, and he nods, not saying anything. You are glad their parents are gone, and he is too. Although being left to raise his brother was more tedious than he thought, to Sukuna at least.

The last of Yuuji's tears fall, and you wipe them away with a small smile. The boy leans into your hand, loving every second of physical touch. He always seemed to want to be touching one of the two of you, whether it by means of having you carry him, or him very tentatively asking his brother to hold his hand. In those moments, Yuujis smile seems to be the brightest.

The puffy eyed kid turns to Sukuna, while continously holding onto your arm so that you don't stop your petting. “Brother is so mean!” Yuuji complains in a high voice, but he doesnt sound upset, only mimicking what you told him earlier. In fact, a smile was already beginning to creep on the boys face, already forgetting about the situation.

A playful finger jabs into the boys chest, and the boy squeals with delight. “Wouldn't be mean if you weren't such a brat.”

Yuuji shakes his head, a massive grin plastered to his face. “Nuh-uh! You are brat!”

Sukuna raises his eyebrows and you chuckle, nodding at the boy with approval. “Tell me about it,” You encourage, and the boy in turn giggles, liking that you took to his side.

The older of the two holds a predatory smile, and you raise your eyebrows. “You wanna say that again, kid?”

Yuuji doesnt understand threats, nor does he know that brat is considered an insult. “Brother Kuna is brat! Like me!”

Sukuna’s hands dart out to your lap, and make their way to Yuujis sides, quickly running his fingers over the skin. The boy squeals again, and then begins to frantically giggle at the ticklish feeling. Your lover's hands are tortuous on the boy, and in turn Yuuji's laugh begins to echo in the room, as he tries to squirm away. “No! Kuna! No!” He squeals, tiny fingers clawing into you as he tries to seek help from you.

His brother holds a small smile too, obviously trying to hold the cold front, but can't when hearing the infectious laugh. Eventually, when Yuuji seems to be loosing airflow from all his laughing, you defend the boy, batting away your lovers hands from his small body. Yuuji comes collapsing into your abdomen, trying to catch his breath, but smiling non the less. You stare fondly at him.

Sukuna, on the other hand, manages to find a paper folded in Yuujis pocket. He glances at the kid, who is already watching him with pure adoration. The kid had a huge problem of idolizing his older brother, even after being tortured by tickling and left outside the room.

Yuuji points to the paper. “Gift!”

“Did you draw us something?” You question, tapping on Yuujis nose. He smiles and nods, squirming in excitement for you guys to see.

Your lover unfolds the paper, glancing at you with a bored expression. You read right through him though. He is curious to see what his brother made, you just know it. Yuuji's hands grips onto your shirt.

Inside is three stick figures, obviously drawn by a young child. Some of the heads are too big, and they are drawn with purple crayon, sloppy, but made with love. There is a little figure in the middle, coated with pink hair, and holding onto two taller peoples hands. On his left side is a carbon copy of the little one, also with pink hair, but frowning. On his right, was the color of your hair made sloppily with marker, and a smile big enough to match Yuujis. Cute.

“That ones me!” Yuuji exclaims, pointing to the little figure in the middle.

“I couldn't tell,” Sukuna says very much sarcastically. Yuuji doesnt understand it, so he beams with pride, excited at the idea of possibly being compared to his brother that he idolizes so.

The boy giggles, and turns to you for confirmation. “Do me and brother look alike?”

You hum in thought, dramatically tapping your chin. “Definitely. But, one of you guys happens to be way cuter than the other though.” Before Yuuji can ask who, you lean forward and blow raspberries on his stomach, chuckling when more squeals and giggles come tumbling out. Sukuna hides a smile.

A second later Yuuji comes flying out of your lap and into Sukunas. The older grabs him forcefully by the hood of his jacket, like a mother cat does to its kittens. You roll your eyes at the treatment, knowing well that Sukuna by now knows how to hold a child. But the boy doesn't mind, now sitting contently in Sukunas lap and staring up at him. “You wanna look like me?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Sukuna licks his hand, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then he very much too forcibly runs his fingers through Yuuji's hair. You jump watching the boy nearly collapse backward at the motion of his hands, but braces himself. Sukuna has a really bad problem of treating his brother with a little to much force than what a child should be used to. But Yuuji was a strong kid, so he never barked a lick of complaint – it was only you that were biting your fingers with nerves.

Sukuna brushes the pink hair backward, similar to his hair cut. Then he uses more saliva to spike it up. Once finished he nods at the kid, content with the hair that looks identical to his.

“Alright. Good. Now go grab a sharpie, we gotta give you some tattoes.”

Yuuji borderline has a tantrum when you tell him why you can't do that, while Sukuna laughs the entire time. But, the two of you compromise, and now there is a picture hung in Sukunas room where Yuuji is coated with black marker tattoos, identical to his brother.

anxietysucks reblogged

pukicho

Anonymous asked:

Puki will you leave tumblr because everyone’s acting like it’s dead now :(

pukicho answered:

oh yeah its SO dead.

1000 notes this post. Now

pukicho

that took 3 minutes.

pasta-yy

i literally fucking blinked and this shit happened istg y’all are insane—

pukicho

Fuck it. Spread this post to every nook and cranny on tumblr. Prove to everyone that this site is ALIVE and FLOURISHING and that it will last for fucking DECADES

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part X

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 10: (2,2k words)

“Do you ever…” He stops and looks at his mother, at the calmness of her face and the warmth that hasn’t left her eyes ever since he’s come back. “Are you scared of fire? I mean, now, after what happened?”

She halts in her movements of preparing tea for the two of them.

“I guess,” she says with uncertainty coating her voice. “I haven’t been around it since… you know.”

“Me either, until today.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He admits haltingly. “We just have this new coworker who smokes and when I saw the flame of her lighter, I got all weird and… tingly?”

His mother ponders that for a moment before she leaves the room without a word.

He waits, confused until she comes back with a candle and a box of matches.

“Finding the matches took me the longest.” She explains. “We rarely need those. Do you… do you wanna light the candle? I’m a little afraid of the matches.”

So is he, he realizes, as he fumbles around with them. He can’t remember ever using those, not when he could produce his own fire by age four.

His hands are sweaty as he works and he breaks two matchsticks before he can even light them.

When the third ignites, he drops it on the table in a mix of surprise and shock and they stare at it as it burns out on the glass surface.

The fourth match makes it to the candle but by now cold sweat is running down his back.

His mother is looking positively green in the face and they take turns staring quietly at the candle or each other for about a minute before he uses the plate of Takoyaki to smother the flame.

“What do you think?” His mother asks, her voice thick.

“I’d rather not do that again. But… how can I be afraid of my own quirk?”

“Do you miss it?” She asks, her small hand on his now.

“I remember how it felt to burn the first time.” He tells her, voice low, “It wasn’t just about achieving something, it was about the thing itself. Fire has always been kinda cathartic for me. So yes, I think… I think I miss it, even if I’m afraid of it. What if I can never use it again?”

“What if you can use something else instead?”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Your hair turned white.” She points out, twirling a strand between her fingers. “What if other things have changed too?”

His father finds him later that day, still in his room, too restless to sleep and too tired to do much but flip through his books. He’s allowed internet access now but hasn’t used it much, preferring the calmness of printed books at the moment.

“You’re mother tells me you’re not feeling well.” He says, arms crossed, an enormous bandage sticking out from his left upper arm.

“What happened to your arm?” Touya asks, sitting up.

“Just an unfortunate meeting with someone wielding a knife, it looks worse than it is.”

“You got stabbed at work?”

“Yeah. Kinda comes with the job.”

Touya stares at the bandage, his stomach churning.

“What’s on your mind, son?” His father sits down on his bed as well, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Would you freak out if I got a piercing?” He asks, blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind which isn’t what he really wanted to say anyway.

“A piercing?” Enji’s eyebrows rise on his forehead as he speaks. “What kind of piercing?”

“I used to have one, well, multiple, on my ear. Four rings. I met someone who copied it and it reminded me of them and now I kinda want them back.”

His hand moves to his ear on instinct, and feels the new skin that has been grafted over, the new bone that has been grown beneath it. He knows, at least from what he’s been told, that his body had been destroyed to a point where there was almost no hope left.

But he somehow made it out alive, even if heavily scarred.

“What did they mean to you?” Enji asks, which is a way better question than the one he’d feared.

“We’re four kids.” He says simply and his father nods, slowly, as if he’d only just realized it himself.

The front door slams shut and Rei calls out a greeting from somewhere in the living room, but her “Welcome back Shouto.” stays unanswered.

Touya feels, rather than knows, that his youngest brother might have had a not-so-nice meeting with his girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now.

Even Enji rises, eyebrows furrowed as if he senses it too.

And maybe it’s their history, that he asks right then and there, or something else, but the words fall out of his mouth like ripe tomatoes, splitting on his bedroom floor and leaving a mess like words are wont to do.

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to use my fire again?”

His father looks absolutely stricken at the question, torn between what he wants to say and his absolute lack of talent in lying.

“I don’t think you should.” He offers and it looks like the words hurt him, like they’re razor sharp and soaked in lemon juice.

“But the fire…”

“Your life,” his father’s voice trembles, “Is more important than any fire in the world. I’d give up my quirk this second if it meant keeping you alive.”

“Wow,” he jokes, the emotion in his father’s eyes so deep they threaten to choke him too, “That’s nice.”

Enji’s arms tighten and loosen, as if in tune with his heartbeat, until he steps forward and clears his throat.

“Can I, uh, can I hug you?”

