The atmosphere in the villa Dabi had "borrowed" for the evening was less "Winter Wonderland" and more "Inferno Chic."
The fireplace wasn't just crackling; it was roaring with a steady, haunting blue flame that cast long, flickering shadows against the mahogany walls.
Dabi stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of expensive bourbon in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his dark coat.
He looked every bit the villainous host, dangerous, scarred, and devastatingly handsome in the low light.
"You’re staring, doll," he rumbled, not even turning around.
The staples along his jawline glinted in the blue light. "If you want a picture, it'll cost you more than just a smile."
"The guests are going to be here any minute," you said, smoothing out your dress and adjusting the wreath that Dabi had insisted on lighting with a small, controlled spark. "Can you try to be... social? Or at least not incinerate the help?"
Dabi turned, a lazy, lopsided smirk pulling at his skin.
He crossed the room with a predator’s gait, stopping only when he had pinned you between the buffet table and his chest.
"I’m being an angel, sweetheart. Look, I even wore the shirt you liked," he teased, gesturing to the dark silk button-down that was open just a few buttons too many.
He leaned down, his breath smelling of smoke and oak. "But if that white-haired brat Gojo makes one more comment about 'blue being out of season,' I’m turning this winter gala into a charcoal pit."
The doorbell didn't just ring; it practically exploded as Gojo Satoru teleported into the foyer with his partner.
"Merry Christmas, Patchwork!" Gojo shouted, throwing an arm around a visibly annoyed Dabi. "Love the vibe. Very 'end of the world.' It really makes the tinsel pop."
Dabi’s hand began to smoke. "Touch me again and you’ll be the brightest thing on the tree, Sorcerer."
Behind them, Levi Ackerman entered, his partner holding a box of high-end tea.
Levi took one look at the blue flames in the fireplace and pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket.
"The soot levels in here are unacceptable," Levi muttered. "And why is there a man with a sword sleeping in the umbrella stand?"
"That would be Zoro," you sighed, waving at the swordsman who had somehow gotten lost between the front door and the coat rack.
As the host, Dabi was surprisingly attentive, though his version of "serving" involved a lot of leaning over people and looking intimidating.
He followed you into the kitchen as you prepped the final trays.
"The bird is in the oven," you whispered, checking the timer.
Dabi slid his arms around your waist from behind, his scarred palms resting flat against your stomach.
The heat radiating from him was intense, natural, constant, and intoxicating.
"Forget the bird," he hissed into your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. "I’ve got something much hotter in mind for later. I’ve already 'cleared' the balcony. No witnesses. Just you, me, and a bottle of the good stuff."
"Dabi, we have guests. Sylus is currently trying to figure out if he can buy your soul, and Sanji is judging your choice of appetizers."
Dabi chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "Let the chef judge. I’m the one who gets to taste the main course tonight, aren't I?" He turned you around in his arms, his blue eyes burning with a very specific, very un-holiday-like hunger.
"You look delicious in this light, doll. It’s almost a shame I have to share you with these losers for another three hours."
Dinner was a masterpiece of tension.
Sylus and Dazai were engaged in a silent staring contest over a plate of smoked salmon.
Sanji was busy flirting with every woman in the room, much to the chagrin of the other men.
Chopper was sitting on a booster seat, excitedly telling Gojo’s partner about the medicinal properties of candy canes.
"So," Dazai chirped, looking at Dabi. "I hear you’re a fan of... cremations? I’ve often wondered if a blue flame provides a more aesthetic exit than a standard orange one."
Dabi leaned back, propping his boots up on the edge of the table, much to Levi’s visible horror. "Tell you what, bandage-wrap. Stick around until dessert and I’ll give you a live demonstration. Free of charge."
"Dabi!" you kicked his shin under the table.
"What? I’m being hospitable," he winked at you, his thumb tracing slow, suggestive circles on the back of your hand beneath the tablecloth.
Toward the end of the night, the group migrated back to the lounge.
Dabi had strategically placed a sprig of mistletoe over the one exit. When you tried to head to the kitchen to grab the champagne, he blocked your path.
