#todoroki shouto fic

[rosesforshouto]

marked in your heart | 1

marked in your heart | todoroki shouto x reader

chapter 1: saving and soba | length: 6k | ao3 link

Summary: A peaceful life was all you strove for ever since the war, avoiding heroes seemed to be a surefire way for that. It really didn't help though when you had the name of one of Japan's top heroes marked on your skin. Content: soulmate au, pro-heroes, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, pining todoroki shouto, todoroki shouto is a tease, overthinking/spiraling thoughts, noodles, books Soulmate Mark: 75% of the world was born with their soulmate’s name inscribed on their skin. The inscription changes color upon first skin-to-skin contact with your soulmate. Notes: hi! this is my first ever fic written and posted in the mha community, i'm aiming for this to be around 6 chapters :) i hope you enjoy!

Living a mundane life wasn’t so bad. 

Peaceful. As you’d like to call it. Calm, serene, tranquil. 

With the war devastating Japan six years ago and Musutafu just starting to regain its footing and spirit again, it’s safe to say that you would take a mundane life over one of bloodshed and tragedy any day. 

Bills flit in between your fingers as you count what was left from the tip jar. One, two, three. Soft humming of acoustic and a lulling drumbeat plays quietly out of the speaker perched on one of the high wooden bookshelves. Four, five, six. Golden rays of the sunset filter in from the windows, washing over all the plants near the front door before bathing nearly every inch of the bookstore in a warm glow. 

Seven, eight, nine.

Letting out a content sigh, you place all the bills in a worn down envelope, tucking it away safely in a drawer. You have half a mind to write a reminder to divy up the change for your part-timer when next week rolls around. Stopping short, you roll your eyes with a smile as the thought quickly passes, knowing that your sleep-deprived college student part-timer himself will be enough of a reminder when he accuses you of swindling tips first thing on Monday. Like he usually does.

You continue your daily check-list for the night. A quick sweep of the floor, putting away stray books, setting aside worn to hell ones from the used section. You finish stocking the latest release of one of those underdog shonen mangas, giddy with the thought of going home. No sooner were you then humming the same tune of the acoustic from earlier, locking up the front gate with a happy pep in your step, feet moving in the familiar direction towards home.

Your hand reaches up to tap absentmindedly at your lower lip, other arm lazily wrapping around your midriff, should I get udon or ramen tonight?

Thick, round noodles paired with a light but hearty soup? Or firm, thin noodles mixed in a rich and creamy broth? The battle between the two noodles was about as much excitement as you'd get on a typical Friday, the choice for takeout rather than home cooked food being the only deviation from the other week days. 

Huffing with a final decision, you start heading towards the hole-in-a-wall ramen shop that’s been there since before you were born, gazing up at the sky swirling with orange and pink clouds. The crisp autumn air breezes by, signaling the start of another sweater season full of persimmon flavored desserts and Halloween-themed All Might plushies. 

Yeah, living a mundane life wasn’t so bad. 

You’d hardly call owning a bookstore or eating delicious variations of noodles every Friday night bad. 

It was familiar. Knowing. Safe. 

Dull.

You shook your head quickly as if it could shake the thought out of your head. No, not dull. Anything but dull. Definitely meant to say full, as in fulfilling. A fulfilling and safe life. A fulfilling and safe life that left no room for surprises that would disrupt your steady routine of books and noodles. 

You laugh quietly at yourself. Who were you kidding? You know your life nowadays is as dull as an elementary school kid’s pencil. You know that. But you also know that a dull life is better than a dead one. 

Your steps falter a bit as you wince slightly, brows furrowing at the sudden pressure on your left side. 

Speaking of, what you can also say was certainly dull was this unpleasant ache and warmth you’ve been feeling for the past two weeks, on top of your left rib cage where an inscribed name laid. Naturally made and not by needles or ink. 

There lay six letters that showed up as crisp white lines, slightly raised from the rest of your skin. Six letters that formed one word you have never said out loud in public, for fear of gaining attention and sparking a conversation you didn’t want to have. 

For the past two weeks, the mark had been aching. Burning hot underneath your fingers, lacking the supposed glow it should have when you meet the owner of said name. You weren’t sure what the reason was but no amount of ice was able to curb the throbbing away. It was left as a distant but noticeable feeling, like a blunt thorn stuck on your side. You were just glad it never surpassed the feeling akin to heavy pressure. 

Reaching the ramen shop’s dark blue noren, the sight of a new billboard catches your eye. It was big and tall, with the face of one of Japan’s top heroes shining brightly on it. The billboard looms over the smaller buildings on the main street, as if his 2D counterpart could keep the city safe in place of the real thing. 

Turquoise and gray heterochromatic eyes stare back at you, set on a handsome face that gives the impression of looking at royalty. Red hair on his left and white hair on his right split down evenly on top of his head, a few stray strands covering his eyes in an artistic way. He poses in a manner that exudes strength and confidence but not too much confidence, it makes you wonder how many foreheads smacked into the poles on this very street due to wandering distracted eyes. 

The ache on your ribs flare, hot but never painful. You subconsciously cradle the area with your right hand, eyes lingering on the scar surrounding his left eye and disappearing into his hairline. You can’t tell if the ache in your chest was caused by the ache in your ribs as you read the name plastered across the top of the billboard in obnoxious comic-style block letters. 

You don’t give yourself time to think as you force yourself to turn away from the billboard, stepping inside the ramen shop as quickly as you can. 

Slipping into a bar stool in front of him, you call out a greeting to Okamoto-san. Your smile brightens considerably as he looks at you with a grumpy yet fond scowl. Nonetheless, he starts fixing your usual order of tonkotsu ramen with extra pork (a bit more extra today as he seemed to be in a good mood). 

With your belly full of pork and the promise of starting the final book in your favorite series, you thought the ache would eventually go away. You thought you could forget all about it as you live your peaceful days in your peaceful life. 

But as you stand in front of your mirror, lifting your shirt slowly to reveal the six letters burning hot, hotter than it has since it started, your stomach was in knots. Twisting in on itself into a big ball of anxiousness and some other feeling you just couldn’t put your finger on. 

Shivers ran down your spine as you lightly touched the searing letters. 

Something told you that the days of your peaceful life would halt soon. You aren’t sure why but as your eyes travel towards your throbbing rib cage, you couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the name settled there permanently on your skin. 

The same name that if said anywhere, would no doubt incite excitement and awe in everyone around. The same name that was looming over the city in its feign attempt at protecting it. The same name that was plastered obnoxiously across the billboard in comic-style block letters.

Footsteps crunch over fallen leaves as you make your way downtown. Going over the mental list of errands, you head towards the bank at the end of the street. 

The area was crowded due to it being a Saturday, tourists mingling with locals filled the afternoon with a lively atmosphere. 

Your heart skips a beat at overhearing a group of girls nearby gush about seeing Pro-Heros Shouto and Uravity. Your feet pick up their pace, in hopes of finishing your errands faster than usual. 

In hindsight, maybe thinking that the Todoroki Shouto was your soulmate was… overreaching to say the least. Not as if anyone and everyone either wanted to be him or be with him (of course, they do). Perhaps it’s too bold of a thought to think that you were somehow fated with one of Japan’s most prized heroes and sought after bachelors. 

Goya, your sleep-deprived college student part-timer, would no doubt laugh so hard he’d die. And you would probably still hear him rolling in his grave, calling you crazy along with every other name resembling insane. 

Hell, you think you’re just as insane and more. If you could turn a blind eye, you really would. But it was in the way your mark tingles every time you see those eyes, whether it be on a special edition holiday mug or advertising the latest trendy sportswear. Also, not to mention the fact that when you saw him out on patrol once and made brief eye contact with the real thing… Let's just say you’re thankful your mark didn’t burn a hole through your body. 

Ironically, you’ve met two other Shoutos in your life. Other than a quick jump scare at the drop of their name, you never had any reaction remotely close to your episodes now. A brief touch on their arm also proved your hunches correctly. Thank god because those two Shoutos were both twice and half your age. 

This feeling, this hunch, was practically screaming at you in the face. It’s something you just know but would never ever want to confirm, lest you want your peaceful life to completely uproot and dragged around by a man who not only attracts chaos, but seeks it.

His paycheck definitely depends on seeking said chaos too!

No, you would ignore this… hunch until it hit you plain. Hard. Like a brick to the face. 

A really hard brick to the face, you think as you look up from the sidewalk. Before you could form another thought, you felt something slam into your left side like a freight train. Much, much, much, harder than the pressure you’ve been feeling all morning. 

Your breath gets knocked out of your lungs as your body collides into the wall beside you, head following the same trajectory and slamming hard on the cement. 

Your chest felt tight, an unreleased scream stuck in your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, body crumpling to the ground. For a moment, your vision swims and when you blink, everything is out of focus and disoriented. The pain on the right side of your head, just above your ear, was so excruciating you debated slamming it a second time in hopes of finishing the job and putting you out of your misery for real. 

Groaning, your hand shakingly reaches to the wound and draws back with blood coating heavily on your fingers. 

Not even giving you the time to panic, your body is yanked upwards and you feel the ground quite literally crumble underneath you. An explosion barely singes your feet as you glance downwards, nothing but smoke and fire could be seen at where you once stood. 

You are moving. Fast. The person holding you held one tight arm around your back, their other arm slotted under your knees, pulling your body as close to theirs as they could. You vaguely make out a crystalline sound whizzing around you as the wind whips against your body, making you shut your eyes tight and instinctually huddle into the person’s chest. There were explosions all around you as you feel the pair of you zip around buildings mid-air, narrowly dodging each attack. 

Waves of terror courses through your veins each time the person lands because no sooner were you then in the air again, the cycle repeating over and over, their speed never letting up. 

One of your eyes slowly pries itself open to take a peak around the moment you feel the both of you finally slow down to a stop. Mountains of ice are on the street everywhere you look. Did your harsh trembling come from the cold or from the shock?

Both of your eyes shoot wide open as you feel the person kneel on the ice underneath you, slowly unwinding their arms from your legs and pulling your body away from them. You barely notice your blood-covered fists clenched tightly in their dark blue suit as another wave of fear courses through you, refusing to draw away from their body and pushing harder into their protective hold. 

Heart palpitating, your heartbeat and the ringing in your ears is the only thing you hear as muffled voices surround you. You feel the chest against your face vibrate and rumble, not sure if the person was talking to you or not until a warm hand gently tugs at your wrist. 

After a couple more gentle tugs, you finally look up to see your savior as white and black dots creep at the edges of your vision. You try to blink the dots away but the haziness comes faster.

Your eyes squint in an attempt to focus on the concerned face in front of you. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was moving at a pace that didn’t seem to match the sounds (or lack thereof) you were hearing. 

Cursing yourself at being unable to make out anything in front of you, you move your face closer to his in an attempt to focus your vision. They sharpen as you finally make out turquoise and gray eyes staring back at you, slightly in shock at the sudden close distance. 

A low and deep voice cuts through the ringing in your ears, still slightly muffled.

“—calm down… you’re… breathe… !” 

Breathe?

It’s like a switch turns on in your brain. You let out the most ragged breath you’ve ever heaved and inhale so heavily you almost felt embarrassed if not for almost suffocating yourself. Air finally rushes into your oxygen-deprived lungs as the voices around you start becoming more clear. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” His voice drifts towards your ears again, soft and deep. Deeper than you remembered hearing on TV. His hand soothingly rubs your back as you catch your breath, noticing that the dark spots still crept threateningly in your vision.

“Can you still hear me? How bad does your wound hurt? On a scale of 1 to 10.” Heterochromatic eyes peer at you worriedly, his head leaning forward to examine the bloody mess that was in your hair. 

Oh. His face was much more dangerous up close, it was unfair. His eyes look so different and better in person than in pictures. Red and white strands hung a bit away from his forehead as he leans down to take a better look at you. 

Searing hot fire shoots straight to your left rib cage,  your right hand immediately clutching your midriff next to the agonizing pressure. You whimper in pain as breaths start coming out shakingly again. 

Faster than you could notice, Todoroki’s right hand fingers are pressing into your hip attempting to see any injuries he might’ve overlooked. 

Even though his right hand isn’t directly on your skin, you feel the coolness from him through your sweater, or perhaps his quirk, travel from his fingertips and soothe your mark. You let out a small sigh of relief as the tension leaves your body. By then, the dots in your vision multiple by tenfold, lulling you into a tempting abyss.

You feel Todoroki’s fingers leave your hips and start lifting your sweater, probably trying to see what wound could make your pain come and go so easily. He didn’t get far though as you nudged away his touch with your forearm, humming something nonsensical in weak retaliation.�� 

Even in your haziness, you knew that you didn’t want him to see. A brand that bound you two together. What would he think if he saw it? Would he be happy or feel… disgusted?

Your questions went unanswered as darkness finally took over and you pass out, body falling limp in his arms. 

The last thing you thought was how fucking rude it was that the universe actually hit you hard in the face with a brick.

You didn’t see him for a while after the incident. After waking up in the hospital, you were told that your smaller injuries would heal smoothly over time and that you were extremely lucky to not have a concussion. Your head was healed but the left side of your body felt so incredibly sore you were practically hobbling around for the next two weeks. 

One of the assistants from Todoroki’s agency came to check up on you but never the man himself. A part of you had hoped that you could’ve at least thanked him for saving you. What you later learned was that you got caught in a bank robbery that turned violent very quickly, with the villains frantically throwing bombs at any hero they saw. 

Oh and you slammed into a concrete wall, not brick. Like that makes it any better. 

Having no other choice but to trust the assistant’s promise that your thanks would be passed along, that was about as far as your interaction with Todoroki went. 

Life continues on. 

Humming a low tune, your broom slowly sweeps along the dark hardwood floor as it picks up little bits of dust and paper. Off in the distance, Goya was muttering to himself about an upcoming exam as he dutifully tucks away stray books. 

It was another Friday coming to a close. 

After the bank-robbery-bombing-almost-dying incident, Goya had been closing up with you on most days when he didn’t have class. Normally, he would never refuse an early dismissal but after seeing you hobble pathetically between the bookshelves, he ignored your offer to go home early and wordlessly stayed despite your protests. 

It was sweet, coming from him. 

“Give me that, you’re taking forever,” Goya grumbles and tugs the broom out of your hands. “Just go sit! You’re in the way.” He doubles back when he sees you hovering near the shelves, swiping away imaginary dust. 

You roll your eyes but let out a chuckle, “Alright, alright. Who knew it’d take a near-death experience to get you this soft.” A grin spreads further across your face at Goya’s mutters of denial. 

Goya was nineteen, only three years younger than you. Despite being his boss, his bratty personality never failed to make its appearance but lately he seems to be just a tad bit more tame than usual. 

You figured it had something to do with when he showed up to your hospital bedside on the Monday you didn’t come to work. With half-wilted flowers and dark hair covering slightly red eyes, he told you grumpily that you could keep his tips for the next few paychecks. Quickly followed up with a “But not forever, you hear me!” 