And it’s nice, in a way, to be hugged like this. To be lifted up from the ground and swallowed up in arms the size of your ribcage, wrapped around you like the world doesn’t matter anymore.

If only he could turn off his head too, the flickering of a flame behind his eyelids.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Shouto only comes out of his room after everyone has settled for the night.

Rei had knocked on his door once, as well as Enji, but both times he’d asked to be left alone and his siblings knew to respect a wish like that.

Touya blinks into the sudden light when Shouto appears at his door, flicking on the light.

“I was sleeping-” He starts but stops when he realizes that Shouto’s eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.

“You wanna talk about it?” He says instead, mildly surprised when Shouto not only steps into his room but takes a seat on his bed as well.

“You’re in love with your boss, right?” Shouto asks, with the directness Touya has learned to accept from him. Doesn’t mean he likes it all the time.

“What makes you think that?”

“Momo told me.”

“Momo says a lot of things, that doesn’t make them true.”

“But you are in love with her.” His brother insists. “Right?”

“I might be.” He offers, the admission churning in his stomach. “But that doesn’t matter because love always involves two people.”

“But she loves you too.”

“Did she say that?” The words are out of his mouth before he can take them back, rushed and a bit too eager.

Shouto blinks in surprise and Touya bites his tongue. “Never mind. What gave you that impression?”

“She looks at you like Deku looks at Ochako. Or Jirou looks at Kaminari. Or Tenya looks at Tsuyu when he thinks nobody’s looking.”

“I get it, I get it, all your classmates are in relationships.”

“I tried replicating that kind of look.” Shouto admits. “But Momo just asks me if I have constipation when I do.”

“You can’t replicate that look, dumbass.” Touya rolls his eyes at him. “It’s when your feelings are visible on the outside.”

“Does that mean I don’t love Momo? I really do like her. It’s so easy to talk to her and she gets that my family is complicated.”

“How do you feel about her getting hurt?”

“She wouldn’t get hurt. She’s too capable.”

Touya rolls his eyes again. “Yes, I know she’s capable. But, think back to the past. Or the present. There might be fights she won’t get out so easily. How’d you feel about her getting hurt?”

Shouto looks, to put it simply, as if he’d just punched him in the gut.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t answer, but instead moves until he sits with his head between his knees.

“You okay?” Touya asks again, hands hovering over his head. “Are you going to be sick?”

“It would be my fault.” Shouto pushes out. “If she got hurt it would be my fault.”

“Okay, Shouto, look at me. She’s not hurt and it’s not your fault. I can tell you care about her, but maybe… maybe you should look into some therapy?”

“I did go to therapy.” His brother insists, head still locked between his knees. “Remember? I was there with you.”

“Yeah, when it was about family. But what about relationships? You didn’t have the best role model in that, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone about it, would it?”

Eventually, Shouto pulls his head back out and stares at him, his mismatched eyes eerie in their quietness.

“How’d you feel about her getting hurt?” He asks.

“It’s not just the hurt.” Touya admits. “Even though that thought fucks me up the most. It’s the fact that she doesn’t know how to cook so I learned it in case she’ll let me do it for her one day. So that she can stay healthy. It’s the fact that she wears threadbare gloves in winter and I haven’t figured out yet how to gift her better ones. It’s taking care of every plant because I know if the plant is hurt, she’s hurt about it. That’s… Well, that’s what I feel, I’ll let you decide what that is.”

“Do you think I’ll ever feel that about a person?”

Touya shrugs. “You’re what, eight years old? You still have more than enough time to find someone for you. Don’t rush into things. And who knows, maybe it will be good for you and Momo to have some time apart.”

Shouto huffs but says nothing, instead he turns and slips under the covers as if this is his bed and not his brother’s.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Can you turn off the light? Thank you.”

Touya doesn’t really know why he does it. Maybe he’s too tired to fight about it, or he is actually a bit worried about Shouto, or maybe there’s something else entirely, but he gets out of bed, shuts off the light, and slips back under the covers, resigning himself to half a blanket.

At least Shouto’s warm.

When Touya comes home the next day, Enji stops him at the front door.

“We’re leaving.” He tells him in a hushed voice.

“Where to?”

“There’s a piercing shop downtown. Hawks referred me to it.”

Touya blinks.

“I’m not… I haven’t thought about…”

“You don’t have to do it tonight if you don’t feel like it. You can just make fun of me getting antsy about the needles or whatever because I’ll be getting one.”

“Me too.” Natsuo pops up behind him, as if summoned by the term ‘making fun’.

“Oh, count me in.” Fuyumi slips her shoes on. “I told Mom we’re getting ice cream, so keep up the lie.”

“Ice cream?” Shouto appears in the kitchen door. “I heard they have one with Zaru Soba flavor, can we try that?”

Natsuo is the one with his phone poised, and Touya’s glad for it because he would never want to forget this moment, his father squirming anxiously in the too-small chair, while the piercer preps everything he needs.

He doesn’t know how they did it, or when they talked it through, but they’ve all thought about it in detail.

His father’s getting five rings, one silver and four gold, at the same place where Touya had his own. It’s not hard to gather what they stand for.

His siblings have decided on something similar. They choose the same placement - Fuyumi chooses gold rings because she prefers gold - but ask to leave a little gap each at whatever position they stand in their family tree.

It looks ridiculous but it has meaning and when they all grin back at him with varying shades of pain visible on his face - his father really is horrible around needles - he can’t say no.

“Alright, put them back in.” He orders and takes a seat as well.

He doesn’t know what you’ll think of it, but from what he knows about you, he knows you’d always push him to be himself in whatever save way he can.

It doesn’t make coming home easier, though,j when his mother awaits them with her arms crossed.

“As if I’d fall for something like that.” She tells them sternly. “You could have taken me with you. Enji, dear, did you make sure it’s not the ‘gay ear’? Hawks told me about that kind of thing.”

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part IX

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.

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 9: (2k words)

“Todoroki-san?”

He looks up redecorating the display outside, his thick coat warming him against the winter weather but also cutting him off from seeing the person that has approached him.

He turns to see Shouto’s girlfriend, Momo something.

“Hi?” It’s not like she hasn’t been here before, but she usually doesn’t come alone.

“Hello. I’d like to buy a bouquet. If that’s possible?”

He wants to roll his eyes at that question but refrains from doing so.

“Sure. Just head inside.”

“I-” She stops and looks down at the wooden pieces he’s trying to assemble. He knew the moment he proposed it that building up the display of bird feeders - all looking like miniature homes - was a bad idea. His hands aren’t all that agreeable in the warmth and even worse outside in the cold. But Mari hasn’t stopped giving him the side eye and he’s happy for every chance to get away from her.

“Do you need help with that?” She asks.

“No, it’s supposed to look like that.”

He wonders for a second if she’ll drop it for the sake of politeness but she seems to swallow her nerve.

“I was actually hoping I could talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Shouto.”

He blinks.

“You want to talk to me about my brother?”

“Yes.” She nods fervently. “I- When I came over that one night. I mean, when we celebrated… I think it was both the garden and your six-month anniversary, I noticed something.”

“So?”

He knows he’s less than polite to a possible customer and his brother’s girlfriend, but it’s cold, his hands won’t do what he tells them to do and she’s keeping him from doing his actual job to blabber about nonsense.

“We’ve been together for almost a year now and he’s never looked at me like you look at your girlfriend.”

He blinks. She stares back at him with some kind of nervous determination.

He blinks again.

“You got that all wrong.” He huffs and turns back to the bird feeders. “That wasn’t the kind of anniversary we were celebrating.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She blurts out and moves, trying to get him to look back at her again.

“I’m trying to break up with him.” She blurts out yet again and he freezes this time.

“What?”

“Shouto. I’m trying to break up with Shouto. I don’t think he loves me. I mean he thinks he loves me but I doubt he knows what that really means. And it’s hard, because I don’t want to lose him as a friend, but I also feel like he’s using me as a crutch and that’s not fair to any of us.”

“Why would you tell me that?” He asks her. “I don’t want to know that kind of stuff!”

“But-”

“No.” He drops the pieces back on the display table and rights himself up.

“You can wait here. I’m not the person to talk you out of this.”

You look up from the bouquet Mari is clumsily tying together.

“Everything okay?”

“No. Shouto’s girlfriend is here and wants relationship advice.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. Could you… talk to her?”

You look down at Mari who immediately starts glaring again.

“Mari can help me with the Display.” Touya offers, even going as far as calling her by her actual name. “My hands don’t work outside anyway.”

“Would that be okay, Mari?”

Mari glares wordlessly until she huffs out a breath and shrugs.

“Get your jacket then.” Touya orders rudely and waits for her to slip into the backroom before he mutters a quick warning.

“Just, don’t listen too closely to what she’s saying, okay? She’s mixed up the reason we celebrated and stuff like that.”

“Thank you for that advice, Touya-kun.” You tell him, your voice almost chiding but your eyes twinkling with mirth at his expense.

Mari needs half an hour to build up the birdhouses and even less time to decorate them in the way Touya had planned.

Neither you nor Shouto’s girlfriend have stepped out of the shop and he’s blocked off any customers by “politely” telling them that the shop’s a little busy at the moment.

“What now?” Mari asks when everything is assembled and they can still see you at the counter. He hasn’t heard her speak once so it’s a bit of a surprise to hear her now.

“I’m buying you a hot chocolate, coffee, whatever. The more they’re talking the less I have to say.”

“Wow.” She sniffs. “What a great brother.”

