but when you do? god, it makes everything around you go still.
his real laugh.
not the huffs. not the sarcastic snorts. not the amused breath through his nose.
the real one. the one that escapes before he can stop it. bright and careless and beautiful.
and this time, it bubbles out of him fast, catching on the end of his sentence like he didn’t mean to let it out. he covers his mouth too late, shoulders jolting slightly as he leans forward, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart do something stupid.
you’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s holding back and when he isn’t. and this? this is pure. unfiltered.
a sound you want to keep hearing for the rest of your life.
he’s still laughing when you say it, soft and stunned and entirely honest:
“you have a really pretty laugh.”
his breath catches mid-laugh.
and then it hits full force. the weight of your words, the sincerity behind them. and just like that, the laugh dissolves into something quieter, more flustered. his cheeks tint pink almost instantly.
“shut up,” he says, voice cracking halfway through the word, eyes darting everywhere but at you.
you grin. “i’m serious.”
he covers his mouth with his sleeve like it might somehow hide the way the blush is blooming across his face, delicate and pink and unavoidable.
“it’s not... i don’t... why would you say that out loud?!”
“because it’s true?” you shrug, teasing, but still a little breathless. “it’s… i dunno. it suits you. 's cute.”
he side-eyes you, expression caught between offended and embarrassed and that quiet, cracking amusement you’re addicted to. “what does that even mean?”
“i mean…” you trail off, eyes on him now. his lashes, the curve of his smile, the flush spreading across his cheeks like blooming petals.
“i mean, you’re always so... guarded... or something. like, you're very serious. or stoic." you say, grappling with the right words. "and then you laugh like that and it’s just... soft? and bright. and it makes people want to hear it again. it puts me in a better mood!”
he blinks. then quickly looks away.
“…i hate you.”
you laugh. “no you don’t.”
“i might.”
you watch him try to hide the way he’s still smiling. the way the pink deepens near his ears. you want to press your thumb against his cheek just to feel the warmth there.
he exhales, shaking his head. “you’re so annoying.”
you lean in a little. “so are you. but at least you’re charming when you laugh!”
his eyes flick toward you. something unreadable behind them. and then, finally, a soft reply:
“…you’re the only one who’s ever said that.”
you blink. your chest aches.
then you say, “well, i’m right.”
and when he looks at you again, that blush still lingering like cherry blossoms in the spring, he doesn’t deny it.
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you go and pick up your boyfriend from j-j-jaillll !!
"he's all yours, ma'am."
getting a call from your local police station telling you to come pick up your boyfriend from jail is not how you wanted to spend your friday evening. but here you are, standing at the foot of his cell with an expression so petrifying that even the officer standing beside you has to take a step back and avoid your gaze.
touya watches him unlock the cell with a grimace. the second the cell door slides open, you take a step forward—and touya does the most reasonable thing he can think of in regard to his safety and slams the gate closed, effectively locking himself back up again.
there's a moment of silence before you let out a gasp of absolute disbelief.
"touya, i swear to—"
"sir, i don't feel safe with her here. can't you, well, i dunno—make her stand a couple of fucking feet away from the door so i can step out without getting my face bashed into the nearest wall?"
the officer takes a long look at touya, who has the audacity to clasp his hands together in a plea, while you turn towards the officer with a raised brow.
"...you have her listed as your emergency contact. you'll be fine."
touya seems offended by the officer's words, but he doesn't argue any further as the man fumbles with his keys before unlocking the cell once again. touya steps out tentatively, shoulders slumping and a pout tugging his lips downwards (a half-assed attempt to look innocent, really) and you try not to let your eye twitch.
"officer, could you tell me just what he did again? i've seem to have forgotten what you told me." you state dryly, watching touya squirm under your gaze as he strains his wrists against the cuffs wrapped around them.
"uh—he was caught vandalizing a gas station. you know that one mr. takami a couple streets over runs? then he, uh, sort of beat him up."
"oh, come on—"
"shut. up. officer, please take us to the front desk so i can fill out the necessary papers and take him home."
the entire ordeal took only a little under an hour. and before touya knew it, he was back to being his usual passenger princess self beside you, though he had to keep one arm braced against the door and the other gripping the middle console for his own safety.
