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TRACK TWELVE: JASON TODD // boyfriend - ariana grande
trope: fake relationship
warning: nsfw, car sex
event link
Jason is so touchy. His hand burns where it’s settled across your waist, ensuring your side is flush against his own. He’s all hard muscle, warm skin that presses against you. He’s wearing a button up that stretches over his arms and his chest, and the material is soft underneath your hands. He’s holding your drink for you, your second glass of wine that tastes so expensive you feel guilty drinking it.
This would be nice for someone else. To anyone outside looking in, the fact you’re joined at the hip, the way he occasionally brushes your hair to the side to whisper something in your ear, it all looks so sickeningly sweet and couple-like. You, on the other hand, are trying very hard not to throw up in your mouth.
This entire thing, the waist-holding and the drink-holding, it’s all a lie.
When Jason had approached you for this, you’d thought he was crazy. It was something out of a cheap 90’ romcom. Jason, after a violent argument with his brothers, had sworn that he in fact was not emotionally unstable and that he could keep a girlfriend, and that he even had one he’d been hiding from them. This was all a lie, of course. Especially the whole ‘keeping a girlfriend’ part. There was apparently a week-long getaway that the family had every Thanksgiving, one that Jason had promised to bring his supposed girlfriend to.
That’s where you come in.
You’re apparently the only woman Jason knows that can stand to be around him for a week, and was lonely enough on Thanksgiving to be available. Your own family was away for the holidays, and you were painfully, no boyfriend for you to crash with.
You and Jason are coworkers, and it had taken him three work days to convince you to do it, interrupting your meetings with post-it notes and cornering you at your desk. He begged and begged and the only reason you said yes was because he promised that he’d get you in on the project you’d been begging your boss to let you run. And you’re nothing if not a woman who wants to forward her career, so you’d agreed.
You both took the three hour drive up to the place to corroborate your stories. You’d met at work, fallen in love over spreadsheets and the coffee he brought you every morning. He asked you out, you’d said yes, and the rest was history.
And for the most part, you think it's working.
His family all seemed to like you when you walked in. You’d been nervous. You felt out of place the moment he pulled up into the driveway. The house was nice. Nice was actually an understatement. It was huge, with what looked like three storeys, and you can’t help but let your mouth drop open in shock as you catch sight of it. It looked like those houses you drive by in the middle of nowhere and wonder what millionaire lives inside it. Apparently, Jason’s father.
The drive lit up as Jason pulled in, large trees and greenery lining the pathway. The house was beautiful, big glass windows and beautiful, dark hardwood. You couldn’t help but gasp as you got out of Jason’s car.
“Oh my god. How rich are you?” You marvelled.
“That’s an impolite question.” Jason scolded you lightly. His car beeped as he locked it.
Your feet crunched against the gravel as you walked around, taking in every detail you could. It was more rustic than where you’d figure a rich person would want to live, none of the modern architecture you sort of hate, which gives the family a few good points in your book.
“You know, I’m surprised you work. If my dad had this kind of money I’d be a bum.”
Jason snorted. He linked his arm through yours, and you stiffened before you remembered the whole fake dating ordeal. Jason gave you a look.
“Relax.” He murmurred. “You’re so tense.”
“I’m not tense. I’m just a little nervous.” You admitted.
“My family is fine. A little intrusive. Sort of annoying. And they sometimes talk too much.” You watched as Jason’s face turned slightly sour at the mention of them and you groaned.
“You’re not helping.” You hissed. “Are they- Did we prepare enough?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.” He said bluntly, swinging the door open.
They were all stood in the foyer once he finally managed to drag you into the house. It seemed that Jason’s good looks were not a one-off thing, because the three men that stood in front of you were very attractive. The tallest one you assumed was Dick, Jason’s older brother. He smiled brightly at you as you walked in, his eyes creasing with the size of it, and you immediately liked him. The other brother, Tim, was still young, the remnants of his youth fading away from the softness of his cheeks. His grin was a little more mischievous, and you felt a little on edge at the way he eyed the two of you up.
His father was the most intimidating, a tall, broad man whose presence filled the room. And that face looked familiar, and you quickly realised that Bruce Wayne was standing in front of you. Bruce Wayne, the playboy millionaire that just about anyone with a brain in Gotham knew.
“Your father is Bruce Wayne?” You whispered to Jason.
“I didn't mention it?” Jason smiled at you sweetly and you glared at him before your attention was drawn back to his brothers.
Jason hadn’t gone into too much detail in regards to his relationship with his family. He’d hinted that there was something there that made him reluctant to go to the whole thing, and that your presence would take some of the load off.
Dick came over first. He shook your hand, warm and calloused. “Hi. You must be Y/N. I’m Dick.”
“Yeah you are.” Jason mumbled and you bit back a laugh, giving Dick a smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” You said, and before he can get a word in, Tim bounded over.
“You are way to pretty to be dating that beast next to you.” His handshake was much more excited and you laughed a little nervously.
“Thank you. I think.”
Jason rolled his eyes, shoving Tim’s shoulder. “Back off. You’re freaking her out.”
“I’m not freaked out, it’s fine.”
You walked over to Bruce to greet him next. It was strange seeing a man you’ve watched on the news and seen in the paper standing right in front of you like it’s nothing. “Thank you for having me, Mr Wayne.”
His smile was small, his handshake firm. “Please, call me Bruce.”
You felt a little in awe, embarrassingly so, and you nodded, taking a step back to stand with Jason. His hand slips effortlessly against your waist, like it’s been there a thousand times, and you try your hardest to look comfortable.
If you're being honest, it’s not hard to pretend to be in love with Jason.
Jason always had a certain charm about him. Making faces at you during especially boring meetings, offering to stay late to help you finish up work. If you’re being completely honest, part of you likes Jason. You just refuse to let yourself see him as anything but a coworker. Because anything else is too dangerous of a path to go down. It’s hard enough ignoring how good he looks in the work-issued plain white button up, the soft brown eyes that always seem so insistent in making eye contact with you during every conversation.
The place is nice. Really nice, even more from the inside. Jason gave you a tour, showing you the living room, the dining room. The garden with an entire outdoor seating area and a firepit. And then, Jason showed you the room you’d be staying in.
You paused at the door. “There’s only one bed.”
Jason didn’t seem to notice the issue. He walked in easily, and opened up his bag, suspiciously small for the week-long stay, and dumped it into one of the empty drawers. “Clever girl.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” You asked a little nervously, fingers drumming against the handle of your suitcase.
Jason shot you a strange look. “What are you talkinga about? You’ll sleep on the bed.”
You sighed irritatedly. You dragged your suitcase into the room and shut the door behind you. “Well if I’m taking the bed where will you sleep?” You said in a hushed tone.
The situation seemed to dawn on him, because he straightened, pausing his movements. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Jason shut the drawer with a click. “I’ll take the floor.”
You sat down on the bed with a huff. It was soft, smooth silk that felt slippery beneath your fingers. It was comfortable, and you felt a pang of guilt at him sleeping on the hard floor. “Isn’t there somewhere else you can sleep? I’m sure a huge house like this has a guest room.”
Jason shakes his head. “No, I can’t do that. How’s it going to look if you and I aren’t sleeping in the same room?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
You glanced back down at the bed. It wasn't small. It was big enough for you both, more than big enough. And it can’t be that bad to sleep beside him. You’d place some pillows between you both to stave him off if you have to.
“It’s fine. We’ll just both sleep on the bed.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I really don’t mind.”
You stood, dragging your suitcase to the drawers to stand beside him. You unzipped it, and began packing your own clothes away.
“It’s fine. Who am I to make my fake boyfriend sleep on the floor?”
All in all, you fit in easily with the Waynes. You’re all milling about before dinner, drinking wine and champagne and chatting as Alfred sets the table. Because they do that here. Have a butler to set up the dinner table.
You tap Jason’s hand and he looks down at you, a question in his eyes.
“I need to pee.” You whisper, and he nods, and as if it’s second nature, places a quick kiss to your lips before he lets you go.
Which is fine. And normal. And something you two had previously discussed.
On the way to the lodge, you stopped by the first fast food place you drove past, and you were eating fries from the bottom of the bag when the subject was brought up, leaning against the door to face him. The car park was relatively empty, still early enough in the day that most sane people weren’t eating burgers and fries for breakfast. You’d been discussing how the fake relationship would all work, when the thought crossed your mind. You hadn’t been able to ignore it the second it had, and finally managed to ignore your embarrassment long enough to bring it up.
“So.” You said. “What about PDA?”
“What about it?” He replied with a half smile on his face.
You roll your eyes, sitting up. “Well, won’t it be weird if we don’t kiss or hug or anything? Surely that’s going to be a giveaway?”
Jason fixes you with a look, eyes narrowing. When he speaks his voice is low and teasing. “If you wanna kiss me that bad you can just ask.”
“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose and throw a chip at him and ignore the flutter in your stomach. “I’m being serious, Todd.”
He hums, picking it up and popping it into his mouth. “Probably shouldn’t call me Todd. Too formal. How about babe?”
“Gross.”
“The love of my life?”
You throw another chip at him that he catches it this time. “That’s grosser. And also not what I was asking about.”
Jason thinks for a moment. The car smell like greasy takeout and his pine car freshener, and the radio plays softly in the background as you both eat.
“Well, I’m fine with whatever. As long as you’re comfortable, we can, you know.” He shrugs. “Kiss, hug.”