"Rules are rules, hostress," he teased, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly hum that vibrated in your chest.
"You put that there," you accused, though you weren't moving.
"And I’m the one lighting the fire," he countered.
He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips against yours, the kiss tasting of ash, expensive whiskey, and a desperate, burning devotion.
It was a sassy, messy, lovely mess of a kiss that made the rest of the room fade into a blur of blue light.
"Merry Christmas, doll," he whispered against your mouth, his eyes glowing. "Now tell everyone to get out. The fire's just getting started."
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Imagine Dabi kidnaps you and he's actually really sweet. Besides the kidnapping, he could be actual boyfriend/husband material. Like he hasn't hurt you physically and it kind of fucks with your head a bit. He provides everything you need to live plus more. And you don't have to worry about surviving anymore. Since you were kidnapped dare you say more relaxed than ever. So, you put up with it and eventually develop Stockholm syndrome fr.
I don't think this was a request BUT I genuinely can't stop thinking about this, I love when he's so soft.
You despised him at first when he took you away, but it got better, Dabi told you it would. He told you that if you behaved that he would take care of you, treat you like a princess. Dabi truly loved you, he just wanted you to understand that and he would do anything to make you understand. It took a little while with punishments here and there but it worked. When he came home, you were there to greet him with open arms. Telling him how much you missed him, kissing him, nuzzling into his chest. Dabi could truly say, that for once in his life he truly felt happy, at peace... like he finally was enough for someone.
It felt.. nice, to be around Dabi, he was comforting in a way. Brushed your hair for you, braided it, let you sit with him on the balcony as he smoked. It was nice to just sit and talk about things with him, smelling the mid-night air as you leaned against his chest. He smelled nice, the smell of cigarettes now becoming a comfort, the sick smell of ash that had you wrinkling your nose now had you clinging to him, shoving your nose into his jacket. Dabi truly became someone of comfort for you, holding you close on cold nights. Kissing your head when the thunder sounded too loud on some nights.
You don't remember falling asleep, but then again, no one does. His side of the bed was warm though, so that had too mean he was home now, throwing the comforter off you go looking for him, and sure enough, he was out on the balcony, smoking. He truly looked ethereal, his eyes relaxed, shining a beautiful cerulean, head thrown back, dyed black hair a little tousled from scarred hands running through it. Dabi truly is a sight to behold.
Opening the sliding door, he looks up at you as you step out, closing it behind you so that bugs don't get it. He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards him, plopping down into his lap as blows the smoke away from you. "How you feeling doll, you sleep good?" There's a nod from you as you bury your face into his chest, inhaling that sweet smell of ash you've come to adore so much. The smell always makes you think of him, an automatic comfort it brings you is a stress-relief.
"How was work," you ask him softly, running your hands through his hair. He inhales through his nose before sighing, "It was fine, tiring, but fine." You can tell, he sounds exhausted, looks exhausted too. You kiss him, running your hands up and down the nape of his neck, he shudders at that, pecking your cheek. His right hand running up and down your back, drawing little patterns every now and again.
"...can I hit it," he glances at you, then looks at the cigarette, the tip burning a bright blue. He hums at you, holding it to your lips as you inhale the smoke. Holding it for a couple seconds, you blow it out away from his face. He pushes some of your hair behind you ear, mouthing at your neck. "You feel better pretty girl, hm?" His voice is always a welcome, low and deep, sounding so apathetically pretty.