“Like I’d be any help. Boss will at least set her head straight. If she still breaks up with him it’s what she really wants to do.”

Mari rolls her eyes and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her coat jacket, flicking a lighter to life.

The sight of the little flame hits him sudden and hard, like a fist to the soft lining of his stomach or a blow to the back.

“What?” She asks when he keeps staring at her long after she’s clicked her lighter shut.

There’s a weird tingle in his hands and he wonders if he really hasn’t seen a flame since the day his family brought him in.

“Nothing.” He blurts out, forcing his head away to break eye contact with the glowing tip of her cigarette.

Smoke circles around him and the tingling spreads from his hands up to his shoulders.

“What do you want?” He asks, following it up with an almost panicked: “To drink, I mean?”

“I don’t care.” She stops in front of the coffee shop. “You can buy yourself something, I’ll just stay outside and have a smoke.”

When he steps inside to get away from her he feels like he did with Fukuhara, the thought of her coming after him pouring shivers down his back.

When they get back, Momo’s gone and he must look as out of it as he’s feeling because you put the back of your hand against his temple and tell him to go home and rest.

“You don’t have a fever but I don’t want to risk anything.” You say. “Call someone to pick you up, okay? I don’t want you driving like that.”

He slips into the backroom, the sight of the few plants up for repotting calming him down instantly. His fingers trace the leaves of a Monstera as he waits for someone to pick up, but to his dismay, every member of his family seems busy.

His mother calls him back first, promising to send an Uber his way.

“I’ll get home right away.” She promises. “I can pick you up some Takoyaki on the way, you used to love that as a child when you got sick.”

He wants to say that he’s not five anymore but every time he blinks he sees a flickering flame behind his eyelids and it’s hard to say no to comfort when you’re shaken.

“Thanks.” He mutters instead. “Love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Touya.”

The streets outside are busy with people starting their holiday shopping, bumping into him as he waits for the car to arrive.

When it does, he slips inside, only to have the door handle ripped from his hands.

“What the f-” Someone slips in after him, falling into his lap and rolling over until they are seated next to him, grinning like a fool.

“Toga?!”

“Long time no see.” She says and turns to the driver with a saccharine smile. “You can drive. We’re sharing the ride.”

“No, we’re not.” He disagrees immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” She cocks her head to look even more adorable. She’s still dressed like a schoolgirl, in a thick woolen blazer and a woolen skirt. “I am allowed to go and meet friends.”

He wants to tell her that they are, in fact, not friends, but there’s an edge to the look she’s giving him that has him fall silent.

“You can drive.” He tells the driver with a sigh and pulls the door closed, throwing one last look back at the flower shop but there are too many people between him and the window to see anything or anyone.

“How long have you been working?” Toga asks as soon as the car is back on the road. “They’re not letting me out of therapy long enough to get a job.”

“About six months now.”

“Really? Did you lie to get out faster?”

“I didn’t lie.” He pushes his elbow into her side, mainly to annoy her, but he’s surprised how thin she’s become.

“Are they feeding you enough?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off. “I’m just not in the mood to eat all the time. How’s family?”

“They’re doing good. It’s… It’s kinda nice, to have them around.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

Silence falls over them.

“Did Hawks… Did he come to your therapy as well? Or did they only do that with me?”

“Oh, you mean the joint therapy? Yeah, but I tried to bite him so they have stopped trying that for the moment. My parents signed a restriction order against me, so that’s that, but Ochako comes in every other week.”

“Ochako.” He furrows his brows, trying to picture the girl. “She always buys blush pink roses.”

“Oh yes!” Toga gleams. “They are for me. I love them. She mentioned that you handle them with care so I looked up every flower shop in the city to find you.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?”

“Why shouldn’t I? It was so funny how you freaked out when I called your name last time.”

“That was you?!” This time he puts her in a headlock and she laughs, loudly, as if she knows that he’s not really intent on hurting her.

And he isn’t, really, which surprises him the most, because this might risk everything he’s worked for so far, but this is also Toga, someone he probably knows better than the rest of his family.

They fall silent again, as he lets her go, but it’s more comfortable now.

“I can’t believe you looked me up. I’m not sure if this is even allowed.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yeah.” His heart thrums as he thinks of the possible consequences. “If they kick me out of the flower shop-”

“You mean if they take you away from the girl you looove?”

“Oh, shut up, this is serious.”

“I asked, actually. What I was allowed to do if I saw you… It’s a big city but we could pass each other, you know? They said I was allowed to greet you and talk to you but should keep it to a minimum at first until we know how it affects us.”

“Yeah, and sharing my Uber is minimum?”

“You looked really sad standing there, what was I supposed to do? Leave you to rot in your own misery? What happened, anyway? Did you break up?”

“No!” She eyes him curiously and he lowers his voice again.

“No, not like that. Just… Mari, our new hire, smoked in front of me and I realized I haven’t seen fire since we got taken in. Freaked me out a bit.”

“Is it because of your quirk or are you traumatized because you were essentially burning alive?”

The question surprises him.

“I hadn’t thought of the second option.” He admits.

“Well if I’d been burnt alive, I’d definitely be afraid of fire. Also, is Mari that girl you worked outside with? She’s bad news.”

Her voice takes on a grave tone and he eyes her suspiciously.

“What do you mean? Do you know something?”

“No, just a feeling.”

“You could just be jealous.”

“Nah, she’s not that cute.”

Toga stops and stares out the window. “Are you driving home?”

“Yeah. My mom probably shouldn’t see you. Where should we let you out?”

“Can we exchange numbers?”

He hesitates and she recognizes it.

“Never mind.” She tells him brusquely. “We were never friends anyway. You can let me out here.”

In less then a minute, she’s gone.

And he doesn’t know if he should have acted differently.

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part VIII

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.

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 8: (2,5k words)

“So you always buy at Kibe-san’s?” He asks almost an hour later when you’re standing in line grabbing coffee and breakfast sandwiches to devour before your ride back to the shop.

“Yes. I do like walking the stalls though, to get inspired on what I could grow myself, but I can’t produce all of my own plants. Not anymore at least, with how many bouquets we’re selling each week. Kibe-san’s the most intense, though, but her flowers are the best as well.”

“Is Monday the same?”

“No, Kibe-san’s here too, so I usually check in with her first, but there’s also Mayeda-san and Matsuura-san, who both give fair prices. They don’t have the best quality though, but you will see for yourself.”

“Three coffee.” Touya steps forward when the guy in front of him makes space. “Two black. And do you have coffee syrup? Yes? Can you put two pumps of it in one coffee and fill the rest with creamer? Thanks.”

He turns back to you. “What kind of sandwich does Rico want?”

“He always takes the pork one.”

“One pork sandwich and two cheese sandwiches, please.”

He pays and hands two of the coffee cups to you, grabbing the other one and the bag of food before stepping away as well.

“You could have asked what flavor syrup I wanted.” You tell him but you don’t sound annoyed.

“I doubt they have more than one flavor and they probably only have that one because of you.”

“I’m not the only one who likes sweet things in their drinks.”

“Mhm. Most people like the sweet things elsewhere.”

You blink up at him as he bites his tongue. “Like cake. Desert. You know.”

“Sure.” You take a sip of your coffee and hum in appreciation. “This is perfect. Thank you. What kind of sandwich do you prefer when there’s more variety than pork and cheese?”

He pauses, coffee halfway to his lips, as he ponders that question.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what he likes or dislikes but there’s something in the unbridled joy you experience whenever you get to eat cheese that makes him want to feel the same.

But he barely remembers the last time he felt something like that over food.

A blurry memory resurfaces like he’s watching it unfold through a fogged-up lens.

He’d been living on the streets at that point, starved to the point he ate food out of the trash. It had been a rather cold day and a kind stranger had handed him an egg sandwich, made at home instead of store-bought.

He still remembers the taste, how it warmed him for hours, how he’d longed to taste it again for days and weeks afterward.

“Egg sandwich.” He says, voice a bit thicker than it should be. “I guess I’d pick that.”

You look at him like you know what he’d been thinking about, the moment interrupted by Rico pushing himself between the two of you.

“Pork sandwich! My favorite!” He swallows the thing in two bites before downing half of his coffee and grinning madly at them.

“We’ve got half an hour left before we have to leave. You gotta show him the indoor plants or no?”

“What do you think, Touya-kun? Ready for another lecture?”

The indoor plants are in another hall, one that’s actually heated and less crowded.

“One.” You tell him when you move through the stalls. “You can pick one for the shop but don’t break the bank.”

There are too many options to choose from, he realizes. Succulents and cacti, pothos and string of hearts, gum trees in different colors and shapes until they all blur in front of his eyes.

“What about this one?” You ask, pulling him towards you by his wrist. “It’s a holiday cactus or Genus Schlumbergera, they have a lot of different colors and it’s not hard to make new cuttings from it.”

“Why is it called that?” He asks when he halts, his eyes locking onto one of them as if drawn to it. It’s blossoms are white, turning into yellow and lastly ending in red tips, like a crown of flames. It looks like it’s burning and it’s calling him like a cliché.

“This one?” You ask, picking up the plant like you’ve read his mind yet again. “It’s fitting.”

“It’s a cliché.”

“Since when is that a bad thing?” You ask and he freezes, still thinking over your words when you come back with the pot in your arms.

“This is yours.” You hand it to him. “Don’t sell it before you have made cuttings from it, I beg you.”

“Which one would you pick? If you had all the money in the world?”

You laugh. “I’d grow it myself.”

“And if you couldn’t grow it?”

You stop to look up at him, your brows pinched.