Sitting behind the front counter, you bask in the warm light of the setting sun. 

“What sounds better, udon or ramen?”

Goya looks up from the dustpan, “Didn’t you have udon last week?” 

“I did. And I had ramen the week before that.”

The brat rolls his eyes, “You should try branching out more. Don’t you think Okamoto-san and Akira-san are tired of seeing you every other week?” He taps the dustpan over the open trash can, frowning at the fallen pieces of trash that escape on the sides. Then proceeds to sweep them up and repeat the motion two more times. 

“If I’m a paying customer then it shouldn’t be an issue right? Besides, they love my company.” Slowly rising up from your seat, you tenderly rub the left side of your body that starts aching from the movement. You watch your dutiful part-timer swiftly put away the broom and head towards the back room, picking up his school bag and your purse. 

Goya continues to nag you as he ushers you out the front door, waiting impatiently for the gate to be locked but still holding your purse. 

“There’s a new place that opened up nearby, I heard it’s good. I’ll drop you off before heading home.” 

You cooed, “You’re escorting me now? So sweet of you!” Ruffling the top of his messy dark hair, he swats your hands away with a scowl, still holding onto your purse as he starts down the road. 

“Hurry up! This exam isn’t going to study itself!” 

A giggle escapes your lips. Nonetheless, you follow him on the short walk to the supposed new shop, a comfortable silence settling between you two before you break it. 

“What kind of food is it anyway? I’m really craving noodles tonight.” 

Goya huffs, “You’re always craving noodles.” Stopping in front of a small shop with a green noren, he hands you your purse, feet already turned to head towards the nearest train station. “It’s soba, tell ‘em I sent you. And don’t go home too late! Don’t act broke and use a taxi if it hurts too much!”

You open your mouth to retort back but with a smirk, Goya spins around and starts jogging away, waving goodbye with an enthusiastic hand behind him without so much as a glance. 

Ugh. What a brat. 

A sweet brat, you remind yourself. You fondly shook your head at his retreating frame, heart growing warm with familial attachment. You suppose this is what it feels like to have a younger brother, not that you’d know since you’re an only child. 

Pushing aside the noren, you walk into the shop. The place looked relatively big on the outside but felt smaller as every table in the establishment was full. A young and pretty hostess comes by with a warm smile as you hold up one finger. She leads you to the only spot available at the bar sandwiched between a wall and a man with his hood up. 

Making sure not to disrupt the man beside you, you settle into your seat looking over the menu. Not that there was much to look at. Your brows furrow in confusion at the menu containing only one item and an assortment of alcohol. 

“Mori soba is their specialty, it seems.” 

Heart jumping to your throat, you whip to face the man next to you. That voice, you couldn’t forget it even if you tried. 

Turquoise and gray eyes once again meet yours, the first time since that day. 

“I’ve heard great things about this place. I hope it lives up to its expectations.”

Fuck, of all places to see him!

You stare, embarrassment creeping up on the back of your neck as Todoroki tilts his head at your silence. You couldn’t have seen it because of his hood but now you notice the fluff of red and white hair tucked neatly into his hoodie. His bangs fluttered softly over his eyes, seeming to wait for your response. 

“Oh… yeah? I’ve only heard about its opening today. A friend recommended me to come here…” Your voice drifts off slightly, a full flush spreading hot across your face as he turns to you, propping his chin up on his right palm, elbow resting on the counter while his left arm lies lazily in front of him. Small graphics of an animated kitten on the front of his hoodie become distorted from his twisted position. 

His whole frame covered the entire width of your right side and you couldn’t help but feel trapped between his presence and the wall to your left. 

“I hope both our friends have good taste then.” 

A nervous chuckle passes through your lips, “I trust his judgement… most of the time.”

A hum of neither agreement or disagreement resonated from him. A deep rumble that makes you involuntarily shiver. Curse his handsome face! Anything he does would catch anybody’s attention!

A waitress thankfully cuts in between you two, facing eagerly towards the pro-hero with a flirtatious smile as she asks him for his order. Her wide awaiting eyes made you avert your own, your fingers subconsciously picking at each other awkwardly. 

Your surprise must’ve been obvious as you hear him ordering for the both of you. Two mori sobas. The waitress patters away while you look at him questioningly. He’s acting awfully familiar with you, isn’t he? 

He raises a brow, “What? Is there a secret menu I don’t know about?”

He turns to call out to the waitress again with an arm raised and your hand darts out to grip the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling it down with a quiet protest. 

Although he wore his signature impassive face, you see the subtle lift on one corner of his mouth. 

What?

A tease? Todoroki is a tease!

And why was he teasing with you?

“I don’t think we know each other well enough to order for one another,” you grumble out with a frown. 

“Then let’s get to know each other.”

His chin plants itself in his right palm again, resuming his previous position. Motioning with his face, his eyes dart to the side of your head. “How’s your head? Did it heal alright?”

Your frown deepens further at his question. “You remember me?” 

“You’re a little hard to forget, with the way you kept clinging to me.”

Your face flushes again. Opting to just stare straight ahead, you will yourself to stop fucking blushing. 

What is happening?

Taking a deep breath, you reach up to press against the spot that started flaring in phantom pain. “It feels fine. No concussion. The healers did a great job.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It was bleeding quite a bit.”

His stare practically bore holes into your head, making you squirm slightly under his gaze. A few moments pass before you take another deep breath, turning slightly to his figure, “I never got the chance to thank you properly. I could’ve died that day.”

“No need to thank me. Any hero would’ve done the same.” 

He trails off at the end of his sentence. Despite what he said, he looks at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something. 

A beat passes. 

…. Oh this motherfu–

“Thank you,” you pointedly say. You didn’t mean for your thanks to come out as stiff as it did. After all, you truly were grateful for his saving that day. Sighing, you soften the tension in your expression and hold his gaze steady with your own. 

Todoroki hums in what you assume is contentment. It was his turn to break eye contact as the waitress reappears with two sets of mori soba. He takes one of the sets and places it in front of you first before taking his own. 

Muttering out a soft thanks, your eyes roam over the mori soba set. A bundle of buckwheat noodles nestles on top of a bamboo tray, with a cup of mentsuyu next to it. Behind the cup, a small ceramic dish sits containing wasabi and grated daikon. Simple, yet classic. 

Excitement starts filling you as you absentmindedly reach for a pair of chopsticks from its container. In your peripheral, you see Todoroki reach for a pair as well and your stomach drops at the sudden sight of his fingers mere inches from touching your own. 

As if his quirk activated with flames right then and there, you yank your hand back, holding it tightly against your chest. Your eyes were wide open as it met his filled with surprise at your reaction. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, maybe an excuse? But nothing comes out. 

“… Sorry, go ahead.” He motions with his outstretched hand, letting you grab a pair of chopsticks. 

“Sorry…” you mumble quietly, grabbing two pairs and handing one to him. He takes it tentatively, a curious look on his face and wordlessly dives into his meal. 

You do the same. Bits and pieces of other patrons’ conversations have a weak attempt at filling in the awkward silence that settles between you two. 

Taking the first bite of your soba, your expression lights up at the delicious combination of noodles and mentsuyu. The flavor was umami and hearty, with the clearly fresh and handmade noodles having a delightful bounce to it. 

Forgetting the awkwardness between you two, you smile to yourself and happily dig in, not noticing how hungry you were after a full and busy day at the bookstore. 

Towards the end of your meal, the chef behind the counter plops down a hot kettle full of water. As you finish your last sip of sauce-turned-broth, your eyes dart over to Todoroki seeing that he’s already done with his food. 

The empty dishes sit in front of him and you notice his gaze is set on you, as if the both of you were just two old friends waiting for the other to be finished. 

“What do you think?”

It takes a second to realize that he was talking about the soba and you couldn’t help a smile overtaking your features. “It was delicious. The flavor of the sauce wasn’t too salty or overpowering. You can tell the wasabi and daikon were fresh too. And the noodles! Wow! I’m sure it was made in-house, the texture was just right. I’m happy because I never found a solid soba place around but now I can definitely add this one to my list.”

As you speak, Todoroki gives a curt nod to each point, silently taking in your review as if you’re Gordon Ramsay himself. You abruptly stop your rambling, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry… I get a little passionate about these things.  I usually eat out at a place on Fridays. What uh… what did you think?”

“No, it was insightful.” He smiles softly, face leaning towards your figure. “You took the words right out of my mouth. Our friends indeed have good taste.”

You perk up at his agreement, “Yeah, I guess they do. I’ll have to tell him that this place makes the cut on my noodle rotation.” You can already imagine Goya’s smug face at the thought. 

“So you’re a noodle connoisseur,” he states, not asking. 

You laugh breathlessly, “Somewhat, I guess.”

“Perhaps you could introduce me to a few places. I haven’t found the time to really explore this area. It’s new on our patrol.”

You pull out your phone without missing a beat, immediately going to your notes app for your list of approved shops. “Sure, I have a couple of places I could recommend for you. A lot of them are small shops that close late so I’m sure they can fit well in your schedule–”

“Just let me know where and I’ll see you there. Next Friday, I assume?”

You stop in your tracks. 

“Uh… I– I mean– We don’t have to go together. I could write it on a piece of paper or–”

“I wouldn’t want to miss your riveting reviews after each meal. If you give me your number, we can arrange a time to meet.” Todoroki was already digging into his pants to pull out his phone before he could finish his sentence, missing your mortified expression. 

A blank contacts page opened up for editing was thrust into your face. Before your brain could catch up with its actions, you took the phone with clammy hands, slowly inputting your number. 

Your mind was reeling as you type. What is this? Why were you putting your phone number in Todoroki’s phone? In Todoroki Shouto’s phone? What happened to keeping your distance in favor of your peaceful life? 

Your fingers halt before continuing, the last two digits of your number waiting to be typed. Why were you doing this? Getting involved with a hero would no doubt bring all kinds of chaos and uneasiness into your life. Could you do this? 

You were born into it before but this time around, you have a choice. Whether to involve yourself or not. But how? Why? Why would you open yourself to a possibility of losing everything yet again–

Your spiraling cuts off as the screen in front of you suddenly shifts to show an incoming call. “Deku” displays itself at the top as the phone vibrates in between your hands, ringing with fervor. 

Todoroki let out a disgruntled mumble, quietly apologizing before taking the phone back into his hands and answering the call. 

It was like a thread snapped in your mind. You swiftly pull out a couple of bills from your wallet and place it on the counter with shaky fingers. Grabbing your purse, you turn to Todoroki and mutter out a sorry excuse to leave, not missing his shocked face as he motions for you to wait. 

You don’t though. Giving him an apologetic smile, you quickly start towards the door, still hearing his voice ring out from his conversation with “Deku” as the green noren flutters behind you. 

It was like you were going through the motions rather than living them. After flagging down a taxi, you were suddenly in a car staring out the window into the night sky. Your reflection filters in between the city lights. 

That was a close call. If the last two digits of your number were inputted, it would've been you that put down the final brick to the bridge that connected you two. 

Your next Friday would’ve been filled with more conversations. More conversations that would’ve led to learning more about the man that puts his life on the line everyday. More about the man with his name engraved on your skin. 

Tonight, you have already learned more than you ever wished for. 

You didn’t need to know that he chooses to wear hoodies with cute cats on it. 

You didn’t need to know that he seemed to like teasing people.

And you absolutely didn’t need to know what it felt like having his whole attention fixed on you. Unwavering and determined. Just like his 2D counterpart. 

It’s not like you fell in love at first sight. You would be naive to think that a soulmate mark would lead to a happy love that overcomes all odds. Or that just because you have a soulmate mark meant having a one-way road to marriage and kids. 

You push down these emotions of want. Of hope. Wanting and hoping for a connection that you couldn’t afford to have. Not when you’ve witnessed grief and devastation consume your mother following your father’s death. A pro-hero who sacrificed his life for the war six years ago. Her soulmate mark that promised love and the hope to live with love, made her choose to die instead. 

People always said that your father’s genes never stood a chance regarding your features. Staring at your reflection in the window with gaunt eyes, it was as if the universe was mocking you, daring you to follow the footsteps of your dead mother. 

Oh universe. The way you play with people’s lives is stifling and utterly ridiculous. 

You should’ve known. Should’ve known that something was waiting to happen when your mark started flaring uncomfortably again as you dressed for work. It hadn’t flared ever since the almost-dying incident. 

It was a usual Wednesday. Boxes of new shipments of books littered the ground as you filled the empty spaces on the bookshelf. 

You vaguely heard the front door opening, calling out a greeting to the customer who just walked in. Soft music played in the background as their footsteps thumped heavily across the flooring, stopping short just next to you. 

Ah, you should’ve known.

As you turned around to face the customer, it felt like time stopped when you met those wide turquoise and gray eyes. A book slipped out from between your fingers, hitting the floor with a loud thonk but neither of you paid any mind to it. 

It was those eyes, those eyes that haven’t left your mind ever since last Friday night. Those eyes that you’ve refused to look at, whether it was on a billboard or on a bus stop ad. 

Those eyes that now stare you down where your feet had taken root. With an earnest look that crumbled down all your defenses and left it to ash.

next chapter!

[skiiyoomin]

Hi there, I wanted to know if you could do one with the guys reacting to a pregnancy scare. And can you pls include aizawa.

Lot of love❤️

ღPregnancy scare

ʚft.Deku, Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Denki, Shinsou, Aizawa

ʚCont: fluff, a little bit of crack⤑Back to navigation

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing or inserted into any type of AI generator. Do not recommend my work on TikTok. Do not repost on YouTube.

[wasabi-gumdrop]

neon glory squad 💖

[springismss]

just a random work that wouldn’t leave me alone after a thought last night. contains epilogue spoilers for shoto’s hero rank. pro hero! shoto x wife! reader. not proof read.

cw: established relationship (marriage), fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, implied marking, multiple positions && rounds, cum stuffing if you squint, implied quirk use. general nsfw contact - mdni.

bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

pro hero shoto who’s the epitome of a man who you’d be honoured to introduce your parents to. someone who’s not only cool and collected, but the definition of a gentleman.

if only the rest of society knew what he was really like behind closed doors when alone with you.