"Yeah, thank you," he hums again, kissing at your collar bone as he runs a hand through your hair. He kisses your cheek before giving a couple pats to your ass, "come on, up, I'm tired doll, lets head in."
headcanon that the todoroki siblings grew up ice skating with their mother
rei has an ice quirk, so maybe she grew up with it
fuyumi and natsuo went the most. touya was obsessed with getting endeavor's approval, so he often refused, but he did go sometimes.
by the time shouto could have gone, he was seperated from his siblings and rei wasn't very stable
fuyumi and natsuo kept going even after things fell apart. they kept that one thing that reminded them of their mother, and no matter what happened they would always go skating on those cold days during winter break when neither had school, and later on fuyumi didn't have class to teach
but, once the siblings start talking, fuyumi and natsuo take shouto ice skating with them, teaching him how so that they can all go with their mother once she's out of the hospital
once touya is arrested and put in a reform program, it takes awhile before he's trusted to go places but once he is, they invite him to come with them
and maybe, once, during winter or up in the mountains with the league, touya taught them because it was one part of his childhood that made him happy and he wanted to share that happiness with the people he cared about
a day where they don't think about work or the war. a day where they just let themselves be people, let themselves have a day of fun. a day of purely enjoying the others company
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Characters: Touya Todoroki x Black Female OC (Machelle) and their blasian babies
Manga/Anime: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia
Genre: Comfort
Summary: Touya and his son have different reasons to cry tonight. His wife and daughter are always ready to comfort them.
Word Count: 1,104
Prompt 22. Cry
A pressure on his arm woke Touya up, freeing the tears that had gathered on his lashes. He turned to his side, reaching and grabbing on to the warm body next to him.
Machelle's voice was soft in his ear, soothing over his hitching breaths as he tried to calm himself down. “You're ok now, Touya. You're safe.”
He nodded, burying his face in her neck. He held her tighter in an attempt to quell his shaking. He couldn't tell if it was working but the last thing he was willing to do was to let her go, even as she gave a grunt of protest.
“I'm right here, Panda Bear.” She ran a hand through his hair, smiling when he startled at the nickname. When he looked up at her, she kissed his forehead, doubling down. “My Panda Bear.”
He just watched her, breathing deeply. It didn't matter if he was processing the emotions from the dream or the new sobriquet. The trembling faded away.
She said nothing more, pressing her lips to his snowy locks when he ducked his head back into her collar. She hummed, rubbing circles into his scalp with her finger pads. There was so much that haunted her husband. He had told her so much but she doubted she would ever know everything. Perhaps the light of his being was so bright because he had come from some serious darkness. She marveled at the man in her arms yet again, praying in her heart that he would be granted full peace one day, and further that she could continue to be the one by his side supporting him through it all.
Touya released a harsh breath, warm against her skin.
“You want some water?” She asked in a lower voice, carding her fingers through his hair.
He gave an affirmative hum, sliding down to hold her waist which freed her arm to fetch his water bottle from the nightstand.
She flicked the straw up before holding it up for him. “Sit up a little, Hun.”
He did bare minimum, refusing to detach from her completely as he sipped. His face quickly pressed into her stomach again.
She could feel the tears soak through her nightdress. She rested her hand on the back of his head, gently flexing her fingers. Her heart pained, but she was happy as well. Of course, she didn't want her husband to hurt but his willingness to cry into her like this was something they had worked on for many years. His tears had been something he fought like a war enemy, even in private. For him to finally and continually accept that it was ok to cry, and to do so in her presence… was a breakthrough. “I love you,” she whispered to him in her language and his, keeping him close with light pressure he made to pull away.
He gripped the fabric tighter.
When he started to speak, she hummed to encourage him, listening intently and responding from her heart. When he laughed lightly, her heart twirled, and when he nuzzled her playfully, she peppered him with kisses.
They both looked up at the sound of appliances across the house shutting down.
Machelle tsked. “The slightest piece of weather and they cut the current off.”
Wind blew rain against their windows as if to prove a point.
Beyond the rainstorm came the cry of their youngest from down the hall.
Touya shifted to lay in her lap as Machelle sat up. “Poor Champ.”
Machelle looked down at him. “Can I go check on him?”
“Give it time, ‘Chelle. Please.”
She blinked at him. “Touya.”
“Trust your ‘Panda Bear,’ as I've been so newly dubbed. If he doesn't calm on his own in a few minutes, we'll both go.” He grinned at her. “I know, Mama Bear. Longest four minutes of your life.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her navel.
The baby quieted in two minutes.