“I’m not saying there’s something you can’t grow but if there were…”

“Come on.” You turn to walk and he follows in silence until you reach a stall at the back, an old man sitting amidst Bonsai’s.

You bow politely in greeting and he nods but doesn’t get up from his pillow on the floor.

“Nakao-san has been taking care of these for decades.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper as you point at the different trees. There’s a Sakura tree, a Japanese maple and so many more.

“There are no prices.” He mumbles and you nod.

“He’s not selling them. But he brings them over once a week so that they can be seen by others. If you ever have a question about Bonsai care, he’s the one to ask.”

“Why?”

“It can get lonely, even if you’re with the things you love.”

You trace your hand over the Sakura tree. When you pull your arm back, the tree is in full bloom and Nakao-san looks up to gift you a smile.

Back at the shop he’s got his work cut out for him.

He’s premaking bouquets for customers in a rush or those who are simply undecided, but his mind and eyes are always drawn back to the plant in the backroom. His plant.

After the third fire-colored bouquet you raise your eyebrows at him and he forces himself to make one with dark purple and little dots of cream in between.

Mari-chan comes in late.

She wears a permanent scowl on her face and refuses to repeat the names of the flowers, choosing to follow you through the shop in moody silence.

Business picks up a bit after lunch and you move to the back room with Mari.

A college student walks in, a guy he’s seen around at least once a week, rarely buying something but always pouring over the indoor plants.

“Hey.” He calls out to him. “How are the classes going?”

“Fine, fine.” He shrugs. “Just, uh… got back an A for my assignment.”

“That sounds nice. Uh, Fukunaga, was it?”

“Fukuhara Tadao, yeah.”

They both stare at each other for a moment before Touya drops his eyes to his notebook. Small talk just isn’t for him.

“I was… uh, I was going to treat myself.” Fukuhara starts up again, starting to stutter when Touya looks back up. “B-But I can’t… I can’t decide.”

“What kind of room you live in?”

“Typical college dorm.”

“Never lived in one of these, you gotta explain it. Where’s your window facing?”

“The parking lot?”

Touya groans in annoyance and Fukuhara blushes a deep red.

“Oh, you meant.. it’s facing north, I guess. Well, I never get any sun, if that’s what you were asking.”

“Pothos does well with low light.” Touya points at the plant. “Give it a bath once a week or when the leaves start to fold into itself.”

Fukuhara slinks over and peers at the price tag before blanching.

Toya groans. “Alright. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll kick your ass.” He huffs and moves over, snipping off two branches that have been growing over the display table.

“Go home, put them in a clean cup filled with water. Change the water every few days. As soon as the roots are as long as your finger you can put them in soil.”

“Wh- How much?”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

Fukuhara nods fervently, his hands shaking as he takes the gift.

When he moves back, his floppy hair falls to the side, revealing a glitter of silver around his left ear. Touya’s eyes lock onto it like he’s a cat seeing a mouse for the first time.

“Where’d you get those?” He asks.

Fukuhara blushes again. “A-A friend of mine does them. I got them when I started college.”

“Why four?”

Fukuhara looks up at him, the answer so visible in his eyes he doesn’t need to speak the words. It’s like a punch to the stomach.

“I think you should leave now.” Touya tells him, tasting bile in his throat.

Touya’s hands shake when he makes it back to the counter.

He thinks about calling you out, letting his thoughts drip into your lap where they will always be safe, but you’re with Mari and he can’t bear to step under that glare again. Not right now at least.

He scrolls through his phone, past Fuyumi who’s working right now, catching on a familiar name.

To his credit, Hawks picks up at the first ring.

“Hey, could you come over?” Touya’s eyes are locked on the door as if he fears Fukuhara might come back and with him the threat of past deeds, of insanity he had thought he’d left behind.

“Like, right now?”

🌺.

Fukuhara hasn’t stepped into the shop again, but the memory lingers.

He’s talked to his therapist about it and has called Hawks twice late at night, but that’s as far as he was willing to go. He’s not even told you.

Mari is partly to blame for that, drawing all your attention from him onto her.

But you’re so proud of him too, of his progress at the flower market in the morning, of how well he’s getting along with Rico and the customers.

He doesn’t want to disappoint you.

But it’s Friday again and he follows you up the stairs to your apartment after closing the shop. Mari had left an hour early today and you’d gone out as well, claiming that you needed to buy groceries.

He’d joked that you didn’t need an hour to buy cheese, bread, and miso paste but now he’s sitting on the floor in front of an egg sandwich you made yourself.

You’d toasted the bread and put too much egg salad in between, the contents spilling out onto the plate.

He already knows it’s going to taste like heaven on his tongue but he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

He can’t eat it.

He can’t eat it and you’ve noticed his hesitation, your smile slipping back into your skin as you watch him.

“What’s wrong, Touya-kun?”

“Last week, when you and Mari went into the back room for a while, Fukuhara came in.”

“Ah, Fukuhara. He’s studying Forensic science.”

“He mentioned he got an A on an assignment and wanted to treat himself but didn’t have the money for the Pothos. So I snipped off some excess branches and gave it to him. It seemed like someone you’d do.”

You don’t rise to the bait, instead, you wait for him to continue.

The words, however, are lodged in his throat.

You get up, walk around the table and sit down next to him and it feels like you’re taking his side in this battle, like you’re part of his team against whatever it is on the other side..

“Can I touch you?” You ask and he nods.

You put one hand onto his, easing the fingers up that are dug into the fabric of his trousers. Your touch is gentle and warm and it feels as if you’re lifting him by the roots, shaking off the dirt that’s clinging to them.

He knows what would happen if he were a plant.

You’d expect him for mold or cuts and put him into a bigger, cleaner, better pot, surrounded by fresh soil that gives him what he needs.

But he’s not a plant and you just hold his hand, warm it between your own until his tongue unfreezes and he can say one more word, followed by another and another until the story is told.

“Touya is allowed to like things that Dabi liked.” You remind him softly and pull his plate a little closer. “Just as Dabi was allowed to like things that Touya liked.”

“It’s not just that.” The worlds rumble in his chest, frustration vibrating behind his ribcage. “It’s not just wanting the piercings back and wanting to not want them. It’s about someone else taking them for themselves as if it’s something that can be borrowed, something that has no meaning whatsoever.”

He’s talked himself into a rage now, the words coming out faster and faster.

“And who does that, even? Model yourself after some criminal? I’ve spent over a year in therapy, endure all the guilt and the pain and try to be better just for some schmuck to come at me as my greatest fan?”

“There will always be people that admire or dislike us for the wrong reasons.”

“Like anyone could dislike you.” He snarls and you laugh, the sound chilling the fire of rage that has started to lick on his feet.

“You’d be surprised.” You say and take his hand again, fold your fingers around his.

“Breathe.” You say. “We can talk about this. But breathe. Eat, too. You can’t think or feel on an empty stomach.”

They eat in silence, on the same side of the table, elbows and arms knocking into each other.

At one point you sigh.

“Do you know why I gave you a peony for your first bouquet?”

“Because I’m beautiful?” He tries to joke and you smile cheekily but dodge the joke.

“To me, Peonies always look like they’re hiding something inside them, like you could tell them any secret and know that it’s safe. Also, I never get them to come out blooming, so it felt like giving you yourself, not yet ready to bloom.”

“Do you still think I’m a peony?”

You cock your head to the side and think about it, wiping the grease off your fingers with a napkin.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’d call you a dandelion, because you came back to life. Or a marigold, because you seem to multiply until your presence is everywhere.”

He laughs, surprised by the explanation.

“How am I multiplying?”

You point to the plants around you.

“You’ve touched every single one of them. They’d never be able to forget you.”

“Would you be able to forget me?” He asks but you don’t answer that either..

Instead, you open your hand to a perfectly formed marigold and the fluffy white of a dandelion, tucking the two of them behind his right ear

But when you look at him, so close he can feel your breath ghosting over his face, you cock your head.

“It’s not important what flower I think you are. It’s important what you think. You are doing good, Touya-kun. Allow yourself to be real.”

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part VII

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.

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 7: (1,9k)

When he comes in on Wednesday, there’s a girl talking to you.

She’s heavily pierced and turns the moment the bell chimes to glare at him.

“We’ll be in the back room.” You tell Touya. “Can you man the till?”

“Of course.” He says but he wants to say: “What the hell?”

You’re gone for more than half an hour and when you emerge, the girl throws him one last nasty look before storming out of the shop.

“What was that?”

“She’s applying for a rehabilitation job. She wasn’t happy about the fact that I didn’t agree to have her immediately.”

He shouldn’t feel so satisfied about it.

“You’re not taking her?”

“Not yet, at least. I wanted to talk to you about your hours, though. If you’d take Tuesdays and Thursdays off, we’d have enough work for her.”

He stares at you.

“Why would I work less?” He can hear the panic in his voice. You must hear it too.

“You made it through six months, you’re free to start working somewhere else whenever you feel like it as long as you notify your rehabilitation’s officer.”

“Why would I do that?” His hands have started shaking, his knuckles hitting the table top.

“Touya-kun. Touya-kun.” Your hands are grabbing his face, pulling it down until he’s level with you. You’re saying something but the words don’t reaching his ears even if his eyes are focused on your moving lips.

Something presses hard against his ear and the ringing stops, followed by a heavy, muffled silence and the concerned warmth of your eyes.

“Sit down, Touya-kun. Careful, watch your knees.” You’re using more words than necessary, talking and talking until he’s on the floor, back against the counter, knees pulled up to his chest.