“hah, sho, please”. your fingers threaded in dual coloured hair as you tried to anchor yourself to something, the feeling in your gut slowly starts to creep through your body.

the long fingers that stretch your already wet cunt as his tongue and lips tend to your swollen and overly sensitive clit like a man deprived of the sweetest substance known to man.

eyes that watch the way you squirm with a glint of pride as he feels your walls pulsate, your euphoria only moments away. “that’s it princess, shit, let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my fingers like they’re my cock”.

long fingers that tap at the spongy spot deep inside as your back arches, broken cry of his name falling from your lips as you shake, your nth orgasm of the night crashing through you.

who’s strong arms manoeuvre you with ease as he pulls you into position once he’s climbed on the bed beside you. who helps lift you up before bringing you down, sheathing his cock in your still fluttering cunt. “fuck, princess, you’re squeezing my cock like you’re never going to see me again”.

who wastes no time wrapping his arms around your waist, snapping his hips up into you at inhumane speed as wet sloshing noises gain volume. “listen to that baby, pretty pussy so wet just f’me”.

bated breathes and long drawn out moan, marks of red that litter milky glowing skin. he looked handsome to you at the best of times but he looked ethereal during moments like this. “my pretty little wife, going to fill you so full”. “fuck, sho, need to feel so full”.

who pulls you in every position imaginable with such ease, it should scare you. who suckles in your tits, nipples rolled between teeth and tongue as you push your chest out further, folding into the pleasure you can feel. who likes to bite, suck and mark inches of your skin until all he can see is him.

who, when all is said and done pulls you into the lotus position as he holds you close, tilting your head as he gazes into your eyes. who kisses you passionately as he helps guide your hips, rutting up into you as he feels the walls of your pussy pulsate. breaking the kiss to smile softly. “shit, baby, squeezing my cock so good, fuck, gonna fill you so full of me”. “please, hah, need to be dripping your cum for days, sho”.

strong thrusts that come to a sudden halt as you feel the cock deep within you twitch, heat flooding through your pussy and into your very being. whimpers of need sounding at you grip onto him, arms wrapped around his neck as you both pant.

who uses the endurance training he had to his advantage, needing very little downtime between rounds, making sure to plug your cunt to stop any of his seed from slipping out. who loves the feeling of being the only one to have ever claimed you in such a way, no other man will ever stuff you like he does.

shoto todoroki, the number 2 hero, who’s the epitome of every young girls dream man, the one who they’d want to take back home with them.

shoto todoroki who’s also insatiable when it comes to you. who loves to draw out whimpers and moans, broken cries of his name as he pumps you full of his seed until you think you’re going to burst. who likes to grin wickedly as you squirm but sooth you with his deep voice when he’s taking care you after pound town.

who not only uses his quirk to save people, to help those in need but also uses it when he’s dicking you down in bed. who proves that you can look like he does, and be a completely different person behind closed doors.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[pjs-everyday]

two besties at a boring function close-ups! 💕🔥✨

color version // line version // close-up 😃✌️

[revasserium]

soooo thinking about pro!hero shouto being waylaid in the street by a tiny cute girl scrabbling for his autograph, and he's still a bit bewildered by this whole fame thing but he tries his best -- so he bends down to ask her what he'd like signed, only to hear your voice, to look up and see you, just about the prettiest creature he'd ever laid eyes on, running up to the little girl and scooping her up into your arms before bowing and saying --

"i'm so sorry! she just ran off -- you can't do that, mia-chan! your mama will kill me of something happens to you!" before turning back to him with a pleading sort of smile and just, "sorry again -- she's my cousin's daughter -- i promise she doesn't mean to bother -- she's just such a huge fan --"

but he can't help noticing the glow in your cheeks and can't stop himself from wondering if you're a fan too. and what he'd do if you said yes.

"not a bother," he smiles, "it's just part of the job." he looks at the girl now, extending a hand, "thanks for being my fan -- what would you like signed?"

"no really -- you don't have to --" you say, but shouto reaches for a pen all the same.

"no, it's okay. i want to."

so he signs the little girl's handkerchief, and feels his chest go warm at the way she presses it to her chest, grinning wide enough to split the sky. it's only then that she looks back at him with curious, wide eyes and asks --

"aren't you going to sign anything for big sister? she's your big fan too!"

"mia!" you go just about the most darling shade of red, looking anywhere but at shouto; he clears his throat, licking his lips.

"i... i don't mind... if you'd like something --"

"no, please -- we've bothered you enough."

"can she have your number?" mia asks, now positively devious as she looks between him and you, "it was her new years wish when we did our first temple visit --"

"mia! that's enough -- i'm sorry, we'll just go --"

"here." he scribbles down his number and presses it into your hand with a bright blush of his own. and now he's the one who can't look at you, "you don't have to do anything with it -- if you don't want to. but if you do..."

"i -- i do! i just --" you glance back down at mia, grinning smugly in your arms.

"then... you can call me later. or text. whichever." he takes a few steps back, swallowing passed the heartbeat now thundering in the back of his throat.

"yeah. sure -- i will! i mean -- only if you don't mind."

"i don't. really."

"okay."

"okay then. see you."

"yeah... see you... soon."

"yeah. soon."

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

You have a dragon cock dildo, a ginormous, black, bumpy toy, with thick ridges and prominent veins, it's a gift, from yourself.

It stays hidden in the depths of your closet, never sees the light of the day, unless you have your girl friends over and you pull it out for shits and giggles.

Even then, it's not necessarily a sex toy but perhaps a piece of decor, only if your were bold enough you would actually display it.

If you were being honest, you had forgotten about it, until today, until this very moment, until this very text.

Shouto: Is this what I think it is? *Image* 3:34pm

You stare in utter shock, as your crush cradles your 16 inches long dragon cock dildo, in his arms, his cheek smushed slightly against the flared tip of the dildo, one arm wrapped around it, the other holding the inflated base.

You rush home, sick to your stomach, at the verge of throwing up, there goes my chance of even having a friendship with him.

Thousand thoughts race through your mind, of all the things he would say to your face, look at you in disgust as he rushes out of your apartment, your panic increase when you think him telling others why he broke of the friendship, she had a dragon cock dildo, ew.

The keys jingle loudly, along with the thumping of your rapid heartbeat, in the otherwise empty hallway.

You open the door abruptly, the image of utterly disgusted and disappointed Shouto painted in your vision, you wheeze out slightly, heaving as you try to catch your breath.

The walk to the living room is dreadful, you turn sharply, hoping that fate isn't cruel, hoping that he is understan-

"Oh! You are home early." Shouto tilts his head in question, as he takes in your disheveled look, "Was the bus too crowded?" He queried, as he stood up to hover around you.

His calmness scared you a little, shouldn't he have left by now, "I was just excited to be home, rushed here as soon as I got off." You mumbled sheepishly, hands clammy as you moved to put your bag away

"Here, let me." Shouto reacts immediately, thick fingers coming to grab the straps of your bag, placing it on the couch beside you, before reaching for your coat, he helps you take it off, "I ordered food, I was going to cook but that wouldn't go well."

You smile at him, as much as you want to move on and pretend that image didn't exist, your brain doesn't allow it, curiosity gets the best of you, as you ask him, "Umm Sho, that picture you send me-"

He ears turn red immediately,"I put flowers in it, if that's alright."

What. The fuck.

"What vase, Sho?"

"The one in the photo, the opening was really small, so I could only fit in two stems." Shouto moves into the kitchen, gesturing for you to follow him. You turn to look where he is looking and-

Lo and behold, a rose and what seemed like a daffodil was poking out of the tip of the toy, their stems slithered into the opening, the toy itself was placed at the very centre of your small dining table.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Shouto admires his own work, arms folded behind himself as he looks at his own masterpiece. "If you don't mind we should keep this here, I'll bring new flowers for it too."

Your eye twitches a little, it's difficult to tell if this is better or worse than what you initially thought, "It's pretty... but it's a bit dull too, so I think we should get a prettier vase for the dining table."

You hope that is convincing enough, that he'll let go of the topic and you'll yoink that thing and shove it your closet again.

"You are right, it is a bit dark for the dining room, I'll look for different variant soon." He concludes, you let out a sigh of relief.

"You can do that, I'll go and take a quick shower before dinner," You tell him over your shoulder, moving to grab that thing off the table and walking towards your room.

To Bakubestie: Can your parents re-design this vase with brighter colours? *image* 5:15pm

From Bakubestie: IS THAT A FUCKING DILDO ICYTHOT??!??! 5:16pm

What.

Dividers by: @diviniyae 💖✨

[luviisabella]

Soft!Shoto who enjoys staying home with you, making you both hot chocolate as winter settles in, his favorite part is seeing you dress up in your fuzzy socks as you snuggle under the blankets while you wait for him on the couch.

Soft!Shoto who has you laid down on him as you two watch movies, a soft blanket covering the both of you. Sometimes he’ll notice you shivering and will rub your back with his left hand to gently warm you up. If you look up at him and kiss him his heart will melt.

Bonus if you ask why his face is flushed, he’ll blame it on his quirk.

Soft!Shoto who makes you soup and tea when you start catching a fever.

“I told you to stay home.”

His voice was soft despite the words seeming harsh, he was just worried and he hated whenever you were sick.

Soft!Shoto who comes home from patrol and his eyes slightly widen at the sudden sound of you jumping to his side.

“Sho! Welcome home handsome” you softly smile, you were wearing fuzzy pajama shorts, fuzzy socks, and a long sleeve.

He didn’t say anything, he closed the door and walk to you before slightly letting himself melt down onto you.

His face buried in your neck and he sinks into your touch as you run your fingers through your hair and rub his back.

He’ll him softly at the feeling of your touch, you were so gentle with him, always, and he loved it. Especially because he never received it at home.

—

“Can we stay home tomorrow?”

“It’s Saturday silly, neither of us work.”

“I know but I want to make sure you won’t make plans.”

—

“I wanna stay here with you.”

He needs a hug, he’s tired, but having a reader like you by his side has been his motivation to keep him going. Go reader!!

[socialobligation]

5+1 | s. todoroki

the five times he almost confessed (and the one time he did)

when you were laughing so hard you couldn't breathe

the common room was loud in that cozy, familiar way—someone had turned on a movie, kaminari was yelling about the plot inconsistencies, and a half-empty popcorn bowl had already made two laps around the room. shoto wasn't really paying attention to the screen. he was sitting off to the side, legs folded neatly under him, arms resting on the back of the couch, his eyes on you.

you were laughing.

not the polite kind you gave during class or the half-hearted chuckle that came after a bad pun—no, this was the full-body, head-thrown-back, tear-filled kind of laughter that made everyone around you start grinning too, even if they didn't know the joke.

and it was over something dumb. kaminari had tripped over mina's fuzzy slipper and face-planted into kirishima's protein shake. chaos followed. you were absolutely losing it.

shoto watched as you grabbed your stomach and gasped, "oh my god—that was the dumbest thing i've ever seen—" and wiped at your eyes like it hurt.

he felt something twist inside his chest. something warm and terrifying.

he should tell you. he should lean forward, tap your shoulder, and just say it—i like you. i think i like you more than i'm supposed to.

but then you turned to him, smile still wide, and said, "what? why are you looking at me like that?"

and he panicked.

shoto shook his head, lips twitching just slightly. "nothing. you look... happy."

you beamed at him.

and the moment passed.

2. when you fell asleep on his shoulder

it was movie night again. the common room was quieter this time. only you, him, and iida, who had already fallen asleep thirty minutes in, glasses askew and arms crossed like a disappointed father.

you had slowly started leaning on him as the night wore on, drifting closer each time you yawned. he didn't move. not when your head tilted, not when your hair brushed his collarbone, not even when your hand settled lightly over his.

eventually, you dozed off completely. he could feel the rise and fall of your breathing, soft and steady, against his side.

shoto stared straight ahead at the flickering screen, but his heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to break out.

"i love you," he whispered, so quiet he wasn't sure if he actually said it or just imagined the shape of the words in his mouth.

you shifted slightly, brow furrowed, murmuring something incoherent.

he froze. held his breath.

but you didn't wake up.

so he stayed still. and didn't say it again.

3. when you got your heart broken

it was raining. of course it was raining.

you showed up at his door soaked and shaking with the kind of smile that didn't reach your eyes. he opened it without a word and stepped aside to let you in. you toed off your shoes, jacket dripping on the mat, and mumbled, "sorry. i didn't know where else to go."

he handed you a towel. "you always know where to go."

you sat down on his bed, towel wrapped tightly around your shoulders, hair clinging to your face. he made tea. it was silent, but not the uncomfortable kind. it was the kind that let you breathe.

"he broke up with me," you said, finally. "said i was... 'too much.' whatever that means."

shoto sat beside you, mug in hand. "it means they're an idiot."

you laughed, but it sounded hollow.

he wanted to say more. he wanted to tell you that you were exactly enough. that your laugh made the world quieter in his head. that your presence was the one thing that didn't overwhelm him.

but instead, he said, "you deserve someone better."

you leaned your head against his shoulder.

and he didn't move.

4. when he thought you might be slipping away

training had been brutal. everyone was sore, tired, and half-dead by the time aizawa dismissed them. but you looked worse than tired. you looked distant.

you hadn't texted him back in two days. you missed lunch. you didn't sit with him during the bus ride back. and he noticed—every bit of silence, every missed message, every glance that used to last longer.

so he waited outside the locker room, arms crossed, heart pacing faster than his footsteps ever could.

"hey," you said, blinking at him in surprise. you looked like you wanted to smile, but didn't quite manage it. "you okay?"

"i miss you," he said, too blunt, too honest.

your eyes widened a little. you laughed it off, but there was a crack in it. "i'm right here, shoto."

he looked at you. really looked. your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. your eyes tired. your mouth tugging into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"yeah," he said. "you are."

but he didn't believe it. you were standing in front of him, but you felt like you were disappearing by the second.

he thought about reaching for your hand. about saying the words out loud, finally. but instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and watched you walk away.

and he didn't say what he meant.

5. when you almost died

the explosions echoed down the street like thunder.

shoto didn't wait. he was already moving, already tearing toward the smoke, already deaf to the ringing in his ears and the shouts behind him. his vision blurred. his heartbeat drowned everything else out.

they said you were last seen inside the collapsed building.

he didn't think. he didn't breathe. he just ran.

the debris was everywhere. the smell of ash, blood, and panic choked the air. he called your name once. twice. again.

and then he saw your hand.

half-buried. covered in dust and cuts. but moving.

he dropped to his knees and started digging, calling your name again, voice shaking. his fire flared too hot, too close, and he forced himself to calm it—you couldn't get burned. not by him.

when he finally got to you, you were barely conscious, lips split, blood trickling down your temple.

"stay with me," he said, voice low and sharp with panic. "hey. look at me. you're okay. i've got you."

you mumbled his name. tried to smile.

he gathered you into his arms and held you like something sacred. he didn't let go until the medics forced him to.

that night he sat beside your hospital bed, fingers wrapped around yours, head bowed.

"i have to tell you," he whispered. "i have to. i almost didn't get to."

but your monitor beeped steadily, your face was still pale, and he couldn't bring himself to add anything more.

not yet.

so he waited.

+1. when you didn't let him walk away

it was late.

the dorms were quiet, shadows stretching across the hallway as he leaned against the railing outside. cold wind brushed against his cheek, but he didn't mind. he stood there, staring at nothing, waiting for the weight in his chest to go away. it didn't.

you found him like that, barefoot in socks, hoodie too big, voice small as you whispered, "you okay?"

he turned to look at you.

the wind caught your hair. the moonlight made your eyes look softer than usual. you looked tired, but more than that, you looked worried. for him.

he looked at you like he always did—with something like awe, like fear, like you were the sun and he wasn't sure if he deserved the warmth.