"babe, you are driving way too fast."
big mistake. if touya knew better, he would've held his breath all the way home instead.
"do you know how worried i was? did you know i was in the shower when they called? you're paying the hospital bill coming in the mail one of these days for when you finally send me into cardiac arrest with all the shit you pull, touya!" you snap, and since you were at a red light, you remove your hand from the steering wheel and give touya's ear a harsh tug, just for good measure.
"okay, i get it—ow that fucking hurts! let go of my ea—i mean, sorry," he wheezes dramatically, and you finally let go of your grip on him with a huff when the light turns green.
"you're lucky they let you off so easy. seriously. i think you deserve at least—wait, are you not wearing your fucking seatbelt?" you snap, looking back and forth between touya and the road like this entire day was the most irritating inconvenience of your life, and touya can only scramble to put it on while mumbling a string of apologies under his breath. he peers up at you wearily, and you turn away from him and back towards the road with a grumble and tensed-up shoulders.
you're in a really bad mood today.
touya wants to tell you that he's sorry and that he knows he's wrong, but he's afraid that if he looks at you a certain way or says the wrong thing, you might just use your bare teeth to bite his head clean off.
so, he settles into his seat quietly and allows you the peaceful ride back home you deserve. now that he thinks about it, you've been under quite a bit of stress lately. it takes touya half a second to realize he must have made it worse, and it takes him another second more to remember that today was your only day off of the week—and he sinks back into his seat with a frown.
touya throws a careful glance at you through his peripheral vision, taking note of the tired look in your eyes.
you were worried about him when he got arrested. picking him up from the police station when he knows no one else would. fussing over him not putting on his seatbelt and being safe. and that is when touya is reminded why the only number in his emergency contact is yours.
it's because you love him, dearly and with all your heart, even when he acts like an exasperating little shit (e.g., the stunt he pulled today).
carefully, as if he's getting ready to pet an angry cat that loves to scratch, touya takes his hand and drapes it over your thigh, rubbing gentle circles as he presses his fingers into the fabric of your jeans. you don't push him off you, merely sighing through your nose and keeping your eyes on the road, and touya takes that as a sign that you're not too mad at him.
"when we get home, i'll run a nice bath for you to relax in. we can order takeout, and i'll massage your legs real good, you know, just the way you like after a long day." he says softly, and his touch is tender enough that you can't help but melt underneath it.
touya made staying mad at him really hard.
"fine."
"we can watch a movie too, your choice—you won't hear a single complaint from me. i'll even tell kei i'm sorry, even though that jackass was lookin' at me funny and started the whole—whatever. just know that i'm sorry, doll. i mean it."
touya doesn't tell you how he's only sorry for causing you stress, not sorry for rightfully knocking keigo down a size. but you finally do glance at him—and your face has softened into the very smallest of smiles. that sight alone is enough to warm touya's body entirely with love.
"alright then."
touya keeps his word, just like he always has. he carries you into the apartment bridal style just to hear you laugh again, he lights a candle for your bath and massages your shoulders and temple as you bathe, and he doesn't even bat an eye when you flick through your tv shows and select pucca. no, he settles into your side and passes you his favorite blanket instead.
touya makes mistakes often—all the time, actually. it was his specialty, but he liked to blame his miscalculations on bad luck or the universe working against him. but, then again, it didn't make sense for the universe to be working against him if he had you—a gift to breathe life back into him, the light of his life, divine intervention, if you will.
he'll work on himself to be better for you, and you'll recognize his efforts and dote on him accordingly. you make touya somewhat civilized and human, and for that, he is forever grateful.
dabi—no, todoroki touya has a visitor from the past.
NOTE. slight(ish) spoilers from the new ep! chap 426 and 427 reference.
Dabi—no, Touya wakes up like taffy.
