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phantasmiac · 1 year

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in which you unexpectedly reunite with high school sweetheart!touya

cw/tw: pro hero!touya who is messy, touya’s pro hero name is blueflame, drug use mention, alcohol use and mention, reader is a detective/cop, bar fight woo, use of guns, mentions of blood, mention of a grandparents death, angst and a little fluff

wc: 4.9k

a/n: this is a follow up to my ua student!touya piece. you can read this without reading that but it’s more fun if you dooooo wink wink.

the number five hero is slightly beefier than he was three years ago; still lean in comparison to the likes of his hulk of a father or his broad shouldered little brother, but the biceps outlined by his tight fitting hero suit are not the same ones you once habitually wrapped your arms around. his old snake bites have been exchanged for a single hoop on the right side of his lip. long gone is the eyebrow piercing you used to hold between your fingers as a threat when his teasing would become a little too obnoxious, and in place are two additional studs on his nose that join the original to form a triangle shape. his snow white hair has been tainted by the tips, now dyed black. you think it looks like he’s been sweeping the soot out of a chimney; you wonder if the same idea has ever crossed his mind. he always did have a tendency to beat you to your own joke.

standing next to him is the wing hero, hawks; though you remember him best as “bird brain”, or the underclassman from ua that touya loved to complain about. you wonder if he remembers you from the few times you’d ran into him while glued to touya’s side. those interactions always left you scolding him about “being nicer” (“if you like him so much go date him then,” he’d grumble). they look like they make a good team. you know they make a good team; news channels made sure you did, with all those replays of battle clips. you never thought your touya would be capable of being civil with a rival, let alone working with them. if it hadn’t been just last week that you saw him caught up in another scandal, you might have believed he’d actually grown since you last had him.

“i hope that we’re all able to cooperate,” you hear your sergeant say, muffled by the intensity of your own thoughts and the blood pounding in your ears.

you’ve been looking at the heroes from a distance, merely peeking past the shoulders of your fellow deputies, all crowded together to greet them at the door of the small office. it’s easy to go unnoticed when touya looks so painfully uninterested, leaving hawks to do most of the formalities. it’s funny, seeing these flashy figures in a place as dull as the police department (the yellow fluorescent lighting isn’t a good look on anyone, really). the number five hero has his arms crossed across his chest, eyes lazy and directed towards the beige vinyl floor tiles. you think there’s a chance he might actually be listening to the discussion despite his expression. it’s hard to tell. you don’t know him that well anymore, after all.

“how much you wanna bet he’s on one right now?” the close up whisper and sudden hand on your shoulder nearly has you jumping out of your skin. kawabata is one of the two only other detectives your age in the division. you’ve moved up the ranks with him and frequently worked alongside him for cases, but your closeness hasn’t surpassed friendship — you’ve made sure of that. kawabata is kind, considerate, and a good looking guy. you think if you hadn’t met him so early on, while you were still trying to get over touya, you wouldn’t have worked so furiously to build the wall protecting you from his advances.

“what do you mean?” you ask. you know exactly what he means. and you know you have no right to feel angry. you’re equally as guilty of subscribing to touya hero related gossip and making bitter judgements. but hey, touya didn’t break his heart.

“and how exactly would you know whether or not he’s on something? you gonna go up and ask him yourself, tough guy? think you could take him?” a voice chirps in from your left. like a smug angel sent from heaven — as if she needed another reason to be your favorite coworker — saeki intercepts your conversation. kawabata’s face flushes a noticeable shade of red at her teasing. it has you digging your mouth in the palm of your hand to cover an escaping set of giggles, an action that only irks him on even more.

“i totally could!” he exclaims in a volume that both makes your heart stop and leaves the room uncharacteristically quiet.

sheepishly, you look up to see the crowd in front of you parting like the red sea, sets of eyes turning their gazes to where the three of you stand in the back of the room — you can feel his burning into you among them all. when you fully lift your head towards the front of the room, your breath hitches. pro hero blueflame is no longer standing there. it’s touya, sleepy eyes gone wide and mouth ever so slightly agape with his crossed arms threatening to falling to his sides. defenseless and vulnerable, caught by surprise. it’s a familiar image, one you used to want branded into your brain, captured every time you would suddenly pull him into a kiss. contrarily, the blush on his cheeks is missing. so is all the color in his face. he looks like he’s seen a ghost. maybe he believes he has, too.

it all feels too real now that you’re looking at one another, and the urge to run up and wrap your arms around his neck is suffocating. you want to embrace him as someone you lost. someone who was ripped apart from you, and has spent every waking moment looking to find you again, driven by the dream of your fateful reunion — but that’s just a fantasy. the reality is that todoroki touya walked out of your life with his heart in your hands and decided to never look back. now he unexpectedly finds himself standing in front of you, stunned, with nothing to return. the reminder is like oxygen to your lungs.

hawks recognizes you, that much is clear. he’s probably the only person in the room aware that a silent soap opera is playing out in front of him, and judging by the way he’s grinning while his eyes cartoonishly dart back and forth between you and his partner, he’s enjoying the show.