"i keep trying to tell you something," he said.

you stepped closer. close enough that your shoulder brushed his.

"then just say it," you whispered.

he hesitated. how many times had he rehearsed it? how many times had the words caught in his throat, choked back by fear or timing or circumstance?

you didn't move.

"shoto," you said softly, eyes never leaving his, "if you don't say it now, i think i might."

his breath hitched, and for the first time, he didn't flinch.

"i love you," he said.

it came out quieter than he meant it to. barely a whisper. but it felt louder than any explosion.

you smiled.

"finally."

then, you leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure, like you'd been waiting forever. and maybe you had.

he kissed you back like he was making up for all the times he didn't say it.

and finally, finally, he didn't have to wait anymore.

[felinecyan]

Reality of Realizations

[Shoto Todoroki x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After the Sports Festival, Shoto comes to realize just how awful his behavior was, and he’s determined to make things right.

WC: 3559

Category: Mega Fluff, Awkward!Shoto

This idea smacked me to my keyboard at 3 am and took me hostage until I finished it… I hope you enjoy it!! ☺️🫶

『••✎••』

In the beginning, Shoto didn’t feel guilty. He felt indifference. To him, U.A. was about succeeding his father without his father’s side of his bloodline, the fire part of his quirk. Everything was about becoming a hero that wasn't like Endeavor. Everything was about getting stronger without using fire.

Friendships weren’t his concern. In fact, he didn't give them much thought at all. He didn’t feel like they would be beneficial to his cause.

For some reason, though, you wanted to be around him. Maybe it was because you saw something in him, some type of potential that even he didn’t recognize. Or maybe you just had a lot of energy that needed to be spent, and being around him was your only means of releasing it. Either way, you never left him alone. You followed him, sat next to him in class, and asked him about his quirk.

And with his current mindset, he was rather annoyed with your persistence. He knew he could handle it himself. He could do well in school and become a great hero without any help. You were a distraction to his goal, and he was not having it.

When you first tried to start a conversation, Shoto looked straight ahead. His gaze remained fixed on the whiteboard. If you continued to be persistent, he would snap at you. It was a guarantee.

As much as he wouldn’t like to admit, sometimes the father-son resemblance would shine through.

You tried again, asking him what his favorite food was. When he didn’t answer, you shrugged and turned your head toward the window—another failed attempt.

Your attempts only increasingly became more annoying as time went on. The same questions, the same responses, and the same outcome:

An angry Todoroki who just wanted to be left alone.

But it wasn't until the Sports Festival that things changed for him. Midoriya helped him realize that his father wouldn’t define him, but his own choices would. It was enlightening, and after their fight, he felt a strong sense of respect for the green-haired boy.

And due to that awakening, he realized just how absolutely rude he had been toward you.

You were one of his classmates, a person who was in the same school as him, training to be a hero just like him. You were someone who deserved respect, and he didn’t treat you the way you should have been.

That guilt settled in.

He was a horrible person.

He had to make up for it.

And, no, a simple apology would not be enough. He needed to go the extra mile and show you that he meant what he said and that he was truly sorry.

The question was, how?

He knew little about you. He never spoke to you, not in the way you had tried speaking to him, so how would he know your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite animal? How would he know what kind of flowers or sweets you liked?

How could he make you happy when he was the one who hurt you in the first place?

He thought long and hard. He pondered and pondered, trying to think of what you could possibly enjoy, but his mind would draw a blank.

So, he did the only thing he could think of: he asked Midoriya for help. The green-haired boy had that entire notebook dedicated to all the quirks every classmate had, so surely it could give him some insight into how to approach you.

Surely, it would help.

After class, Todoroki went over to Midoriya. He kept his hands in his pockets, and he looked the other way, not quite wanting to see Midoriya's expression.

Needless to say, he was absolutely surprised when Todoroki asked him for help. Surprised and absolutely delighted. The way he started bouncing in his seat with the biggest smile on his face made Todoroki want to reconsider the offer. But before he could retract, Midoriya already had his notebook out.

He flipped through a few pages, his finger stopping when he found your name. Honestly, it was unnerving just how many notes were dedicated to each individual.

Midoriya read your likes and dislikes; apparently, they were all through observation and not from you telling him. Maybe if Todoroki wasn’t so mean to you, then he would‘ve known what you liked, too.

He figured you had to make it obvious for Midoriya to write it down, right? There’s no way Midoriya would be able to figure out that information from just watching.

Then again, his analysis was pretty spot on. He knew what your personality was; he dealt with it firsthand. Of course, at the time, he didn't think too much about it. All he thought was how much he wanted you to leave him alone. Now, however, he wanted you to ask him those questions.

He wanted to be your friend.

He learned that you loved reading books. Not only that, but you loved flowers. Not the typical roses or sunflowers, but the less popular flowers. The type of flower that not a lot of people would think of when thinking about the beauty of a flower.

You also loved sweets, mostly anything with the word "chocolate" in the name. You had a sweet tooth, and it was very apparent.

Todoroki didn’t know why, but he found himself smiling. Finding out your likes and dislikes and learning about your personality was interesting. He wished he hadn’t been so blind before. Maybe then, he could've been friends with you earlier.

But it was okay. He could still become your friend. He could still fix things.

Midoriya had written down a list of things that you would appreciate the most, and then it was on the planning portion.

Gift-giving was still a relatively new concept for Shoto. He never had any real reason to give someone a gift before, and when he did give gifts, it was mostly for his siblings on special occasions.

He never really had the opportunity to buy a gift for a friend.

Midoriya told him that the best gifts were meaningful and came from the heart.

"Think of a memory you have with them. Think of something that they would really enjoy."

But the issue was, he had no memories with you. No good ones, anyhow. They were all trash because he never gave you the chance to have a good memory with him.

"Hey, Todoroki, if you were—"

You always sounded so genuine when asking him those foolish questions, but the moment he turned his head, his glare could have killed you.

"Do you always have to bother me? Doesn’t it get tiring asking the same things, day in and day out?" His tone was harsh, and he didn't mean for it to sound that way, but it was the only tone he ever used on you.

"No wonder your parents sent you to boarding school in America before applying here. I wouldn’t be able to deal with you either."

Yeah, those were his words. Those were his exact words. Not the nicest, were they?

The sentence was completely laced with poison, and even Shoto knew it then. He truly didn’t mean to bring that up; it was a low blow, but the damage was done, and the second it was said, your expression fell.

Shame, really. You were only trying to be nice. You didn’t deserve his spiteful attitude. You were kind and thoughtful, and you were a very good person, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept your kindness.

So, how the hell was he going to be able to apologize to you? How was he going to give you a present that meant something when all his memories of you were filled with his hate?

He sat on his bed, his legs crossed as he held his head. He needed an idea, but his mind drew a blank. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Midoriya told him that a homemade gift was probably the best among a couple of special items. If he made something himself, he could show how much effort he put into it. He could make something meaningful and show just how sorry he was.

But... he wasn't the most creative person. In fact, his creativity was nonexistent. He didn’t know the first thing about making something from scratch.

He knew how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a tasty soba, but other than that, he was lost.

And it wasn't like he could ask for his siblings' help. He took that as a sign of not owning up to his mistakes. If he couldn’t figure this out, then he didn't deserve your friendship.

His eyes were fixated on his desk. His textbooks were sprawled out, and a couple of papers were scattered across the table. He was currently studying for the next exam, and his phone was off to the side, plugged into the wall to charge.

His mind should’ve been on schoolwork, but the only thing he could think of was you. He needed an idea, and soon, because if he didn't do anything, his guilt would eat him alive.

His mind continued to wander.

Flowers, chocolate, a book, a teddy bear.

None of these would be enough. None of these were personal; none of these would mean something.

His eyes wandered from his desk to the window. The sky was orange, a beautiful sunset. He watched as the clouds passed and the birds flew by.

Birds.

Why does that remind him of something?

What do birds have to do with a gift?

He closed his eyes, trying to remember a moment. Any moment, whether good or bad, anything that could help him get a hint as to what to do.

And then, a memory flashed.

It was a rainy day, and you were late.

You were walking and running, but the rain was coming down pretty hard. You weren’t an idiot, so you weren't wearing the U.A. uniform. Instead, you wore a jacket. But even then, you were still soaked.

You didn’t have an umbrella, a raincoat, or any protective gear. You were running through the rain, trying to get to the school before the bell rang.

Luckily, it wasn't too far away.

Shoto remembered seeing you run, and for a brief second, he thought you were an idiot. He wondered why you didn't just take the bus or the train. If you lived near the school, you would've had plenty of time.

And still, even being as late as you were, you were still determined to have your daily conversations with Shoto.

You were definitely an odd ball, but in that moment, a certain memory came to mind.

When you finally made it to class, you were absolutely soaked. Your hair was sticking to your face, and your shoes were squishing with every step you took.

You sat down, understandably grumpy, but you weren’t upset that you were late, wet, or even sick the next day. No, what was upsetting you was the fact that you had lost something.

A hairclip, to be specific.

You lost a hairclip.

It was a clip that had a hummingbird attached to it. The clip itself was silver, but the hummingbird was painted green. He knows this because you wouldn’t stop talking about it.

He remembered you saying that it was a gift from a family member. He didn’t know who, nor did he care at the time, but you cared.

You really cared.

You spent the majority of the day searching for the hairclip. You searched the hallways, the bathroom, the cafeteria, everywhere you could think of, but it wasn’t there. It was nowhere to be found.

And for a week, you wore your hair down, which was the complete opposite of what you normally did.

If only Shoto realized this at the time, then he would've helped you look for it. He was good at finding things, ironically, but the thought didn’t cross his mind, and neither did the memory.

Until now.

In a split second, he bolted up. He rushed downstairs, not caring if he was loud. He didn’t care if his family could hear him; he didn’t care if he was disturbing their peace.

He had an idea, a good one, and it was perfect.

It was the most personal gift he could think of. Throw in a couple of your favorites, and it would be perfect.

He would make you a gift basket, but he would add his own touch to it. Again, he wasn’t that creative, but he had a basic idea. You’d like ribbons, right? Why not a nice bow?

Unfortunately, your specific hummingbird hair clip was long gone, but the internet seemed to have everything. He searched for hours, ignoring his study guide for the upcoming exam, and finally, after what seemed like forever, he found a silver hummingbird. It wasn’t painted green, but it was the same model as your old one.

It was the best he could do. And fortunately, due to the one-day shipping, he would have it by the time Monday rolled around.

He ordered it, and when it came in, he put the basket together. He bought you a book based on your favorite genre, some chocolate, a bouquet of some of your favorite flowers, and then, he added the ribbon.

The clip he put in a special case, away from the basket. He would be giving this separately because it would mean more, and he felt like this was something that shouldn’t be touched by anything else.

And, well, he wanted to see your reaction to his apology. It would be easier to read your expression if he didn't give you both the gift at the same time.

Oh, right, the apology.

He didn’t really think about that, and honestly, he didn’t know how to start.

But the best way to do anything is with practice, right?

Screw that upcoming test. He had something much more important to deal with, and knowing him, he’d probably still ace the test anyway.

He cleared his throat, standing in the middle of his room.

Okay, how would he start?

Hi? No, that was too casual.

Hello? No, it's not formal enough.

Greetings?

No, no, he shouldn’t sound like a robot.

He needed something more genuine, more real.

Maybe... maybe he should start by telling you how sorry he was. Yeah, that would be the best.

He cleared his throat again.

"Hey," his voice cracked, and his eyes widened. He sounded so awkward. That was so not smooth.

He started over.

"I know we haven't spoken in a while," he started. "I'm... I'm sorry for everything I've done. For everything I've said. You didn't deserve any of that."

This felt like a speech. Maybe he should tone it down.

"I… I was a horrible person, and I wish I could take back all the things I said, but I can't, and I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. And I know a simple sorry won't fix everything, so..."

He went over to the desk and picked up the box with the silver hummingbird inside.

"I want to give you this. I hope you like it."

Okay, practice over. He’s better off winging it. He truly regretted how he acted, so regardless of how the apology goes, hopefully, you can see that he's being genuine.

He sighed.

Hopefully.

The next day came quicker than expected. He spent the entire night preparing, and by the time the morning came, he was exhausted.

But it was okay because soon, he'd be able to see you and, hopefully, make amends.

Panic didn’t set in until he caught sight of you at your locker, picking out your books.

The moment his eyes landed on you, his heart started to race. His throat went dry, and his hands got clammy.

This is it, he thought—all or nothing.

He took a deep breath.

Here goes.

"Excuse me," he started. His voice sounded shaky, but he ignored it. He had to stay confident and pretend he wasn’t nervous.

You turned to him, and the moment your eyes met his, he swore he could feel his heart stop.

Those eyes… full of utter shock and surprise. You were really caught off guard. And he was, too, because not a single word was uttered from his lips.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "Hey, Todoroki," you smiled at him. You seemed hesitant, and honestly, who could blame you? He had never really been nice to you.

"I was just heading to class, but uh," you rubbed the back of your neck. "Did you… did you need something?"

The question made him snap back into reality.

He was still speechless, so to fix the awkward atmosphere, he decided just to hand you the basket.

You were obviously confused. Your brows were furrowed, and you stared at the present like it was some foreign object.

"What's this?"

"It's a gift."

Your confusion didn't fade. In fact, it was almost replaced with concern.

"For... me?"

Oh, for the love of…, snap out of it, Shoto!

He shook his head.

"Yes, for you," he handed you the gift, and when you held it, he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat. "I…"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry. For everything."

You just stared at him blankly, and for a moment, Shoto felt the panic rise. What if you didn’t forgive him?

You were quiet for a while, and his nervousness only grew. He decided to try again.

"You were just trying to be friends, and all I did was push you away. I was so… rude and cold, and you didn’t deserve any of that. You were just trying to be kind. So, I wanted to make it up to you. I wanted to do something nice and show you how deeply apologetic I am."

Silence.

He didn't know what to say anymore, so he continued, hoping he wasn't making a bigger mess than what it was.

"I also, uh, got you this," he pulled out the case from inside his uniform. With the way you were silent the entire time, he was starting to think you wouldn’t accept the gift.

So, the moment your hand reached out to grab the box, he was relieved to know you were willing to listen.

"I know it’s not your original, but it's the closest I could find. And, well, it's the least I could do, considering how I acted."

When you opened the box, he could see the way your eyes lit up. He was so nervous about this, so scared that you wouldn’t like it, but the way you smiled proved him wrong.

And that smile. Oh, that smile.

He caused that smile. Instead of stealing it away or making it go away, he made it appear.

"Todoroki, I," you were speechless. Utterly speechless, he could tell by the way you looked up at him.

You were trying to find the right words, and honestly, he didn’t blame you. He was in a similar situation.

"You didn’t have to get me this," you said, a bright smile on your face. You were holding the hummingbird gently like it was a precious object. "I probably would've forgiven you even if you didn’t get me anything."