The world stretches around him in slow, sticky strands, pulling him out of sleep with the same reluctant heaviness that clings to his lungs each time the machines get a little louder. The glass of the room reflects back a warped version of him—pale, patched, hardly alive but not allowed to die. The wires coil around him like thin metal serpents, sunk into ruined skin; the monitors blink in faint greens and sickly yellows, the colors of a life forced to stay.
He hears footsteps sometimes—well, not footsteps, but the sound of his wheelchair as his mother wheels him around.
His father’s are the easiest to recognize—hesitating, heavy, like each step is a punishment he gives himself. Enji always stands just outside the light, hands useless at his sides, breathing hard like words hurt more than burns. Touya lets him talk, if only because silence feels thicker with him around. But today, the steps are wrong—lighter, quicker, less afraid of the echoing hallways. He tries to lift his head, but the neck brace keeps him still; all he can do is move his eyes.
It’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Which means his father isn’t here yet.
He tries not to think about that.
A shadow moves at the edge of his vision—small, hesitant. Not a doctor. Not a nurse. Not the man who visits every day with guilt folded into his shoulders like a second coat.
He lifts his gaze and sees you.
For a moment, memory fails him.
You stood in the doorway as if you’re not sure you’re allowed to come closer. You have grown—taller, sharper, older—but your expression is the same one you used to wear when asking if he wanted to share your snacks after school. Your face is still glowing in a way that makes him feel thirteen again—or maybe that’s just because he may have had a crush on you once, when everything hurts but nothing has yet shattered.
“Touya,” you breathe out, as if the name is both a wish and a question. “It’s really you.”
He tries to speak; it comes out as a rasp too thin to be a word. The nurse adjusts something beside you.
“Only a few minutes,” she warns you gently. “Keep him calm. His vitals spike easily.”
You nod quickly, then step closer, fingers twisting around the strap of your bag. You stop just short of touching the glass, eyes trembling as you take him in fully.
“Nene.”
Ah, that nickname he gave you. It’s familiar in a way—like always on the tip of his tongue.
“You recognized me,” you sighed in relief.
He wants to laugh. Or cry. He’s not sure which wins. “Not that burned.”
A startling puff of laughter leaves you, trembling at the edges. Then you pressed your lips together as if trying not to fall apart in front of him. Touya wants to say how stupid you look right now. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here long. They said only a few minutes. They said you shouldn’t talk too much.”
He grunts. “Doesn’t stop my old man.”
Your eyes soften, but you don’t comment. Instead, you exhale shakily and look at him like you’d been carrying years of words with nowhere to place them.
“I didn’t get to visit your grave,” you said quietly. “When I heard you died… or they said you died… it didn’t feel real. None of us believed it. Our old classmates—we kept messaging each other, trying to find out if it was true. And I kept thinking, ‘No, that can’t be him. Touya can’t just… disappear like that.’”
Touya blinks slowly down at you. His vision swims.
“Didn’t think anyone… remembered.”
“Of course we remembered,” you told him, voice cracking now. “You were—gods, Touya, you were always loud. And stubborn. And you drew these really ugly comic strips on the back of your notebooks.” A watery laugh spills out. “You told me once that when you became a hero, I should be your sidekick. And I said no because I wanted to build buildings, not blow them up while fighting.”
Touya feels something burn in his chest—not fire, not anymore, but something just as sharp.
His throat tightens painfully, hot air scraping up like fire. “[Name]...” It’s barely a whisper, raw and small. But your eyes widen anyway, as if he’d shouted.
“I’m here,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to talk. I just… I wanted you to know that even when everything fell apart, even when I saw you on the news as Dabi and the world hated you… I kept thinking about that kid who tied my shoelaces because I didn’t know how. I kept thinking—Touya’s not gone. He’s just lost. Like how I did when they told us they didn’t find your body.”
A tear slips down his cheek before he feels it. His whole body trembles, the monitors beeping higher, warning. The nurse steps forward, but you shake your head and speak softly, urgently.
His eyes sting. Damn it.
You saw.
“Touya, it’s okay. Please, it’s okay. You don’t have to cry.”
He can’t stop. His breath hitches in short, painful bursts. He hasn’t cried in years (does crying just a few days ago from seeing his family all together count for him?)—not well, not fully—but the sight of someone who knew him before burns more than the blue flames ever did.