“ha!” your sergeant is looking at you in a way that’s scarily reminiscent of the look your grandmother used to give you in public whenever you would act out as a child. the one that said you’re in for it when we get home. he maintains his best people pleasing grin and turns his attention back to the heroes. “saving me the introductions! those three are our youngest detectives….. clearly.” he mutters. “they’ll be the ones working most closely with you on this case. i believe you’re all close in age. we’re hoping that makes for an easier dynamic.”

and there goes that oxygen. you want to smack the look of subtle elation off each person standing before you. you know they’re not happy for you. they’re happy for themselves (perhaps with the exception of hawks and his shit eating, ear to ear grin). and then touya. you’re not really sure what to make of the twinkle that appears at the center of the storm that's been brewing behind his eyes.

you feel kawabata’s hand finds its place back on your shoulder, giving it a few pats of acknowledgement. the twinkle visibly disappears; the storm clouds grow darker.

the small claps, the rounds of congratulations and the confused calls of your name from your two colleagues all become distant as you trail after your sergeant out the door and down the hall. you deliberately avoid looking up at touya during your exit, but you’re still able to pinpoint the exact moment you brush past him. it’s not his particular smell or the warmth that he radiates that alerts you; it’s just a feeling in your gut.

your attempts at getting removed from the case were futile. maybe you were a little naive to think there was even a chance to begin with, but for the sake of your sanity, you had to try. the reality is that no detective is itching to work with heroes; much less heroes with as shitty of a public image as the dynamic duo currently in question. throwing scraps to the youngins, that’s all it really is.

you learn that you’ll be working together on a mob bust during your one and only meeting together, where you let kawabata take the lead (who was more than happy attempting to assert some sort of dominance). you spent the entire time silently begging touya to quit staring at you from across the conference table. you knew if he was anything like you remembered, he was more than likely going to attempt to catch you outside to talk. your solution was to come up with some bullshit excuse about having to share “confidential information” in order to get them to leave the room first, a request that earned you an audible scoff from an obvious perpetrator. by the time your impromptu briefing was over, the pair had left the building for their other duties, and a single word had yet to be shared between you.

the next evening, you and your teammates find yourself standing at the discussed location. it’s a dingy, seemingly abandoned warehouse that sits next to a river, saturated by the hues of the sunset. you’ve been standing at a safe distance for nearly half an hour, since the plan has essentially reduced you to backup.

“more like chauffeurs,” a voice yawns out. it’s a surprise to no one that kawabata is unhappy with the strategy.

it was touya himself who had declared that he and hawks would be the ones to enter the warehouse and restrain the suspects. if there was some sort of escape attempt, you’d be the ones to handle it. otherwise, you were really just there to collect them and take them to the station. sure, it was a bit patronizing to hear it from him of all people, but you agreed that it was the safest route to take. touya had his blazing flames and hawks had his wings of steel. if kawabata’s hands fidgeting at his holster indicated anything, it was that the three of you were restricted to using your guns. there was no telling exactly what you’d be up against, and you weren’t exactly eager to come back to the station in a body bag.

“it’s like they’re in there having tea or something. so quiet,” saeki mumbles as she paces around back and forth. her steps suddenly come to a halt as a thought visibly develops, and she’s turned to look at you with mischievous eyes. “speaking of quiet. what’s been up with you recently?”

the question has you flinching. “running off to the sergeant about the case? not taking charge during the meeting yesterday? what’s going on with the golden rookie?”

saeki’s tone isn’t malicious. she’s teasing you, like always, but you can’t help but feel like an animal backed into a corner at her sudden questioning. you’ve never told a soul that the current number five hero happens to be your high school sweetheart. it’s something you’ve wanted to erase from your own memory for years, and you’d believed you were making progress up until a few days ago. it’s humiliating, even more so now that your coworkers have noticed his presence interfere with your work ethic.

by the time you come out of your dissociated state, the stares of your comrades have become concerned. the silence is heavy, and you try to muster up something to make the atmosphere less uncomfortable. instead, you’re choking on your words.