Wait, was that a yes?

Was that a yes?!

Shoto could feel the corners of his lips twitch. He felt himself smiling.

"Thank you," you continued, still holding the hummingbird carefully. "It means a lot to me. I appreciate the effort you put into this. And, um, thank you for the apology. I really needed to hear it. Honestly, I thought I did something wrong, so I'm glad that wasn’t the case."

You laughed a bit, and even if he was confused about why you were laughing at all, he was relieved that you were accepting his apology.

"You did nothing wrong," he told you. "I was the one who messed up. I have issues, but that's not an excuse to be a jerk."

You smiled again, and he noticed the way you fiddled with the box. It was clear you wanted to attach the hairclip.

"I can… um, help you with that if you want."

The instant nod from you was enough for him to grab it delicately from the box, and when he did, you turned around.

It was a really pretty clip, and it suited you. Whoever originally gave it to you clearly had great taste.

It took a second, but he finally placed it into your hair. When you turned back around, he nodded in approval.

"You look nice," he told you.

"Thank you."

There was a pause.

"Um, did you, uh, want to sit together during lunch? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought I'd ask."

The amount of joy he suddenly felt was unexplainable. You were accepting him, and it was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "That sounds nice."

Mission make up with you: success.

The guilt of everything still lingered, and he would have to apologize to everyone else as well, but that could be done later.

Right now, all that mattered was his new friend. A friend that should’ve been his a long time ago.

[rosesforshouto]

marked in your heart | 3

marked in your heart | todoroki shouto x reader

chapter 3: oasis of comfort | length: 9.1k | ao3 link

previous chapter | all chapters

Summary: A peaceful life was all you strove for ever since the war, avoiding heroes seemed to be a surefire way for that. It really didn't help though when you had the name of one of Japan's top heroes marked on your skin. Content/warnings: fem pronouns/afab reader, soulmate au, pro-heroes, angst, grief, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of mental illness, canon-typical violence, pining todoroki shouto, todoroki shouto is a tease, overthinking/spiraling thoughts, noodles, books Soulmate Mark: 75% of the world was born with their soulmate’s name inscribed on their skin. The inscription changes color upon first skin-to-skin contact with your soulmate. Notes: chapters are getting longer! mommy and daddy issues galore! once again, thank you so much for reading, it really warms my heart to see every like, reblog, and comment! let me know what you think of this chapter :) it hurts but i have so much fun writing this fic haha!! i'm also cross-posting this on my ao3 if you prefer to read on there, it's also linked on my masterlist <3

Regret.

“We extend our sincere condolences to you and your mother.” 

Regret consumes you, followed by anger.

“Daybreak… he didn’t make it. During the mission, there was a trap…”

These two emotions battle each other within you. Right when you think one will devour you whole, the other rises, fueling and filling every crevice of your being. And the cycle repeats, tortuously. 

“We should’ve known but it was too late. His sacrifice… he saved all of us. None of us would be here without him.”

You wondered why they took you and your mother to a different room. Wondered why when all the awaiting families of the heroes were gathered, you and your mother were pulled aside. Why weren’t you there with them? Why weren’t you having a tearful reunion with the hero you were waiting so long to come back home?

The one hero that didn’t make it back. The hero that sacrificed his life for the mission, for his comrades. 

Saving never felt so devastating before. 

“Please let us or the team know if you need anything during this tough time. We truly are sorry. Daybreak–”

“Did he say anything before he died?” Your voice was unrecognizable to you, strangled, as if someone was holding you by the neck. Why were you even asking this question?

Your father’s sidekick opens and closes his mouth like a fish without water. He looks off to the side and then meets your eyes with remorse. “I’m deeply sorry. He… He turned off his comms when he knew he wouldn’t make it, he didn’t want us to hear. The last thing he said to me was that it was a hero’s duty to fight. Even if it… kills us.”

The man in front of you grimaces as he holds back tears. Bowing deeply, he remains in that position like a stone statue. 

Of course. A man as consistent as your father would say something like that. Words so hauntingly familiar to the last ones he said to you. 

You look over to your mother and her entire frame has gone still. She turns to you and her disturbingly hollow eyes chills you to the bone, creeping terror wreaking havoc in your mind. 

“Mom… ?” It’s as if she’s looking through you, not at you. 

It all became a blur from there. You were a mess, sobbing and gripping your mother’s arms. Saying something but you don’t remember – it turns into screaming. You’re shaking your mother, and her body simply follows the furious motions like a ragdoll.

You’re pulled off of her, kicking and crying. You still don’t know what you’re saying but you’re pleading, begging – your mother’s empty eyes still don’t look at you. She turns to the door, exiting the room without saying anything and another hero from your father’s team hurriedly follows after her. 

You cry. Without noticing, your body crumples to the ground and the sidekick has to hold you up. You briefly see tears running down his face too but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds you, holds you as you break down. 

At the time you didn’t register it. Didn’t register that this was the moment you lost both your parents. 

One second you were in the room. The room where you lost everything. The next thing you knew, you were standing on top of a building at Shiketsu’s high school-turned-shelter, gazing endlessly into the night sky. 

Tears stream down your face and you feel yourself walking closer and closer to the edge. 

It hurts. Everything hurts. 

Regret consumes you. 

Why?

Why?

Why were you silent when your father left? You should’ve said anything, anything but silence. But his words left a despairing feeling in your gut. As if you knew this day would come, where he fought till the bitter end. 

You were a coward, hopeful that he would make it back safely. So that you could soothe the tension lingering between you two as he left with only a sad pat to your head. 

Regret crushes you, reducing you to pieces that fall away as you struggle to pick them up. 

Then anger comes. 

Why?

Why did he leave us behind? His soulmate. His kid. 

Was his soulmate not worth it? Was she second to the so-called honor and sacrifice he held deep in his morals?

Was he angry that you came out quirkless? A hero as powerful as him who made it as the #14 hero, was he so angry that he would rather die as Daybreak? To die with honor before his legacy died with you?

Your mind can’t seem to grapple with the irrationality of your thoughts. You’re furious. At him. At your mother. At the world. 

Why did your mother leave? Why did she just look through you as if you’re nothing? As if you died along with him?

All you could do is cry. Cry at what was left of you and her. When a hero saves lives, not everything comes out unscathed. 

Regret and anger consumes you. 

You don’t feel anything else. Not when you’re kneeling at the edge of the building, screaming your grieving heart out. Not when you feel someone slowly pull you away from the threatening edge, carrying your unresponsive body into the building. Not when you lie down on your temporary cot, curled up into a ball and hoping that the nails drawing blood from your palm would give you any other sensation besides the pure torment in your mind. 

And the worst hasn’t even come yet.

For you were in the same room again, two weeks later. The same room with the chipping paint and walls that seem to cave in on itself. With the same sidekick who delivered the most soul-sucking news of your life, now bearing news that convinced you he was the grim-reaper.

Your mother was found dead that morning, a wrinkled picture of your father clutched coldly in her hand. 

The hospital chair is unforgiving to your exhausted body, not alleviating your aching limbs in any way from its stiff position. Who knows how long you’ve sat here — slumped in the hard piece of furniture, staring blankly at the wall, arms wrapped around your midriff in an attempt to hold yourself together. 

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. 

The words replay in your mind like a mantra, the only hope of thread that you helplessly cling onto. 

The sterile-smelling hospital smothers you, making you draw into yourself tighter, right palm clutching the soulmate mark you for once wish burned hot. Instead, it was cold. Cold and lacking the pulsating heat that would give you some type of reassurance. 

It’s been three days since the incident and Todoroki still wasn’t stable. After a panic attack wrecked you that night, your feet moved on their own. Dawn had broken when you found yourself heading to Hosu General Hospital and your tender eyes stung the whole way here. 

He’s not dead, you repeat. 

Nurses stared at you when you arrived, unwilling to give out the #2 hero’s room but Pro-hero Deku had appeared by your side and reassured them. With a tired but sincere smile, he led you to the outside of Todoroki’s room, urging you to take a seat on one of the chairs lining the wall. 

“You’re the book store owner, right?” You absentmindedly nod. He probably asked out of courtesy and you didn’t question if and how he knew who you were. You wouldn’t be here if not. 

“Todoroki-kun isn’t stable… not yet at least. Feel free to wait here, I’m sure he’d want to see you when he wakes up.”

His green eyes look at you softly and you feel your own start to water. Turning your head to face the wall, you swipe away the oncoming tears. 

“I’m Midoriya Izuku, let me know if there’s anything I can get you.”

You quietly say your thanks and he gives you a reassuring smile, walking towards the nurses without another word. 

Other than using the bathroom or buying pre-packaged bread from the vending machine, you were rooted in the uncomfortable chair just outside Todoroki’s hospital room. 

There was nothing you could do except wait. Wait and think. One very dangerous combination.

Your fears came true. They undoubtedly, bitterly, mercilessly came true. 

What have you been doing these past couple of weeks? You told yourself it was nothing more than friendship, nothing more than good company. Then why did it hurt so much?

You were greedy — selfishly wanting only some of him and refusing the rest. As if you could separate Pro-Hero Shouto and regular Shouto. As if it’s fair of you to even do so. 

No. This was inevitable — him getting hurt is inevitable. It forever will be. A fact that you’ve been recklessly throwing aside every time you see him after work, every time you tell yourself that just a little more couldn’t hurt. 

You should’ve known two weeks is plenty of time to turn your whole life around. After all, it only took your mother two weeks to decide to meet her end.  

Not noticing yourself slipping away, you fell into the comfort and solace that was Todoroki Shouto. Was it the way he always made sure you had something to eat before going home? Was it his soft smile that never failed to make you warm inside?

When did you start hoping that the sun would set just a little bit slower, prolonging the day? When did you start desiring for more?

Your carelessness led you to this point — sitting outside his hospital room and watching doctors bustle in and out, anxiety peaking when they tell you time and time again that his condition just wouldn't stabilize.

There was no one to blame except yourself. 

Without anything to distract your busy mind, you’re ripped apart endlessly from your spiraling thoughts. 

At some point, your phone died. No, it’s battery drained. You really can’t stomach anything that died right now. 

Luckily you were able to call Goya the moment Midoriya-san left you. His annoyed sleep-ridden voice gave you a familiar sense of comfort when you told him, sloppily, that you wouldn’t be able to come in the shop until further notice. Upon hearing your sniffling, he asked where you were and told you that you didn’t need to worry about anything. 

That was on Friday, before the shop closed before the weekend. And on Sunday, today, after buying yet another pre-packaged bread, you find the aforementioned boy facing you, in front of your unclaimed claimed spot for the past few days. 

Goya’s eyes examine your state. If the bathroom mirror told you anything, it wasn’t good. Scary even. 

But the familiar sight of his tall slouched figure brings another round of tears to your eyes and you can’t help falling into his arms as he wordlessly pulls you in for a hug. Funny, how four months of working with this brat led to feeling this odd sense of familial security on sight. 

“Let’s get you some real food,” his hands soothingly rubs your back in repeated motions. “How does ramen sound?”

You don’t say anything on the way to the ramen shop, Goya doesn’t either, he simply leads. 

It’s a short walk from the hospital. You’ve been to this shop a couple of times when you were in the area, otherwise it was just out of the way.

Both of you sit down at a secluded table in the back. Goya orders for you two and the silence ensues. When the ramen comes, he doesn’t start his own until you take the first bite. 

He’s babying you and you start to wonder who the older one really is. 

Before taking a second bite, Goya’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

You falter just as you bring a small bundle of noodles up, loosening your grip on the chopsticks. The sudden movement makes the noodles drop back into the broth. 

“I saw his name outside the room you were sitting at.”

You blink, watching the small waves of broth slosh messily in your bowl. 

“Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

“Yes,” you snap, harsher than you intended. A migraine starts pulsating in your temple. 

“Is he the reason you’ve been waiting outside after you lock up shop?”

“I don’t wait,” you say defensively. 

“You sure do.” He points his chopsticks at you ill-manneredly, “I knew something was up when you kept telling me to leave first while taking your sweet ass time locking the gate.”

Biting back a nasty remark, you don’t respond as you play with your noodles — bringing a bundle up then mixing it back into the broth. 

“The #2 hero huh?” he muses. For a second, you’re thankful for the familiar banter but the topic at hand isn’t something you were thrilled to talk about. 

“How was the store on Friday?”

He ignores your question, “How’d you two meet?”

“Goya.”

“The shop was fine. How’d you two meet?”

You sigh, irritated, “He’s the one who saved me back at the bank.”

He hums and taps the ends of his chopsticks at the edge of your bowl, signaling you to take a bite. You would’ve been appalled at his lack of table manners if not for the scolding look he gives you. Reluctantly, you bring another bundle up to your lips, chewing slowly. 

Goya takes another few bites of his own, watching you the entire time and glaring when you start playing with your noodles again.

“The hospital is gonna run out of bread if you don’t eat.”

“They have plenty of egg sandwiches I could buy. A wide assortment actually.”

Goya sighs exasperately, “Okay, okay! I’ll stop asking about him if you’ll stop playing with your food.”

A corner of your mouth quirks up and you take another bite triumphantly. Goya grumbles something about being an immature adult but starts scarfing down his food when he sees you continue eating, albeit slowly. 

Halfway through your bowl, a thought hits you. 

You were supposed to be eating ramen with Todoroki, the next day if that villain never came and crumbled the whole building. 

Nausea builds in your stomach and you push the bowl away, appetite dissipating quicker the longer you stare at the noodles.

“Hey–”

“Hey!”

You lunge forward and snatch his hand not holding his chopsticks, staring widely at the etched name on the inside of his wrist. 

“I thought I was seeing things!”

The soulmate mark that was once white and pale on Goya’s wrist now glows with a vibrant pink. Amazement filters your previous thoughts and nausea out, “You met your soulmate?” 

Goya blushes profusely and tugs his hand back, his other hand coming up to cover his soulmate mark protectively. 

“Yeah. I did–”

“How’d you two meet?”

Goya scowls and you know you’re both thinking of the irony of your question. Nonetheless, he turns his nose up and declares proudly, “She works at the soba shop I took you to before. The one where I told you to tell them I sent you.” He then glares at you distastefully, “Which you did not, by the way. Not cool! I told her I was gonna recommend the place to my friends!”

You let out a small chuckle, “Sorry… I got a bit distracted.” With Todoroki. 

“I’m sure you did,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

Goya runs his fingers tenderly across his mark, with a smile you know is reserved for his soulmate. It tugs at your heartstrings, seeing his expression resemble remarkably similar to someone else you know. 

He looks up at you and blushes again, picking up his chopsticks. 

“I was actually waiting to tell you about it. I want you to officially meet her, when things calm down a bit.”

You smile fondly, heart warm, “Goya, I would love to meet her.” He gives you a boyish grin and finishes the last of his meal. 

That’s amazing, Goya finally met his soulmate. After months of complaining about having not met his “one and only” yet, his mark now proudly displays without the usual sleeve of his hoodie. 