Your lap suddenly seems very interesting. You may have thought about kissing Jason once or twice, but never under false pretences like this. You think he mistakes the troubled look on your face for something else, because he quickly adds to his earlier sentiment.
“Only if you want to. We don’t have to, I know this is weird-“
“It’s okay. I want to.”
He pauses for a minute, and then grins at you. “You want to?”
“Shut up! Not like that!”
“Well, seeing as you want to kiss me so bad I think we’ll be okay.” He nods solemnly.
You glare at him. “Enough. Only if there’s people around. For appearance sake.”
He takes a big bite of his burger and you grimace as ketchup spreads across half his face. “We’re making rules now?”
“Yes, we are. Rule number one, no kissing when it’s just us around.” You roll your eyes at him. “Stop talking with your mouth full.”
He makes an effort to show you the half-chewed food in his mouth after that.
Knowing it’s just for show doesn’t make his kiss feel any less good. Especially when his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, before he gives you a soft smile, letting you go. The butterflies in your stomach last all the way until you reach the toilet, shutting the door quickly and resting your forehead against it.
It takes a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. You walk to the sink briskly and wash your face with cold water but it does nothing to ease the emotions racing through your head.
Things are getting a little out of hand, you think. Maybe you’ve gaslit yourself into thinking this relationship is real, because you’re starting to like Jason. Not like a fake boyfriend, but something more, something too real for you to process. It had been slow, gradual, but somewhere along the lines the whole fake part of this relationship had blurred. All the soft touches and the nights up talking in his bed. You learnt a lot about him, how good of a man he is. And it makes him about ten times more attractive than he already is.
You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. Only three more days, you tell yourself. Then you and Jason can go back to being coworkers who are just a little closer than normal. You take a breath, and make your way back to the others. By the time you do, everyone is already gathering in the dining hall. Jason is waiting for you in the corridor, and he perks up a little when he sees you coming.
“Hey. How was the bathroom?”
“Very fun. Who knew peeing could be so thrilling?”
He huffs a laugh, grabbing your hand. He laces his fingers between yours and walks you to the dining hall.
Everyone’s already sitting when the two of you walk in. You take your new assigned seat, next to Jason and across from Dick. You’re excited for dinner. You’re excited for every meal you’ve eaten here so far. There must be a whole litany of chefs in their kitchen, because every night you’re eating food that tastes good enough to be from a Michelin star restaurant. Today’s Thanksgiving, so they’ve gone all the way. A roast turkey with golden skin that smells like garlic and rosemary, mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese. There’s so much food you’re not sure where to start, so you’re glad when Jason stands and starts making a plate for you.
“So Y/N,” Tim says, placing a heaving spoon of macaroni and cheese on his plate, “I think we’ve finally known you long enough to start the interrogation.”
Your fork freezes in the air, your bite of greens you stole off of Jason’s plate forgotten. “Uh. Interrogating?”
“Tim, shut up.” Jason shoots him a glare but the boy is not deterred.
“Yeah. Like what black magic Jason did to get you to go out with him, how much he’s paying you.”
You hum as your plate is placed in front of you. “I’m doing it for free, actually. Pro bono.”
“Ha ha.” Jason says dryly.
“Didn’t you guys meet at work?” Dick says, and Tim perks up.
“Ah, yeah now I remember. Are you the pretty girl from his office he always used to rage about?”
Jason’s hand thumps on the table. “Shut up, you freak.”
You sneak a glance at Jason and you think he might be blushing. If looks could kill you’re sure Tim would collapse over the table in a heartbeat, but you’re more focused on the tips of his ears that are turning red.
You grin, cooing at him, and his deathly glare softens as he faces you. “You talked about me? Called me pretty?”
“No. Must have been someone else.” He shrugs lightly and you shove his shoulder.
The food is good and you sigh happily, half of it already wiped clean. “The meal is amazing, Bruce, thank you.”
Jason gives you a glance, and you’re sure it takes a lot for him to suppress his eye roll. “No need to kiss the man’s-“
“Tim!” You cut Jason off before he says something to break the calm atmosphere of the dinner table. “Jason told me you’re going to Ivy University?”
Tim nods proudly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be studying computer science.”
“That’s amazing. It’s a good school.”
“A great one. We’re all proud of little Tim.” Dick coos, scuffing the boy's dark hair. Tim glares at him, shoving his hand away.
“What do you do, Dick?” You ask.
“I’m a museum curator, actually.”
You almost drop your fork, the metal clinking against the expensive china you’re eating on. “Really? I love museums!”
“You do?” Jason asks at the same time Dick does.
Tim whistles lowly. “Dick move. Don’t even know what your girl likes.”
“Fuck off.”
You ignore their bickering, still looking at Dick with excited eyes. “Yes, I do love them. I’ve been to the ones all around where we live, my favourite is the Museum of Art.”
“That’s my museum!”
“No way!”
Jason sighs a little louder than necessary beside you, but you’re undeterred. You really do love museums. It’s your favorite pastime after work, just wandering down the winding halls and looking at the art hung up and arranged along the walls. Jason hadn’t mentioned his brother worked for your favorite one, but then again, he didn’t know you even liked museums, so you can’t blame him too much.
“You know," Dick says, sitting back in his chair. “I can show you around, if you want. We have a bunch more pieces in the back we don’t put out until later exhibits, so you’d be the first civilian to see them.” He smiles charmingly and you feel your heart flutter a little.
You nod excitedly. “I’d love to!”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Jason cuts in.
He looks considerably more agitated than he had moments ago. You frown a little. “I think I would.”
“You- Why? Museums are boring. Especially if Dick here is showing you around.” He practically snarls and you snort a laugh.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” Tim narrows his eyes. “You’re literally an English nerd, museums are like your wet dream.”
“Tim, we are at the dinner table.” Bruce finally chimes in.
The boy, under his fathers words, immediately looks sheepish. “My fault.”
Jason scoffs. “That makes no sense. It’s an art museum, you idiot, it’s got nothing to do with literature.”
Tim repeats his words in a high pitched voice and you think Jason is about to lunge at him over the table. You place a hand on his arm, squeezing a little.
“Okay, so. Maybe let’s talk about something else for now.” You smile a little sheepishly.
“I agree.” Dick looks grateful that he isn’t the only one easing the tension between his two younger brothers, and you return the sentiment with a knowing look.
Jason scowls at the two of you. “Stop looking at him like that.”
“Like what?” You say.
“Like- Like that.”
Tim rubs at his chin, elbow leaning on the table. “You know. I think Jason’s a little jealous.”
Dick sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, Tim.”
Jason’s face is a comedic mix of annoyed and embarrassed, like he’s not sure if he should leave or flip the table over. You bite back a smile, desperate to try and save some semblance of calm at the table.
“I’m going to gouge your eyes out with my spoon.”
Tim tuts. “Don’t be so vulgar in front of the lady. Dick will have no issue swooping in if you do.”
“Alright, shut up Tim.” Dick rubs his eyes. “Can we just eat?”
“We are eating.”
Dick seems to lose some of the cool he’s been trying so hard to keep, and gives Tim his own stern look. That seems to be a family special. “Can we eat without the arguing?”
It’s interesting watching the way Jason acts around his siblings. They bicker amongst themselves like children, despite the fact that half of you at the table are in your mid-twenties. It’s kind of cute, in a way, the boyish anger on his face as he tries to throw a piece of cornbread at Dick without Bruce catching him.
It of course helps that the reason they are arguing is because he’s jealous of Dick talking to you.
Dinner finishes, luckily with no more incidents. You all eat warm pumpkin pie with dollops of fresh vanilla ice cream at the firepit, and after sitting around and talking in the living room for a while, everyone retreats to their rooms.
The bedroom door clicks softly as you shut it, and you wince, falling back against the bed. “Ugh. I’m so full.”
Jason huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, nobody told you to have seconds. Of dinner and dessert.”
You groan loudly. “But the food is so good. I haven’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.” You sit up on your elbows, watching Jason flit around the room.
It's only eight in the evening, but the Wayne house is quiet. Despite the fact it’s a holiday, the whole house falls asleep strangely early. It had been a bit of a shock to find out even Tim and Drake turn in so early, the whole building eerily quiet. The second dinner is over they all retreat to their rooms, which is very much the opposite of your own nightly routine, which usually ends at about one in the morning.
You sit up, crossing your legs. “Jason, I’m bored.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Much like you, he also doesn’t sleep early, so he’s in the same boat of boredom as you. “We can do something, if you want.”
“Like what?”
Jason thinks for a moment. He comes over to flop down on the bed beside you, his hair fanning out against the bedsheets. “I don’t know.”
“This is your home town, right? You know any good spots?”
He thinks for a moment. “We could get slushies? There's this place I always used to go to when I was younger.”
You immediately brighten, shaking his arm excitedly. “Oh, yeah! I love slushies!”
Jason looks at you with a soft sort of smile on his face. “I thought you said you were stuffed?”
“A slushy is a drink. That’s a different section of my stomach, which has more than enough space.”
You both change out of your more formal dinner clothes into something more comfortable that’ll stave off the cold. It’s a little stupid to get slushies in November, but you’ll do anything to leave the house. You reach for his bedroom door but Jason stops you, pulling you back.
