⌒*ﾟ.❉・sy゜・。.

thank yew cas for the tag!!!

It's so accurate LOL

thank u for the tag <333

YAAAAAAAY thank yew lover 😊😊😊💋

Someone's touching his face. Touya can just barely feel the feather light fingertips grazing his cheekbone. He was in a deep sleep, and could only manage to furrow his brows in quiet discomfort as he shifted around and tried to get comfortable in his bed again. Touya used to be a light sleeper, but now—his subconsciousness allowed his mind and body to surrender and be vulnerable as he slept in the hospital. It's the only reason he didn't stir any further when Akari pushes back a wisp of snow white hair from his forehead.

He looks just like Rei, she thinks with a soft smile. According to Touya's schedule, he should have woken up half an hour ago. But he lays fast asleep—he looked like he could've slept for the next few days if allowed to. Touya's lips were hardly parted, but Akari could hear the soft sounds of his breathing—in tandem with the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers subconsciously tighten around his blanket, and the smallest of frowns is tugging Touya's scarred lips downwards. Akari can only imagine how gnawing his stress was if he was having trouble sleeping, too.

Akari knows she'll have to wake him up soon, and she takes a step back before heedfully lowering herself onto your old chair. It creaks under her weight, and Akari lets out a small huff of surprise when she realizes it has wheels. They spun as she rolled the chair forward, closer to Touya's bed. She watched him finally begin to wake up—his eyes squeeze shut in irritation, already sensing someone else's presence in the room. Touya knew someone was in the room so quickly only because they had turned the lights on, which were shining blatantly on his face with no regard for the prospect that maybe Touya wanted to sleep in today.

He grumbles under his breath quietly while rubbing the sleep from his eyes, moving to sit up and rest his back against the headboard. Touya's vision is blurry, and it takes him a moment to focus on the voice speaking. He misses what Akari says completely, silently debating if he should lay down, roll over, and go back to sleep.

The usual scowl on his face returns, the crease between his brows deep and troubled as he moves to meet Akari's gaze—he was prepared to tell her to fuck off, because he really wasn't in the mood to be asked any intruding questions so early in the morning. He was doing just fine on his own with no interactions from the other doctors, because if it wasn't you coming to talk with him—then Touya didn't want to talk. But he's taken aback by the woman who sits in front of him, and he huffs out the one word he can manage, quiet and bewildered.

"Oh,"

Akari offers Touya a warm smile, eyes squinting as she folds her hands and rests them in her lap. She repeats the words spoken moments before that had gone straight through one ear and out the other, and he finally hears the quiet good morning spoken as he blinks in response, wondering who this woman was and why she of all people was here.

This woman was...a test, he decides.

This woman was a test because she was frail, someone he could overpower in an instant. Just a week ago, Touya had fought his way through the hospital's strongest security guards—shot punches and kicks that must have landed them all in the medical wing, no doubt of it. So why they would send someone like her his way baffled Touya. She wore slippers and a granny pullover, of all things. Which made sense because she was one. Or she may be, Touya can't be sure.

Soft gray hair is braided and held together with a simple brown thread as it rests over her shoulder. If Touya wanted to, he could dig a hand into the pocket of her cardigan and fish out his room's key—it's not like it would be hard. She was too old to fight Touya, too old to be working, really—but here she was. Touya's uncertainty is only growing, and for once, his sharp mind cannot come up with a strong enough explanation for the situation he found himself in. Either the hospital had no regard for her safety—or, like he could only assume, this was a test of some sort.

Suddenly, he notices the woman was still smiling—and he decides that old people are weird as he lets out a quiet sigh, muttering a low hello. He bows his head in respect, a practice he used to do with his elders as a child. If this really was a test, he was prepared to pass with colors that burned brighter than his flames.

Behave behave behave—the motto in his mind doesn't cease, he won't let it. He needs to be good, or he could kiss any chance of seeing you again goodbye. Touya's heart stutters—skipping an entire two beats as he pictures your face in his mind. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to calm down the onslaught of terrible thoughts as he felt them sink their traitorous ideas of a future without you into his head.