“can you blame her?” kawabata butts in in an attempt to save you. “they’re making us work with a borderline felon. the narcotics unit probably has a whole file on blueflame,” he chuckles.

saeki seems to find it funny enough that the silence is replaced with laughter. but you’re still quiet, and it’s not because you’re at a loss for words. you’re biting your tongue. touya isn’t yours to defend anymore. if anything you should be joining in, adding some more quips into the mix. but you can’t help the anger that consumes you at kawabata’s badmouthing. you want to yell out “you don’t know him like i do!” like some silly lovesick schoolgirl. what a joke.

the sound of shattering glass has all your heads turning and your hands reaching towards your guns. you see shards raining down from a window on the other side of the warehouse, along with a silhouette that’s seemed to land on its feet. the three of you quickly approach the corner as silently as you can in a triangle formation. you’re now able to see the men the silhouettes belonged to as they attempt to make a run for it, completely unaware of your presence. they’re alerted by the “freeze!” that kawabata bellows.

it manages to get them to turn around. there’s a brief panic in their eyes that’s quickly replaced by a mixture of relief and malignancy at the sight of your guns and badges. it makes them bold enough to ignore your warnings and start walking towards you. their proximity forces shots to be fired; one of the men lifts his hand, and the bullets start flying wildly. one of them flies back towards you and narrowly misses, grazing your cheek. a metal quirk.

the culprit’s partner makes a pushing motion with his arms towards you, and you feel a force throwing you back. it’s all too quick to process. you’re suddenly meters away from you were just standing and away from your coworkers, back against the pavement. from where you’re laying you can see the men closing in on them. though your body is in shambles from the impact, your concern for your friends gives you the willpower to stand up and run back for them. a large wall of blue fire stops you in your tracks and blocks your line of vision. the adrenaline doesn’t allow you to make the connection between the fire and it’s potential user; all you can think about is the safety of your friends, and it has your hands gripping at your hair in distress.

it’s only a few seconds later that the fire dwindles, and your arms fall at your sides. in front of you, taking the fires place, is him, unscathed and looking down at you with an expression that screams high and mighty. “didn’t realize you were fucking quirkless now.”

it’s his first set of words to you in years, and yet your focus is over his broad shoulders. he follows your eyes towards both of your coworkers; but all he can see is that fucking dork from the meeting. the same one that put his hand on your shoulder all chummy the day he first saw you. the one who clearly has a thing for you.

you shove him aside and march away. you see hawks towering over the culprits who are now being held to the pavement by his feathers. you feel touya towering over you as he stalks you from behind. it irks you; it’s probably best to ignore him, but three years of rancor and your current aggravation compel you to respond.

“well what would you know about me anymore,” you don’t look back to see his reaction. “law enforcement aren’t permitted to use their quirks. you should know that, number five.”

touya watches blood gush down your cheek as you berate him. he’d be huffing smoke if he could. of course he knows that. what he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, is why you’re working this shitty job in the first place. three years ago, you held a golden ticket in your hands in the form of a secured, successful future. how the hell did you get here?

he brings his hand to your cheek to wipe the blood off. “stupid fucking job, then.”

the sudden grip on his wrist could leave a bruise on a common civilian. you rip his hand away like he’s burnt you, and he looks back at you like you’ve done the same. touya has never seen you seething. annoyed, mostly, at all his teasing when you were together. you were always so patient with him, something no one else was ever able to do. something no one else has been since the day he left you. but angry with him? never. it’s something he expected all those times he would fantasize about a day where he’d run into you again. he certainly deserves it. but seeing it now — it makes him want to throw himself in the river and let the current swallow him whole.

touya doesn’t know how much of your self worth depended on him back then. it’s not something you ever brought up out of embarrassment. he doesn’t know how hard you worked to build yourself back up while having to hear about him thriving and hooking up with someone new every weekend. so maybe you’re wrong for wanting to rip his head off because of three silly words. he doesn’t know. and he’ll never know, because he abandoned without so much as a lousy text.