“No, let’s go from the window.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“The front door is so loud, and then the alarm will go off and they’ll all hear it.” He shakes his head, already irritated at the prospect of his brothers finding out he’s leaving the house. “And they won’t leave us alone.”
“So turn off the front door alarm then!” You say and he shushes you.
“Be quiet.” He whispers. “You’ll wake them up.”
“Wake- It’s half eight in the evening!”
“My family are all freaks who sleep at seven! Now come on, it’s easy.”
He walks to the window and pushes back the black curtains and unlatches the window. A cold gust of wind blows into the room and you cross your arms. You watch, thoroughly unimpressed as he gestures. “You go first.”
“Are you insane? Are you actually being serious right now?”
Jason huffs, walking over. His hand is warm as it slips into yours, and you don’t protest as he drags you over to where he was standing. You peer out the window, shivering a little at the cold weather. To be honest, it’s not that far. You’re on the second floor, but the windows are low, and there’s even a small roof you can climb down on then hang off to get to the ground. This all, Jason tells you with a hint of excitement in his voice.
You still think he might be crazy. You narrow your eyes at him. “How many times have you done this?”
“Pretty much every single family holiday we ever spent here. Up until I was about eighteen."
“Well, you’re in your twenties and you’re still doing it.”
You look down a little nervously. “Can you go first at least?”
Jason eyes you for a moment. “Just don’t pussy out once I’m down there.”
He easily makes his way out. You don’t mind waiting and watching from the top. You get a perfect sight of his arms flexing as he drops down onto the floor. He brushes his clothes off and looks up at you.
“Alright, babe. It’s all you now.”
You curse under your breath, hooking your leg over the windowsill. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
You manage to get both legs out easily. Your knuckles are almost white with how hard you hold onto the side of the wall as you carefully step onto the small roof. Jason cheers quietly and you shush him.
You manage to let go of the wall, after a bit of encouragement from Jason. Your plan is to slowly turn, lower yourself down and drop from the edge. Your plan is not to slip on a few dried leaves and fall off, yet that still seems to be what happens.
The drop isn’t that far, and you’re sure maybe you would've only twisted an ankle or bruised a couple limbs. You don’t need to worry about any of that though, because instead of landing on the hard grass you land on Jason. He manages to catch you, arms wrapping around your waist as you claw your fingers into him.
“Oh my god! Oh my god, I nearly died.” You gasp, and he laughs breathily, depositing you softly onto the floor.
“You’re okay.” He reassures you. “Calm down.”
“I am calm.” You mumble.
You notice that his hands still haven’t left your waist, warmth seeping through the fabric of your hoodie. You both stand there like that, lit faintly by the small porch lights around the porch, your arms around each other. Then you hear a noise from inside the house and the moment is broken, and the two of you pull apart.
The car ride takes longer than you thought it would, but it makes sense. He has to drive out the forest the house resides in, and the winding roads take a while to get out of. You flick through the CDs in your glovebox. He’s actually driving your car, since you would rather keel over and die than ride over here on his motorcycle death trap. That, and it wouldn’t have fit any of your bags.
Jason eventually pulls into an old gas station. It's the first one you pass once you drive into the local town, and it looks like it’s been here for a good couple years. It's old, the sign leaning and the lights almost flickering off, but you’re excited all the same. He parks and you hop out quickly. You make your way inside, immediately sighing at the warmth that hits your face. You rub your hands together, your hoodie not doing much to stave off the cold. You make a beeline for the slushy machine and Jason follows behind you.
“Aw, yes, they have blue. That’s my favourite flavour.” You grin, grabbing the biggest cup.
“Your favourite flavour is a colour?”
“Obviously.”
You fill up the cup as much as you can, until the cold blue spills over the side and onto your fingers. You hiss, and Jason snorts as you lick the mess off your fingers.
“Nice one.” He drawls, grabbing his own cup. He fills it with strawberry, and you wrinkle your nose.
He notices and gives you a playful glare, popping a straw in his drink and yours. “Red’s better.”
“No it’s not. Blue is.”
“Shall we make purple?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.
“Oh, quiet.”
You wander down the aisles, grabbing some snacks as you go. Takis, M&Ms, whatever even slightly takes you fancy. When your arms get too full to carry it all you hand half of them to Jason. He looks at them with a puzzled expression.
“What’s this for?”
“Snacks!” You shake the Takis in his face before stuffing it into his arms. “Your house is so healthy! I need some real food.”
“This is not real food. This is poison."
“Yes, yes. I love MSG.”
You both dump the food onto the counter. The cashier looks slightly annoyed at the mountain of it in front of him, and you smile a little sheepishly. You dig into your pocket for your wallet, but Jason pushes your hands away.
“I got it.”
You frown slightly. “But-“
“Shut it.” He fixes you with a jokingly stern look and you bite back a smile.
“Alright, then.”
Jason grabs the plastic bag from the cashier, nodding in thanks. You practically skip out the shop, tongue and teeth stained a bright, unnatural blue.
Jason smiles slightly at the sight of you. “You’ve got…”
He looks like he’s going to gesture. Instead, he reaches forward, swiping at your lip. He’s gentle and his thumb lingers a second too long for you to brush it off as nothing.
“Thank you.” You manage to get out. You clear your throat, shaking your drink at him. “You know, this was a very good idea.”
Jason throws the bags of food in the back of the car and you both get in. “All my ideas are good.”
“Debatable.”
The drive home feels quicker. The slushy helps. You pull your sleeves down to fend against the cold of your drink. You peer at Jason out of the corner of your eyes. He’s focused on the road, finger tapping along to the song coming from the radio. The streetlights catch against the hard lines of his face, and it makes him look good, in a way you haven’t noticed before.
Your unrelenting staring doesn’t go unnoticed, and he gives you a funny look. “Everything alright there?”
“Yeah. Just people watching.”
“Person watching.”
He pulls into the house, but you don’t get out of the car yet. Your drinks are finished and abandoned in the console of the car, and you sigh, leaning back against the car seat.
“Do you think your family believes it?” You ask quietly.
Jason is chewing on his straw, the white end of it stained red. “I think they do. We make a pretty good couple.”
He’s joking, you think. But his voice sounds so fond that you have to look away, unable to keep eye contact with those deep brown eyes.
“Your family is nice. I like your brothers.” You smile slightly. “They’re funny.”
“They’re annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “Invasive. I wouldn't be surprised if they’ve hired a private investigator to look into everything about us.”
“And what would they find?”
Jason makes a face, pretty features scrunching. “That ugly work picture the boss posted of us on Facebook.”
“Oh my god.” You burst out laughing. “I forgot about that!”
“You know, we were the only interns from that day who actually got hired.” Jason grins. “Says a lot about us, doesn’t it?”
“We were always the best. That’s why we’re always working together.”
You eventually, and reluctantly, both get out. You reach into the car to grab the bags, and when you turn around Jason is standing right in front of you. You jump a little, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest.
“Are you alright, Jason?”
He doesn’t say anything. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. And slowly, giving you enough time to bolt if you need to, he cups your face in his hands. And he reaches down, pressing his lips to yours in what might be the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt in your entire life.
The bags drop out your hand, forgotten, and your hands circle his neck, reaching up to deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours slowly, desperately, his hands sliding down to curl in your clothes and drag you closer. He lets go of you reluctantly, and you take in a shaky breath. It takes a moment for either of you to speak, like you both need a second to make sure what just happened actually did.
“We just broke your very first rule. There’s no one around but us.” Jason murmurs, fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.
“We can amend the rules.” You say.
The kisses quickly develop from tender to fast and restless. He pulls you flush against him, and he bites at your lip, his tongue curling around your own. You feel heat curl in your stomach, and when he presses a knee between your thigh, you have to stop for a moment.
“Where- Where are we going to go?”
Jason grins, his lips red and his hair mussed from your hands. “You that eager?”
“You’re currently trying to pull my pants down, I think we’re both eager.” You narrow your eyes at him.
Jason looks back at the house but quickly shakes his head. “It’ll make too much noise to go back in now. And we’ll have to be quiet, Dick’s room is right next to mine.”
“Great.” You sigh. “You finally kiss me and we’ve got nowhere else to take it anywhere.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Your car is perfectly fine.” He says quickly.
“My car? You want to have sex in my car like we’re two horny teenagers?” You drawl.
Jason smirks into your skin. He kisses against your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin. “You don’t?”
You do, unfortunately. Which is why in the next five minutes you’re both sprawled in your backseat. It’s a tight squeeze, but you’re not really worried about that.
Not only have you been having a bit of a dry spell recently, but there’s been one or two nights where you’ve woken up before Jason. And when you wake up before him, you get a beautiful eyeful of his bare chest, because he of course insists on sleeping shirtless. Which may or may not make you feel a little racy, a feeling you have nowhere to relieve.
You’re doing much more than eyeing him now. Your hands smooth over his soft skin and hard muscle as he kisses you frantically, moving down from your face, to your jaw. You aren’t quite sure when, but both of you are naked from the waist up, and Jason wastes no time, sucking red marks into your skin, lapping over them, and you feel your stomach flip as his knee presses into your core.
“Fuck, look at you.” He breathes. “It was fucking torture being so close to you all this time and not being able to do anything.”
He pinches your nipples between rough fingers and you let out a shaky moan, back arching, and it earns you a wet tongue along the crease beneath your breast. Your thighs squeeze together and you whine. Your card a hand through his hair, tugging his head up. His cheeks are flushed, hair already plastered to his forehead which is slick with sweat. He keeps tugging at your nipples and you’re practically panting.