You wonder how it would feel, to not be afraid of showing off your mark. To flaunt to the world that you’ve met your soulmate. To proudly declare that the one you are fated with is not only bound to you by mark, but also by heart. 

Is that something you want? You’ve never allowed yourself to think of such ideas. 

…

Is that something you want? Having had ample time to think these past few days, your mind reels back to the same thought, the same terrifying conclusion for whenever you think about what it would mean for you and Todoroki. 

If Todoroki ever died, a part of you would die with him. 

You risk losing him, and you risk losing yourself.

And you can’t handle that — can’t risk it. It would be too cruel.

Goya drops you off at the hospital shortly after. Standing in front of the looming building, the uneasiness that left briefly comes back in full force. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t worry about the store for now. And call me if anything happens, okay?”

You nod, but then remembered, “My phone ran out of battery.”

He clicks his tongue and swings his backpack around, fishing out one of those clunky portable chargers that all college students seemed to have. You carried it around like a lifeline at one point too. 

Goya holds his palm out and you hand him your phone. He proceeds to plug in the cord and wait for it to turn on, handing you both the charger and phone when the power-on sign lights up. 

“I mean it. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, you didn’t need to come all the way out here–” he flicks your forehead before your sentence finishes and you glare at him, fingers coming up to soothe the sting. 

“You’ve seen better days. Just shut up and go inside.”

Fatigue starts creeping up again and you can’t even find it in yourself to retort back. You give Goya a small final wave and turn around to head inside, flashing the visitor’s badge that Midoryia-san gave you. 

Each step feels heavier as you walk to Todoroki’s room, mentally and physically. The sterile environment envelopes you again — threatening the spiraling thoughts to resurface. 

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He's not dead. 

There’s commotion in the halls and you look up to finally observe your surroundings. You had passed two heroes in their suit by now and the closer you got to his room, they start appearing left and right. 

You quicken your footsteps — cold sweat chills your forehead from the brisk pace. Your heart starts beating faster. With each hero that passes, you duck your head slightly to carefully examine their expressions.

Is it happiness? Is it sadness? Is it… grieving?

Oh please don’t be grieving. Please don’t be grieving. Please don’t be grieving. You had only left for at tops one hour–

You hear the call of your name and your head twists at the voice of the green-haired hero you’ve become familiar with in the past few days. Locating him at the end of the hall, he motions for you to come towards him and you immediately break out into a jog. 

“I was worried when I didn’t see you here. Is everything okay?

“I stepped out for a second. How is he?” you frantically ask, not wasting a second. Your erratic heartbeat overwhelms you and it’s taking all that’s in you right now not to panic. 

Midoriya-san places a reassuring hand on your arm and smiles, a full wide smile you’d expect no less from such a friendly person, “He’s awake now. The doctors just finished checking on him a bit ago and he’s talking with some of our other friends.”

He’s not dead. You breathe out a sigh of relief and the anxiety in your bones trickles out slowly. Feeling your eyes already rimming with tears, it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Midoriya-san’s hand then pulls you lightly and you follow his footsteps towards Todoroki’s hospital room, hearing muffled chatter and the occasional yelling from outside. 

Stopping in front of the door, he turns to you — excitedly and a little jittery. He must’ve been waiting for you to come back before going in himself. 

“Would you like to see him?”

“I– I just need a second, you go ahead first.”

The kind green-eyed man nods and gives you another reassuring squeeze on the arm. Opening the door, it slides shut as you see his frame make it through the threshold. 

You can’t help the stray tears that leave your eyes and you bring both your palms up to cup your mouth, breath coming out unevenly.

He’s okay. He’s alive. 

That’s all you needed to know, right?

You didn’t think this far while waiting, didn’t think of what to do or say if he finally woke up. Too focused on if he woke up. 

Do you leave?

“I’m sure he’d want to see you when he wakes up.”

Maybe just one glance. One glance to make sure he’s really okay. That he’s really not dead. 

With a hesitant hand, you quietly slide the door open and the muffled voices instantly amplify, rushing into your ears. A group of heroes crowd around the lone bed in the room with their backs turned, blocking your view of the bed’s occupant. 

“I told you I had it, why’d you have to fucking shove your way through?!”

“Bakugo. You really should be thanking him instead.” 

“Like hell I should! I had it! Now the fucking loser is out on the run.”

The villain escaped? 

The heroes haven’t noticed your presence yet and you opt to stay quiet. Taking in their conversation like a bystander, you start stringing together bits and pieces of information they throw out. 

“It can’t be helped, he annihilated the building before we could capture him. It’s a miracle that we were able to get everyone out.”

“Tch. It’s not a fucking miracle.”

“We’ve seen worse before. If anything, this was one of the better outcomes.”

Your ears perk at that comment. 

One of the better outcomes? 

“Yeah! It feels like nothing, right Todoroki?”

Like nothing? 

You feel your body grow cold. 

He was unconscious. His whole right side was so goddamn bloody. He practically seemed half-dead when Dynamight hauled him out. 

This… This was the best outcome? 

What would the worst outcome look like?

“Guys… Calm down. Todoroki-kun needs to rest.”

“He’s rested plenty the past few days. Must’ve felt like a vacation, huh?”

The laughter that follows echoes in your reeling mind. 

Oh no. This isn’t right. This… this was a mistake. 

You know. God, you know that they’re heroes. You know that they’ve seen tragedy and destruction like no one else before. They’re practically on the frontlines for it. 

But one of the better outcomes was that he came out half-dead?

It’s suffocating in here — you can’t fucking breathe. This isn’t right. You’re not supposed to be here. Everything you’ve tried to avoid after your parents death — grief, devastation, violence. It’s all here — in this room.

You’ve never felt the separation between your world and his so vehemently before. It pulls the rug underneath your feet and you want nothing more than to run away.

You turn towards the door and reach for the handle with shaky hands. He’s okay — he’s alive and breathing, his friends are here, keeping him company.

He doesn’t need to see you. Someone as anxious as you is not needed in his world. 

The door slides open slowly and you’re about to take the first step until a voice calls out to you. His voice. His deep and calming voice that you had so desperately wished to hear one more time. You twist your head as if it’s second nature — like your body is naturally drawn to him.  

A space has opened in between the bodies that hover around his bed and your eyes find Todoroki’s wide ones. You feel your heart thump hard and your soulmate mark burns hot and heavy — you resist the urge to cradle it. 

When you don’t move an inch from your spot, it’s Midoriya-san who comes forward and gently tugs your unwilling body towards the crowd. You look up and vaguely recognize some of Japan’s top heroes in this very room. Besides Deku, there’s Dynamight, Chargebolt, Uravity, Froppy, and of course–

“You’re here,” Todoroki breathes out. Your eyes meet his earnest ones once again and you marvel at the way they shine bright, filled with light — with life. His mismatched eyes roam over your figure, taking every bit of you in — assessing you, you can’t help fiddling nervously with your fingers under his gaze. 

A feminine voice chirps from behind you, “Oh! Are you–” 

“Ochako-chan,” another voice hushes quietly. 

Todoroki pays them no mind and continues to gaze at you with honest eagerness. It unnerves your every resolve. When he sees that you’ve stopped at the end of the bed, his eyes briefly leave yours to give a blank waiting look to the ash-blonde standing next to him.

“Bakugo, can you please step aside. You’re in the way,” he deadpans.

Dynamight opens his mouth and you can practically hear the incoming onslaught of curses before Uravity yanks him back, shoving a palm over his mouth. 

“Don’t mind him!” she says sheepishly, having a surprisingly tight grip on the fuming man, “Go ahead, go ahead!” She pulls Dynamight aside and you’re ushered to the closest spot near Todoroki — on his left side. It’s warm, even from a distance. Is it his quirk?

You feel the others watching your every move like a hawk – it’s unsettling. The sensation of their awaiting eyes makes you feel smaller than ever. 

Now that you’re closer, you take a quick sweep over Todoroki’s injuries. His whole right side was covered in bandages, replacing the bloodied look it had on TV. His head was also wrapped in the same way as yours did when you hit that concrete wall, with most of the bandaging sitting on top of his white hair. 

A stark and clean difference from the Todoroki you saw on the news. 

You can’t comprehend it. How someone who looked so brutally mangled up, could sit here – as if nothing happened.

Maybe it was because you were young but you never saw how graphic it could get when your father was a hero. It seemed he made an effort to keep your eyes clean from bloodshed. But his sentiments merely made your young mind ignorant — ignorant to think that he would always return home, untouched. 

You vaguely hear someone saying to give you both some space and the shuffling of footsteps brings your attention back to the moment. To the man sitting in front of you, upright and keen, waiting almost impatiently for the last hero to filter out. 

Once you two are alone, Todoroki playfully starts, “Look – we match now,” pointing to the wound on the right side of his head. He probably meant it as a joke but it makes your face crinkle and you can’t stop the familiar sting in your nose. 

You don’t laugh at his joke, simply stare. 

His face drops slightly at your lack of reaction, “Are you alright? I heard you’ve been waiting the whole time I was out.” The low timbre of his voice comes out slightly concerned but the mere sound of it sounds so sweet to your ears. 

“I’m sorry I took so long, but I’m here now,” he softly says and it’s the line that breaks the dam. Tears start running down your face and you watch as his lightened expression turns into worry. 

Oh my god. He was the one in a hospital bed and he’s worried about you?

You’ve never claimed to be those strong people who refused to cry, and it embarrassingly shows now. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?” his doting makes the tears fall faster and you can’t stop staring at him. At his beautiful gray and turquoise eyes filled with distress. At his scar that healed smoothly over time. At his white and red hair that laid flat from the tightness of the bandages. 

“… Why?” 

Todoroki stops his rush of questions and looks at you, confused. 

“Why? Why are you asking me if I’m okay? You… you were…!”

It doesn’t stop. Images of his bloodied limbs. Glimpses of his deathly still body seen from outside the tiny hospital room window. It’s burned in your mind. 

You bring up your hands to cover your tear-stricken face, hiccups vibrate in your chest and escape out your mouth.

“You almost died! You were so bloody and the doctors… They wouldn't tell me anything– I couldn’t– I couldn’t do anything. Why are you asking if I’m okay?”

Todoroki doesn’t say anything. When you pull your hands away from your face and furiously wipe away your tears, you see his hand reaching out to you. 

You lean away from his awaiting touch and watch as he grasps air. His arm helplessly falls to his side and he frowns, “It’s really not that bad…”

“And that’s the thing!”

Anger consumes you. 

“You say it’s not that bad. Your friends say it was like nothing. But – I just don’t understand. How? If this is nothing, then what’s something?”

Your voice is louder than you anticipated. You’re panicking. You’re angry. You’re still furiously wiping away your tears that have already dried, making your fingers drag harshly across your skin. 

What comes after anger?

You jolt when Todoroki’s palms grip your forearms to pull your frantic hands away from your face. You could almost feel his skin through the thin sleeves of your shirt and you move to pull away but his hold remains tight. 

He’s careful. Careful not to touch your bare skin and your tension subconsciously eases just the slightest bit under his firm hold. 

“I apologize. Please calm down… It wasn’t my intention to upset you. I just didn’t want you to worry,” his troubled eyes find yours and you hate that you’re the cause of it. 

Your voice comes out weak, and your heart feels heavy, weighing like a million tons. 

“How?” you whisper, “How can I not worry? When we’re–” you bite your tongue, not able to say the word out loud. 

Soulmates. It’s never been a topic brought up between you two, a word you avoided like the plague. 

But he seems to understand – the weight of the unsaid word. His brows furrow deeper and his grip is unrelenting – not painful, but tight. As if you’d suddenly disappear. 

Silence hangs heavy in the atmosphere and a ghostly impulsive decisiveness washes over you.

Your voice sounds empty even to your ears, “I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.” 

Todoroki’s face immediately morphs into a distraught one. Breathlessly, he asks, “What?”

“I– I don’t think I can do this. It’s… it’s too much. I don’t think I can handle it. Not again.”

He seems to be at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing. You see him calculating, trying to make sense of you and what you’ve just said.

In the moment of tense silence, you try to move away again but his iron-grip prevents you from doing so.

His expression looks tormented and a flicker of anger flits across his face, immediately masked by frustration, “You’re pushing me away. Again.”

You close your eyes at his statement and it makes it infinitely harder to follow through with your decision. It’s almost shameful how he’s so capable of making your resolve falter. 

He pushes, “Is this really what you want?”

Is it?

Your body betrays you, head helplessly shaking side to side with the smallest movement, “Todoroki… please,” you plead, gaze dropping to his lap. Let me go.

Todoroki lets your left arm go and the warmth he emitted dissipates. You think he’s about to release your right arm when he suddenly gives it a firm sharp tug. You let out a small yelp as your body falls onto the bed and nearly crashes into his upright one. Your left hand rushes to catch yourself, pressing hard into the mattress and against his blanket-covered leg. 

Your heart stops, eyes widening at his face just inches away, mismatched eyes boring heavily into yours. Through layers of blankets and clothing, your bodies press against each other and it’s the closest you two have ever been physically. It makes you freeze like a deer in headlights.

Parts of your hair had fallen forward in the midst of your fall. With slow motions, his free hand comes up to lightly push them away from your face, careful the whole time. 

He attempts to tuck the fallen hair behind your ear, but the respectful intention of not touching your bare skin causes a few strands to fall back. Nonetheless, he tries. He lingers on the last bundle, fingers curling around it. 

As if you’re in a trance, you watch as he slowly brings your hair up to his lips, eyes closing as he tenderly kisses it. 

Your heart lurches at the intimate gesture and your nails find the familiar spot in your palm, nails pressing down hard. 

What is he doing?

He’s quiet, as if savoring this moment – this proximity. Up close you can see the slightly raised skin caused by his burn. It runs across his cheek, above his eye, and it makes you wonder how it would feel underneath your fingertips. 

You watch as his eyelashes slowly flutter open. You’ve never noticed how they don’t match the color of his hair – they’re dark, not long but not short. 

Todorki lifts his lips just slightly away from your hair, face contemplative. It takes him a moment before he finally speaks, voice low and soft as a whisper, “… I can't promise that I won’t ever get hurt. I apologize, but that’s the truth. I can’t lie to you and say that you won’t ever see me like this again.” 

Your brows furrow in hurt confusion. Why is he saying this?

“But I meant what I said back then,” his eyes shoot up to yours with an unwavering determination that makes you flinch slightly but you don’t pull away. “What I can promise is that even if I get hurt, I’ll do everything in my power to make it back. To choose between sacrificing and fighting, I will always give it my all to fight. To fight and live.” 

His face is close. So close that you can feel the breath of his every word fan across your face. At some point, his hold on your right arm had loosened and both your arms dropped to the bed, skin inches from touching.

That look. That look that you just can’t seem to decipher from him, it encapsulates his whole demeanor. 