Touya's been trying to keep you out of his mind—to focus on the task at hand, to immerse himself in trying to be a better person and existing without you. But every time he even thinks of you, he finds himself on the brink of either lashing out or bursting into tears. And he feels pathetic. Pathetic because he shouldn't care so much. It's not like you were gone forever—but your absence weighs heavy on his heart regardless—his body yearning to have you close by, to be soothed and lulled into a state of peace only you could bring. Home wasn't this hospital room—it had always been you. He feels stupid for ever thinking this room could bring even a fraction of the feverish euphoria you did.

The walls seem duller in Touya's eyes now. The food doesn't taste as filling and delicious as before—it was like he was back to looking at life through a thick and foggy lens, one where the world around him felt dimmer, lacking, even. After getting to live the way he wanted to, even if it was just for a few months—Touya wanted it back.

He knows he shouldn't be so greedy. You taught him better, after all. But it just feels cruel to barely get a lick of what true happiness was like, only to have it ripped away from him in a heartbeat. He wasn't hanging onto something tangible, and watching you slip away was like grasping at straws—it didn't matter how badly he tried to keep what he had with you, or how much he just wanted you to run your fingers through his hair again and love him the way he deserved—none of it mattered because there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

Every spot in the room reminded him of you, your mark was permanent and too deep for Touya to even begin to try and erase. He can't look out the window because he can only think of how you would get on your tippy toes whenever you had to close it. He can't pick up any of the books laying on his bedside table because it reminds him of how you taught him how to read properly again—denser literature with bigger words and more meaning, and he can never forget the way your eyes lit up after he told you he liked reading with you.

He also hasn't picked up his pen to write any more letters to Shoto. You were a guiding torch for Touya's words, leading them through the dark and helping them reach paper. He never knew how to put his feelings into words properly—but you aided him that way, helped him learn how to effectively communicate with his youngest brother and family. But now he felt lost. He didn't have even the faintest clue on how to even begin a letter to Shoto now, compared to just weeks ago when he'd run out of paper when his rambling with you overflowed onto a series of pages—

Touya is snapped back into reality when he feels a cloth pressed against his cheek, and he jerks away from Akari's touch immediately—wondering why it was so damp. Touya still hasn't noticed his own traitorous tears leaking from his eyes—glistening and bitter as his eyes welled with frustration. He nearly smacked Akari's hand away for touching him, but he restrains himself and grinds his molars togethers in response, narrowing his gaze on her as he rubs his eyes furiously.

"Fucking hell—don't touch me,"

So much for behaving. Akari looks worried, and she lets her hand fall as she tucks the cloth out of sight and turns to Touya with a hum. Touya's brows furrow, and his posture straightens as he closes his eyes, disappointed in himself for losing his temper again. Touya never lost his patience with you—and you never lost your patience with him. With you, it was different. But it seemed like he was quick to anger with anyone that wasn't you these days.

"Sorry," He mumbles a few silent seconds later—and Akari's face softens as she speaks quietly to herself, before letting out a satisfied ah! as she tugs something out of the bag that laid on the floor

"This was something your mother did during her stay too,"

He looks down slowly, staring blankly at the foreign object that Akari cradles carefully. She gets up, shuffling around Touya's bed as she tugged open the curtains—before carefully settling the small cactus in Touya's hands, admiring it for a moment before smiling happily.

"Think of it as a friend you can be with whenever you feel alone!" Akari beams, laughing softly as Touya leans froward, interest piqued as he remains silent. He tilts his head curiously, eyes narrowing on the suspicious cactus.

"What were you saying about my mother...?"

Akari's mouth makes a small "o" before she claps her hands, shaking her head.

"Did you now know your mother was admitted to a hospital similar to this one, Touya? She had a cactus to take care of too! You look a lot like her. It's so nice to see a somewhat familiar face." Akari smiles, and Touya stares at the cactus in his lap, dumfounded.