Touya kept his knowing look pressed into her stomach. He waited the remaining two minutes before speaking up. “We're still going, aren't we?”
“Just to make sure. And to peek on Maya.”
Their daughter slept even lighter than her father, but was quick to comfort herself back to sleep. Touya kept his thoughts in his head.
The two crept out of bed, using the moonlight until they got to the bedroom where Touya flicked finger for a little candle. The small blue light took them down the hall until Touya suddenly snuffed it out.
A wavering light was coming from Champion’s room, illuminating the space just beyond the doorway.
The parents tucked themselves just outside the lit area, peeking inside the room.
“It's ok, Champy,” came Maya's little voice. “It's not dark with my fire, see? But you hafta stay over there.”
Maya sat in the middle of the floor with her back angled to the door, cupping a small blue flame in her palms. She was situated a good distance from the rocking chair she usually parked in - or anything else for that matter, hyper aware of her hands.
Baby Champion was in his crib, tear-stained cheeks pressed against the cage-like railing. He was reaching between the wooden bars towards the light, tiny fingers curling repeatedly.
Machelle smiled, leaning back into Touya’s embrace. She knew Maya would set the house on fire running to keep her flames from her little brother - turning it off wasn't a default thought as yet. They would get there.
Champion’s breath hitched and Touya held her back with a gentle strengthening of his grip. Champion let out a sad whine, hitting the crib railing.
Maya spoke up, glancing at him before quickly refocusing on managing her fire. “Nuh uh, you can't have the two. Either I make light or we hold hands. I can't do the two at the same time.”
Champion whined again and Maya turned to hide the fire from him. He garbled out what they understood as her name in a frustrated tone.
“Ok, then.” The little girl huffed, turning back around.
The baby plopped down on his bottom, sucking on his finger and thumb while watching his sister's blue flame.
Touya's chest jumped with a quiet laugh Machelle felt against her back. He spoke under his breath. “She handles him better than you sometimes.”
“Big sister prowess,” she whispered back. “Comes with the position.”
The chance of the power coming back on within the hour was low. The temptation to join the children in the baby room was strong. They would give it a few more minutes, committing the scene to memory.
Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XII
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 12: (2,3k words)
The lozenges his father bought him taste awful and it’s annoying to have to write out everything he wants to say but you’re curled up next to him on the big living room couch, eyes droopy from exhaustion as his family brainstorms.
“If we put a little heater into the garden house, you could live there until you can move back into your apartment.” His mother offers after you’ve politely explained that you won’t be able to move in with them.
Touya is, after all, still in rehabilitation and you will have to explain all of this at the hearing that is held when he’s finished his first year of working for you.
“I would have to go over that with his rehabilitation officer.” You don’t outright say no and that’s good enough for him right now, but not his mother.
“You do need a room to prepare the Bouquets for the offices, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Until you have a better room to do it in, you can do it here.”
“That’s only two work days.” Natsuo reminds her. “Where would they work the rest of the time?”
Touya waves around his notepad to signal that he wants to say something and starts writing when everyone’s eyes are on him.
When he hands it over to you to read it aloud, he’s still a bit unsure of his idea.
“We could ask the coffee shop next door to use their patio. They won’t need it during the winter.”
You look up at him, hope visible in your features.
“That’s a great idea.” You say. “All we’d need is a tent or a greenhouse as shelter and some heaters. Our customers wouldn’t have to walk further to find us too. We’ll ask tomorrow.”
After that, it’s time for bed. Well, at least for you, as you’re clearly unable to keep awake much longer, and he’s exhausted as well.
-
His feet pull him back to your room though, instead of his own, knocking softly against the door.
You’re already in your pajamas, a droopy smile on your face as you realize that it’s him.
He opens his mouth to speak, willing to test his throat again, but your finger is on lips as you shake your head and pull him into your room.
Their guest room is smaller than his own bedroom, now filled to the brim with the plants you saved from the fire. There’s only a small path leading to the bed and you pull him along by his forearm, urging him to sit down.