Todoroki huffs out a soft laugh, tinged with bitterness, “I apologize. I guess I'm more selfish than I thought.” He fiddles with your sleeve and looks up past your head, seeming to carefully consider his next words. 

“I think we both can agree that it really hasn’t been that long since we’ve met each other.” You nod along, tentatively. 

Two weeks.

“Twenty seven days. Oh. Today’s Sunday, so actually…” he counts with his fingers. One. Two. Three. “Thirty days.”

“Thirty days…” he repeats, drawing out the words. “I don’t think it’s ever taken me this short of a time to be so sure about something.”

So many questions are on the tip of your tongue. There’s longing in your heart but you observe him. You wait. You want to hear what he’ll say. 

Todoroki faces towards you again and his tone takes on a melancholic one, “We can be friends. Acquaintances. I can be a simple customer. But please… Don’t push me away. Please, can you give me the chance to fight? To fight to live? For you?”

Trembling. You feel your body tremble at the intensity of his words, at the implication. It takes you by surprise – the boldness in his attitude, the fearlessness in his request. It’s almost confusing – how resolute he sounds and you can’t help asking a question that’s been blaring in your mind. 

“Why are you doing all this? We’ve barely known each other, it’s like you said – it’s only been… a couple of weeks.”

He simply smiles at you, an affectionate smile that seeps deep in your bones. He cocks his head to the side playfully, as if knowing something you don’t. 

“I know that you have a rather peculiar obsession with noodles.” A small laugh escapes your lips and your palm rushes up to muffle it. He brightens at your change in expression and takes it as a cue to keep going.

“I know that you tend to ask yourself three times before committing to buying something – things as trivial as a bookmark.”

It’s a habit your mother taught you, to curb your impulsive purchases. 

“I know that you wipe your feet on the doormat, put your umbrella in the stand, then fix your hair before entering somewhere new, and always in that order.”

You do?

“I know that when you get nervous, you clench your fist so tight that your nails make indents in your palm. It worries me.”

Your fingers lightly graze the crescent moons made from earlier. 

“I know that you’ve gone through your own battles during the war. That you’ve lost a lot,” he says quietly, approaching lightly. “I know that you’re strong, even if you don’t notice it yourself.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you feel the tears welling in your eyes again.

“I could keep going. And yes, I’m aware that it’s only been a couple of weeks. That merely means there’s so much more to know about you.” 

His eyes. His captivating gray and turquoise eyes that you can’t look away from. 

“You’re honest, even in times you don’t want to be. And this beautiful head of yours… ” he tilts once to your forehead, “tends to think. Quite a lot. And fast. But I’m confident I can keep up. I’ve done my fair share of training over the years.”

This makes you blush, your therapist did say your spiraling thoughts would outrun you faster than you could keep up. 

Frankly, you’re shocked. To think he would notice these things, things you didn’t even notice. It’s hard to fathom that he would put the effort into doing so. Your heart feels like it’s two seconds away from bursting. 

Todoroki scans your face, watching your expressions. Minutes pass between you two as you try to let his words sink in. But it’s hard.

In the silence, you realize again what position you’re in – the wrist pressed against his thigh, your legs still haphazardly laid on top of his, the bundle of hair innocently being played with between his fingers. Each realization sends an electrifying heat up to your neck and you reluctantly pull away to gather your thoughts, much to Todoroki’s dismay. 

He doesn’t follow and the hair between his fingers softly slips away. 

Your head swims with too much information. It’s overwhelming – the villain attack, the hospital, Todoroki. Forming a single coherent thought seems too difficult a task right now and it seems he could see the conflict in your face.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, comforting and deep, “You don’t need to give me an answer now. I’ll wait, as long as you need.” 

You leave the room with those words ringing in your mind. After Todoroki had insisted you to get some rest, you found yourself walking out of the hospital doors and into the warmth of the setting sun. 

Muscle memory takes you home. On the train, you stare out aimlessly at the passing buildings and the quietness of the empty car soothes the jumbled thoughts in your head. You press your forehead to the window, hoping the cool glass would calm your overworked mind.

As you see your station coming up, you get up from your seat to move to the doors. The rocking of the train sways your body and you feel your foot clumsily catch onto something.

A brief moment of panic sets in as you trip, your body falls forward as you hold out your hands to brace for impact. 

But you don’t meet the floor. Your body is yanked back as someone grabs your arm and you whirl around, heart beating erratically. You weren’t alone?

You glance to the floor of the train and see that it’s clear, except for the foot of the person who grabbed you. Body tensing, you slowly trail your eyes up and it meets pitch black ones glaring harshly at you, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your guard immediately flies up and you cautiously shrug your arm out of the strangers’ tight grip. 

Did this guy just trip you?

“Thank you,” you mumble out, taking a step away from him.

The man is ominously quiet and it makes you further on edge. You sweep your eyes across the car and see that it’s just the two of you, alone. 

When did he get here?

His chuckle makes you dart back to his frame and his once harsh glare is smiling now, feigning innocence. 

“You should be more careful next time, Miss,” he says laughing, “You almost got hurt.” You let out a nervous chuckle and only bow your head in response, itching for the doors to open. 

As soon as it does, you will yourself to walk out of the train as calmly as you can, hoping the man wouldn't follow. Thankfully, he doesn’t and the doors slam shut behind you. 

You look back as the train pulls out of the station, heart beating wildly and a palm rubbing the now sore spots he held in a bruising grip. 

What was that?

In a semblance of gaining some normalcy and peace of mind, you’re back at the bookstore the very next day. It catches Goya by surprise when he opens the unlocked store to find you already stocking books. He tries to ask you about your hospital visit but respectfully backs off when you show no inclination to speak a word of it. Instead, he resumes like normal, whining and complaining about the heaps of assignments he has. 

It’s nice. It makes you feel like you still have control over the things happening around you. 

Except for when it comes time to lock up shop and you remember all the evenings Todoroki had been outside waiting for you, huffing and puffing. You’re thankful when you don’t see the blob of white and red hair on your way out the store. 

For the next few days, you force yourself to not think of him. You need time, time to settle your thoughts and ground yourself. 

A few days turns into a week and a week turns into two. At the end of the first week, you had received a text from Todoroki simply hoping you were doing well. You had responded cordially, but neither of you continued the conversation.

Other than that, you give yourself the much-needed space from him. 

You go back to reading your favorite book. You treat yourself to more nights of take-out. And you visit a pop-up at a nearby museum for a change in pace. 

It all helps substantially, but there’s a lingering emptiness in your chest at the end of most days.

It’s a Wednesday night when you sit at your desk, a pen neatly set beside a journal opened up to a blank page. A journal that hasn’t seen the light of day ever since your parents’ deaths. 

You write. You write until your fingers start cramping from the continuous grip of the pen. You write until the pages start to blur and you have to avoid the wet spots that drop from your eyes down to the uncreased pages. 

You write until you can’t anymore. Not until all your frustrations and sadness take onto the form of words and your disorganized thoughts fill page after page. Hours pass and it's in the middle of the night when you tenderly close the journal, eyes raw from crying but mind finally gaining some peace. 

Going outside for some fresh air, you lean your arms across the railing of your balcony, eyes closed. The stillness of the night soothes your soul and the gentle breeze passes through your hair. 

Images of the pro-hero flash behind your eyes and for the first time in two weeks, the recurring anxiousness doesn’t hit when you think about him. 

Todoroki Shouto.

“What I can promise is that even if I get hurt, I’ll do everything in my power to make it back. To choose between sacrificing and fighting, I will always give it my all to fight. To fight and live.”

You mull over his words – his promise. 

A promise of hope rather than a bitter ending. 

Pro-heroes will always try to save lives. That’s their mission – their reason for pursuing such a dangerous career.

It’d be naive to think Todoroki would never get hurt. To take his words as an excuse to think he would always be safe from danger.

Separating his pro-heroness from himself, it’s been an unconscious and downright unfair approach you’ve been using when interacting with him. But you can’t uphold that notion now, nor should you. 

It’s one with himself, a part of who he is. His request comes from all of him – not just one or the other. 

Is that something you can handle? Something you can willingly put yourself through?

What comes after anger?

Regret. It was always regret. Regret for staying silent, for assuming that things would run its natural course and that you would have a second chance. 

Would you regret running away from Todoroki now? Will you run back to the oasis of comfort you’ve helplessly chained yourself to, in favor of a peaceful life?

You’re scared. So scared of losing someone important, again. 

“Please, can you give me the chance to fight? To fight to live? For you?”

Every time these words passed through your mind, it left confusion, fear, and panic. 

In the quiet of the night, you find inklings of a new feeling bubble in your gut. It slowly overtakes the feelings of anxiety and makes you buzzed with adrenaline. The unfamiliar emotion mixes in with the others, swirling and concocting into something that leaves you more scared than before.

Anticipation.

“This is new. It’s not a Friday night.” 

“I’m glad to see you too, Okamoto-san.” 

The elder quirks an eyebrow up at the sight of your flushed face. It’s clear that you have been running, and for good reason too seeing that he was just about to close for the night. Wordlessly, he opens the door and motions for you to come inside. You plop into the same seat you’ve been sitting at for years and he moves to prepare a bowl of ramen for you.

“It’s okay, I ate before I came here.”

Okamoto-san gives you a weird look but proceeds to pour two cups of tea instead, placing one in front of you. 

The wrinkles of his face are set in a frown but you know there’s no genuine discomfort behind it, simply a passive look that has aged over time. He sips his cup of tea, waiting for you to explain why you’ve come running to his shop at nearly midnight. 

Your voice comes out small, his presence never failing to make you feel like a kid all over again, “Okamoto-san, can I ask you a question?”

He grunts in response and sets his cup of tea down on the counter.

“Why do you think my parents ended the way they did?”

Silence envelopes you both as his eyebrows raise in rare surprise, a little taken-aback by the bluntness of your question. It surprises you too, but you remember why you wanted to talk to him in the first place – why it had to be with him. 

This shop. This shop where your parents had taken you to ever since you were born. This shop where Okamoto-san had been serving bowls of ramen to them even before they met each other. This shop that was destroyed by the war but was persistently rebuilt afterwards, not a piece of furniture differing from its origin, even if new. 

He had known your parents for so long, and is one of the only people you’ve kept in contact with that had a close relationship with them. 

Upon his silence, you state, “My soulmate is a pro-hero.” 

You spend the next half hour spilling all that has happened in the past month and a half. Recollections of memories and pent up feelings flow out endlessly. Eventually, Okamoto-san takes a seat at the bar next to you, resting his wearied legs from the day and listening calmly. 

It feels liberating, for all these emotions to be spoken into existence. 

Your eyes are rimmed with unfallen tears at the end of it and you heave a big relieving sigh. 

Looking over, you see Okamoto-san’s posture sitting tiredly, cradling his third cup of tea. A sudden wave of guilt washes over you at keeping the elder man from going home. Right before an apology leaves your lips, he looks over to you and gives you a gentle look. 

With sure movements, he reaches up to pat your head. His hand presses with light pressure and you bite your lip to keep from bawling at the comforting gesture. 

“You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.”

Silent tears break from your waterline and trickle slowly down your cheeks. God, how embarrassing. 

Okamoto-san simply grabs a tissue box nearby and sets it in front of you. You use one to quickly wipe away the hot tears cried from the old man’s affection.

He asks you in a gravely voice, “Is this boy important to you?”

Sniffling, you take a second before answering, thinking carefully, “Yes, he is.”

A beat passes. “Do you love him?”

Your face flushes immediately and you furiously shake your head, “No. I mean– I– I don’t know… I’m having a hard time just being near him. I haven’t thought about… loving him.”

He hums suspiciously and you turn your flustered face away. 

“I understand. I know that it’s taken a lot for you to have even considered being friends with him.” 

You nod and vigorously shove away the mental image of Todoroki kissing your hair. 

“Kid. I’m going to be straight-forward with you.”

Turning, you face Okamoto-san’s serious expression and nod your head, bracing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. 

“Your mother��� Your mother was mentally ill. Not even taking her soulmate mark into account, she depended far too much on your father. It was an ongoing process of her getting help but…” he sighs tiredly. 

He shakes his head, choosing to move the conversation in a different direction, “Now, trust me when I say this, she loved you very much. I have no doubt that both of them did. But I think a part of her had hoped that you would also keep your father from continuing his pro-hero career. She could never fully accept his choice to give himself to society the way he did.”

Your body becomes rigid with the harsh truth spoken in the air. 

Yes, a part of you knew your mother devoted her life to your father, excessively so. Maybe that was why you looked to her first at the news of your father’s death, afraid of her reaction. 

But you had thought maybe it was because of the soulmate mark. A mark that binds you mercilessly to another. 

“Look at me when I say this, kid.” Your eyes that have strayed aside look up to see Okamoto-san’s hard set face, droopy with age and framed by graying hair. 

“You are not your mother,” he says firmly, “You are your own person, with your own experiences and thinking. Do not let her actions define your life and how you live it.” 

Your heart sinks and Okamoto-san’s face instantly softens at your expression. You don’t even know what you must look like to him now. 

Quietly, you whisper, “What if I lose myself? I’m scared I would be following in her footsteps. What if I meet the same end?”

“That is a reasonable fear, I wouldn’t want to lose you too.” 

For a moment, only your sniffling could be heard in the empty dim-lit shop. 

Okamoto-san’s voice cuts through the silence, “But, you are not your mother. I can’t tell you what is the right or wrong choice, but this boy is clearly important to you. Will you regret it again? If something does happen to him?”

Regret. 

The thought of it circles back and you reel at the consequences of it. 

Regret at not saying anything. Regret at thinking you would have a second chance.

You think back on all the moments you found yourself smiling at his unexpected silliness. All the conversations that made you admire his way of thinking. His wonder and excitement at the prospect of getting to know each more, to understand each other better. 

Will you regret it?

“You are not your mother.”

The simple yet strong declaration repeats in your mind and engraves into your soul. 

Witnessing grief overtake her very being, seeing the life leave her eyes before it really did. It terrified you beyond belief and before you could help it, you associated that look every time you thought of a soulmate bond. 

“Do not let her actions define your life and how you live it.”

A peaceful life. A peaceful but dull life was what you came up with. A defensive mechanism to avoid the same fate. 

But will you regret it? Will you regret not taking his hand? Will you watch it grasp air helplessly, again?

His captivating heterochromatic eyes that you’ve grown so fond of. His soft and reassuring smile that you undoubtedly preferred seeing over his distressed one. His tall and protective frame that you’ve unconsciously missed being next to you in the past two weeks. 

Suddenly, in this empty dim-lit shop that you’ve been frequenting for years, an overwhelming urge to see Shouto sparks in you. It runs through your veins, passes through your limbs, beats through your soulmate mark. It rises with each pulse of your heartbeat and you let it. 

In this definitive moment, you bask in it. You embrace this new-found feeling and cradle it, close to your chest and let it thrum throughout your whole body. A conclusion that comes forth and completely overtakes your thoughts. 

I want to see him. 

I want to see Shouto.