“I… didn’t…” He stops, chest heaving. “Say… things.”
You leaned closer, both palms gently resting against the glass now. “You don’t have to. I know. I know you didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t either.”
He wishes he could extend his hand to match yours, but the most he can do is twitch his fingers against the restraints. You see this, of course. And Touya notes the way your eyes soften in a way that lights something small and fragile in him.
He tries to lift a hand, but the restraints, the tubes, and the sheer weakness hold him down. His fingers twitch against the metal bed.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
It’s instinct.
His whole life is an instinctive apology.
“For what?”
“For… becoming this.”
You shake your head. “You’re still Touya. That’s all that matters.”
The nurse at the door signals at you—two minutes left.
You wiped your eyes quickly and leaned just a bit closer to the glass. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to visit again. But… if I can, I will. And even if I can’t… I’m glad I got to see you. Really see you.”
Touya swallows painfully. “Yeah… me too.”
Your voice softens into a whisper. “You always mattered. Even back then, you know? And I’m sorry too, if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me what’s on your mind.”
Something warm, something unbearably gentle, unfurls in his chest.
It hurts.
It heals.
It burns.
Fuck, he wanted to say something—to also scold you for apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong. But the words are at a loss on his throat.
Touya musters what little strength he has and presses his own hand against the metal restraint and imagines what it’s like to match yours that leaned against the glass. Your hands don’t touch—but Touya wants to think they almost do. And somehow, that almost feels like everything.
“Bye, Touya,” you heaved in a heavy breath.
He forces his eyes to meet yours, every ounce of strength funneled into a single look—desperate, hopeful, clinging. He watches you leave, the white lights reflecting in his damp eyes, and for the first time in a while, the sound of the machines doesn’t feel as lonely and annoying.
“Come back,” he whispers after you, voice barely a thread.
you slid the door to your room open slowly, padding through the cold tiles with a burning hot mug of water and pills you had picked up from the local pharmacy near-by while returning from work.
he was sleeping, ofcourse he was. with the AC all the way up to it's highest setting and the curtains shoved closed like he was a century year old vampire allergic to the warmth of the sun.
he hadn't had his breakfast, ignored his lunch, and barely even picked at the dinner you spent so long making entirely clogged nose friendly.
you knew dabi tended to get cranky at times, or all of them for that matter— but right now, he was just being inconsiderate. you had been losing sleep because of the raspy coughs he'd let out after every fifteen seconds each night. and dabi had to stay under his well-contaminated blanket, pretending he was fine and that he could just sneeze it through.
“wake up.” you hushed, setting the mug down on the bed-side table before running your free hand through dabi's scalp before bringing it to his forehead.
he groaned, then coughed, pulling the covers over him tighter.
“this will help you get better.” you persisted, hovering the pills over him as if the weird clinic smell latched onto them would allure him.
dabi didn't know the contents of what was in those pills. but he trusted you enough to not poison him, after he stopped being very much a dick recently atleast.
“no,” dabi's voice is distorted, with his words all over the place, “why are you giving them to me anyways?”
you click your tounge, settling yourself further onto your bed— “baby, this is medicine.”
“why did you take the time do bring them for me? i don't need shit.” he breathes out, adjusting his weight as he pushes himself to the headboard.
“because.. i want you to get better, touya.” that brushes over something within him. not dabi, not baby— or whatever corny name you fish out.
all the times he's gotten sick, which he barely keeps record of, nobody's even thought about knocking on his door for something as small as a salutation.
but now, here you are.
even after all the things he's hurled out, after all the blood that's been smeared across the fingers you're slotting your owns through right now. and that alone makes him sicker than any flu he's caught after his affairs with the outside.
“and i care about you. i want you to get better.” you smile, trying to fill the quite that had just seemingly dawned between the tiny space you both had put amongst yourself.
his fingers reaches out to touch you, to hold you, to kiss your worries away and assure you that he would be alright— but they fall back almost instantly, like he isn't sure if the affection you had so dearly kept out is even meant for somebody like him.
you lean in, and he nudges his face away.