“Come on, Jason.” You whine. “Stop teasing.”
“But it makes you beg so pretty.”
You're distracted by his teeth making another mark against your neck, that the presence of his hand on the inside of your thigh doesn't register until you feel his fingers grab your trousers, already inching them down.
“Can I-“
“Yes.”
It takes some complex manoeuvring but you manage to get your trousers off. He throws them beside him, returning to his position between your legs. He splays his big hand over your knee, trailing his fingertips lightly on the inside of it and up your thigh, until they brush over the now wet lace of your underwear. It’s black and lacy, one of your more exciting undergarments, and Jason is clearly pleased. His eyes stare at the way they cling to your cunt and he groan lowly in his chest, racking a nail down the front of them.
“You wear these for me?” He whispers into your skin, and you can only sigh in response.
Two thick fingers trail from the bottom of your slit to your clit, and he rubs you over the thin material. “These expensive?”
“No.” You shake your head and he grins.
He hooks two fingers against the waistband and easily rips them, and you watch the fabric fall onto the floor of the car, and you might cum right then from the action. Jason grabs your leg and hooks it over his broad shoulder. He leans down, breath ghosting over the soft skin of your thighs and dangerously close to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin and his thumb ghosts over your clit. It’s so light, and it’s barely there, but your hips still jerk up.
Jason huffs a small laugh. “So sensitive.” He breathes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
He makes good on his promise almost instantly. His thumb dips into you, rubbing your slick up and over your clit, his breath cool against your wet skin. Brown eyes stare into your own as he repeats the action with his mouth. Your hips buck up immediately at the contact and he tuts, using an arm to hold down your hips as his tongue flattens against your folds.
“Oh, fuck.” You suck in a breath, hand gripping onto his hair to try and steady yourself.
Your head thumps against the glass window as Jason laps against you hungrily, his eyes fixed on your face every time you look down at him. He hums, satisfied as the way you squirm beneath him. The sound coming from you is so wet and obscene your face feels hot, and you worry that someone outside can hear the two of you going at it.
It takes embarrassingly little for you to feel the knot in your stomach coiling and twisting, and he notices the way you moans get breathier and more incoherent the closer you get. So he drags over your clit in heavy laps, breath burning against your skin, and all it takes is for him to latch his mouth around your clit and suck, and the knot pulls loose. Your body throbs as you cum, and he works you through it until you're pushing him off you, breath catching in your throat.
His face is flushed and you watch as he licks his fingers obscenely. You wrinkle your nose at the sight. “Gross.”
“You just taste so good.”
You sit up, your back clicking as you straighten. And then, you push him back onto the car seat, so your positions are switched. He gives you a confused look.
“What are you doing?” He says.
You undo the drawstrings of his joggers. “I’m returning the favour.”
Jason grabs both your hands in one of his own. You give him a frown and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. I want to.”
You try and tug your hands out of his grip but he doesn’t relent. “Jason-“
He sits up properly in the car seat, dragging you to straddle his lap. It’s a little surreal how easy it is for him to pick you up, barely flinching as he sets you down in his lap slowly. He grabs your joggers and places them in your hands.
“It’s cold, and you were laying down funny, your back probably hurts. It’s late. We can just go to bed.” He insists.
“My back feels great.”
The corner of Jason’s lip quirks up. “Does it now?”
“It feels perfect.”
Jason’s fingers are warm as they lift up your jaw to slot his lips against yours. It’s slower, just like the first time, tender and soft, taking his time to lick into your mouth. Your arms drape across his shoulders, your fingers curling against the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his smile against your face and you sigh happily.
The kiss ends because unfortunately you have to breathe. His forehead knocks against yours as the two of you part.
“Look, we did this strangely. And too fast.” He laughs slightly. “And I want to do it properly.”
Your stomach flutters and you bite back a smile. “Really?”
“Really.”
You hum, drumming your fingers against his bare chest. “Im starting to think this whole fake dating thing was just a ruse to get into my pants.”
Jason shrugs. “If it was, it worked.”
You roll your eyes. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know. I probably would've said yes.”
Jason narrows his eyes at you. “Only probably?”
“Only probably.”
beach bunny is alive and well… life has been so busy. I’m currently working two jobs, one of which is at a bakery so my days are starting at SIX AM!! But I love it!!
And I love Jason Todd… I accidentally deleted the ask but!! We officially have two fics left in this event that’s been going on for like a year LAMAOOAAO
As always leave comments !! I love to hear from u guys!!
First off, love the blog theme, I love spiderman. Secondly, can I join the tag list for pushing it down and praying? It’s so good omg I can’t wait for y/n to figure it out
chapter two: lately i've been thinking about my precarious future
Touya Todoroki has long given up.
After being caught before he could enact the revenge he’d been plotting since he was fifteen, he finds that parole and rehabilitation are not the first things on his to-do list. He’s content to live out the rest of his days rotting on Natsou’s old couch, when he happens to run into the only person he thinks he’s ever loved.
But you don’t recognize him. And Touya is in no rush to ruin that fantasy for you just yet.
A lot has happened over the past few years. Touya has seen things he’s sure some of the sickest minds in Japan couldn't think of, endured more pain than he could’ve ever imagined. But what he’s about to do, being sat in front of his father at a coffee shop full of hippies and students pretending to study, might be the worst thing he has to go through.
It’s early. Early enough that the sun is still rising and the cold nips at his skin as he walks down the pavement. Touya’s not used to being cold, and he huffs as his breath fogs in the air in front of him. The hoodie he has on does little to warm him up. The cigarette helps and he takes another long drag that fills his lungs.
Touya’s steps are slow, deliberate, and he considers jumping into the road to avoid what he has to do. The relationship between him and his father has not improved in the slightest. Touya is sure if he didn’t have these cuffs on his wrist, he’d have tried to set the man alight by now. That doesn’t stop his father from trying to fix things between the two of them. The family dinners, the apartment he bought Touya that he hasn’t used once, and the whole getting him out of a very large jail sentence. In another life, Touya might be thankful. Instead, he’s filled with even more bitter resentment the more that Enji throws at him.
The bell on top of the door jingles as he walks in. He ignores the cashier who tries to greet him, and spots his father nursing a cup of coffee at the back of the cafe. Enji is tall, imposing, and Touya feels his skin prickle as his eyes sweep over to him. He takes up entirely too much space, long limbs and thick muscle, a suffocating force that Touya can feel from across the room. He swallows, fists clenching in his pockets, and he makes his way to the table. If Enji is surprised at his presence, he doesn’t show it. It’s not like Touya to actually come to these, though he knows his father comes everyday without fail. There have been some days where Touya has peeked through the windows of the cafe and seen him sitting there, all sad and old and alone, and very promptly turned around and left him there.
But he needs something now. So he doesn’t really have much of a choice.
Touya drops down in the chair across from his father, sighing heavily. There’s a long beat of silence. His leg jogs anxiously beneath the table, his arms clasped together and thrown in front of him.
“How are you, Touya?”
His fathers voice is loud and Touya’s nose wrinkles.
“Fine.”
“Have you been going to your therapy sessions?”
“Sure.”
“Touya.” Enji’s tone takes on something fatherly and it makes something in Touya stand to attention.
The idea that any part of him is still conditioned to respond to that voice makes his skin crawl, so he scowls to even it out. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Like you can still scold me.”
Enji brows twitch, the only sign of any emotion on his face, and he sighs. “I don’t mean to scold you, I just want to make sure you’re doing everything you need to.”
“How touching, pop.”
Enji takes a long drink of his coffee. “It’s for your own good. If you don’t follow the steps of your parole, then you go back to prison.”
Touya finally sits up, the conversation steering to something he’s actually interested in. “Speaking of parole. I need a new parole officer.”
Enji frowns. “What?”
“Yes. And I even have someone in mind. Very proactive of me, no?”
Touya is well accustomed to the sight of anger on his fathers face, and he sees some irritation flicker behind his eyes. “You can’t just- pick your own parole officer, that’s not how this works.”
Touya’s leg is bouncing up and down and up and down, the scratchy material of his jeans flaying around his legs. “Well, she’s not actually going to be my parole office. She’ll just.. keep me in check. Like what Natsou does, but less annoying.”
“Keep you in check?”
“Yeah. I’ll still meet up with whatever the fuck she’s called-“
“Himari.”
“And my she will make sure I’m going to my meeting and shit. See? I’m trying.” He nods, but his father does not look impressed.
Endeveour is trying very hard not to bug out, and it’s quite satisfying to watch. “Who is this she? Is she one of your friends from. From before?”
He can’t even say it. Touya is sure the concept of villainy is one Endeavour knows well, yet he still seems to be in denial that his son used to be one.
Touya rolls his eyes. “No. She’s not.”
“Who is she?” He pushes. “You can’t expect me to agree to this if you don’t even tell me that.”
Touya doesn’t want to tell him. He can already imagine his reaction, and for some inane reason he wants to keep the whole idea of you to himself. He doesn’t want to share it with his family, let alone his dad. But he doesn’t seem willing to let it go, and if there’s anyone more stubborn then Touya it’s the man sitting in front of him.
He sighs loudly and irritatedly. He waits another beat before he spits the words out. “It’s Y/N.”