When he does, you take his bandaged hands and pull them up, dropping a kiss on each bandaged palm before looking up at him with an emotion in your eyes he hasn’t seen there before.
“Thank you.” You whisper. “For doing all this. I can never repay you.”
He shakes his head, readying himself to speak again when you shush him yet again.
“I have to say this now or I might never dare to.”
His mouth is dry, tongue sticking to his teeth as he wishes for one more of his awful lozenges. At least it would give him something to do.
You take a deep breath and look to your side where the battered holiday cactus is placed on your nightstand.
“I cannot offer you anything.” You start, your voice a little wobbly but serious. “I don’t know how long it will take to rebuild the shop but I know I will never have a big company. You’ve pushed the sales so much already, but even if I’d be able to keep this growth up, I don’t want something big. I just want a quiet life. I can’t offer you more than that and it’s okay, it really is, if you take your out now. The door is open, you can grow on your own. Rico will take you in and help you on your last steps if you want. You can go back to school and become a landscape architect or open up your own shop when you’re ready. You’ve got the talent, all you need is a little bit of experience and help. I will not hold you back or hold it against you.”
“Why do you want me to leave?” He asks, voice hoarse, the sound still hurting his throat a little.
You’re crying now, silent tears dripping down your cheeks.
“I don’t want you to wake up and realize you’ve outgrown me.”
“Can’t you see I’m doing my best to reach your height?” He asks. “And I’ve not even reached your knees.”
You laugh, a wobbly, wet sound and he pulls your hands as you give in, fall into him and fit just perfectly onto his lap.
Your head fits snuggly under his chin, your tears dry in his shirt, but you’re there with him, so close that he can hear both your hearts beat in sync.
“I will not leave.” He whispers. “No matter how long the door stays open.”
You don’t fall asleep in his arms, even though he wishes you could.
When your tears have dried, you climb off him and remind him that there are still three months left until his hearing. That you will have to speak on his behalf.
“I love you.” You say, your hand in his hair, your eyes full of an emotion that makes his skin feel tight around his bones, “But we cannot date before this isn’t over.”
He takes your hands and presses a kiss into each palm.
“I can be patient.” He whispers, careful about his throat.
“Go to bed then,” You tell him, as if you’re not holding him captive with your eyes and your smile.
He dreams of the two of you that night, grown into each other and around each other, like the tree in his garden.
-
You are not dating.
You are not sleeping under the same roof.
You do not kiss and he hasn’t told you he loves you since that night at his house.
At least not aloud, with words that others can hear.
He’s bought you a pair of gloves, the warmest pair he could find. One that would keep your hands warm but allow you to use them at the same time.
You buy him a similar pair, handing him his present the day he gifts you yours, laughter filling the air when you realize that you’ve both had the same thought.
Your shop is now a greenhouse on the patio of the coffee shop, the doors open during the day to let in customers even though it’s freezing outside.
He makes sure to keep you warm and fed and even though the days are long, you stay longer, pretending to busy yourself around the little makeshift shop to talk to him.
You talk about Toga’s life and Shouto’s broken heart, Rico’s inability to get a second date and Kibe-san’s moods.
You talk until it gets too cold to stay, until he drives you home so that he can park in front of your temporary apartment, and keep talking, until even the car turns cold and you hug him goodbye, whispering a quick “See you tomorrow.”
Three months feel like an eternity but the days pass before him in the blink of an eye.
-
“Hey,” He says one evening as you’re closing up. It’s slowly getting warmer and the apartment building is almost finished too. “How old are you? You know, just in case I’d be dating a minor.”
You laugh.
“And here I thought you’d step up to it and guess correctly.”
He looks at you, at the grin you’re sporting, and shoots his shot one last time.
“You’re my age.”
“Bingo.” You grin. “Now was that so hard?”
“But we didn’t go to school together, right? I would have remembered you, I think.”
You shake your head, still clearly amused at how this topic still occupies his mind.
“No, I went to a public school not far from here.”
“Jinbocho?” He guesses correctly but frowns. “That school looks so new.”