“I can't fucking get you sick., don't be stupid.”
“tell me that when you'll claw at my insides at night to cuddle you then.” you huff.
“it's not even cuddling, just body heat sharing.”
and for now, he'll swallow as many pills as he can take— for the kisses to come quicker. but he probably won't aswell, just for you to care for him like that again.
a/n: phew just barely pulled this out of my ass guys 😭 i really wanna get back into writing.
a/n: ik this has been done before and i’ve seen fanart of it but i want a fic on it - lowk just angst and fluff idk listen to the song 500 miles cus it’s the reason im writing this
t. todoroki and s. todoroki (and not like that u freaks)
it’s been a bad week for touya, he always gets like this near the anniversary of his death as he calls it. he grows more distant, won’t talk much, usually disappears for a day or two but always comes back and you never mind picking up the pieces and putting him back together. so when you hear the front door creek open you leave the room and go to meet him in the kitchen.
“i’m hungry.”
“shush.”
“touya?” you peek your head out from the hall. “i- oh!” your eyes widen when you see his brother.
“we got anything to eat? kids hungry.” he leaves his brother staring at you and walks to the kitchen.
“um.. no but..” you smile at his brother before following after him. “touya what the fuck?” you hiss.
“don’t even ask.” he mumbles.
“did you kidnap him?” you look over your shoulder at the young boy pulling out a chair and sitting at the counter.
“said don’t ask.” he sighs, bringing both hands up to his face. “i don’t know. i just.. i don’t know.” he shakes his head. “don’t wanna talk about it right now.”
“alright.” you place a hand on his shoulder. “um.. we can go to that restaurant a couple blocks away? the one that’s 24 hours?” you slide your hand down his spine watching him slowly exhale. “y’know the one with your favorite soba?”
“soba?” his brother perks up.
“you like soba too?” you turn with a smile.
“mhm!” he nods his head eagerly. “‘s my favorite!”
“then let’s go get some.” you smile. “just gonna go get dressed.” you squeeze touyas hand before leaving them in the kitchen.
your mind races with what he could have possibly done and why his little brother is here but you shake your head and focus on pulling a hoodie on. you grab your wallet and a hoodie for his brother along with one of touya’s old beanies and walk back out to meet them.
“alright, c’mere..”
“shoto.” touya adds.
“shoto.” you hum. “it’s a little chilly, huh?” you show him the hoodie.
you tug it on over his head and he drowns in the fabric as touya looks on with an unreadable expression. you pull the beanie over his hair and tuck his hairs into the sides before pinching his cheeks and standing up. shoto grabs your hand and the both of you turn to look at touya.
“why’d you give him my stuff?” touya tugs the beanie down past shoto’s eyes.
“cause i doubt he’s supposed to be with us.” you pat his chest. “now let's go get some soba.” you fix shoto’s beanie.
the three of you start down the street and shoto reaches for touya’s hand and he sighs but offers it to him nonetheless. you keep glancing at them wondering if either of them will say something. it’s silent until you’re seated at your table with your menus.
“hot?” touya looks over at shoto.
“cold.” he scrunches his brows.
“yeah.” touya nods with a small smile.
touya orders for the three of you and when the drinks come out the three of you act like there’s a test that’s going to be on them before the meal comes out. you glance up and find shoto staring at you and you offer him a small wave and smile.
“so am i gonna live with you guys now?” shoto tilts his head.
“dunno.” touya shrugs.
“if i do can we have soba every night?” shoto blinks at him.
touya laughs and shoto smiles and all the tension drips away. there’s not really much conversation but the silence is comfortable now as the three of you wait for the food to be brought out.
by the time you guys are served, shoto’s eyes are already drooping. he finishes his food with the help of touya and falls asleep at the table while the bill is being paid. touya sighs and scoops shoto up and offers you his free hand.
“‘s nice.” you lean on his arm.
“shh.” he squeezes your hand but can’t hide the pink dusting on his cheeks.
“where’s he gonna sleep?” you smile up at him.