It was small and stubby, short in terms of height and fat. Like a baby. Touya lifts it up in his hands, eyes slowly moving over the points and branches as he carefully sets it onto his bedside table. The cactus stands still, and Akari begins telling him more about it. He catches bits and pieces of what she's saying, barely listening as his eyelids droop.

Easy to take care of—water every one to two weeks—good for promoting cleaner air—a friend...

Akari leaves in the same way she entered, going unnoticed by Touya since he was too busy in his own world up in his head. He was handed her schedule the next day by another doctor, and it looked like she'd be staying with Touya for far less hours than you used to. He'd be by himself for most of the day, now. The doctors had cleared him as capable of being alone after his time with you, saying he was healthy and needed to come out of his shell.

Touya started going on walks in the recreational garden by himself. The first time he'd gone, he felt immensely self conscious. He wavered at the entrance, before sighing—the weather was warming up these days, and he knows you would've wanted him outside. For you—oh, Touya would do anything for you.

He starts eating again. He'd lost his appetite after you left, every tray left out for him went untouched. Touya was resorting to eating something small here and there every other day just so he didn't pass out—he was used to going to bed hungry from years of neglect to care. But when Touya comes out of the hospital, he doesn't want to be something broken for you to fix again. He wants to make you proud; to show you the fruits of your labor, to show you that your kindness hadn't been for nothing.

Your praise was like a siren's song. You had Touya at your mercy with your kindness—after being degraded, humiliated, and treated like human garbage for most of his life, Touya could shamelessly admit that kindness was warm. So warm and forgiving that it was all he wanted. Especially if it was your kindness being offered.

Akari was gentle with Touya, too. She would tell him stories of his mother, of her husband, and the small bakery they ran together as a part time job. Touya learned a lot about his mother through Akari, ears perking up every time her name slipped from the older woman's lips.

It's February now. And the snow has made its return—a winter wonderland encases the majority of Touya's view of the window, and he smiles softly as he remembers his time making paper snowflakes with you. They don't hang on the window anymore—he taped them onto his bed frame's post, staring at them until he fell asleep. They were easier to look at now, closer to him.

Winter reminded Touya of you. He wonders how you're feeling, and if you miss him as much as he misses you. He hasn't seen his family in a while, and rejected all three of the requests sent in to visit him. Touya needed alone time right now—he needed time to organize his thoughts and try to understand what he wanted to be. The future he envisioned for himself, the man he wanted to become for you. For his mother, for his siblings—he needed to think. Really think.

Touya waters his cactus, tipping the glass bowl forward and watching the soil soak it up. There's a name scribbled on the side—Y/n—of the pot. Y/n the cactus was his friend, and he'd take care of it as much as he could. It's stupid, naming a cactus after you—but it's also not. And Touya knows it's a little childish as well, but he really didn't care. He wonders if his mother named her cactus, too. Making sure it got enough sunlight everyday but never too much, Touya gave the cactus who needed virtually no attention all of his—just because he could.

The sensation he feels so suddenly is icy at first, chilly and prickling as it glides over his skin. But it's an undoubtable need, something he must do. And Touya thinks yes, this would satisfy his heart, even if only a little. He pulls out various papers and pens, holding them to his chest as he walks to the small desk in the corner of his room. He smiles softly as he stares at your glittery gel pens, the ones that glided so smoothly over paper and captured every stroke of his fingers and hand. He uncaps the pen, grabbing the nearby dictionary and settling down to write his first letter in a very long time.