Your hand rests on one of his knees now, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his trousers. You’re quiet now, just watching and waiting.

“Why do I have to go?” He asks, hates how his voice sounds so much smaller all of a sudden.

“I’m not pushing you out of the door, Touya-kun. I’m just reminding you that the door is open if you want to go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You smile. “Okay. As I said, I’m not pushing you out. You’ll always be welcome here.”

The bell chimes and you pat his knee softly, whispering a “Stay down here as long as you need,” before getting up.

He’s not really listening to the words you’re exchanging, but you’re staying next to him, the melody of your voice filling the air around him until he feels coated in it.

Touya remembers, as clear as day still, how he felt when he woke up from his coma and found that his home had remained unchanged by his absence, as if it did not matter to them if he lived or died.

He wonders if it’s the same here.

The plants that had seemed like friends just hours ago feel uncaring now. They do not care if he’s the one watering them, cutting them, tying them with Ribbons.

Do you care?

Something heavy rests on his head.

He needs a second to realize that you’re patting his head, the softest of touches, that the shop has fallen quiet again.

He lets his head fall back as far as he can, barely able to look up at you in this position.

“Do plants even care about us?” He asks.

“Not all of them.” You answer truthfully. “Those who don’t have learned to trust only themselves.”

“If I’d stop coming here, nothing would change.” He mumbles, surprised when you reach down to grab him under his arm and start to pull him up.

“Wha-?”

“Come,” you pull softly until he follows you around the till towards the table of indoor plants. You point at the first one, a pancake plant that is one of Bob’s children.

“You birthed this one. It will never forget you.”

A ZZ plant is next, your fingers trace the line of a new branch. “This one started growing right after you made it to four months.”

Under your words, all the memories come alive. Every plant has something to remember of him. And it’s not just him the plants remember.

There’s the Bonsai that was planted by Miyoshi, a lavender that bloomed the first time Toyama decided she wanted to start dancing. A gum tree whose huge leaves have been cleaned by Suto so often, they still feel the imprints of his fingers on them. A snake plant that had been cut and cared for by Murai until he left for good.

“I don’t like selling them.” You tell him. “I’d love to keep them close to me. But the plants carry my memories as well and who am I to refuse them to go out into the world.”

“What if I’d stay?” He asks. “I like working here. I could see myself keep working here.”

You stare down at the snake plant as if you’re asking it for advice.

But you’re probably thinking of Murai, the only one who’d gone back to jail instead of out into the world.

“You can stay.” You look up at him, warmth and sincerity in your eyes. You grab his hands as if to shake on it, but you fold your small hands around his until it’s more like holding hands than shaking on a deal.

“I’ll teach you everything I know but it won’t be easy.”

“I’ve got talent.” He says and your lips quirk up.

“You do. But you’ll need more than that.”

Touya’s still a bit shaken by the time he turns the key in the front door.

He looks up, can see the lights flicker to life in your apartment, and turns toward his car.

Tomorrow, he’ll be up at the asscrack of dawn to drive to the flower market with you, buying fresh flowers and other stock for the shop.

It’s a new responsibility, something so different from what he’s done before, but he’s looking forward to it.

Even if it means that he’ll have to man the till the rest of the day while Shinohara Mari, or Mari-chan, as you call her, will come in to shadow you at work.

She’s still unsure if she really wants to work with flowers but she’s giving it a chance and you’d asked him to play nice

“Dabi?” A voice calls out to him and he freezes, only a few steps from his father’s car.

He turns slowly, his heart beating so fast he can taste it.

Nothing moves, no one steps forward and all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he stares into the darkness like an idiot.

He’d like to pretend that he walked to his car like he had no care in the world, but he knows the truth.

“You must be Touya!” A massive man, his frame almost as broad as he’s tall, holds out his hand for him to shake. “I’m Enrico. Uyemura Enrico, but call me Rico.”

His handshake is surprisingly gentle but he all but swoops him up and lifts him into the truck that has been modified to fit Rico’s frame.

“And there’s the princess,” Rico calls out when you close the door of the shop, the bell still chiming softly.

“Morning Rico.” You get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek and giggle when he picks you up as well and stuffs you into the other passenger seat, effectively smushing you against Touya.

“Morning.” You’re wearing gloves and a scarf that both look like they’ve been knit by hand years ago.

“Uh, morning.” He rumbles, too aware of your body pressed into him, his body pressed into yours when Rico gets into his own seat, his massive frame now pressing Touya further into you.

“Well the weather’s shite,” Rico says as soon as the truck rumbles to life under him, “But that never stopped people from wanting flowers. What are we aiming for today?”

“The usual.” You carefully pull your arm out from where it had been digging into Touya’s side and rest your hands on your thighs, sending Touya a smile before looking back at Rico. “And showing Touya the ropes.”

“Right, right. What colors are we feeling this week?”

“I was thinking about something yellow and reddish.”

“Fall colors at the beginning of winter? That’s risky.”

“Hmm.” Touya would love to cross his arms in front of him but hesitates at the risk of poking your eye out with a misplaced elbow. “Worked well so far.”

“Well, you should check out Shishido’s flowers. He’s got some baby blue carnations you could use with white or blush pink.”

“You know I don’t like Shishido’s work.” You remind Rico softly and the man laughs.

“I know that, but if you want to show the boy the ropes you’ll have to let him decide for himself.”

The flower market is inside an unassuming hall, the high ceiling swallowing all the warmth that might have been there in the first place.

You’re rubbing your hands despite the gloves and he’s wishing for his fire quirk if only to warm you up a bit.

The masses of people - and flowers - are humbling.

More than once they’re pushed to the side, yelled over, or blatantly ignored when someone recognizes his face.

But you pull him away or push him forward, until, at some point, your hand grabs his.

He’s more than glad for the noise and the commotion around him, for it hides his hammering heart at the touch.

“I can’t have you get lost.” You tell him and stop in front of yet another stall.

“Kibe-san, how are you today? This is Touya-kun, he’s my coworker.”

“How long?”

“He’s just celebrated six months.”

“And he’s still working under you?” Kibe-san must be in her sixties, her hair a perfect white and her skin smooth except for her eyes that she seems only to squint through.

“Pick me a bouquet.” She orders him, her posture as straight as his grandmother’s.

“What would you like?”

“Why do you want to know?” She asks hotly. “Make me a bouquet.”

You let go of his hand and pat his back encouragingly but say nothing.

“What are you waiting for?” Kibe-san asks impatiently, swinging a folded-up fan in the direction of a passerby who dares to look at her flowers. “I don’t have all day.”

He looks down at the flowers in front of her, his eyes catching on the cremon mum that has a beautiful shade of dark bronze. He picks up three of them, then one orange alstroemeria to place in the middle of them. Kibe-san has novelty flowers in multiple colors and he almost picks the bright red ones before he decides to pick two in a dark purple that reminds him of red wine and two in the same dark bronze as before. It still needs a little pop of color and he walks along the buckets of flowers again, picking three yellow cushion pompoms that frame the other flowers like sunshine kissing a blushing forest in the fall.

He holds the bouquet out to Kibe-san who picks it up with raised eyebrows.

“You’re a sneaky critter.” She tells you, wraps a ribbon around the flowers with a flick of her wrist and plops the bouquet into a vase next to her till.

“Now, pick your flowers. I don’t have all day to waste talking with you.”

Your hands are on his elbow only a second later, pulling him away from Kibe-san and to the end of the long line of buckets.

“You did good.” You tell him quietly. “Kibe-san was impressed with you.”

“Are you sure? If that’s impressed I don’t wanna see her unimpressed.”

“Hey!” He turns to watch Kibe-san whip her fan at some guy who dares to touch her flowers. “Wait your turn you utter buffoon!”

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part VI

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.

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 6: (2,5k words)

You’re in the kitchen, washing your hands and looking at the garden through the window when the door opens.

“We’re home!” Natsuo calls out.

“In the kitchen,” Touya calls back, drying his hands and sending you a comforting smile.

“My siblings.”

You nod.

“Oh, you’re here too.” Natsuo’s surprise is palpable until he spots the tree through the kitchen window.

“Sick! Fuyumi! Shouto! We’ve got a new tree.”

“What do you mean, a new tree?” Fuyumi steps in next, throwing you a polite smile before she spots the tree as well, racing after Natsuo on the way out.

Shouto’s the last to come by, staying close to the door instead of entering the kitchen properly, nodding a greeting.

“I’ll be in my room.” He tells them quietly.

“Don’t you want to see the tree?” Touya asks, hoping that his brother will like it. His reaction is the most important to him, after his parents.

“I don’t remember the first tree.” Shouto reminds him. Again, it feels personal.

Your hand’s suddenly on his arm.

Your eyes are still on Shouto like they always are when he’s around. But you’re touching him, voice soft and careful when you speak.

“To him, it is just a tree.” You tell him. “If you want him to understand, you’ll have to explain it. You can’t expect him to read your mind.”

“What’s it to you?” Shouto asks from the door and you push him, gently, towards his baby brother.

When they come back inside, you’re gone.

He wishes you had stayed.

“Your siblings,” You ask, late Monday afternoon, “How old are they?”

He’d been telling you about their reactions, how Natsuo and Fuyumi had been awed by your Quirk, how Shouto had been cautious at first and lost in thought the rest of the night.

How his mother had cried and his father had hugged him, awkwardly but tight, when they realized what their tree stump had become.

“Fuyumi is one year younger than me. I’m 26 by the way. Natsuo is four years younger and Shouto is eight years younger. Why?”

