#touya my beloved 😭🩷🩷🩷

[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.

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[misfit-megumi]

Little Feet - Touya x Reader

For my Follower Celebration. I wrote this in the Passing Peonies Universe, I hope my Anon Requester won't mind.

0. 

The bell chimes as the door opens. Rico smiles as he gingerly makes his way through the shop, careful not to throw any plants of the shelves. Not for the first time Touya is amazed how he could have ended up with a job like this with a Quirk like his.

“Himiko.” Touya calls for her. “Your husband is here.”

Himiko is nothing but a flash of blond hair and a green apron as she moves past him, leaping into Rico’s arms with a shriek.

“Baby!” She peppers kisses over his face and Touya turns away to give them some privacy. 

You’ve come out from the back room as well, carrying a Bonsai in your arms.

“Let me.” He moves over to take the heavy plant from you, taking the time to press his mouth against your temple.

“We’re going out for lunch.” Himiko declares somewhere from behind him and he turns, comment ready when he notices something that has him freeze.

He knows Rico to be protective, kind and overall gentle with everything that he does. But this is new. 

Himiko is standing in front of him, holding his left hand with both of hers, playing with his wedding ring. That’s a common sight but Rico’s right hand is protectively splayed over Himiko’s belly in a way that can only mean one thing.

Your hand lands on his elbow a second too late, as his tongue moves faster than his brain.

“Are you pregnant?” He asks and Himiko’s eyes flick up to his, something like fear visible in her eyes.

“Yes.” Rico answers for his wife. “We are.” There is so much pride in his voice Touya can feel it settle around him, like the first snow of the year. 

You gush excitedly next to him and not for the first time it feels like there are two separate conversations going on. One between you and Rico and one between him and Himiko. 

He swallows thickly and thinks what he wants to say. What she needs to hear…

“They better call me Uncle Touya.” He says, “The kid, I mean.”

Himiko’s face changes in slow motion, her eyes grow big with surprise before they fill with a soft fondness she rarely shows openly to anyone but those closest to her.

“Course.” Rico says and looks down at Himiko. “Right?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Of Course.”

They leave soon after for their lunch date, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask and step closer, take his hand and play with his fingers.

“I didn’t know they were planning to have children.”

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t.” You shrug. “But they are happy and they have all means necessary to raise a happy and healthy child.”

“Do you want children?” He turns to look at you. “I mean I know you want children and I want them too but I’ve been so caught up in just living one day after the other, I forgot to think about that we’re getting older and-”

You laugh softly and kiss him. 

“We’re not that old yet, Touya. We still have time if you don’t feel ready yet.”

“How about that?” He asks. “I’ll make sure that each day turns out nice and you’ll take the planning for the future?”

You laugh again. “We’re already doing that anyway, Touya. But yes, let’s do it that way.”

🪷

1.

Two yellow eyes blink back at Touya in a mess of chocolate pudding.

“Izumi.” He huffs softly and is rewarded with a bright, cheeky smile. “Yes, you know exactly what you did, I’m sure.”

The boy, barely one and a half years old yet big for his age, smashes his hands down into the mess covering his plate.

“I thought you loved chocolate pudding.” Touya grabs some wipes from the counter and starts wiping the boy's face, careful to be gentle.

With a groan, you wake up from your nap. Touya sends you a smile over the head of Izumi who’s at least not fighting against getting cleaned up.

“You’re already eating?” You ask, rubbing your face. “How long did I sleep?”

“Just long enough for Izumi to redecorate his face. When’s Himiko coming to pick him up? Did she say anything?”

“I don’t remember.” You yawn and sink down into the pillows again. “Gosh, I’m so tired.”

“That’s your coffee consumption coming back to haunt you.” He teases you and pulls Izumi out of his high chair.

The boy giggles happily as he gets carried over to where you are.

“Aunty.” He says softly, stretching out his arms towards you. Touya looks down at him, pride filling his chest. 

“Yes, that’s right Izumi. That’s Aunty. Can you say Uncle too?”

“Dada.” Izumi blinks up at him. 

“No, not Dada. Rico is Dada. You know, the big guy who puts you to bed every night?”

“Mama.” Izumi smiles brightly and you giggle at the defeated look on Touya’s face.

“Not Mama either. If you keep this up, I won’t let you play with our daughter when she’s born, you hear me?”

“Don’t be mean, Touya.” You huff and pull Izumi closer to you. The boy looks up at Touya and curls around your belly as if he knows that someone important is growing inside of it.

🪷

2.

His daughter is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

She’s red faced and wrinkly, hands balled to fists and screaming her head off.

Her eyes are as blue as his, capturing him the first time she opens them.

There are no words for what he feels. Warmth is seeping into every fiber of his body as he holds her, little Touju. This is a new kind of fire and one he never wants to go out.

“Look at her.” He tells you as Touju drinks eagerly, one of her tiny hands free from the blanket she’s wrapped in. “She’s so perfect.”

He kisses your temple, presses his face into your hair to hide his tears. But you know him better than that, your free hand finding his. You offer him comfort with your touch, a hand to hold onto. 

“I wonder if my Dad felt this way.” He tells you in a whisper, the words barely getting past his throat. “When I was born.”

“I think he did. I can’t imagine a parent not feeling this way for their child.”

He curls around you on the small hospital bed, wishing he could freeze his moment forever. Just you and him and Touju and nothing to be afraid of, nothing that can hurt any of you.

