#And He Still Loves Her So Much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aheckinmess · 3 months ago

Text

The Straw [Toshinori] (Angst)

(One-shot 24/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Toshinori Yagi, All Might, Smol Might, Small Might, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Protective Toshinori, Protective All Might, All Might-centric, Young Toshinori Yagi, Angst, Just a Taste of Hurt/Comfort for Flavor, OC Gets Angry, One Might Even Say Furious, No Actual Trees Were Harmed in the Making of This Prompt, If Anyone Finds That Tennis Ball Please Let Me Know, If You're Angry and You Know It Stomp Your Feet, Toshinori Deserves the World, He's Seen So Much of Ichijiku's Shit, And He Still Loves Her So Much

Word Count: 2,375 words

Summary: Ichijiku has shared almost every part of herself with Toshinori. Almost every part, except her rage. So, when her grandmother calls with news that Ichi's mother is missing, she gets to see just how much Toshinori is willing to put up with.

Author's Note: Not gonna lie, I wrote this prompt because I read a story that made me livid and I needed to feel validated for how much anger I was feeling.

Content Warning: Strong, vulgar language

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Toshinori knows almost every part of me. Strong arms brace me when my knees are too weak to stand. Weathered hands soothe me when I laugh so hard my sides cramp. Even when I’m ranting and irritable, he listens to me vent about injustices I face.

He sees the good, the bad, and the ugliest parts of me and still holds on tight.

I hold onto that promise when I make my bi-weekly phone call to my mother to check in. It’s always a coin flip if a phone call home will end in drama, depression, or deceit. Needless to say, I don’t have high hopes as the dial tone rings in my ear.

“Ichijiku?” Grandma’s voice is the first to come over the phone.

Which wouldn’t be odd except my mom always answers her phone, and Grandma sounds out of breath. Is she okay? Is one of them in the hospital? My chest hurts as various scenarios play through the projector of my mind.

“Grandma?” I hop onto the kitchen counter where I have the perfect view of Toshinori through the cracked door of the study. The soft curve of his lips into a smile dampens the anxiety clawing at my heart. “Is Mommy there?”

“Your mother,” She begins, and I know there’s trouble. “Left her phone here and has not been seen or heard from since this morning!”

Bubbling irritation replaces sheer panic in seconds. This isn’t new for my mother, and immediately I jump back off the counter to find something to clean. Focusing my attention on something else helps distract me from my emotions in order to first find my mother. Even from a country away, I’m already strategizing.

“Do you know where she might have gone? Like, did anyone see a car pick her up or did she just sneak out?” I question, chewing at my lip as I turn on the water and start dishes. “Has she been acting strange this week?”

“She’s been doing what she normally does and staying cooped up in her room all day on her phone. But it must have been this morning because I went to check on her at about eight and she was in bed.” Grandma huffs. “Ami’s out there driving to see if she can find her on the trail, but you know I can’t go anywhere because I can’t leave Grandpa here while he’s sick.”

“I know, Grandma. I’ll see what I can do.” I tell her, hearing a beep on the other line. The number is unknown, but my mother has been known to call me and tell on herself. “Hang on, I think she might be calling me from a different phone. I’m going to see who this is.”

“Alright, bye.”

I swipe on the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?” Even over the phone, my mom doesn’t hide the dull monotone she speaks with. She’s learned if she sounds depressed enough, people will give her the attention she so desperately craves.

“Hey, Mommy, what are you up to?” I ask, pretending like I know nothing while I put her on speaker so I can text my aunt after drying my hands. On the phone with Mom now. Will let you know if she tells me where she is.

“Oh, I’m just walking. Trying to get out of the house.” She sighs. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, just washing some dishes while Toshi reads in the study.” I tell her. “You walking on the trail? Is the weather nice?”

“Yeah, I’m over here near the boat ramp…just watching the boats.” Every exhale she makes sends static through the phone. “How are you and Tosh…Toshi…nomi? Ah, I can’t say his name.”

“Toshinori is good.” I correct her. Said she’s at the boat ramp watching the boats. “Is the water up today? Does it look rough?”

Thank you, pumpkin. Headed that way.

“Eh…it kinda looks like it might be up a little bit.” She pauses. “You remember when your daddy used to take us down here all the time?”