“It is. I went to the old one before it burned down. Just down the street from the park. It was… uh…” You hesitate for a second. “I was in the building when it burned down. I was an angsty teen back then and the school was going to be rebuilt soon. I think I wanted to collect old flowers and stuff from in there or something like that.”
“How long ago was that?” He asks, half his mind focused on the question of your saviors identity, the other half concerned for you. “How do you feel about it now?”
“Not gonna lie, the fire freaked me out a bit. If you’d-” Your voice breaks and he steps forward to take your hand, to hold it in the relative safety of their makeshift shop.
“I needed you to be safe.” He whispers and you nod. “I understand that. But I need you to be safe too.”
“I am.” He promises. “I will be.”
You hug him, not as long as he’d like, but your head fits perfectly against his shoulder as you let him sway you around for a second.
“I was thirteen,” you tell him when you step back again, voice serious as you pretend to be busy with the cut flowers.
“We just got out of a rough spot with the shop and mom didn’t want me to spend money on anything, scared we’d not have it later when we’d really need it. All I wanted was to go shopping with friends. I didn’t even need stuff, I just wanted to be able to walk through a shopping center with them. Mom always thought that pretending to shop would just lead to us actually shopping.”
He listens to you talk, never tired of the tales of your life.
There’s so much he still wants to know. How you dressed back in school. What your friends were like back then. Did you join a club in school or stay home helping with the shop?
Your smile returns as you talk until you end up laughing, snorting at the memory of your father trying his hand at owning a pet goldfish. He’s not sure how one memory could lead to another and another and eventually to this, but he laughs with you, too enamored with your smile to keep himself from it.
“You should get home.” You remind him. “I can’t afford to pay you for overtime.”
“I’ll take you.” He slips into his jacket and hands you your scarf. “Any chance you want to grab some food on the way?”
“Touya.” You sound a little exasperated but there’s still a smile tugging on your lips. “I think buying me food could be considered dating.”
“Oh, we’re not dating.” He reassures you with the same smile. “I buy all my friends dinner when I drive them home.”
“Sure, sure.” You roll your eyes fondly when he opens the car door for you and waits for you to slip inside. “I’ll ask Toga about that when she comes by the next time.”
He laughs and jogs around the car to get into the driver’s seat.
“Toga doesn’t count as a friend. She’s more of an annoying younger sibling.”
-
He forgets about your story over your banter until he returns home and finds his father at the kitchen table, struggling with the phone in his hands.
“Hey Dad.” He pours himself a glass of juice. “Do you remember that school in Jinbocho? The one that burned down?”
“Huh? I’m not sure, but do you know- ugh, do you know how this thing works? I’m supposed to log into this app that my assistant downloaded but I can’t figure out how it works.”
“Show me.” He takes a look and snorts.
“The newspaper app? Don’t you have that already?”
“You know I struggle with small writing. I like the newspaper better in paper.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, grandpa.” He logs in and, after a sudden idea, types something into the search field.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just looking if they have an article about that school. Remember when I asked you if you ever saved a girl from a fire? Maybe you remember it when you see a picture.”
“Son, there are just too many fires to remember them all.” His father sighs but grabs his reading glasses again when Touya turns the phone and proudly presents an article.
“Huh. I mean, I remember that building, but I don’t remember being called to a fire there. When did that happen?”
Touya checks for the date and watches the gears in his father’s head turn.
“That wasn’t so long after you’ve left us. November… I might be off a few days but I think that was when Natsuo brought home a stomach bug and we all went down for a week. I don’t remember being called to a fire around that time.”
Touya huffs in annoyance.
“But if you didn’t save her and Shouto didn’t save her, who did?”
“Well if it wasn’t you either, it might have been something with a quirk that involves being fireproof. It’s admirable that you’re so invested in this but if your boss isn’t pushing for an answer, maybe you shouldn’t either.”
Touya rolls his eyes at that advice and picks the phone up one last time, looking at the pictures of the school, before and after the fire.
The sight triggers something in his mind he can’t access but then again, he’s walked past that building year after year after year as a child, of course he’d remember it.