He watches the shock flicker over his fathers face. Touya’s sure it’s been years since he’s heard that name. He doubts that the Todorokis bothered to keep in touch with her after he was done.
Endeavour struggles to find the words. “Are- Are you sure this is smart? Does she-“
“Obviously she doesn’t know.” Touya snarls. “I’ll- I’ll tell her. So don't go running your mouth.”
It’s a bald-faced lie he’s sure doesn’t go unnoticed, but his father won’t say anything. He won’t say anything no matter what Touya says or does. He’s so desperate for a relationship between the two of them it leaves a bitter taste in Touya’s mouth. It’s pathetic, really. That ship sailed a very long time ago.
“Okay. Okay, fine. But nothing else changes. No conditions of your parole will be different.” He speaks sternly, and Touya gives him a toothy grin.
“Thanks, pops.” He shucks him on the shoulder, cuffs clinking against his coat.
Touya’s chair squeaks as he pushes back, getting up on his feet. He doesn’t say goodbye, and doesn’t bother to look back at the sorry sight he leaves at the table. Pity is one of the many things that had died in him all these years, and even if he could muster up an ounce of it, it has no place being directed towards his father.
——
When he gets back from his coffee date, Natsou is already up. He’s bustling around the kitchen, sleep still in his eyes, as he packs a lunch for work. Touya doesn’t acknowledge him as he throws himself on the couch, turning on the TV. He’s got a few minutes to kill before he needs to go meet Y/N, so he plans on spending them doing nothing.
Natsou pops his head out of the kitchen. “Oh. You’re back.”
Touya only grunts in reply. He’s flicking through the channels but nothing piques his interest.
Natsou shoves half a cucumber straight into his bag. “How was dad?”
“As shitty as always.”
“Why’d you go see him anyway? I swear you only have to see him once a month.”
“I do.” He lands on a channel showing old reruns of some cooking show. He watches as someone slides a cake out of a fridge.
Natsou pauses. “Didn’t you see him last week?”
“Can’t slip anything past you, Natsou.” Touya muses, foot rocking up and down where it hangs off his couch.
Natsou wrinkles his nose at the fact he still has his shoes on. “How many times have I told you to take your shoes off before you sit on the couch?”
“I’m going out again. Need you to drop me in town, actually.” Touya sighs and sits up, tossing the remote on the coffee table.
Natsou abandons his bag on the table. He snatches the remote to turn off the TV, and fixes Touya with a suspicious look.
“What do you need to do in town?” Natsou stands over him. It’s clearly supposed to be some sort of intimidation tactic, and Touya gets up to shoves him away.
“None of your business.”
Touya already knows it’s the wrong thing to say, because Natsou only doubles down after that. “Are you meeting- You know. One of them.” He speaks like the words are poison and Touya rolls his eyes.
“One of the league of villain members.” He whispers dramatically, and Natsou shoves his arm.
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I. We’re catching up over coffee.”
Touya's stomach itches for something to eat, and he makes his way to the kitchen to dig through Natsou’s cupboard. He still doesn’t have a job, so all the food he’s eyeing he hasn’t paid a penny for. Not that he cares. He grabs a protein bar and rips it open, taking a bite. He turns around and Natsou is still watching him.
He feels a prickle of irritation stir in his gut. Ever since he’s come back from the whole villain gig, there’s been a shift in the dynamic between his siblings. Touya’s the oldest and he’s always been the one that demands respect, that the others look up to. Now, things are different. They keep trying to look after him, baby him, and it annoys him to no end.
“You wanna come?” He speaks through a mouthful but Natsou doesn’t laugh at his poorly-timed joke.
“I have work. Maybe-“
Touya groans, pushing himself up off the counter. “I’m not a fucking child. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Natsou narrows his eyes. “No, but you’re an ex-con who’s currently on parole. And you officer said I have to call her if-“
“I’m not fucking-“ Touya whirls around. “I’m not doing any shady shit, okay? I’m just seeing someone.”
“Who?” Natsou presses and the answer catches in Touya’s throat.
He’s not exactly sure how to get out of this. His brother is just as stubborn as he is, and Touya knows this matter won’t be dropped until he gets an answer that satisfies him. He considers lying, but his brother is annoying enough to follow him if he doesn’t spit out the truth.
“Y/N. Now will you get off my fucking back?” Touya walks out the kitchen so he can avoid the shock that shoots across Natsou’s face.
But of course, his brother is not done bugging him, because he follows him once more. “Y/N? As in like-“
“Yes. The only Y/N we fucking know.”
Touya throws the empty wrapper on the floor. It’s more a distraction technique, and even though Natsou stops to pick it up, it doesn't distract him from the matter at hand.
Touya grabs his coat and shucks it on. “Can we leave?””
His request is ignored. “When did you guys start talking again?”
Touya sighs. “I don’t know. A couple days ago?”
“Does she know?”
He doesn’t need to say anything else. They both know what, and the words hang heavy between the two of them.
Does she know what a horrible person he is, does he know what Touya has become? All the gory details of the last few years she’s missed.
“No.” Natsou makes a face at his answer and Touya scowls. “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not, it’s just. You should tell her.” Natsou says it with too much judgement and Touya considers how many hits he could get in before Natsou froze his hands off.
“I will.” He snaps back. “Can you drop me in town or not?”
Natsou looks like he wants to say something more. But the hard look on Touya’s face deters him from pressing any further. They both know this isn’t the last time they’ll discuss this, but for now, he lets it go.
“Yeah. Let me finish packing my lunch.” Natsou grabs his bag and keeps digging through his kitchen.
Touya gives him an unimpressed look. “Some fucking lunch. You’ve packed half a cucumber.”
“Fuck off.”
—
The coffee shop you two plan to meet at is in a busy part of town. Even though it’s still relatively early, the streets are alive with pedestrians, suits on their way to break for lunch, students taking a walk on their break. Touya lives in a much nicer area than he used to in his League days. It’s nice to see food stalls filled with fresh fruit and the smell of fresh bread wafting out of the bakeries. The League hid out in a shithole of a town, and it was a miracle for even a convenience store to be open. Anyone that did run a business there was usually like them; using the appearance of the building to hide the more nefarious things going on inside it. It’s nice that now, if he feels like it, he can grab a can of soda or some of that packaged mochi he only ever finds in 7-Eleven.
The only thing he can’t stand is all the staring. You’d think it was their first time seeing someone whose skin is terribly disfigured from dark burn scars. It’s funny. He’s seen people with tails and animal skin and freakish quirks that far rival his sorry sight, and yet he can’t avoid the glances of shock, and pity, from half the people who come across him.
Today though, he pays them no mind as he trudges down the street. His mind is too busy racing at the thought of seeing you.
He spent the better part of last night convincing himself it was real, and not just some sick hallucination he’d conjured up. The world is never on his side, and the fact the two of you had just happened to both be outside and sitting on that bench at the same time is hard to believe. But it happened, and now he has to figure out how to go about this without fucking it all up.
You’d both exchanged numbers after your meeting, and he’d been too much of a pussy to text first. You had been brave enough though, and before he’d even gotten home his phone was vibrating in his pocket.
Y/N: meet me at Kumo at 11
Y/N: that cafe in town
Y/N: DONT BE LATE 🤬
You still texted the same. Touya had to bite back his smile as he walked into Natsou’s place, shooting you a reply back telling you he’d be there.
And he wasn’t late. He actually had three minutes to spare. When he finally finds the place, he’s greeted by the strong scent of coffee and the noise of chatter as he walks in. The place is busy for the morning, though he supposes anyone having brunch at a cafe doesn’t consider eleven in the morning as early. It’s a marvel he’s even walking around, especially after his even earlier meeting with his father. Usually he wakes up way past noon, late enough that sometimes he’s still blinking the sleep out of his eyes when Natsou comes home from work.
The atmosphere is nice, though. He gets a strange sense of Déjà vu as he scans the place until he finds you. You’re sitting in a booth near the end, chin on your hand as you read the book in front of you, a tangled pair of earphones in your ears. There’s a cup of something steaming in front of you and your scarf is still wrapped around your neck, your coat abandoned in the space next to you. Touya suddenly feels warm, and he walks quickly to your table. You jump a little when he sits down across from you with a heavy sigh.
You glare at him, pulling your earphones out. “A hello would’ve been nice.”
He only grins. “You seemed so busy. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
You fold the corner of your page and Touya cringes at the sight. You take a sip of your drink and he can smell the rich scent of chocolate.
“Are you drinking hot chocolate?”
“Yes.”
Touya snorts. “How old are you again?”
You take another long sip, smacking your lips together loudly. “Don’t judge me. It’s good and coffee sucks. And be serious, we have a lot to discuss.”
You unwrap your scarf from around your neck and dump it beside you. Touya settles in front of you, his leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. He can admit that he’s a little nervous. You seem to sense it, because you give him a big smile.
“Alright, Dabi. Did you bring your file?”
He didn’t. He didn’t forget, but he knew that if he gave it to you you’d see the name Touya Todoroki written about a million times all over it and this thing would be over before it even began. But he couldn't exactly tell you that, so he instead produces a (slightly) crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slides it toward you.
You’re not impressed. You give him a flat look, picking it up and scanning it. “What is this?”
“The conditions of my parole.”
“I asked for your file.”
“And I couldn’t bring it to you.” He says. “My parole officer wasn’t exactly raring to give it away when I asked. But all the terms are right there.” He gestures at the sheet and you look it over again, biting your thumbnail.