“Just curious. Shouto-kun looks a lot older than he is but when he mentioned that he did not remember the tree I felt my math not adding up.”

“How old are you?” He asks something he’s been wondering about for longer than he wants to admit.

“Guess.” You’re grinning and he’s groaning.

“Don’t do that to me. I’m awful at that.”

You shrug. “You don’t have to guess. You can just keep not knowing.”

“Twenty.” He blurts out the first number that comes to his mind. You laugh.

“Twenty-two?”

“Sill wrong.”

“Twenty-four?”

“Nope.”

He glares at you as you giggle.

“Eighteen.”

You’re full-on laughing now, enjoying his miserable guessing skills a little too much, when the bell chimes and his father enters the shop.

You fall quiet like the laughter has been sucked out of you.

“I’m sorry.” Enji looks as awkward as Touya feels. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No worries.” Your smile is polite but distant. “I need to get more plant food for the roses. Call me if you need help.”

You move toward the back room but his father calls your name.

“No, please… Please stay. My wife sent me. We want to invite you over. For dinner. As a thank you for the tree.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You did more than enough.”

Again it feels like you’re no longer talking about the tree.

“You don’t have to.” He tells you. “But it would be nice if you came.”

You look at him and Touya wonders, not for the first time, if you can read his mind.

Eventually, you nod. “But nothing fancy, please.”

Touya smiles. “Just grilled cheese.”

You smile too, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

He’d begged and bribed and read through any recipe he could find to make it happen only to be the one stationed in the kitchen while you’re sitting at the table.

He’s filling Gyoza with cheese and can barely see anything through the door, just Shouto’s stiff back and half of his mother’s head. At least Fuyumi is there with him, bribed with two new plants for her room and one of his jackets she’s taken a liking to.

A year and a half might have passed since he’d survived the war, but Dinners at Todorokis are never a lively thing.

Which is why it’s not surprising that all he can hear is small talk with long breaks in between.

“The bouquets this week were quite nice.” He hears his father say as he folds yet another Gyoza, regretting - again - that they came here right after work. “My secretary says it’s the nicest we’ve had so far and asked if he could take it home on Saturday to his wife.”

“That was one of Touya-kun’s creations.” You answer softly and his ears burn under your praise.

“Does he have talent?” That’s Shouto. His question, as usual, is a little bit too direct. It speaks for his family that no one chides him and instead, waits for your answer.

“He has been my most talented employee so far.” You admit freely. “He has a fantastic eye and a good ear for the plants.”

“Why, are they talking?” Natsuo asks and Touya presses his thumb so hard into the Gyoza that the dough breaks.

“They can if you’re listening.” You answer simply and he knows, he just knows, that his brother thinks you’re a nutjob.

“Is that what you’re doing?” His mother asks when he plates the last Gyoza, now fried a little crispy on the edges, and takes them out with Fuyumi following him with the other dishes.

“Food’s ready.” He calls out and places the dish in front of you before taking a seat across from you.

He watches you smile when you take the first bite, sharing a look with him that only he understands. Suddenly, having to stand in the kitchen for a last-minute dish after work is worth it if just for that look on your face.

“Touya has told us that your Quirk allows you to grow things.” His mother starts again when the food is devoured.

“Well, yes. That is what I do.”

“Can you grow fruit or just plants that will eventually produce fruit?” Shouto asks, following it up with an explanation. “Momo can materialize anything as long as she knows the molecular structure behind it.”

He points at his girlfriend who’d been mostly quiet up until now. She shows her bare arm and with a glowing light, a plump apple falls from her skin. She catches it in her hand and offers it to you.

“I cannot grow fruit. But I can grow a cut flower instead of the bush that will eventually produce said flower.” You stretch out your hand as if you’re trying to pluck a crumble from Touya’s hair and when you pull it back, he recognizes the closed bulb of a peony in your hand, the stem as long as your arm.

“But they have a mind of their own. Especially peonies don’t like to come out blooming.”

“We are so grateful that you helped grow back our tree. It feels like old wounds can heal now.”

Touya tenses, feeling your eyes on him. It’s not that he dislikes talking about the tree, but he feels like they’ve done enough talking about the tree by now. Sure, they cannot yet see what the spring will bring with the flowers and plants that he placed, but they could ask about it for a chance.

“Have you had the chance to listen to what the rest of the garden will bring in the spring?” You ask at that moment as if you’d read his mind yet again.

“I understand that there will be tulips, but please, Touya, tell us again.”

After dinner, you relocate to the living room, where Rei pulls out a picture album.

“I redid this one after I’ve found some pictures I’d forgotten about.” She explains and opens it on the first page to Touya, naked, in the arms of his father.

He’s going to die.

“Oh, you were so cute back then.” Fuyumi coos.

“You peed on me,” Enji remembers fondly. “And couldn’t stay still for a second.”

“Do you feel comfortable with me seeing these pictures?” You ask, quietly, but somehow loud enough for the room to fall quiet.

Touya stills, focusing on your eyes, on your face, on everything he’s learned to trust, and nods.

“Yeah. It’s embarrassing but I trust that you’ll not go around advertising with my baby pictures.”

You shrug with a smile. “I might, if it would sell.”

He laughs, surprised at the joke.

The first year of his life is documented to the extreme.

He’d been born prematurely and the pictures of himself, tubes sticking out of every opening, inside a glowing cube of some kind, still seem to hurt his parents.

Fuyumi is almost double his size at birth, looking like a model baby on her father's arm.

“Did not pee on me,” Enji recalls just as fondly. “But you did poop on me once.”

By the time Natsuo is born, Touya’s fire quirk had already manifested. But the pictures are not organized chronologically, it seems, because after Natsuo’s baby picture’s, there are picture’s of baby Shouto.

Now, years later, and with a different mindset, he can tell that his baby brother has the cutest baby face of all of them. Maybe it’s the eyes, or his hair, or something else entirely, but when he looks at those pictures now, he feels no hatred, but a warm kind of curiosity.

Natsuo flips the page and there he is, Touya, hands aflame, a proud look on both his and his father’s face who’s standing next to him, equally aflame.

He’d forgotten about that picture but that’s not what pulls his attention. Instead it’s your brows, pinched together like you’re holding a thought. And you keep holding it, through all the pictures you’re shown.

He drives you home.

It’s his father’s car and he’s only allowed to take it every other day, but it doesn’t matter right now, because he’s driving you home and your brows are still pinched and he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“Ever since you saw that picture of me,” he starts when he parks in front of the shop, “You’ve looked deep in thought.”

“I just never realized that you used to have orange flames.” You tell him. “I knew you had a fire quirk but when I looked it up once it was mentioned that your flames were blue.”

“I don’t really have a fire quirk.” He realizes he’s babbling but he can’t seem to stop. “Or at least my body can’t handle the fire. I’m not allowed to use it anymore. Haven’t figured out the ice thing though, so I’m kinda quirkless at the moment.”

“When did your blue flames appear?” You ask, completely disregarding his comment, something you’ve never done before.

“When I was about nine, I had it when I burned down the-” He halts, realizing what he was about to say, and finishes his sentence anyway. “Tree. When I burned down the tree.”

You don’t flinch at his admission. You just stare out the window, still deep in thought.

“Do you have a problem with fire quirks?” He asks, more a guess, really.

“Quite the contrary, actually.”

“You love fire quirks?” If only his heart wouldn’t beat this quick.

“When I was thirteen years old, the building I was in burned down. I only survived because someone with a fire quirk saved me at the last minute.”

“The scaring on your neck.” He blurts out before he can stop himself but you nod calmly.

“Yes. I do not try to hide it but I am aware that my hair covers most of it.”

“Did you think that Shouto or my father could have saved you?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I just remember a burning figure coming through the fire and the next thing I knew was me waking up in the hospital.”

“It could be someone else with a fire quirk.” He points out before realizing that there are no other documented cases with a fire quirk like theirs. His own grandmother had a lava quirk after all.

But why are you so tense about it?

“Are you disappointed that my father might have saved you?”

You sigh and your brows relax as if you’re letting go of what bothers you. He wishes he could do the same.

“I don’t know if this is a universal thing or if it’s just me, but when I was saved, I felt like I had to make it count. To live a life worth saving. But I also just wanted a quiet life and wondered if that would be okay for my savior. Never knowing who it was made it easier until I met your father and now I cannot stop thinking about how my life must look through his eyes.”

“It could be someone with a fire resistance quirk.” He offers. “Not my father. And it’s not me, I’ve never been a hero.”

“You are, but not in the way you think.”

“What do you mean?”

You turn away from him and for a moment he thinks you’re going to get out and leave him with his question, but then you turn back with a black box in your hands.

“I thought about giving you this at the dinner but it felt out of place. Congratulations, Touya. You made it through six months of rehabilitation.”

He stares at you, in the dim light of a sole street lamp, his heart beating and breaking and folding itself together.

There’s a softness in your eyes he wants to mean something else and yet, isn’t he also happy with what he has?

He pulls the lid of the box to reveal another, smaller, box.

“I was wondering what you’d like.” You tell him, your voice a quiet mumble. “I hope it’s okay.”

He pulls the lid of the box to reveal yet another, smaller box and now he’s grinning and you’re smiling.

He pulls the lid off again, to reveal yet another black box, but this one’s different, the edges curved. It’s a ring box and he feels foolish when he opens it to reveal one single silver ring.

Engraved into the exterior is a single peony, it’s bud not open yet. He turns the ring to feel the inner circle, knowing somehow that it will be engraved as well.