The first kindling of anger smokes at the mention of my father. You dare bring him up when you’re out there walking and trying to spread your legs for someone else? Tiger snarls as I dry my hands once more and begin pacing, needing the movement to calm me down.

“Yes, I remember. We used to go to the sandbar all the time, too.”

“Yeah…I miss him.” Her voice sounds strangled; I feel sympathy but it’s drowned in betrayal and rage. He worked so hard for you. He did everything for you. We both did. And all you did was throw it back in our face and take advantage of us. “I miss your daddy, baby.”

The smoke of my rage bursts into flames, growing with every pass down the hallway.

“I miss him too, Mommy.” There’s a bite in my tone, but I swallow the rest of it back. I don’t, however, swallow all of the sass. “Guess that’s why you’re out looking for another man now, huh?”

“No, I am not!” She says indignantly. “I just wanted the fresh air. Is there something wrong with fresh air?”

“No, there’s not.” I concede. “But did you tell Grandma you were going?”

“No, I didn’t tell her. I’m a grown ass adult, thank you very much! I’m not a child, Ichijiku Aoki.” She snaps.

“An adult doesn’t leave without telling anyone where they're going, Mom.” I say calmly. “Especially when you’ve been known to leave and get in other peoples’ cars.”

“Your grandma doesn’t need to know where I am all the fucking time!” The tantrum is tangible in her tone. I feel it through the receiver and the flames only grow brighter. My limbs start burning, vibrating with the need to sling my phone straight across the room. With the need to break something. “I can take care of myself!”

I found her, pumpkin.

“But you’ve proven you can’t, Mom.” My jaw clenches taut as I force gulp after gulp of air down into my lungs. “Grandma and Grandpa are older and need help doing things, especially since Grandpa’s sick. And you’re the only one there to help them. You left them there alone. You could have just told them where you were going and gone for a walk. No one would be upset at you for that. We only get upset when you disappear because we don’t know where you are or if you’re safe.”

“Whatever.” She grouses, the static punching through the speaker as her breaths get sharper. There’s a pause and I hear Aunt Ami’s voice distantly in the speaker, to which my mom answers. “I’m not doing anything! I’m just walking!”

“You go with Aunt Ami.” I say, sounding serene and cool when I feel everything but. “I’ll check in with you later while I finish dishes. I love you, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I love you too…I’ll talk with you later, darlin’.” She says.

When the line disconnects, bittersweet memories flood me until even Endeavor’s flames would look pitiful compared to the all-consuming inferno dripping through my veins with every breath. Memories of my dad telling me how proud he was that I’d been accepted into college, followed swiftly by my mother going missing the day before I was supposed to leave. Thoughts of my dad weak and feeble in the hospital tango with the reminder that my mother was sleeping in a hotel with my bastard uncle while my dad took his dying breaths.

I grab my security baseball bat and step into the backyard, shaking with bitterness and pain and heartache. A pile of used tires still lay strewn across the yard from one of Toshi’s workouts, not to mention the copious amounts of thick camphor and maple trees that are more than able to withstand my fury. That’ll fucking do.

Letting the door slam behind me, I toss the bat up, catch it by the handle and wail into the first thing I see. THWOMP! A maple tastes the initial brunt of my fury before I whip around into a tire. THWOMP! Sweat drips down my neck and time is but a child’s playtoy as the inferno reaches a fever pitch. Tiger and I meld together into one searing wildfire as we sink our teeth and claws into anything that crosses our path.

No thoughts. Only destruction. I snatch a dead limb from a camphor nearby. A tennis ball meets the toe of my shoe for but a fleeting moment before it finds a new home in the endless void. I claw at the dirt, relishing in the feeling of pressure beneath my nails. When my teeth find themselves unsatiated? I stuff the collar of my shirt in my mouth and bite hard, before I pick up the bat again.

THWOMP! THWOMP! THWOMP!

“Ichan?” Something stops the forward momentum of my weapon and I growl as I rip it back. A familiar hand touches my shoulder. “Hey, it’s–”

“IT’S NOT OKAY!” I roar, slinging my bat into the dirt and panting as I glare at him. “SHE THINKS SHE’S SO FUCKING CLEVER AND ALL SHE’S EVER DONE IS HURT ME!”