“Are you sure this is all of it?”
“Very.”
You look up at him. You think about what to say next for a beat too long. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
Touya brows furrow. And he’s offended, because you’ve know him for how long now? And he’s painfully reminded that it’s not Touya that you don’t trust, but Dabi. The freaky looking villain you’d picked up from the street like a stray cat.
So he schools his offended expression he’s sure you’ve already caught. “I’m not lying.”
Your eyes are boring into his skull, looking at every freckle on his face. Touya raises an eyebrow.
“If you’re checking me out, you could be a little less subtle.”
Your attention is distracted for a moment, and your cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as you scowl. “I’m not checking you out. I’m trying to tell if you’re lying.”
Touya huffs, irritation spiking. “Do I look that untrustworthy?”
“No,” You say firmly. “But you are an ex-con, so. I have to be careful.”
The comment stings more than he’d like it too, but he doesn’t comment on it. He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table, his cuffs clinking against it. “I’m not a liar.”
The words feel wrong the second he says them. Because Touya is a liar. He doesn’t want to be, but he doesn’t feel like he has much choice. Natsou had told him again in the car that he should tell you the truth. Touya had replied with a middle finger in his face. He knows it’s wrong to keep something from you, but he has to.
And he isn’t lying about this. It really is all the terms of his parole. He didn’t even bother asking his officer for his file. One, because he knows she wouldn’t give it up and two, she already pries in his life enough anyway. He’ll wait to tell her about you as long as he can.
You give him one more long look before you nod firmly. “Alright. I trust you.”
He lets out a breath. “Good.”
You read over the messily written sheet of paper once again and nod. “These aren't too out of the ordinary. The curfew must be annoying though.”
Touya groans. “Don’t even get me started. Feel like a fucking teenager, having to be in bed by nine every night.”
Natsou is very particular about that. Despite the fact he stays up all night yelling at some stupid game with his friends, Touya isn’t allowed so much as a trip to the corner shop down the street past eight in the evening.
“How do they enforce it, anyway? Are there trackers in your cuffs?” You look down at his wrists.
“I guess so. I’ve never broken it. I have a real life tracker anyway, my brother is always on my case.”
“You live with him?”
Touya smiles slightly, head tilting. “Nosy, aren’t you?”
You make a face at him, sliding the paper back towards him. “I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re so mysterious.”
It’s a strange situation Touya finds himself in. On the one hand, he can be honest and tell you that he has three siblings, a father he hates and a mother he’s too ashamed to talk to. He’s sure that he’s not the only one in the world who has those particular types of family issues, but telling you the truth might be enough for you to connect the dots. On top of all that, there's also the peculiar feeling of you getting to know him while he knows nearly everything about you.
Touya sits back, dropping his hands in his lap. “I’m a private person.”
“Boring.” You mumble.
He nudges your foot with his shoe and you smile.
In the blink of an eye, you're suddenly all business. You pull out a notebook and a pen from a bag he didn't even notice you had, and write his name in big letters across the first empty page.
“Okay. I think the most important first step is probably getting you a job.Have you ever worked before?” Your voice is all professional and sits up slightly.
“No. Unless you count working in the kitchen in prison.” He muses.
“Alright. Kitchen experience.” You scribble neatly. “It’s something.”
Touya scoffs. “Not really. No restaurant will hire me.”
You’re fiddling with your pen, flinging it back and forth between your fingers. “You don’t know that.”
“I do. No restaurant wants this ugly mug.” He shakes his head dejectedly.
You hum thoughtfully. “It’s okay, we’ll get you into the kitchen. Back of house should keep you away from the guests.”
Touya barks a laugh, but your face drops in horror. “Oh my god, I'm sorry, that was so rude.”
“It was funny, too.”
You’re trying to stifle your laugh, your face flitting between guilt and mirth. “Sorry, I just- I’m getting too comfortable. I don't know why, but whenever I talk to you I feel like I've known you forever. ”
Touya’s laughter stutters in his throat. “You do?”
“Yeah.” You fix him with a wistful gaze and the table goes quiet as the two of you look at each other for a beat too long for it to mean nothing.
You clear your throat and the moment breaks. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about, you’d do fine front of house. You’ve got the looks for it.”
Touya leans forward then, a teasing smile on his face. “You think I’ve got looks?” He murmurs.
Your mouth clicks shut and he watches as you wave him off quickly. “Moving on.”
His tongue pokes at his cheek. “Right. Moving on.”
“I can look around for jobs, but I’m sure you’re aware it’s not going to be easy.” You say.
“Yeah, trust me. I’ve been trying for the past two months.”
Strangely enough, people aren’t jumping up and down to hire ex-cons.
“Unfortunately, it's not as easy as I’d like it to be for ex-cons to get hired. I know a few spots so I can give them your CV after we write one up.” You scratch at your head, face puzzled as you think.
There's unused sugar packets scattered on the table and Touya grabs one to fiddle with. The cafe only gets busier around them, and Touya is glad that you picked a booth far in the back away from the worst of the commotion.
You take another sip of your drink. “So what are you into?”
Touya hums thoughtfully. “Well. I like being on top, but-“
“Okay, no, not like that!” Your face scrunches and you shake your head furiously. “You are disgusting!”
“What? You asked!”
“I didn’t ask that! I meant-“
Your words are cut short as you try and place your mug back on the table, but instead somehow knock it over. It spills all over Touya’s hands, and you gasp, moving his hands away from the hot drink that’s now dripping from the table onto the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” You say frantically, grabbing a tissue and trying to dry his hands.
It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts, actually. The overuse of his quirk through the years has killed most of his pain receptors, but especially the ones in his hands. But it’s cute to watch you fawn over him. Your skin is soft as you lift his hands up, worry creasing your face, and he’s more concerned about your skin touching him than he is about any burns. You look up at his face, that hasn’t moved since you drink spilled, and pause your movements. He’d tease you for holding his hands but he doesn’t want you to let go just yet.
“Why are you not in pain? The hot chocolate is literally steaming.”
Touya shrugs. “I don’t feel pain.”
You roll your eyes and let go to continue cleaning up the table, and Touya mourns the loss. “Wow. So strong and brave and masculine.”
Touya laughs. You dump the soaked tissues in your now empty cup, sliding it out of the way. “I’m being serious. The pain receptors in my hands are dead.”
He holds his hands out, and you observe the shades of purple and red skin that cover his hands. The scarred skin is better now. Enough surgery and time and medication had left them looking somewhat normal. The skin on his forearms and legs, his hands and even parts of his face will forever be disfigured but he’s long given up caring about his looks. It’s a nice deterrent to stop people from talking to him. Though, he misses the staples sometimes. He thinks it added a nice edge to his look.
Your eyes trace the pattern of his skin. You reach forward, finger tracing lightly over the skin of his palms. “Was it your quirk?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it like this on all your scars?” Your eyes trail down his body.
“The rest are nowhere near as bad. My hands are the worst.”
“My friend was the same.” You speak softly. “He had a fire quirk, and it hurt him if he used it too much, too.”
The atmosphere shifts into something Touya is not ready to dive into with you. He shuts his hands and you slide your own under the table. It’s quiet for a beat more before you suddenly perk up and any traces of sadness are quickly wiped off your face.
“Hold on. I might actually have a place that would want you.” You beam. “We can go there now but we just need to write you up a CV.”
“We can’t do it at my place. No printer.” Touya says. Which is true. But there’s also about a million pictures of his family which he can’t have you seeing.
“It’s fine, we can go to the library.” You grab your scarf and wrap it around your neck.
“Alright. Let me go wash my hands. They’re sticky because of a certain someone.” He says pointedly, and you feign ignorance, shaking your head disappointedly.
“Some people.”
—-
The table the two of you are sitting at is tiny. It’s made for one, so the both of you squeezed into the small gap isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. When Touya adjusts himself, his thigh brushes against yours and you shoot him a look, knocking into his leg.
“Stop manspreading.” You mutter and he glares.
Touya knocks into your leg back. “I’m not. It’s not my fault I’m six foot five.”
You snort. “Keep dreaming.”
The two of you are huddled in front of one of the old computers in the local library. Touya hadn’t been to this place since he was a kid. It wasn’t a long walk from the cafe, and you spent the entire time talking about how you used to come here when you were younger, brandishing your peeling library card with your name almost completely rubbed off. He remembers you dragging him here during exam seasons, but he doesn’t remember himself getting much studying done. He never cared for the academic parts of school. Touya was always more concerned with getting as much training in as possible.
Crazy how that turned out.
The computer looks about thirty years old and you have to wipe the dust off the screen before you can use it. It takes too long for it to boot up and when it finally does, you start typing in your login information.
Your leg is warm where it’s pressed into his and he feels himself sweating. The heater is on but it seems to be turned up high enough to turn the room into a sauna. He’s already taken off his coat but it isn’t enough, so he reaches down to take off his hoodie as well. His t-shirt underneath catches and exposes his stomach, and he pulls it down, but not before he catches you getting an eyeful.
“Enjoying the view?” He winks and you quickly look away.
“Shut up.”
The library is pretty busy. There’s students studying in huddles and parents choosing out picture books with their kids. The librarian in the middle of the room won’t stop looking at the two of you. Touya had maybe made a joke about the floral shirt she had on when you’d both walked in, and the loud snort you made seemed to have put her in a pretty bad mood.
