#I'M CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Arcane will be out in less than a day y'all

[theraincanttouchus]

something random that I hope makes ur day happier: I was going through tiktok and a moot was rec-ing your svsss fanfic! I have yet to read it, but it stood out to me lol

Omg..... Like for real!!!????

I can't imagine anyone recing my fics, holly molly this is... Wow!!!!!

I love that fic, it's the first one shot I've written in a while, and it's the first time I wrote a fic while still in the fandom. I always end up writing once there are no more fics to read, ie when I'm on my way out of the fandom but for this one I didn't and I wrote it almost as soon as I had the idea and the inspiration was so fresh and I loved the end result so much, and I'm so, so happy that people are enjoying it too!!!!!

Thank you so much for telling me!!!

[misfit-megumi]

"Isn't that love, that you love something not only despite its imperfections but simply because of them?"

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part IV

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

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 4: (2,1k words)

You’re a good teacher.

He’d known before but it becomes clearer now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌺.

Three months later you’ve fallen into a rhythm. 

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

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

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

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

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

🌺.

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

His heart skips traitourously.

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

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

“What’s the occasion?”

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

“And the other reasons?”

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

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

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

“And the last thing?”

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

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

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

-

“Do you want to talk about him?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, please, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on.” He tells you. “Not today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you? Five?” 

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

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

“You make me sound like an addict.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because that’s your favorite food?”

“True. But it’s also the only thing I can make. Well, when the sun’s in the right position and the moon’s not looking, I can also make a fried egg.”

He laughs at that. 

“You seem so talented, I thought you’d be good at everything.”

Your smile wavers and you wipe your fingers, signaling you’re done with your food.

“Want to take a walk?” You ask and he nods, throwing away the trash and meeting you at the door.

Something in him wants to take your hand, make sure your pulse is still the same as always, that you’re fine and well and there with him, but he knows that’s not the whole reason.

He wants to take your hand because he wants to hold it and feels like a ZZ plant that’s been put in a dark spot, longing for more light and scared it might burn him at the same time.

He doesn’t put his hands in his pockets, lets them hang by his side loosely, hoping against hope that your hand will knock into his as if a ray of sunlight might accidentally come his way.

-

“My father died five years ago.” You tell the night sky above you. “He had a heart attack and died in his sleep. I miss him every day. And I know he’d be proud of me. Of what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. He’d love my apartment and my shop and even if he’d call every bouquet I make perfection, he’d still pluck around in it, because he couldn’t let anything go untouched. Isn’t that love, that you love something not only despite its imperfections but simply because of them?”

Heaviness settles in his gut yet again as your words sink in. 

You look at him and he wonders if you’re talking about him too. 

He thinks about his parents, his siblings, his friends - if he can call them that. 

He wonders if they love him despite his imperfections and he wonders if he loves them.

“My mother remarried three years ago. And I’m happy for her, because her new husband is really nice, and she’s happy. But they moved, about two years ago, to America of all places. Plane tickets are expensive.”

“It gets lonely sometimes.” He says, not really knowing why until you nod.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah.”

He wants to say that he’s here now. That you can lean on him. That he’ll be there for you.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t. He shouldn’t. He won’t.

So he doesn’t say anything and it seems to be the right thing, allowing the two of you to walk in silence through the dark.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake

taglist is open, if you want to join, just mention it in a comment or send me a message.

[hualian]

Heaven Official's Blessing new short film PV to celebrate 4 years of the donghua 🦋

[im-literally-just-sitting-here]

EU NÃO ACREDITO QUE VOCÊS VÃO TIRAR A CLEO DO TORNEIO O MUNDO É UM LUGAR INJUSTO E DESOLADO E EU VOU CHORAR POR 10 DIAS E 10 NOITES APARTIR DE AGORA VAI SE FUDER SJJSJSJSSSJSJJS

[puyoupuyou]

⚠️cw // blood

And I wanted to be able to listen, to digest the bloody images, to paint them flat and unremarkable on the vase of posterity. To release him from it, and make him Achilles again.

one of my favorite lines in the song of achilles! every time i reread them they always gut-punched me in ways i could not describe 🧎

[mayasdeluca]

Welcome Home Wynonna. The official trailer for Wynonna Earp: #Vengeance is finally here and coming to Tubi this fall.

[peterpcrker]

X-MEN: FIRST CLASS 2011 | dir. Matthew Vaughn

[pixieishottogo]

bruh i was looking at the reddit post that the director of the canceled treasure planet 2 movie made, like a q&a. someone brought up a character named "molly" and i was like who is that?? WHEN I TELL U I LOOK HER UP IN THE TREASURE PLANET WIKI AND I SEE THIS

SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JOHNS LOVE INTEREST THAT HE WRONGED IN HIS PAST

i was SCREAMING

u dont know how freaking fast i texted @forkloverr

[werecreature-addicted]

for someone who wants to bang a werewolf, I sure do scream like a fire alarm when my dog brings me "gifts" (dead lizard) realistically if a man brought me his hunt as a gift I'd pass out.

[pearlshroom]

The kiss scene has been on my mind 24/7!!!!!!!??!?

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

have not seen anyone talk about this, so guess I gotta do it?? damn okay.

Ed viewing Izzy as a plausible method for ending his life (and even dreaming about Izzy killing him) vs. Stede appearing to Ed in the Gravy Basket and Ed clinging to Stede's presence as a reason to live.

Izzy representing death vs. Stede representing life. Like. This show. This fucking show. God, I love the writing in this show. I love the contrasts and parallels and I love noticing stuff like this.

[misfit-megumi]

I'M SOBBING!!!! THIS IS ONE OF THE FICS THAT I'LL BE REREADING FOR SURE

THANK YOU FOR THIS MASTERPIECE, DIRA, THANK YOU FOR THE SWEET JOURNEY 😭🩷😭🩷😅🩷

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part XIV

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

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

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still his voice shakes as he starts to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your quirks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

Enji shakes his head with a knowing smile.

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

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

“I think she will. Just be honest.”

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

“I will.” 

He watches the car drive off and turns to look.

-

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

He tries the door, surprised to find it open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Rico helped.”

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

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

His hand is still clutched around the doorknob.

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

“That’s good, right?”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌺.

Passing Peonies,

on my walk,

I catch my breath.

There is something

so endearing

about the way

they hold themselves

so tightly in a fist.

I don’t think they know 

their loveliness

or perhaps they do.

I wonder, do they fear 

their brief opening?

(Passing Peonies, Cindy Smith)

🌺.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I know.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

“What? What are you not telling me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

The day is long, as it always is. 

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

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

“I took her home around midnight.”

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

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

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

“Huh. She didn’t tell me that.”

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

-

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

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

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself.” He kisses you softly. 

For a moment, time freezes.

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

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

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

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

Life is good, because he’s with you.

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

[myk444]

[selquet]

Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

[shima-draws]

Worst feeling ever is when you go to reread a fic you really like and find out it's been deleted. Even WORSE worst feeling ever is checking the author's profile and finding out they've deleted all of their fics entirely