“bed with us for now.” he shrugs. “i.. i dunno what i was thinking.” you watch his shoulders tense.
“s’okay, we’ll figure it out.” you rub soothing circles on his hand.
the rest of the walk back is filled with soft snores from shoto and the sounds of the city. when the apartment door seals the three of you inside shoto stirs and wraps himself tighter around touya.
“miss you.” he mumbles into touya’s hoodie.
touya doesn’t say anything, just tugs the beanie off and smooths his hair back. he leads you into the room with him and lays shoto down on the bed and covers him up before taking you back out to the living room. he sits on the couch and looks up at you.
“you can yell.” he sighs.
“why would i yell?” you cup his cheeks.
“cause i’m stupid.” he rests his hands over yours. “and i took my stupid brother. and made you an accomplice. and made you come eat soba this late. and.. i dunno.” he shrugs.
“i’m not gonna yell at you.” you squish his cheeks and sit down next to him. “but.. why did you take him?” you search his eyes.
“i just..” he sighs. “i’m so fucking mad and bitter and.. i.. fuck it, i took his masterpiece cause he’s not just his masterpiece he’s a kid.. he’s my.. brother and..” he tosses his head back on the couch.
“hey, it’s okay.” you brush his hair back. “we don’t gotta deal with it right now.” you curl up next to him.
“touya?” you both turn at shoto’s voice.
“yeah? are you okay?” touya is up and walking over to shoto.
“can you come to bed?” he tugs his shirt. “and you too?” shoto peeks around shoto at you.
“yeah. let’s go to bed.” you nod and get up from the couch.
the both of you lead shoto back to bed and the two of you curl into bed around him. shoto falls asleep and touya stares at you from across the bed, reaching over and cupping your cheek.
“i’ll make you two breakfast in the morning.” he rubs your cheek. “and we figure out what to do with him.” he whispers.
“mhm.” you bring his hand to your mouth and press a small kiss on his palm.
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Imagine being childhood friends with Touya, but having to move away and go into witness protection with your family after a villain attack.
After Touya’s death, the Todorokis try to find you and let you know, but you can’t be found. After a while, they just think it’s better for you to live in peace and never know about what happened to your best friend.
Ten years go by, and you’ve decided to move back into the area. It’s your first day back, and you haven’t met anyone you know yet. You could’ve sworn you’d seen Shoto gaping in confusion at you, but then there was an explosion and yelling, and you’d blinked and he was gone.
You’re just walking through one of the quieter districts when you see him from behind.
It may be fifteen years since you’ve seen him, and for some reason his skin is all weird, but it’s Touya, hair awfully dyed and for some reason dressed all grungy. He’s talking to three other people - is one of them covered in hands? - and you probably should leave him alone.
You do not. Instead, you start running, and do the same thing you used to do to each other as kids.
“TOUYA!” Before he can even react, you leap up and jump on his back, knocking him to the ground. The man with all the hands can only stare in confusion as you squeeze the life out of your oldest friend in a hug.
“Touya! Touya, I missed you so much! Did you know I’d be here? Are these your friends? I think I’ve just seen Shoto! Hello, everyone, I’m Touya’s best friend.” You speak far too quickly, and Touya groans, making sparks flitter in his hand before he finally is able to look at you.
The fire goes out.
“Y/N?”
You nod excitedly. “Touya!”
“Touya?” the hand man repeats in disbelief. “Who the fuck is - holy shit, so that’s your real name, Dabi?” You wrinkle your nose in confusion, and ignore Touya trying to pry you off his back. Whatever. He used to do it to you growing up.
“What’s a Dobby?”
“Dabi,” Touya hisses. “My name is Dabi.”
“Then why’d she call you Touya?” a blonde girl asks. Suddenly, she gasps and claps her hands. “Is she your girlfriend?”
The man with the hands - who looks strangely like a villain you saw on the news - snickers and takes a picture of you casually sitting on Touya like he’s your throne.
“She’s absolutely his girlfriend, Toga,” he confirms. “Look at the way he’s letting her do this. Now I have blackmail. I like you, random girl.”
