#its in this word document and it's looking NEAT but umm umm

[kentocalls]

toshinori yagi | emerald

sfw. vague healing quirk. mafia!au (that will get written one day). mentions of: violence, feelings. reader is female & has long hair, also psst @actuallysaiyan

His first instinct is to keep his breathing steady. There’s an unfamiliar weight on his chest, not too heavy but light either. It’s warm, radiating, like a cat if he owned one. But he doesn’t.

As Toshinori Yagi opens his eyes, he first spots an unfamiliar spring green tuft of hair on his chest, it smells familiar. Like candies and apples,  then the sparkle of his diamond ring on your hand that seems to be emiting a sense of calm throughout his upper body.

Aren’t you quirkless? 

Perhaps this is Heaven and despite all his bad deeds he’s blessed with one of his many dreams of you coming true.  Gosh, why hasn’t he held you like this when he was living, why did he spend so much of his time pushing you away?

He knows why, he knows the danger his status brings.

He knows only peril awaits those that stand at his side.

His heart aches still though, if he’s here then, where are you?

It comes back to him like a rush, what Toshinori remembers is the start to a beautiful dinner spoiled and then tables being over turned, fire and guns and your face caked in something awful and red. He had held you into him, kept you from harm right?  But what is he doing here? In this dream land? He has to get up, speak to the ruler of Heavens and get back to you.

This must be a mistake, fuck. Please, he urges his body to move, to lift up. Please he has to get back to you, to that restaurant, to that chaos. He has to get you out of that hellscape, that’s his job, he promised you didn’t he? He’d never leave you alone, he’d never fail to protect you.

Fuck.

“Toshinori?” oh your sweet voice, eyes darting to the spring green hair that moves, revealing your much more paled and blanched eyes. They fill with tears anyway though, the beeping of a heart monitor, the sharpness of hospital lights, the cold air hit him all at once.

So it’s not Heaven, but still close enough since you’re really here with him.

His breathe eases, a hand to the top of your head, your deep emerald hair has faded from that earlier spring green to chartreuse. Is this why he feels peaceful, painless? Is it your hand on his heart causing this? “My…dear wife, I am here, I’m fine.”

This must be awfully uncomfortable for you, hunched over his hospital bed, but one of your hands stays firm on his heart as the other goes to touch his face, it still radiates peace and warmth and your fade fades still, into sea foam. “What…what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to use it but y—you and the bullet —the doctors said it they removed it but it was still touch and go and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…risk it if you didn't wake up.”

To think you had a way out, to think you still chose to save him, why would you do such a thing? Why do you cling to such a deceptive and vile man like him? Marriage to him has brought you nothing but loneliness, pain, endangerment.  You had no say in this, he promised to keep you safe and today he has failed it. He doesn't deserve any of your warmth or affections.  Toshinori holds at your wrists, lifting your hands off, the shock evident on your face. He can always tell what you’re thinking and he’s so sorry he keeps choosing to push you away.   

He can’t keep risking your life along with his, you weren’t asked to marry him, you pushed into it.  You aren’t meant for pain and tears and it seems that’s all that’s come to you since the wedding.  That’s all he’s able to give you. (In his eyes, from his skewed view of himself and the world he's trapped you in. Had he known the depth of your kindness, the fullness of your heart, had he known....)

“I’m fine.” But you know he means to say, please don’t strain yourself.

“Go home.” Because he knows you've been here for two days fretting over him, and he won't say you need to rest.

“Have the driver take you—“

“You stubborn man!”  Your hair color returning, the energy flowing in your veins increasing, he smiles at that. So your quirk is related to your hair, so he’ll always know if you push yourself too hard, “You took a bullet for me when you could’ve just flung it away.”

He could have, but to risking miscalculating and have the bullet graze you in any way? Never. Not worth it.

“I can’t die, my wife.”

“Yes, you can, my husband.”  He can, he can if he keeps stupidly taking risks like this.  Stupidly keeps rushing into help his men, his friends, his fraction. If he keeps this strong front up twenty four seven he’s going to—

“You’re upset again, I promise I'm okay.” A soothing hand to your face, you’re conflicted, you want to push away from him, to yell at him some more but also to be in his embrace, because here in this tiny room he’s not Toshinori Yagi, he’s not part of the MHA fraction. He’s not providing protecting and shielding others from big bad men.

Your hair is darker now, a woodland fern he thinks, it’s almost back to the shade that captivated him, that stark dark emerald against your white wedding dress. He thinks this is a good sign, he hopes it is. Your face is less pale, your eyes returning to their original color too. Except, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”  And angry and frustrated and sad. What if you didn't get the chance to tell him how you really feel? What if things didn't turn out okay?  And yes, what you are wearing is meant for a romantic dinner. (For the confession you so need to make.) You wanted tonight to go so differently, it’s tumbled into such a big mess. You shiver at the low hum of the hospital AC. Suppose you could go buy a warmer attire from the hospital gift shop but that would mean leaving Toshinori and that would mean not being able to use your quirk to make sure he heals.

“Come here, let me hold you.”  It will never stop bringing you joy when he offers moments like this, when you allow yourself to feel the depth of your emotions and move closer to him.

As you crawl onto him, the too small bed, the wires, and mattress protest but Toshinori stubbornly wraps his arms around you, he has to keep you warm too, protect you from the cold. Ensnare you with affection he wants to pour over until all your tears dry.  He knows he shouldn't covet your skin against his but he does. “My stupid, dumb, lovable husband.” His beautiful, adoring, precious wife.

He ignores the last word, “I am, I know. I make you worry.”

For all the violence his hands know, for all the cruelty his arms have dished out, he holds you gentler than a flower, let’s you plant your chest on his, let’s burrow your face in the crook of his collarbones, root your arms around his neck.  He breathes deep, candies and apples and your hair returning to it’s pretty pretty pretty green.

He can tell you’re fighting sleep, can feel your body relaxing and tensing, “Rest, it’s been a long day hasn’t it?”

“It’s late Saturday," so two days have passed, "…and another eight hour surgery…you made me worry so much.”

“I’m sorry, you must be so tired, here let me-“ As he tries to shuffle you off his form and onto the bed, you protest, hold him tighter, channeling all your inner koala and hold on. “Not leaving you, not until the doctor gives the all clear.”

You forget his strength, his own power, his own quirk.

But it feels nice, being fussed over, and in the privacy of this room, in the haze of painkillers and fleeting adrenaline, he lets himself indulge in it. Keeps you on his form, holds you close. “Then you need to rest too. Promise me.”

“You’ll be here? When I wake up, you won’t go…”  Ah, he has a terrible track record of doing that right?

“Rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Later, you’ll explain your quirk and why you don’t tell a soul you have it.

Later, you’ll yell at him more about needing him safe.

Later, you’ll confess the words that were so eager to slip from your tongue at dinner.

Later, right now, all you need is rest. All you need is your husband’s heartbeat.