“well then it's a good thing it's my job and not yours. so you’re welcome to fuck off and disappear somewhere right after this.”

you think the universe really has it out for you when you see touya again the very next night. you’re at your usual bar, on your usual stool, with your usual drinking buddies. the bar is located in a small, quiet town; the same one you live in. seeing two top ten pro heroes around the area? very unusual.

you figure he must be staying around until his next duty calls and happened to find this place. his bird friend is missing at his side. three women take his place, tracing the tattoos littering his arms and giggling at his every word. it’s a sight you’ve seen in images countless times already, but none of those times prepared you for the ache in your chest when seeing it in real life. he’s wearing a black polo shirt that squeezes at his form; you really are no better than those women.

saeki and kawabata are chatting away about yesterday's events. how lucky you all were that “metal man” didn’t have great control of his quirk, how humiliating being saved was. both of them are about two shots in when they start blubbering a bunch of nonsense about starting a protest and how they would beat everyone’s asses if they could use their quirks.

“are you with us or are you against us?” you nearly fall off the stool when kawabata slams his fist and shakes the whole counter. “hey you’re not even listening!”

a dramatic shriek from saeki has you nearly breaking your neck in concern, only to find her looking where you’d just been. “this is so humiliating. we have to leave, immediately. or kill him. or both. for my own mental health, i just can’t ever look at that guy again.”

agreed, you think to yourself.

you realize her voice has traveled greater distances than your own ears when touya’s blue orbs shoot towards your group. it’s all too reminiscent of that day in the office and you silently curse your friends for repeatedly doing this to you. maybe you’re tipsier than you thought you were, because you think you see a tiny blue wisp ignite on touya’s shoulder for a mere nanosecond. the way he proceeds to flirtatiously whisper something to the women and moves one of them to the side by the waist makes you doubtful.

you feel the need to brace yourself for his arrival, hands gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles turn white. it doesn’t take long for arms to cage you in from behind. what you don’t expect are his hands placing themselves on top of yours; it’s infuriating how the action makes your heart flutter, but it quickly steadies itself when your nose catches the smell of alcohol. he reeks of it. he must not be in his right mind.

“you following me?” he whispers directly into your ear, breath running down your neck. you’re not strong enough for this.

“absolutely not,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “the hell is wrong with you?”

he only chuckles and rubs circles on your knuckles. the tension makes you forget about the presence of your friends, though you’re quickly reminded when the chuckling suddenly stops and touya’s shoved off of you.

“dude, who the hell do you think you are?” kawabata is a few inches taller than touya, but you know he’s no match. you’d never forgive yourself if he got beat to a pulp because of your carelessness. it’s a pity that touya has always been so quick witted.

“if i remember correctly, i’m the guy that saved your sorry ass,” touya mocks like he’s been waiting for the opportunity; it warrants the first punch. it’s strong enough to send touya’s head whipping to the side. kawabata wastes no time in tackling him to the ground while he has the chance. the women touya flirted with previously are screaming like they’re about to witness a murder, and the bartender is demanding that they knock it off but making no move to actually stop the fight; probably afraid of ending up on the news or something. you hear a laugh before touya manages to turn the fight around and get on top to throw his own punches. it’s then that you realize you really need to do something.

you’re slightly embarrassed having to play the role of idiot trying to calm their “boyfriend” down using the power of love, but you see no other way. you know better than to try to yank him off, so you resort to the second dumbest option, crouching down in front of the scene and reaching out to hold his face in your hands. if he’s as drunk as he smells, this might just work.

“hey! touya. touya! let’s go home.”

the punches come to a halt. the collective confusion is comical. kawabata looks up at you like you’ve grown five heads from the ground below, nose all bloody. it’s impossible to miss saeki’s drunken “huh?” from above. and touya. his face has completely softened, and those tiny little wisps of fire are now undeniable. for a moment, you’re both sixteen again, sitting on your living room floor after having your second kiss.

“okay,” he whispers.

the first thing touya notices upon getting through your door is that your apartment is small. way smaller than his luxury loft. the second thing he notices is that he immediately feels more at home there than he ever has at his own place. and finally: he thinks about how he should have been the one to live here with you in the first place. there’s no evidence of him ever existing in your life as far as he can see. it should come as no surprise, but it still hurts a little, considering all the old photos of you currently being held up by a magnet on his fridge. the ones he’s had to regularly avoid explaining to all the hookups who’ve been nosy enough to ask.

on your wall there’s a framed photo of you at your graduation, from a school he doesn’t know about and has never heard of; very much not the one you were going to before he’d ghosted you. there’s a photo of you at the police academy, receiving work related awards and diplomas, and jesus fucking christ even that dickface has spots on your wall (saeki is very much in those photos, too. he just really enjoys torturing himself). finally, he sees the pictures of you and your grandmother. it cheers him up a bit, remembering how much he adored that sweet lady. probably hates his guts now, but he still feels compelled to ask about her while you’re scavenging through your cabinets for something like a wild animal.

he hates how your movements freeze and all the ruckus dies down at his question. instantly, he knows.