Finally, Touya manages to push you off, though it’s gentle. You smile expectantly at him. You don’t know why he looks weird or why he’s hanging out with villains, but you’re sure he has a reason. Likely infiltration, as he’s got to be a hero. Maybe Dabi is his hero name?
“Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you even recognise me?” Why would he question that? Duh, you’d be able to tell it was him. He’s your oldest friend. You shrug.
“I mean, how could I not? Just cause you look and sound a little different, doesn’t mean I’m not gonna recognise you. You’re Touya.” You boop his nose and the hand villain - is it Shigaraki? - applauds you and takes a picture.
“Thank you for the blackmail. I won’t even Decay you.” Oh, so definitely a villain.
You probably should’ve been scared, but whatever. Touya would protect you. He always used to whenever you were scared of a spider or the dark or the coat hung up that looked suspiciously evil.
Touya damn near chokes as you snuggle into his back.
“I missed you!” you chirp. Shigaraki is grinning smugly to the point you think he might ascend. The blonde girl is also giggling, and the gecko mutant next to her is fighting back a smirk.
“So, Touya then?” Shigaraki asks. “Wanna tell us why you didn’t think that was important?”
Touya curses and you gasp and smack him. Rei always said to not swear, and you spent so much time at her house that every lesson she gave you was firmly instilled in your head.
“Fine,” Touya groans, standing up. He looks at you, still clinging to him. The ghost of a smile passes along his face, and you get the feeling that while he might be acting grumpy, he’s actually happy that someone recognised him. “I take it you’re not going to get off me?”
He laughs when you shake your head.
“Got it, weirdo. Guess you’re coming back to the bar.” You jump up and piggyback on him. The gecko mutant finally laughs to himself at the sight. Okay, maybe it is embarrassingly childish because it’s been so long, but you and Touya always used to be like this, and you never got closure from his friendship while away.
“Oh, and Y/N?” You look up at him expectantly. “When you go see the others later, don’t mention that you saw me. In fact, it’ll be better if you didn’t see them at all.” Your face falls. Fuyumi and Natsuo were your friends too. You remember teaching Shoto how to play patty cake and hopscotch, and how to steal cookies from the kitchen without being caught. Heck, you remember being the one to introduce him and Touya to cold soba.
“Why not?” you question. Touya hums and ruffles your hair. In that moment, it’s like nothing’s changed. You’re still enamoured with him, and he eats it up like a starved man.
“Just because. You owe me a ‘no question’s asked’, so I’m calling that in.” It’s annoyingly true. He’d earned it from you after you’d asked him to come over at 2am to film an adaptation of Sailor Moon with your toys - except the furbies were scaring you.
You pout and then sigh. You adore his siblings, but it doesn’t compare to how much you love Touya.
“Alright, alright.”
As soon as he hears your agreement, Touya hoists you up so you get a better grip around his shoulders.
“Well then, Y/N. Welcome to the League. Worst bunch of assholes you’ll ever meet.” With that, a purple portal appears in front you. The other three step through, but Touya waits a heartbeat after they’ve gone.
“Y/N?” His voice is gravelly, but soft, like he’s never forgotten how to say your name in all the years you’ve been apart. “It’s good to see you again.”
Touya, who insists on brushing your hair, then complains about any split ends he sees forming, but is gentle nonetheless as he can’t not devote himself to you—it’s in his nature.
Touya, who likes to lazily rest his arm over your shoulder.
Touya, who rolls his eyes when you ask him if he can be your personal heater, but he lets you anyway
Touya, when it’s the dead of the night, and it’s as if there is no one in the entire world but you two, relishes in your gentle comfort while you hold him close and stroke his hair, craving your words of praise, needy. After all, it is far more vulnerable to submit to love then to give it out
Touya, who isn’t a morning person, so he likes to sleep in while being surprisingly clingy
─ .✦ (0.8k) when you bring home a stray kitten, dabi is deeply, profoundly opposed. unfortunately for him, you refuse to throw the little fur baby away.