“Why wasn’t he a better father then?” He asks, tears burning in his eyes, choking him. “Why-?”

“Touya.” Your voice is soft but firm enough to pull him out of his mind. 

“I don’t want to excuse your fathers behaviours in the past but you cannot forget that he did not have any support besides your mother. You’ve been able to utilize therapy and other support. You are not the same.”

He falls silent after that, bringing your joined hands up to rest them under Touju, holding her close.

You don’t speak either, allowing him to process the moment.

🪷

3.

There’s no better thing than spending Sunday Mornings with his daughter on his chest while you sleep next to him.

Touju shares his tendency to wake up early, but as soon as she’s fed she falls quiet again. Her warm body fits perfectly against his and he smiles at her whenever she manages to lift her head to look at him.

There’s no better thing than her sweet babbling, her excited giggles or the face she makes when she eats, fully content with the world.

Touju might be the most loved child in the world.

His mother sewed her baby blanket by hand and the stuffed yellow duck that never leaves Touju’s side was made by your mother. 

His brothers and sister have a groupchat where they discuss who gets to babysit next and his father is known to hijack their plans by showing up first.

And then there’s Izumi.

The backroom is littered with pictures of the two children. 

Izumi holding Touju. The two of them cuddled up during a picnic. 

He’s close to his own little brother Yasushi, but he’s closer to Touju.

And when the worry comes knocking at Touya’s heart, your hand is there to hold his, to remind him… That you’re the one planning the future and he’s the one taking care of the day.

🪷

4.

Touju’s fourth birthday has come and gone without any sign of her Quirk.

She’s not too interested in it either, not when there’s so much other stuff to do.

“Too-chan.” She climbs into his lap during breakfast. “Can I come to work with you today?”

“Hmm?” He looks down at her. “You want to come to work with me?”

“YES! I want to help with the garden too!”

“Are you sure? Izumi comes into the shop after school.”

That has her rethinking her wish, lower lip caught between her teeth as she ponders her plans.

Touya looks over to you and stretches out his hand to softly caress the swell of your belly. You rest your hand on his, halting him in his movement just in time to make him feel his son kick.

“Too-chan…” He looks down at his daughter who seems to have come to a decision.

“Can we come back home early? I want to spend time with Izumi.”

“No, baby. I can’t come back home early. We’re at a tight schedule with the garden. But I can ask Aunt Fuyumi to pick you up after work and walk you home? Is that okay?”

She furrows her brows, distraught by having to choose between spending time with her father or her best friend. 

“Okay.” She says finally. “But can we cuddle before we go to work?”

“Of course.”

Touju sinks into him, face pressed against his chest just like she’s done as a newborn. 

Touya moves, careful not to disturb Touju, until he sits right next to you, elbows knocking into each other.

“Hey beautiful.” He kisses you.

You hiss into his kiss and he looks down at your belly.

“Touju.” He tells his daughter quietly. “I think you need to teach Hyouta to be a bit nicer to Mama.”

🪷

5.

They have gone over this so many times already, Touju’s rolling her eyes sassily as he explains again.

“This is important, Baby.” He tells her with his best Dad-voice. “Can you repeat what I just said?”

“If I feel funny, I have to step back from other people and hold up my hands in case my quirk is coming in. I have to find the nearest grown up and wait until the feeling passes.”

“Exactly. You’re doing great, baby. Until we know what your quirk is it’s best to be cautious, okay?”

“Are you afraid that it’s going to be fire like Grandpa?” Touju asks as she takes his hand to walk the short distance from the car to the garden they’re working in today.

“Any quirk can be dangerous when used wrong.” He explains and she cocks her head to the side to look at him.

“But Aunty Himiko was afraid, right? Izumi told me that she cried a lot before his quirk got in.”

“Aunty Himiko has been treated badly because of her quirk in the past. She didn’t want Izumi to be treated the same.”

“I think Izumi’s quirk is the coolest.” Touju exclaims with confidence. “He should become the next Symbol of Hope.”

“You think so?” He brushes a hand through her hair that she wanted to keep open today. 

“Yeah! He’s like the Phantom Thief, but cooler!”

“Well, you gotta tell Uncle Izuku then.”

“I did. Uncle Zuku said he thinks that it’s a great idea.”

“That sounds like him. Now, come on. We got to get to work.”

He turns away from her for a second to unlock the heavy gate to the garden. 

When he turns back, Touju look at him in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“Are you okay, Baby?”

“I feel weird.” She says, her voice high with anxiety. “Is that my Quirk coming in?”

“That depends. Take a deep breathe, okay? Like that. You’re doing great, Baby.”

Touju takes a deep breathe, then another. Her hands, still so tiny against his own, shake in front of her as they hold a perfect golden flame.

Touya sinks on his knees and puts his hands beneath hers, holding them steady.

“Look at it.” He says, his voice soft. “This is your gift.”

“Like Grandpa?” Touju asks, her voice breathy. 

“And Uncle Shouto and me. This is your quirk.”

“Are you mad that it’s fire?” Touju’s voice shakes like her hands had before. The flame disappears as if it hadn’t been there at all.

Touya pulls her close, wraps her up tightly in his arms.

“No.” He says, knowing that it’s the truth. “I could never.”

🪷

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Tagged all my Passing Peonies Friends.