Toshinori knows almost every part of me.

But he’s never met my rage.

“I’M SO SICK OF IT!” I choke, breathing cold venom that numbs my body. “I’M SO SICK OF PUTTING EFFORT INTO HER WHEN SHE JUST PUTS ALL THE WORK ON ME! WHEN I’M THE ONLY ONE DOING ANYTHING! WHEN SHE ACTS LIKE SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANY BETTER BUT SHE DOES!”

Toshinori stands and gawks. Aside from my vicious monologue, no words are exchanged as he remains silent. And I don’t really blame him.

I pick up my bat and swing at another tree.

“ALL THAT DAMN WORK THWACK AND ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS ANOTHER MAN’S DICK! THWONK DOES SHE CARE ABOUT EVERYTHING MY DAD AND I DID FOR HER? NO! THWOMP SHE RODE SOME MAN’S COCK WHILE MY DAD WAS DYING!”

I don’t know how long Toshinori stands there to listen and watch as I lay waste to our backyard, but when I finally calm down, I drop the bat and thunk my head straight into his chest. My fingers entwine with his and I murmur one plea.

“Push against me, please.” I say, before squeezing his hands and shoving my weight against him.

It’s doubtful that he expends even a fraction of his strength, but I’m grateful that he still indulges me. He may barely have to flex a muscle, but my arms burn with the strain of resistance until I can push no more.

“Ichan…” He begins when I’ve finished, pausing to see if I still need my time. “What do you need from me?”

“I don’t know. I just want to break something.” I murmur; my fire still burns though its glowing light dims. “I’m just so angry at her. She’s allowed to want to be an adult and have her freedom, so I feel guilty for being so upset. But, while her brain processes differently from a neurotypical mind…she still knows what she’s doing. Always has. And I can’t help but wish she’d at least show a little remorse and take a little responsibility for her actions. My dad did everything for her…”

“Your emotions are valid. And you are wise to find a safe space to get rid of that energy.” Toshinori’s thumb rubs over my cheek. “Do you need to talk it out some more?” He asks, before his chest shakes with an almost chuckle. “Or do I need to get the sledgehammer?”

His humor breaks through my armor. A laugh escapes me, and I guide his large fingers to the sides of my head, urging him to massage my scalp. As he does, the rest of my tension melts, though the embers of my fury still glow.

“I love her, but it’s so hard to talk with her when she makes my life unlivable.” I breathe, leaning into his palm. “She went walking today and it was a whole fiasco…exhausting.”

“It sounds like it.” He agrees, planting a kiss on my sweaty forehead. “What was that whole ordeal about the hospital?”

“I told you how my dad died, right?” When he confirms, I continue. “While he was in the hospital, my mom would go walking…our sign that she was going to meet up with my uncle for sex. But one day she went when my dad was in the hospital, and my grandma went through her purse during one of those walks and found a letter to my uncle. It was talking about all the stuff she wanted to do to him, how much she loved him, etcetera.” I squeeze his hands again, a warning. “She was fucking around with my uncle while my dad was laying in a coma, dying…”

“Oh, Ichan,” He coos, running his fingers through my hair again. “That’s enough to fuel any man’s fury.”

“She called me today while she was walking so I was able to help my aunt track her down and get her, but today it just…” I trail off, unable to explain.

“There are some people like Sayuri and Endeavor who keep their anger simmering, quick to boil since that’s their default emotion.” He begins, before putting his hand under my chin. “But you and I are similar in a lot of ways, Ichan. Rage is not our default. Our default emotions are not warm emotions. Compassion and sorrow. A pot filled with ice cold water. Possible to boil, but over a much longer time. And because we withhold that rage, our anger is very cold and ruthless. We cover it up as long as we can until it boils over.”

He guides me inside and towards the bathroom, where a shower is calling my name. But he pauses me outside the doorway and looks right into my eyes.

“You’re allowed to be angry, Ichan. You grew up with people who thought you were harmless because you don’t show your rage as often…” He pulls me in his arms where my rage simmers out into passion, pulling a heavy sigh from my chest. “...but you are humble, not harmless.”

Want More Toshinori? Try: Atlas

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poppy-metal · 6 months ago

Note

MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."