“Okay.” Your voice is low. “What was the place you said you worked at when you were younger?”
“I didn’t say I worked at a place when I was younger. I said I worked in the kitchens in prison.” He says a little too loudly.
His words catch the attention of the people sitting besides you, and Touya tries not to laugh as one of them scoot away from them slightly. You frown, shooting a worried glance at the librarian.
“Lower your voice.” You glare. “Shelly will kick us out if we’re too loud.”
Touya leans down, and his lips brush against your ear as he whispers. “Like this?”
You face heats and you shove him away as he laughs. “Focus. We have to fill this CV with something. You ever did any volunteer work?”
Touya groans, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t be childish. We need to think.”
“Can we just lie?” He suggests, hanging his head backwards. “Doubt the whole villain thing is something we should include.”
You bite at your thumbnail a little anxiously. “It’s fine, I can embellish a little.”
You find an empty template online to fill in and start typing, the keys clacking as your fingers fly across the keyboard. Touya lets his eyes trail around the room as you do it, rocking backwards on his chair.
“What’s your name?” You ask suddenly.
“You forgot already?” He sighs sadly. “Some PO.”
“No, your full name.” You turn to face him. “I assume your birth name isn’t Dabi?”
His chair thuds as it lands back on the floor. Touya hadn’t expected this. In hindsight it makes perfect sense that he’d have to put his name on his CV, but he has no idea what to tell you.
He swallows roughly. “Uh. Can you- Can’t we just write Dabi?”
You regard him for a moment. Touya thinks you’ll push for a second, and he’ll have to lie straight to your face again, but you only nod, turning back to the computer and typing Dabi at the top. You scoot your chair to the side and gesture for him to fill in the rest of the information.
“I’ll be back. I just need to find this book.” You pat his shoulder and disappear into the shelves behind him.
It doesn’t take him long to finish up. Mainly because there’s not much to put on it. He puts his phone number and quickly makes an email that doesn’t include his government name. Touya skins over what you’ve written, and it’s actually pretty good. It all makes him sound a little more competent than he really is. He’s done in about fifteen minutes, and when he sends the file to print you’re still not back. He pulls out his phone and plays two games of solitaire before he gets bored enough to go seek you out.
The library is ancient, high ceilings and old carpet paired with a faint smell of dust in the air. Most of the books are old and the labels on the shelves are peeling, but Touya knows how much you love it here. He can remember the stacks of books you always had in your room, and the amount of times you dragged him here to sign something out or get on with school work.
It takes a few laps of the shelves before he finds you. You’re looking irritatedly at the top shelf, and he thinks you're considering climbing up the bottom one to reach the book you want. He comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. You squeak in surprise and he stifles his laugh.
You glare, shoving his shoulder. “You scared me!”
Touya puts a finger to his lips, eyes glinting. “Whisper, remember?”
You roll your eyes. “Can you pass me that book? The one with the red spine.”
The aisle you’re both standing in is small, and you step out the way as much as you can so he can grab it. When he turns to hand it to you you’re much closer together than he expected you to be. Your chest is an inch away from his, and when he passes the book to you your fingers brush against his own as you grab it.
You give him a bright smile that makes his knees weak. “Thanks. Let’s go get your CV.”
He doesn’t have much to say, so he nods and follows you blindly.
—-
It doesn’t take long to get to what might be Touya’s new workplace. He pesters you the whole way there, but you refuse to tell him where you’re going. He hasn’t learnt the town’s layout yet, so he has no idea where he is until you're dragging him through the glass double door.
“The pound?” Touya deadpans, and you hold the door for him, ushering him inside.
“Yeah, I think it’ll be perfect for you.”
Touya rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
The building has that distinct smell of animals coating its walls, and Touya can hear them barking and growling and making whatever noise they make towards the back of the room. The place is pretty big. There’s a counter right in the middle of the room with a till and the cheap merchandise they try to pawn off on the customers when they’re checking out. He’s assuming they leave the animals in the back of the place, since the main area is full of pet food and kennels and the contents of a pet owner's wet dream.
You walk right to the front desk, and someone pops their head out from underneath when you drum your fingers against it. A woman emerges. She’s got bright red curls tied up messily on the top of her head and a polo with the logo Touya had seen outside embroidered on her chest. She’s wearing a shirt underneath, and the sleeves are rolled up, revealing a cut that oozes blood on her forearm. You gasp, leaning forward and grabbing her gently.
“Oh my god, what happened?” You say worriedly but she waves you off.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just had a little incident with one of our new cats. She’s a little feistier than I thought.” She shakes her head, and you drop her hand to dig in your bag. You hand her a plaster and she thanks you.
It’s then she seems to notice you’re not alone. Her eyes narrow slightly as they land on Touya. They flit to the exposed cuffs on his hands and he pulls his sleeves down as subtly as he can. She nods her head at him in greeting. “Hello. Who are you?”
You smile brightly, determined to break the slightly awkward tension that settles around you all. “This is Dabi.” You grab his arm and drag him forward. “And he really needs a job.”
She laughs. “Right. I’m Hana.” She holds out a hand for Touya to shake, and he does so. Her grip is firm and he smiles a little awkwardly.
“Do you have experience with animals?” She asks.
Touya is about to answer but you beat him to it again. “No, but he’s a very avid worker and he would be really grateful for the opportunity. And I would too.” She says firmly.
Hana narrows her eyes at you. “Does Dabi talk?”
“Not when she’s around.” He mumbles.
You laugh sheepishly and elbow him in the side for good measure. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll let you two talk.”
You dump your purse on the counter and practically run into the back room. Touya peers to the right slightly and sees you cooing into the cages, your finger peeking through the bars to play with an animal he can’t see.
“So, Dabi. What’s your story?”
He turns to Hana, who’s looking at him carefully. He feels a little under the microscope, but he just shrugs and tries not to look like he wants to be somewhere other than here.
“I need a job. And Y/N said this would be a good fit for me.”
Hana hums. “And are you one of hers?”
“One of her what?”
“Her cases. The parole officer thing.”
She speaks matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her calm nature rubs off on Touya a little. The question would usually put him on edge, and while he feels the slight urge to snark at her he only nods. Hana smiles wryly, and starts looking through some shelves underneath the counter.
“I’m not judging you.” Her voice sounds slightly muffled as she kneels down to see better. “I was in juvie when I was younger.”
Touya raises a brow, leaning against the counter. “Really?”
“Yeah. I won’t get into the gory details, but I did my time. People didn’t talk to me much after that, but Y/N was always kind.”
Touya doesn’t recognise Hana. She must be a friend Y/N met some time after he’d left, during which he was probably recovering from his incident or terrorising civilians. It’s funny, how different their lives had panned out. He wouldn't have guessed Hana was anything like him, but not everybody had their crimes burned into their skin like he does.
Hana rises from the desk again and puts a few stapled pieces of paper in front of him. He drags them towards him and his eyes skim over them, and he has to look up at her to confirm what he’s reading is correct.
“Wait, you’re just giving me the job?” He says incredulously.
She grins. “I’m kind, aren't I? Have you ever worked with animals?”
“Uh, not really. I like cats, though.” Touya is still looking at her dumbly but she pays no mind..
“That’s good. I do have to warn you, most of the animals we get are rehomed or strays, so more often than not they’re likely to scratch you a bit.”
That’s not an issue for him. He tells Hana as much, and she nods happily. “Good. That usually turns people off from this.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Touya says, and she huffs a laugh.
“Okay. Fill in that job application, and I’ll text the number you’ll put there and let you know when you’re starting.” Hana states. She looks around the place for something.
Touya frowns, standing up from the desk. “Hold on, are you fucking with me? You’re just gonna give me the job like that?”
Hana turns back to face him. She puts one hand on her hip. “Look, I’ll be honest, I need help around here. Most of my workers are school kids, and I need someone who can do something full-time.”
She pauses, then."I'm guessing you’ve been looking for a job for a while now?”
Touya nods and she smiles wryly.
“Well. I was in your position once. And she,” Hana points to you, where you're currently trying to stroke a cat through the small gaps in the bar. You’re not very successful, but you’re determined not to give up. “Worked here. And she vouched for me when nobody would and she got me this job. And now I run the place.”
Hana shrugs, finally producing a pen from beneath a clipboard. She hands it to Touya. “I owe her. And you seem like a good guy.”
Touya has to hold in his laugh at that statement. He’s unsure why so many people keep assuming the best of him lately. First you, and now this woman. He feels bad. He doesn’t mean to fool so many of them but it’s been so long since someone had offered him kindness with nothing in return, and Touya is selfish. He doesn’t think he deserves it, but he’ll take it anyway.
He gives her a firm nod. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by being a good worker.” She sings.
The application is nothing out of the ordinary. His past experience, any health issues that need to be known. There is a place for his name and address as well, two things he’s a little cagey about. He taps the pen against the desk to get Hana’s attention and she gestures for him to speak.
“Hey, is anyone gonna see this? Or just you?” He lowers his voice a little, though he doesn’t think you’re paying attention to anything happening over here.
Hana shakes her head. “Just me.”
“Can you keep what I write here to yourself? You know, even from.” His words trail off and he signals towards you.
Hana agrees easily. “Alright.”
Touya thinks he can trust her, so he writes his full name and Natsou’s as his emergency contact. He scribbles in the rest of the information, and when he gives it back, he watches with bated breath as she reads through it. Her eyes widen a fraction when she reads the name. Her gaze darts to him, the burn scars across his body, before she looks away.