And he wants to laugh—because God, this is fucking cheesy. But his fingers wrap around your pen, beginning their journey across the page as he writes and writes and writes—his hands are trembling, fingers moving haphazardly and maybe some of his tears pool on the paper and smudge his writing, but a love letter was no doubt the manifestation of all this. A love letter, just for you. Touya will write one everyday until he can see you again.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; oh my gawd...i've been gone for like two weeks and i am so so SO sorry!! i was getting my ass kicked with school...i think i was having withdrawals not being able to write. i'm not even joking like...😞 i should be back to my regular posting schedule!! carnations was nawtt good for me during exam week because i couldn't focus!! also i've been rawdogging this fic (pls don't hate me LMAO) since the beginning. like i have no outline, no notes, no nothing. i am literally creating this story as i go and i'm very surprised i've been able to keep the pacing some what consistent? like this is so unprofessional but so fun...anywho...NEW DOC IS NOT A LOVE INTEREST FOR TOUYA!! 😭😭 i remember i stressed so many of u out with that little note from the last chap and i'm sorryyy 🥲 i had no idea how to say she'd be someone touya would grow to care for without freaking everyone out. the asks i got seemed so panicked i was shaking my head but giggling you guys are so silly. okay bai i'm gonna go read some itoshi bro fics (i love rin and sae both don't make me choose) now cause they've been on my mind a lot recently. MWAH!! thank you to everyone who was so patient with me, i know this chapter was def not worth the amount of time you had to wait, and i'm sorry. ☹️ thank you once again! 🩷 i love you!!

tags!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kelin-is-writing

@shugs1801 @imaginationmess

@lasa27 @sophiathefrog @etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo

@hvnares @ephmeraloblivion @lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006

@stoned-anime-babe @qatiee @shadowsingers-redhood @alycat171

@21-princess

@xileonaaaa @rylerboi @blurryperrtymoonlight @mrcleans4headwrinkle @accidentpronedork

hello hello, i hope my vision fits with yours on this!! and i hope i portrayed denki good lol. please enjoy, anon! <3

take a chance on me

— parings: kaminari denki x reader

— notes: mature language & suggestive content

it’s like clockwork—you can probably call it a routine at this point—when denki shot you a text with the simple message of ‘come over?’

at first you two caught up on your days, then he asked for you to stay for dinner and a movie night. like always, he inched his way closer to you as you sat on the couch together with the movie playing. and as expected, his hand slid along the back of the couch, and he leaned into your personal space before asking in a lower tone for you two to move to his bedroom.

“i can be out of your hair by sunrise,” he told you, and you knew he would be. he always was. he always left you in a mass of cold, messy sheets with a text telling you to lock up before you leave.

sunlight peaks through the sheer curtains of denki’s bedroom. you’re not entirely conscious as you struggle to bring a hand to your eyes, and for a good second, in your tired mind, you wonder if you’re having sleep paralysis.

blinking your eyes open and squinting from the sun rays hitting your face, you crane your neck to be met with a tuff of golden hair. his face is buried against your collarbone with his chest diagonally across yours, a leg slot between your own. his hand almost falls over the edge of the bed from his sprawled out position atop of you.

it’s like a weighted blanket has been draped over you. you find it comforting, but also surprising. you didn’t expect for him to sleep in.

“denki,” you murmur, shifting slighting to lift your hand. you bend your arm at the elbow and tap your fingers against his shoulder blade. he doesn’t respond, so you lightly nudge him. “denki.”

an annoyed groan elicits from him, but he doesn’t make any effort to move or speak. you tilt your head to try and glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, and you pat denki’s hair down to see the digital numbers more clearly, but his hand comes up to try and cover your vision.

you huff, turning your head away from his hand. lifting your hand from his hair, you pull his hand away from your face. “you dickhead,” you mumble, and you’re pretty certain you hear a small laugh come from denki. “get off of me.”

denki laces his fingers with yours before letting your now intertwined hands rest on the mattress. you involuntarily tighten your grip on his hand. “why?” he asks, voice muffled against the skin of your collarbone.