(spoiler; you end up keeping it)
tags: talk of villains, dabi hates the cat but folds, humor and fluff, suggestive language, dabi is grumpy, reader wins every argument.
· ─ ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─ ·
“We’re not keepin’ that thing.”
You stop dead in the doorway.
Rain drips off your hair and down your jacket, puddling onto the floor, but you barely notice because you are too busy clutching the tiny calico kitten tighter to your chest and staring at your boyfriend like he just personally insulted you (which he basically just did).
Your bottom lip juts out immediately, dramatic and practiced, chin tipping down as you look up at him through your lashes.
“But why,” you whine, hugging the kitten closer. She lets out a small, confused mrrp and presses her face into your collarbone.
Dabi doesn’t move from where he is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, expression flat and unimpressed. His eyes flick from your soaked clothes, to the water dripping onto the floor, to the very obvious trail of pet store bags you have already scattered across the living room.
“We’re not keepin’ it,” he repeats firmly.
You pout harder, shoulders hunching protectively around the kitten. “But whyyyyyy,” you drag out, voice wobbling.
“Look at her, Dabi. Look at her. She’s so so so cute and she was all alone on the street and she was shivering and I’m definitely not leaving her there, so please.”
You lift the kitten a little higher like she is evidence.
You have already decided her name is Biscuit, because she is small and warm and soft and looks exactly like something that should be wrapped in a napkin and cherished. Dabi, on the other hand, looks like a man standing in the middle of his own personal hell.
He exhales through his nose and drags a hand down his face, scarred skin pulling tight under his fingers. He just got back from a long day, consisting of doing way too many horrid things to be faced with this innocent looking thing.
He doesn’t even know what to be pissed at first.
Whether it’s your clothes that are completely soaked, rainwater dripping off you and onto the floor like you tracked half the street inside. Or the fact that his couch (there is actually only one couch in your apartment, but he’s just being dramatic) is now covered in a small mountain of cat supplies.
Or frankly, his biggest current dilemma; the fucking cat itself.
“Get that thing’s rubbish off my couch,” he mutters, eyes narrowing.
“Do not call it a thing!” you snap immediately, bristling as you turn your body slightly away from him, shielding the kitten. “It’s a she, and her name is Biscuit.”
Dabi clicks his tongue. “We are not namin’ it, doll,” he says flatly. “’Cause we are not gonna keep it.”
You gape at him. “Excuse you, she already has a name and I’ve got her supplies and stuff to live with us.”
He pushes himself off the counter and gestures vaguely around the apartment. “It’s bad enough I gotta share this place with the millions of pink plushies and stupid little figurines you own—”
“But you agreed I could have my own side!” you interrupt, pointing accusingly toward the shelves you meticulously claimed months ago.
“—and now I gotta share it with a fur covered thing that eats, shits, and sleeps all day. Yeah, fuck no.”
You scowl. “Dabiiii.”
Right on cue, Biscuit lets out a tiny meow, pathetic in the most devastating way.
Something ugly and unfamiliar twists in Dabi’s chest.
Shit, and hereee it goes—
“Oh my god,” you whisper dramatically, eyes flicking between him and the kitten. “Did you hear that? Did you hear her? She is so cute, oh my—we have to keep her!” your eyes shine with so much adoration and love it makes his heart twist in a way more pathetic than that meow.
“Tch,” he mutters, jaw tightening.
“Dabi,” you say, voice immediately going soft and pleading. “Can we keep her? Please please please please—”
He sighs, long and tired, shoulders slumping just a little. “Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ll see if we can keep the ugly thing.”
You squeal and step forward, immediately pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can react. “So, that’s a yes,” you declare triumphantly.
“That is not a yes,” he snaps, pointing at you. “That is a maybe, and I swear to god if it scratches me or shits on my pillow it’s gonna end up burnt to a crisp.”
You nod eagerly. “Of course. Totally! Biscuit would never.”
The kitten meows again, loud and pleased, curling tighter into your arms.
Dabi glances down at her, lips twitching despite himself.
“Ugly rat,” he mutters fondly, and pretends very hard that the sound didn’t just punch straight through his scarred, stupid heart.