“she, uh. she passed away, after….” he knows.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. you didn’t kill her,” you laugh humorlessly. you stand up from below your sink, first aid kit in hand. touya is looking at you like a wounded puppy, and it makes you really laugh. “she was sick, touya. you’re not a murderer, at least as far as i know. now sit,” you point to the couch.

there’s a teddy bear sat on the other side, mocking him. it reminds him of your first date — the day after your first kiss — at an arcade. he’d emptied out his pockets to win you a stuffed white cat with blue glass eyes, all because you said it reminded you of him. he was persistent even after you insisted it was okay, after his umpteenth attempt at that stupid crane machine. he was convinced you started to love that stupid thing more than him after awhile, even if it’s name was “touya jr”. the door to your bedroom is slightly cracked open. he wonders if touya jr. might be in there, on the same spot on your bed.

you first get to work on touya’s nose piercings, wiping them down with a cotton swab and hydrogen peroxide. you think to yourself that aftercare for three nose studs must have been a bitch, and touya was always shit at remembering to clean them. the bathroom in your house used to be stocked on wound wash, and you’d made it a point to tell fuyumi to make sure he was cleaning them at home. you wonder how all his siblings are doing now. natsuo should be in the beginnings of high school, and shouto in middle school.

“if you wanna know so bad maybe you should just come home with me,” he says, head shot towards the ceiling per your instructions.

“don’t be stupid,” you shoot him down. you’re hard at work trying to stop the blood that suddenly won’t stop dripping.

“why not? dickface won’t like it?”

“who?”

touya makes punching motions with his hands, and an honest giggle leaves your lips. the sound makes touya lower his head to get a good look at you, that expression he’s missed so much.

“kawabata,” you correct him, and touya wants to grumble that if you like his last name that much maybe you should just take it. he doesn’t (what if it actually gives you ideas?). “nah. not my type. but i might have to use my charms to get him back in my good graces now".

“well i think i hit him hard enough so that he'll have to fix his face. you’re welcome.”

it earns him a flick on the forehead. you instantly worry that you’re acting too comfortable around him, and it has you drawing your hands back and squirming in your seat. touya can tell you’re flustered. just yesterday you were speaking to him like you hated his guts — it’s the very reason he found himself in that bar tonight — and now you’re tending to his wounds the way you did when you had loved him. he knows he’s done nothing to deserve a second chance, nothing to prove that he never once stopped loving you. but he’s prayed to a god he doesn’t even believe in for a chance at meeting you again for so long; so he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity.

“hey. do you think we could ever try again?”

the cotton swab falls from your fingers. he watches your eyebrows furrow and a lump form in your throat. you let your head fall, and he fights the urge to pick it back up. you probably don’t want him to see what you’re thinking, and he knows he’s not entitled to that privilege. with baited breath he waits, and continues to beg whatever higher power there is to give him one more chance. he silently promises he’ll get his act together, make up for everything he’s done, if he can just have you back.

after what feels like an eternity, you look back up at him with tears in your eyes. touya feels your weight being lifted off the couch when you stand, and he immediately knows. he’s not above getting on his knees and begging, but you’d always given him more than he deserved. so he sits still.

“‘m running out of cotton swabs,” you mutter.

a silent sob racks through your body when you close the bathroom door behind you. you will never not be madly in love with touya; but you think you’ll always be afraid to trust him with your heart again. and you know it’s pitiful and fucked up to wish you were the person you used to be, especially after you spent so much time trying to be better; but that person was weak enough to have taken touya back in a heartbeat. so in a moment of weakness, you allow to yourself regress back to that version, heading back to the living room with your answer.

you come back only to find that touya is already gone again.

★ a/n pt ii: if you were one of the people who read part one very early on and have been waiting for a part two for over two months I am so sorry AHHHHHHH I thought about writing part two literally every single day but could never find the inspiration to actually do it and then during my winter break I wrote like HALF and I literally finished this bad boy up in a day.

☆ tag list for those who wanted a part ii: @touwuya @ijustrepost @goblinhobo @yelloeukulele @nadyyl @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @abeokutea

#he comes back #and he does beg #dabi drabble #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi angst #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic #dabi fluff

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