Dabi, he finds, Touya, next to it. And bloom.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and he nods, his voice stuck in his throat.

You pull him into a hug, his chin fitting right above your shoulder, your cheek warm against his neck.

He can feel your heartbeat against his, can feel your breath ghost over his shoulder.

“You are doing great, Touya-kun.” You tell him softly. “I am proud of you.”

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part V

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.

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 5: (2k words)

“I have to say something.” Touya says and watches his therapist.

After more than a year of this he should be able to read him as well as the other way around, right? But he still comes up empty, day after day.

“I’m falling in love with my employer.”

“Go on.”

And it’s like that first time at your apartment, the worlds spilling from his lips like molten cheese, the first word pulling the second and third with it, and so on and so forth.

🌺.

“Hey, can we buy these?” He asks at the convenience store, pointing at a shelf of browning ZZ and pancake plants.

“If you want.” Fuyumi shrugs. “It’s your money.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re not gonna die, don’t worry. If anything, I’m saving their life.”

“Whatever you say. Hey, you mind eating Curry again tonight?”

“Nah. But you could show me how to do it. I wouldn’t mind helping out with cooking.”

Fuyumi throws him a look he chooses to ignore, content on placing the plants inside the cart.

🌺.

“Be careful with the stems.” He tells Natsuo. “Don’t break them.”

“It’s not that easy, you fucker.” His brother curses. “How the fuck do you tie these ribbons? Is that witchcraft?”

“No, it’s a skill and you’re lacking it. If you can’t do it, let me. Just make sure there’s plant food in the water or the roses won’t keep fresh as long.

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to cut some flowers for Mom, not a lecture.”

“Be honest, you wanted both.”

🌺.

“You’re home late.” He says when Shouto drags himself inside. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“I had Soba.” His brother mentions and drapes himself over a chair as he starts taking off his uniform.

“I’m making you a grilled cheese. Miso soup too. You need to eat properly.”

“Thanks.” He hears a quiet mumble and so much more that’s left unsaid.

🌺.

His mother finds him outside, reading a book and taking samples of the earth around the garden, rubbing it between his fingers and sniffing it.

“Are you having fun?” She asks and places a pitcher of homemade lemonade and two glasses on the table, taking a seat to watch him work.

“It’s a shame we have mainly grass lawn, mom.” He explains to her, surprised by his own eagerness, his own growing interest. “If we planted bushes and flowers and expand on the diversity of plants, we could help foster not only bees but different types of butterflies and birds.”

“That does sound appealing. Why don’t you talk to your father about it?”

She smiles until her eyes reach a stump.

“I wish he would do something about that tree,” Rei tells him flatly. “It just wakes sad memories.”

He turns to look at the tree stump, surprised that it takes a moment to realize what she’s talking about.

He’d been about 9 years old, and when attacking Shouto did not work, he’d burned down that tree in a fit of rage, knowing exactly how much that tree meant to his parents, as they had been wed under it, in a time when they must have been happy, or as happy as they could have been.

🌺.

“Why’d you never take out the tree?” He asks his father one night after dinner, the two of them alone in the kitchen.

“The same reason I will always carry these scars, even if they could be healed.” He points to the scarring on his face. “It serves as a reminder, a call to change, to protect what I have with the right means.”

“But you could plant a new tree.” He looks out into the garden, pondering it. “Or plant them around it. As if they’d hug it.”

“I’ll think about it. Or better, I’ll let you think about it. If you have a proposal on how to change the garden, you can come to me with it and we’ll go over it.”

“Or you could just let me do it. It’s my job after all.”

“Oh?” Enji raises his eyebrows in a challenge. “You’re feeling up to this?”

“Absolutely!”

“Well, it’s settled then. How long do you need?”

“A day. I’ve got the plan mostly ready anyway, I just need the right weather and a free day to get it all together.”

“Great. You should have both this weekend. Your mother and I will be out of the house anyway, as I’ve booked an onsen for a weekend getaway. You can convince your siblings to leave you alone if you need them out of the house. You can have my credit card to purchase what you need.”

“The limitless one?”

Enji smiles. “Let’s not go overboard, we don’t need flowers made from diamonds.”

🌺.

It’s Sunday morning, barely past 9 a.m. and he’s already sweating bullets.

He’d thought that being able to sweat again would be a good thing - at least considering how well his skin grafts took to integrating into his body - but now he just feels plain disgusting. The garden looks like an absolute disaster after more than three hours going at it.

He’d started planting the tulips, realized that he wanted a peony bush in the middle of it, and had to dig some of them back out.

The stone path he’d wanted to relocate is now a heap of dirty stones in one corner and he’d managed to knock over the bag of fertilizer, spilling its contents everywhere.

He feels himself getting frustrated. And tired. This work is harder than he’d imagined it to be.

He decides to take a breather, regretting not talking the plan through with you yesterday when he’d had the chance. Just because he’d wanted to surprise you with the news on Monday, telling you proudly how great everything had worked out.

He ponders the problem from the kitchen sink, his second glass of water in hand.

Hawks and Natsuo could be used as backup muscle, but he doubts they’d come willingly.

Shouto’s on patrol and Fuyumi’s out visiting a friend.

What he really needs is someone who’d give him direction while letting him do his thing at the same time. What he really needs is you and while he’d never missed a Friday night, he’d kept his distance, or at least tried to, in the weeks since that night.

He knows it’s a good thing. That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

You pick up after the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Remember how you said I could call you if I ever had a plant emergency?”

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

“That’s the thing. I got free reign on redesigning our garden and it’s… well, it’s looking a bit awful right now.”

“Just a bit? That’s good news then.” He can hear you moving in the background.

“Very funny. I know today’s your free day but would you mind taking a look? I promise you won’t have to work, you can just sit back on the terrace and tell me what I have to do.”

“It’s no problem, Touya-kun. Just tell me your address.”

He realizes, probably five seconds before you ring the bell, that you might have no idea how rich the Todorokis really are.

But if you feel out of place in your scuffed-up trainers and grass-stained clothes, you’re not letting it show.

Touya explains his plan to you while he shows you the garden, pointing out what he’s already done and what he still has to do.

You nod and nod, look around and pinch the earth just like he’d done and he feels a little proud that he’d copied you without knowing.

Finally, you step up to him and point at the heap of stones.

“You wash them and put them where you want them. After that you take on one part of the garden after the other, minimizing trampling over done work. You’re a little early on the tulips but they should do well. Peonies are a bit risky at this spot and the way you’re planning it, you’re leaving no spot behind to actually use the garden.”

“Use it?” He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Do you always sit on the terrace? Or do you sit on the lawn too?”

“Well, we used to play outside as children but we’ve grown out of that. I don’t know if Mom still sits outside.”

“Okay, that’s just as well. You just have to be aware of everyone’s needs if you plan for a whole family. What will you do about the tree?”

He should have known you would notice it the second you stepped outside.

Even if you only point it out now he can tell you’re affected by it. He sighs.

“It burned down when I was about 9. Mom says it makes her sad and my father wants to keep it as a reminder. I… well, I wanted to plant things around it, so that it would seem like the plants would hug it, maybe?”

“Why?”

Your eyes are on him, your question digging deeper than he thought it could.

“When I… When I…” He coughs and tries again. “When I… almost died… at the war… I remember coming to, waking up to my family hugging me, as if they were holding me together, keeping me in one piece. I like that picture.”

You hum.

“So now we know what your mother wants, what your father wants, and what you want. What about your siblings?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“You said that you felt like Touya had to die for Dabi to live and Dabi had to die for Touya to live but for your family, they were always one and the same. It’s the same with the tree, isn’t it? Whether it stays or it goes, it seems dead to all of you. Have you ever thought of the possibility of it being still alive?”

Touya knows, in theory, that you’re still talking about the tree. But it feels like you’re talking about him.

Has he ever thought of the possibility of himself being alive?

You kneel down in front of the stump and hug it, your cheek resting on the place where it had been cut down.

It feels personal, like you’re hugging him and you’re not hugging him until you’re starting to hum, a tune he’s heard so often he can hear himself tune in.

Under your arms the tree stump glows faintly until it grows and grows, two thick stems rising up and pushing your face away, entwining and circling each other, growing up and up and up. They’re the height of a bush, a person, taller now than the first tree had been, its foliage a friendly green that smiles down at him.

You sink to the floor next to it and he’s too slow to catch you, can only pick you up and carry you inside, your sleeping form fitting too well into his arms.

He washes the stones and places them, thinking about himself at age 9. He finishes his display of tulips and peonies and thinks about himself, waking up from a coma.

With every flower bulb he plants, and every bush he places, he thinks about the past.

It’s therapeutic, in a way, to feel himself come alive in this place.

He’d wondered if this was growing into a new obsession, but could it be an obsession when it feels so healthy?

By the time you step back out, he’d started placing the plants he wants to “hug” their family tree.

“Sleep well?” Touya asks when you kneel down next to him and dig your hands into the dirt.

“I’ve never been able to grow a tree in one sitting.” You explain to him, your voice soft. “But it wanted to grow.”

“Yeah.” He looks up at the foliage. “He’s been waiting for his chance long enough.”

“What are you going to name it?”

Toya looks at the two stems that are intertwined now. “Enji and Rei.”

You smile. “That’s a good name.”

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part IV

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.

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 4: (2,1k words)

You’re a good teacher.

He’d known before but it becomes clearer now.

He’s still got problems with fine motor skills, his fingers often too stiff to tie ribbons or cut the smallest branches without damaging the rest of a Bonsai but he’s learning so much, not just about taking care of plants but other things as well.