“don’t you have work?”

he lets out a short hum, shaking his head ‘no’. ”i’m off today,” he says, lifting his head up just a little to peer at you. “you wanna get rid of me so soon?”

there’s a playful pout on his lips—you’re not sure if you wanna kiss him stupid or push his head away. with a light, amused scoff, you settle for rolling your eyes and tilting your head to look away from him.

denki’s lips curl into a little bit of a frown as he leans back. “wait, you wanna get rid of me?” he lets go of your hand in favor of propping himself up on his left forearm, his body weight still a little atop of you.

you shake your head a little before looking back at denki. “i never said that.”

“you implied it,” he retorts, to which you furrow your brows.

“me rolling my eyes implied that i wanted you gone?”

denki gave you a look that practically read, ‘uh, duh?’ you lift your hand to his head, fingers lightly brushing back the unruly blonde strands from his forehead.

“you’re real stupid when you first wake up,” you say, yet your tone of words is more tender than its meaning.

he’s also real expressive, you notice, when he first wakes up. there’s a small furrow in his brows, and the sunlight basks him in a warm embrace. there’s a light dusting of freckles along his nose and high points of his cheeks, as well as a few lighter lightning shaped scars on his fair skin.

“and you’re real mean.” denki pouts, pulling his best beaten-up, puppy dog look.

your hand shifts from his hair to his brows, and you lightly run the pads of your fingers along his brow bone. “i’m calling you stupid but said with affection.”

your palm cups his jaw, and it’s almost automatic how he relaxes his face into your touch. he has a bit of a softer, surprised look in his eyes. his right hand lightly skims the expanse of your side, and it threatens a shiver to run up your spine.

“affection?” he repeats.

shit. “what?” you say with a slight (almost nervous) chuckle. “friends can’t be affectionate now?”

for a moment, he stares at you as if he doesn’t believe your words. it makes you nervous—he makes you nervous—and you can only let out an awkward chuckle before murmuring, “what?”

“so are we still friends?” he asks.

you can’t help but feel a little confused. your brows furrow as you continue to stare up at denki, and your hand comes to rest near his nape. with a tentative touch, your fingers thread through the messy strands.

“why wouldn’t we be?” you ask.

he lifts his hand from your side and awkwardly gestures between you two. “‘cause of this?” he then gestures to the few articles of clothing on the floor, then aimlessly around his room. “all this?”

you blink. what are you even supposed to say? your lips part to speak, but you can’t find the right words.

you’re laying in his bed, wearing his shirt, and had planned to steal his coffee maker and a mug before you left, but now you’re trapped. you’re trapped by him sleeping in with you, you’re trapped by him caging you to the mattress, and you’re immensely trapped by his stupid question.

“do you not want this anymore?” you ask hesitantly.

denki glances from your heavy gaze to your lips. his hand settles at the curve of your hip. he swallows dryly before sighing softly and making eye contact with you.

“can’t i want more?”

you’ll admit to yourself that his words stun you. you didn’t expect that response, but you should’ve known feelings would eventually come to play after fucking around with your close friend for months now.

“you like me?” you ask, words spoken softly.

his lips curl into a nervous grin, and his fingertips lightly press into the skin at your hip. “whoops?”

the short conversation leaves you two in a brief silence, simply staring at each other and trying to gather what you both want from this agreement. denki wants more than just a quick fuck, and you’re not entirely sure what you want.

you like denki (you’re sure of it), but you don’t know if you love him. does he love you? would he still love you even after knowing every little thing about you, more than what he already knows? if he learns the ins and outs of how you work, would he still want you?

“so…” denki draws out the word. his thumb brushes against your hipbone. “can i maybe take you out?”

there was an urge to allow denki to dote on you, and you were seconds away from succumbing. besides, how bad could a few dates, and maybe more, be? he could be a good boyfriend. you’re finding yourself liking that word in reference to denki, anyways. it sounds nice, and having denki be more than just a quick fuck sounds even better.

feat. bakugou, todoroki, sero, mina, denki, kirishima

contains: izuku, katsuki, shoto, eijiro, touya, tomura

warnings: fluff, crack, suggestive, a little angsty, timeskip-ish