Touya thinks she’ll say something. He’s ready to defend himself, to snap at her for being nosy, but she just places the papers back on the counter and gives him a small smile.
“All good here. You can get back to Y/N. Good luck prying her away from the cats.”
He raps his knuckles on the counter in goodbye, and follows you into the back. The cats seem to have differing reactions to the sight of him. Some of them cower, some of the hiss and the others rub their faces against the iron bars so that he’ll stroke them. He entertains one of them and its fur is soft underneath his fingertips.
“Theyre so cute, right?” Your smile is big enough it looks like it might split your face open. There's a kitten in your arm and another using tiny claws to climb its way up your shirt.
“Very.” The cat bites his finger and he doesn’t flinch.
You watch him with a hint of jealousy. “Lucky. These little demons hurt.”
“I thought they were cute?” He says and you wince as it digs into your shoulder.
“They can be cute and demonic at the same time.” You mutter.
They squeal as you deposit them back in their cage. They nip at each other before they fall in a tumble onto the floor. “These two are siblings. Hana’s hoping they get adopted together.”
“Fingers crossed.” Touya says.
You brush off your hands and move to stand in front of him. You're both leaning against the wall and you look up at him. “Anyway. How’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask nervously.
Touya stands up straight, his voice taking on an air of importance. “You are looking at the newest animal shelter employee.”
“Well done!” You grin, shaking his arm excitedly. “I knew she’d come through.”
He furrows his brows. “Uhm, I think I deserve some of the credit here.”
“Sure, sure.”
—
You offer to drop Touya home but he insists on walking. He needs time to think after the long day he’s had, and he could do without you knowing where he and Natsou live.
The walk home is nice. The cold has eased up and the sun feels warm on his face as he walks down the street. They’d spent half the day out the house, and even though it’s only six in the evening, the sky is a medley of pinks and oranges as the sun starts to slip past the horizon. He’s in a good mood, so he stops by the restaurant near Natsou’s place to get them some dinner.
He’d found this place on one of his first nights free. He didn’t have many places he could go, especially since Natsou was texting him every five seconds. So he just wandered down the street, trying to familiarise himself with the area before he had to get back home. This was the first place he found that sold soba, and good soba at that. The people who worked there were the kind of people he liked. They minded their own business and they made good food and that’s all he really needs.
He nods in greeting when he walks in the door and Ito, the owner, immediately starts preparing his food, long having memorised Touya’s order. He’s a burly man who he’s heard maybe say three words the entire time he’s known him. When Touya asks him to double the amount of food he only grunts in reply, dumping another serving of noodles into the pot.
This place reminds him of the takeaway spot he used to eat at near the League’s hideout. If anybody knew about minding their business, it was the people in that town. Everyone who lived there either had something to hide or had themselves to hide. It was just plain luck that that certain place actually sold good food. Kyorakutei is still the best soba he’s ever had, second to his mothers. Touya practically lived off that food, he had containers of it stocked in the fridge almost every day. Of course, they didn’t usually last long in there, since Twice and Toga would steal it every time and blame it on the other.
Something painful thuds in his chest. Touya hasn’t thought of the guys at the League in a while. He wonders what they’re doing. Probably still getting yelled at by Shiggy. As annoying as they were, and as depressing being a villain could be, he can’t help but miss his old coworkers. They were the closest things to friends he’s ever had. Touya is under very strict orders not to talk to them, and he won’t. But he can’t help but wonder.
His thoughts are cut off as the food is dropped in front of him, tied up in a clear plastic bag. He drops a few yen in the tip jar and makes his way back to Natsou’s.
He pushes the door open with his foot, key in one hand and food in the other. He kicks off his shoes and dumps them by the door, and makes his way to the kitchen. He can’t see Natsou so he assumes he’s holed up in his room.
“I got food.” He calls out loudly, putting the bag on the table.
“You got enough for three?”
Touya’s head shoots up and he finds Fuyumi standing at the kitchen door fiddling with her hands nervously, Natsou practically hiding behind her.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his sister. He loves his sister, it’s just. Things are just so different between them now and he has no idea how to deal with it. Natsou, he’s a little too overprotective, but their relationship hasn’t really changed other than that. Natsou still gives him the better seat on the couch, the better controller when they hop on a game together. Touya still feels like he’s his older brother and that he has some authority over him.
Fuyumi is different. There’s only two years between them and the gap never felt that big anyway, but things are awkward between them now, stilted. She talks to him like he’s made of glass and she’s one wrong word away from breaking him in half. The two of them haven’t really interacted much since he’s been out. He never shows up to the family dinners and other than the occasional message they don’t talk. It’s a strange feeling, to feel like a stranger with your own sister.
“Fuyumi. What are you doing here?” The words come out a little harsher than he’d like, and while she falters a little she doesn’t back down easy.
“Natsou invited me for dinner.” She says brightly.
Touya glances around the empty kitchen, before he looks at Natsou blankly. “And you didn’t make anything?”
Natsou seems to take the fact that Touya hasn’t walked out as a good sign, because he strolls into the kitchen and starts pulling out plates for them to eat on. “I knew you’d get something. You always do when you’re out late.”
Touya doesn’t respond. The kitchen fills with the sound of clatter as they all set the table. It feels oddly nostalgic, the way Fuyumi line sup the cutlery next to the plates, and Touya has to look away. He dishes out the food between three plates. There’s not that much in each, considering he’d bought food for only two, but it’ll make do. Natsou hums something under his breath as he pulls out drinks from the fridge and Fuyumi sits across from Touya at the rickety dining table. Touya gives them the plates with more food and takes the smaller bowl for himself. The wooden chopsticks snap as he breaks them in half and starts eating. He has the feeling he’s being watched and when he glances up, Fuyumi is looking at him strangely.
“What?” He speaks around a mouthful and Natsou scowls at the sound.
She shakes her head and her hair jumps around her face. “Nothing.”
It’s silent while the three of them eat. Touya considers making small talk, but he’s content to eat in the awkward atmosphere. He’s been through worse and if he’s being honest, he’s pretty hungry.
Fuyumi is the first to break the silence. “So.” She taps her chopsticks on the side of her bowl anxiously. “How’s Y/N doing?”
Touya’s head shoots up. Then turns to glare at Natsou, who’s very adamantly avoiding Touya’s gaze. He stares deep into the depths of his bowl and Touya nearly throws his own over his head.
“You prick! You couldn’t last one fucking day before running to her!” He yells, slamming his chopsticks down on the table.
“Yeah because it’s dumb! And I wanted her to talk you out of it. You’d never listen to me.” Natsou shouts, and Fuyumi brows furrow, shoving Natsou’s shoulder.
“Stop yelling.” Her voice softens from its scolding tone as she turns to Touya.” It’s not his fault, I figured it out.”
He rolls his eyes and eats another bite. “Fucking snake. I’m never telling you shit again.”
Natsous sticks his tongue out. “You live with me, I’ll figure it out anyway.”
Touya throws a noodle at him and he dodges it horribly. Fuyumi rolls her eyes at the antics but her expression quickly fades back into concern.
“I mean, I don’t think it’s a bad thing to talk to her.“
“Do we have to do this now?” Touya rubs at his eyes, and Fuyumi nods frantically.
“I just think that-“
“Can you just trust me?”
Fuyumi blinks. Her fingers tighten around her utensils.
For the first time, he’s actually talking to her. This moment feels important. He thinks she knows it too, because she doesn’t argue. She just thinks, biting at her lip worriedly. Touya thinks she might disagree, and he gears himself for an argument, but she relents.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll trust you.”
Touya nods in thanks.
“Just- Can you tell me about it? How it goes?”
Fuyumi never looks more like their mother than when she’s concerned. It’s written so painfully obviously across her face just like Rei, from the crease between her brows and the downturn of her lips. It also makes her look like the little sister that used to follow him around and bandage his burnt hands in the middle of the night in the dark of his bedroom. So unfortunately for Touya, it makes his resolve melt almost instantly.
He sighs, defeated. “Okay. Fine.”
Fuyumi beams. “Thank you.”
“Can you tell me, too?” Natsou chimes in and Touya scowls.
“You shut it.”
Natsou whines childishly. “Fuyumi, Touya’s being mean.”
She hums thoughtfully. “You did kinda sell him out to me. Like, the first second you could.”
“So now you’re both ganging up against me. Perfect.”
Fuyumi gives Touya a small smile, and he acts like he hasn’t missed this at all.
GUYS… IM BACK… I know its been like six months since I last updated this IM SORRY.. Second year uni is not for the weak and i have been doing my event. I haven't even finished it in all honesty but i just was itching to write a chapter for this fic I TOLD U GUYS I WOULDN’T ABANDON IT! I have the next two months free so i’ll try write as much as i can!!
as an apology this update is NINE K WORDS LONG
also to clear up some (possible) confusion in this fic touya was found before he really got to do much as a villain. dont get me wrong he has some bodies on his belt but he didnt really blow up in the media or anything like that
and im so weak for him omg.. like he’s so in love with y/n just following her around like a lost puppy
anyway leave me a comment!! i love hearing what u guys think!
tag list: @0cean-rays @curlywhirliegirlie @frog-fans-unite @ughdontbeboring @paula-bratu @clownfluencer