The old ladies that used to coo at your friendly gifts now flock around him, tell him about their grandkids and ask for his opinion on what to buy them.

He figures out quickly which students like his snarky comments and who’s appreciative of being guided toward a cheaper alternative.

The week after he gets his ZZ plant, he can choose between a bouquet or an indoor plant.

“You don’t even know if I’ve taken good care of him.”

“Well, have you?” You ask, pushing the sleeves of your cardigan up your arms as you prepare to dig into the roots of fiddle-leaf fig, the sight of your bare underarms distracting him for a second.

“Of course. But that’s not the point.”

“Bring him in tomorrow then if you want me to review your work.” You cheekily smile up at him. “Even if you’re just fishing for compliments.”

He picks a golden pothos for his therapist, knowing that he desperately needs a plant to light up that office while also knowing he can’t take that free bouquet and gift it to you, even if he’s starting to want to.

🌺.

Three months later you’ve fallen into a rhythm.

Every second Friday after closing you let him into your apartment where, after a grilled cheese sandwich and a shared bowl of soup, he waters your plants and renames them.

Bob’s doing so well, he’s already a parent, one of his kids now sitting on Fuyumi’s shelf.

Hawks has put in a request for more Bouquets for his agency, as well as his father and Shouto, who in turn has seemingly told all his classmates about this great flower shop downtown.

Touya would love how much more money you’re making now if all those customers wouldn’t cut into the time he gets to spend with you.

At least the purple-haired gremlin Shouto calls a classmate hasn’t shown up since he scared him off. He doesn’t like guys buying flowers as an excuse to check you out, especially when they’re too cheap to buy a proper bouquet.

🌺.

“No grilled cheese today.” You tell him one Friday evening as you close the door and turn the key. “I’m buying you dinner.”

His heart skips traitourously.

“You sure your plants can survive without my care?” He jokes and you grin.

“Positive. Now grab your jacket and let's head out.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, multiple things. We’ve got so much business now we’ll have to start dividing our orders into two different pick-up dates. What do you think of Tuesday and Thursday? We could use Monday and Wednesday to make the bouquets.”

“And the other reasons?”

You laugh, clearly figuring out that there’s no use in redirecting his thoughts.

“I don’t believe in anniversaries but I’ve heard people say that it’s always hardest after the third month, so I thought you could use a little celebration.”

He looks at you, calculates the slope of your nose against the curve of your lips, and cocks his head to the side.

“And the last thing?”

You sober up quickly, looking down the street into the dark night, the sign of a gas station glowing in the distance.

“Today’s the anniversary of my father’s death.” You look up at him, your eyes open and vulnerable. “I like to do something nice for someone else on that day. As a gift to the world, you know?”

He doesn’t know. But it fits you. Like green aprons and cardigans, white shirts, and grilled cheese.

“Do you want to talk about him?”

You walk in silence for a while, the same comfortable silence he’s shared with you since he’s met you, until eventually you open your mouth.

“We have the same quirk. It has been in our family for generations. My great-great-grandmother was a hero, actually. She made sure to marry someone who complimented her quirk and so on and so forth, until my father decided to marry someone quirkless, to not be a hero, or even a fancy landscaper. He just wanted a normal, comfortable life.”

You point at the door or the restaurant and he follows you, feeling like your story isn’t over yet, but not ready to push you to talk when you never do that with him.

The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s not fast food either, telling him that you’re spending quite some money when he’s seen how you live and knows how much the shop used to bring in.

When the waiter leaves your table and he opens his menu, you lean across the table to whisper, bringing along a scent he’s grown so familiar too. The scent of earth and greenery, of flowers and foliage, of you and your shop and your home.

“Sorry, what?” He shakes his head to clear his mind, realizing he missed every word you’ve just said.

“I said if you’re not against sharing they have this amazing combination of gyoza dumpling and melted cheese. They line the Gyoza up and when the cheese is melted you can dip the gyoza in. You can choose what the fillings are and if you want other dips for it but it’s usually a serving for two.”

He blinks at the giddiness lighting up your face. He’d never been especially inclined towards cheese until his mind started linking it to you and now, linking it to you being happy.

“Of course.” He hears himself say and sees you lighting up even more. “But if we order it, we have to go full in. Filled with cheese to dip in cheese. We’re not cowards after all.”

You giggle and he looks back down at the menu to keep himself from staring, glad that his skin grafts cannot blush.

When the waiter returns, however, he’s pulling a face that spells uncomfortableness.

“I’m sorry.” He says, clutching his notepad with both hands. “But I’m… well, I was made aware that we cannot serve you.”

“What do you mean?” Your face is full of confusion while Touya catches on faster.

“He means he can’t serve me.” He explains and the way the man cringes tells him everything he needs to know.

“It’s alright.” He says when he feels that it’s not, in fact, alright. “I’ll just see you tomorrow then.”

“No.” Your hand’s flat on the table and your voice serious. “Matsumoto-kun, you’ll be serving us.”

“I’m sorry, please, I-”

“Leave it.” Touya tells you, the hard line of your mouth something he hasn’t seen before.

“Is there a problem?” Behind Matsumoto, a new face appears.

“Yes.” You’re standing now, smaller than the two men, but standing your ground. “You’re taking part in the rehabilitation agreement, yet you’re not willing to serve a member of the same agreement. I don’t want to do this but I will have to make a formal complaint if you continue to refuse us service.”

“Madam.” The man behind Matsumoto, obviously the manager, is wringing his hands now. “This isn’t about the agreement. You have to understand what your companion did-”

“It doesn’t matter who he is or what he has done.” You tell them sharply. “He could be Tomura Shigaraki and it would still be your duty to serve him as a customer if he came in here as part of the Rehabiliation agreement.”

“This isn’t our decision,” Matsumoto whispers, eyes looking everywhere but at Touya himself who’s now standing himself, hand on your arm as if that would do something but ground himself.

“Come on.” He tells you. “Not today.”

And somehow he’s said the right thing because you nod and grab your purse and your jacket, following him out of the restaurant.

Five steps from the door he can hear you curse under your breath.

Ten steps from the door he can hear you sniffle and when he turns, you’re full on crying, fat tears dripping down your face.

“Hey. Hey, don’t cry about that. It’s not worth it.”

“It is!” You disagree wetly. “They shouldn’t treat you this way and now I’m mad and I’m hungry and I’m upset that I always cry when I’m mad, and-”

“If it would make you feel better you could let weeds grow in front of their door.”

“They would just pull it out, that’s just hurting the plants.” You complain but you’re almost smiling now.

He’s grinning back at you. “We could spray paint their windows. Egg the front. Put toilet paper over the door.”

“What are you? Five?”

He laughs and you laugh with him, frozen on the sidewalk in your shared little bubble.

“There’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken down the street, isn’t it?” He asks. “They have cheese fries. It’s not as good as dipping cheesy Gyoza into melted cheese but would it satisfy your cheesy needs?”

“You make me sound like an addict.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

He watches you pop another cheese-covered fry into your mouth and feels only a little weird about it.

“Feeling better?” He asks, chewing on his straw.

“A bit. But I’m still going to put in a formal complaint. It’s not okay.”

“It’s been a year. It’s going to take some time.”

“Still. God, now I can never go back there again and I don’t know anyone else who offers that dish.” You complain.

“I could learn how to make it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he bites his tongue, regretting them immediately when you pinch your brows.

“I didn’t know you can cook.” You offer him an easy way out and he shrugs.

“I don’t. But it doesn’t sound that hard.”

You laugh. “Oh, it is. Why do you think I only offer you Miso soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“Because that’s your favorite food?”

“True. But it’s also the only thing I can make. Well, when the sun’s in the right position and the moon’s not looking, I can also make a fried egg.”

He laughs at that.

“You seem so talented, I thought you’d be good at everything.”

Your smile wavers and you wipe your fingers, signaling you’re done with your food.

“Want to take a walk?” You ask and he nods, throwing away the trash and meeting you at the door.

Something in him wants to take your hand, make sure your pulse is still the same as always, that you’re fine and well and there with him, but he knows that’s not the whole reason.

He wants to take your hand because he wants to hold it and feels like a ZZ plant that’s been put in a dark spot, longing for more light and scared it might burn him at the same time.

He doesn’t put his hands in his pockets, lets them hang by his side loosely, hoping against hope that your hand will knock into his as if a ray of sunlight might accidentally come his way.

“My father died five years ago.” You tell the night sky above you. “He had a heart attack and died in his sleep. I miss him every day. And I know he’d be proud of me. Of what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. He’d love my apartment and my shop and even if he’d call every bouquet I make perfection, he’d still pluck around in it, because he couldn’t let anything go untouched. Isn’t that love, that you love something not only despite its imperfections but simply because of them?”

Heaviness settles in his gut yet again as your words sink in.

You look at him and he wonders if you’re talking about him too.

He thinks about his parents, his siblings, his friends - if he can call them that.

He wonders if they love him despite his imperfections and he wonders if he loves them.

“My mother remarried three years ago. And I’m happy for her, because her new husband is really nice, and she’s happy. But they moved, about two years ago, to America of all places. Plane tickets are expensive.”

“It gets lonely sometimes.” He says, not really knowing why until you nod.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah.”

He wants to say that he’s here now. That you can lean on him. That he’ll be there for you.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t. He shouldn’t. He won’t.

So he doesn’t say anything and it seems to be the right thing, allowing the two of you to walk in silence through the dark.

anxietysucks reblogged

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part III

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.

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...