[skiiyoomin]

hiiii so I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR SMAUS anddd i was wondering if you could do one that’s a little nsfw where the bnha boys find your dump/spam acc where you rant and fantasize shit abt them? JSJXKAIZMSK

ღFinding your spam account

ʚft.Deku, Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Denki, Shinsou

ʚCont: slight nsfw, crack⤑Back to navigation

[m0nnypie]

✿ To All the Boys I've Loved Before! - Masterlist.

✿ feat. Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima Eijirou, and Todoroki Shouto.

✿ warnings: to all the boys I've loved before!Au, quirkless!reader, teacher!reader, aged up characters, all the boys are pro-hero (including Deku).

✿ synopsis: Your childhood letters, the ones in which you declare your love for every crush you had, ended up being sent without your permission. What could come of that?

✿ notes: HIIII. I've posted the first chapter, sorry for the delay in the chapters 😩 but I'm trying to finish as quickly as possible with everything I have to do, I swear when you see it, it'll almost be complete!!! One thing is that I'll probably do 4 different endings, if you want me to. But I can also do an ending with all four if you prefer!!! But I'll leave that for later.

01. [PROLOGUE]

your lovely students, discover about the letters. What a mess they made.

02. [IZUKU MIDORIYA]

your first love, and one of the sweetest. You will always remember him, but now things were different for the two of you.

03. [KATSUKI BAKUGOU]

Your second letter, and the worst of all. Sometimes you wonder why you liked him? But would your opinion change now?

04. [KIRISHIMA EIJIROU]

A little teenage love, an unexpected encounter that happened in a coffee shop when you were 15. You never forgot those red eyes and sharp smile.

05. [TODOROKI SHÕTO]

He was just so charming and funny with the way he dealt with things he didn't understand, but you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never have a chance with him, right?

TAG LIST!!! So if u wanna be tagged just click on the link and give me your username and I will add you!

© 2024 m0nnypie - all rights reserved, please don’t claim my work as your own, or translate without permission

[buttercupbloomsstuff]

Random Class 1a

It started when Ashido gasped loud enough to make everyone drop their snacks.

“Yo guys—Momo likes Todoroki!”

Momo immediately flushed crimson. “A-Ashido, I never said that out loud—!”

“You didn’t have to,” Jirou smirked, elbowing her. “Your face is doing the talking.”

“Wait, wait, this is perfect!” Kaminari jumped up. “Operation Matchmaking Snowflake begins now!”

Everyone scattered. Shoji distracted Todoroki. Uraraka and Iida cornered Momo with tips. Midoriya pulled out a literal strategy chart.

Meanwhile, Todoroki sat calmly on the couch, sipping tea. “You guys are being weird.”

“Soooo,” Kaminari plopped beside him, “hypothetically—if someone liked you, and was super elegant and smart—what would you say?”

“I’d say…” Todoroki looked away for a beat. “I like someone else.”

Record scratch.

“What?” — half the class in unison.

Todoroki’s voice was calm but sure. “I like… Y/n.”

Silence.

“What—ME?!” you blinked, pointing to yourself.

“Yes.”

Momo’s face: 💀

Ashido’s face: 🤯

Midoriya’s chart: 🗑️

You stood there awkwardly. “Um. That’s… flattering, but—uh—I like someone else.”

“WHO?!” Mina demanded, now desperate to salvage some couple.

You slowly glanced sideways. “...Bakugou.”

Everyone: 💀

Bakugou, who had been eating chips at the back: “What the hell?!”

He nearly choked. “Since when?! Why the hell do you like me?!”

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! You’re hot when you’re mad!”

Bakugou: buffering…

“You think he’s hot?” Kaminari asked, staring in betrayal.

“He is kind of hot…” Sero whispered.

“I hate all of you,” Bakugou muttered, ears red. “You’re all insane.”

Momo, Todoroki, and you sat in different corners of the room, all emotionally wrecked. Mina stood in the middle like a failed game show host.

“So… no one got the person they liked?”

“Exactly,” Bakugou snapped, “now can I eat in peace without everyone having a love crisis around me?”

“Do you like her back?” Ashido suddenly asked Bakugou.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my GOD—”

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ perfect ~ s. todoroki

sum: just some thoughts of newlywed! shoto after his wedding back in the hotel room.

pairing: husband! shoto todoroki x wife! reader

content: 18+ - mdni below cut. p in v, teasing, dirty talk, stalled orgasm, brief mention of marking, one long round but feels like multiple, fingering, implied breeding want brief quirk use, brief implication of cum plugging, cream pie, reader gets called princess/baby/good girl, general NSFW content, aftercare, just all around loving shoto afterwards.

a/n: a rework of a request from my wattpad days. nice fresh feel and worded so much better. got re-inspired after reading the epilogue of the manga. slight epilogue spoilers in terms of shoto's ranking for anime only fans/fans not caught up on the manga. hope you all enjoy this one! as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated.

word count: 2.5k

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

newlywed! shoto who’s finally married the love of his life in a lavish ceremony that would put some of the top celebrities in the world to shame. after all being the number 2 pro hero has its benefits.

newlywed! shoto who carries his new bride over the threshold of the honeymoon suite that the hotel booked for them for next to nothing. smiling softly as you giggle, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, not that he’d let you fall.

newlywed! shoto who set you down on the floor once he’d closed the door shut with his foot, finally getting a chance to take you in properly for the first time since he saw you at the altar. he loved how the white dress clung to your figure and how your rings now sparkled on your ring finger.

newlywed! shoto who still couldn’t believe you were his wife. was it a dream? if it was, he didn’t want to wake up. after years, you were truly his and he was yours.

new husband! shoto who runs his fingers up your exposed arm, trailing over the top of your back with a soft smile as you shivered. musing out “you look beautiful” and “you’re finally my wife” as he looked you over.

new husband! shoto who chuckles when you blush at his words. he always had an effect on you, even years after your first date. no one ever thought that the stoic shoto todoroki would settle down, let alone with someone who could rival bakugou at the best of times.

new husband! shoto who places soft kisses on your bare shoulder, hand resting gently on your arm. who loves to hear the small gasps you let out as you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your skin.

new husband! shoto who stops his kisses for a moment, stepping behind you to help you out of your dress. who lets the material pool at your feet as he takes a moment to place a kiss at the bottom of your neck.

new husband! shoto who moves to stand in front of you again. who takes in the sight of you in your wedding night lingerie. who thanks whoever is out there that he’s the one seeing you in this, and no one else will ever get to see you dress this way.

new husband! shoto who drags both his hands and eyes over your body, taking in the subtle ways you move under his touch and gaze. the way you close your eyes and sigh out, leaning into the wandering fingers on your skin.

new husband! shoto who rests his hands on your hips, fingers gripping slightly as he pulls you flush against him, loving the feeling of your arms draping over his shoulders. who rubs your skin with his thumbs as he utters words he knows you won’t refuse. “let’s get a little more comfortable, my love”. “can’t have you feeling uncomfortable when you’re wrapped around me”.

new husband! shoto who picks you up and carries you over to the bed, smiling softly as you squeak from the movement. who places you gently onto the mattress of the emperor bed in the room like a doll that would break at any moment.

new husband! shoto who steps back to remove his suit, stripping away each article of clothing until he’s bare before you. heterochromia eyes watching the way you look at him with nothing but pure love, that you look at him as your husband and the person you fell in love with, not as the number 2 hero or the son of the former pro, endeavor.

new husband! shoto who hovers above you for a moment, whispers of how “beautiful you are” and how “lucky i am to have you” sound before he leans down, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that becomes needier.

new husband! shoto who moves his lips to your neck, chest, torso and thighs, nipping and sucking as he goes. who leaves small marks in his wake that have you twisting your body slightly as you gasp.

new husband! shoto who takes a moment and positions himself between your legs, lifting your leg and making it bend at the knee as he places soft kisses against the inside of your thighs. who trails those kisses further up towards your covered cunt.

new husband! shoto who moves the fabric to one side, placing a kiss just over the place he can’t wait to be buried deep inside of. who brings up two digits and slips them past the thin strip of material, pressing them inside your waiting cunt. who’s scissoring them as he moves them in tandem with his tongue he’s now flicking across your covered clit.

new husband! shoto who loves the way you squirm against him, the way your hands tangle in his hair as you graze your fingers against his scalp in a bid to keep yourself grounded. who shivers at the contact and can feel his cock staring to painfully harden. who loves the sound of you losing that battle as you whine out his name.

new husband! shoto who pushes his fingers deeper into you, down to the knuckle as the coolness of his wedding band is engulfed in your hot cunt. the small contrast only adds to the dizziness you’re feeling.

new husband! shoto who’s tapping against that one spongy place that has you seeing stars and vision blurring. who pulls away to look up at you as you arch your back at the feeling of your impending orgasm creeping up.

new husband! shoto who loves to talk you through it with words of encouragement like “that’s it, princess”, “you’re doing so good for me”, and “let me feel you squeeze my fingers baby, give me a taste of what’s to come when I’m buried deep inside you”.

new husband! shoto who feels your walls spasm around his fingers as you reach your euphoria, a broken cry of his name leaving your throat as your eyes flutter shut. who loves the way you try to milk his fingers like you do his cock when he’s inside you. “that’s it baby”.

new husband! shoto who pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth, taking his time to suck your slick while you catch your breath. who locks his eyes with yours while he does, chuckling at the embarrassed whine you let out as you turn to face away from him.

new husband! shoto who, when he’s cleaned his fingers, kneels between your legs again once he’s helped you strip out of your lingerie. who grabs both your legs this time and parts them, lining up the mushroom tip of his cock to your now soaked cunt. who likes to tease you by rubbing himself against you a few times before he finally pushes past that tight ring.

new husband! shoto who groans out when he feels the welcoming warmth of your insides, the way you’re already clenching around him, not wanting to let go. who loves the way you’re arching as you press yourself closer to him, savouring that welcome stretch you love so much when he joins with you.

new husband! shoto who wastes no time in moving his hips, pulling back until his tip is just barely inside as he watches the way squirm at the loss before thrusting back into your cunt, savouring the way to cry out at the surprise.

new husband! shoto who begins to fuck you with the sole intention of showing you just how much he loves you. that this is the closest he’ll ever be to someone, that he’ll make you feel exactly how he much love he holds for you and not used as a way to continue his bloodline.

new husband! shoto who’ll only ever take that journey when you’re both ready for it. after all, he’d love to have you round with his child so everyone knows you’re his and his alone. to know that he’s the only one you’ll ever be able to give yourself to completely, and that he’ll be the one who’s the father of your children. purely because that’s what you both want.

new husband! shoto who can briefly picture that image. who has to keep himself in check because that was for another day and a future conversation.

new husband! shoto who leans forward to messily kiss you, tongues clashing for a moment before he leans back. who grabs your legs and moves them to dangle in front of you, enjoying the feeling of the new angle as he reaches deep within you. judging by the way you moaned out and gripped his arms, he’d hit that spongy spot even better than earlier.

new husband! shoto who loves the feeling of your cunt gripping him harder, sucking him in deeper as your slick begins to splash out slightly, dotting onto his thighs as he thrusts harshly into you more. the squelching gaining loudness the quicker he snaps his hips.

new husband! shoto who presses into you deeper until he can feel that tell-tale sign you're near your next orgasm. the way your walls start to pulsate quicker around his cock makes him smirk before he pulls away, slipping out of your cunt as you whine out at the loss of feeling full and being so close to climaxing.

new husband! shoto who drops your legs before shuffling back, grabbing your hand to pull you off your back. who’s quick to turn you around so you face away from him, one set of fingers gripping your hip, the other set wrapped around your wrist as he pulls you back into him and lifts you up with little effort, sinking his cock back into you.

new husband! shoto who pulls your back into a lovely arch by your arm as he thrusts into you, savouring the way you bounce against him as your cries of pleasure increase. who's peering over your shoulder to watch the way your breasts brounce with each reentry of his cock into your puffy pussy. who doesn’t give a damn if people walking past can hear.

new husband! shoto who moves the hand on your hip between your legs, circling your clit with the pad of his finger as he activates his ice quirk slightly. who loves the way you shiver and moan out, begging for him to let you go. “f-fuck, shoto, p-please”.

new husband! shoto who, after a few more thrusts, will move both hands back to your hips, helping you to slam down in the position he has you in. who can feel the way your walls pulsate the closer you get. with words of "come on princess" and "let me feel you squeeze around my cock first like the good girl you are" that will help you reach that euphoria you've been chasing with a broken cry of his name.

new husband! shoto who savours the feeling of your vice like grip around him as he pushes you forward, pressing you into the mattress before he pistons his hips, driving his cock deeper into you. who makes sure to hit that spongy spot repeatedly while you're crying out from still being overly sensitive.

new husband! shoto who can feel his balls tighten as he nears his end. who quickly pulls out and grabs you, before pulling you on top of him after he's lain down. who helps you move and pushes back inside your overly sensitive cunt as he pulls you closer to him, lips crashing against yours in a messy and desperate kiss.

new husband! shoto who after a few more sloppy thrusts, groans against your swollen appendages as he cums, making sure to paint your insides white with his seed as he mumbles. “f-fuck, baby, take it all” and “going to fill you so full you’ll be dripping me for weeks”. who watches the way you shiver at the feeling and makes sure to keep himself sheathed within you to stop any of his seed from spilling out just yet.

new husband! shoto who lets you fall forward onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you pant to catch your breath. who runs a hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head. "you done so well princess, let's have a break".

new husband! shoto who manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position as you hum out soflty, placing a hand on his chest to feel the steadying rhythm of his heart. who looks down at you as you concentrate on where your hand rests.

new husband! shoto who spends a good while chatting softly to you, talking about the moments of the day he loved the most, none topping the moment you were announced as husband and wife. “okay, maybe being able to fuck you as my wife came joint top”. who laughs at your flustered looked.

new husband! shoto who places a finger under your chin and tilts your head, looking over your face as you reach up to touch his. who closes his eyes at the feeling of you tracing the lighter scar on his face, normally, he’d hate anyone touching it, but he’s learned to love it thanks to you.

new husband! shoto who kisses your lips lovingly this time, savouring the way you move into him before pulling away from you, hearing you sighing out at the loss of contact and at the feeling of him pulling himself off you.

new husband! shoto who walks to the bathroom to grab some pieces before coming back to help you clean up, taking care of your now overly sensitive body. who’ll take a moment to watch his seed seep out of you slowly, chewing on his lip at the sight.

totally in love! shoto who, when he’s finished cleaning you, will pick you up and hold you close to him while he pulls the sheets back, climbing in and laying you next to him. who wraps his arm around you as he lays your head on his chest.

totally in love! shoto who whispers words of love and affection to you while he strokes your back and side. who thanks you for standing by him when he didn’t want anyone to be with him.

totally in love! shoto who wonders how he managed to be right here in this moment with you. who wonders how he was so lucky to be married and feel a sense of love and security from someone so close to him.

new husband! shoto who was more scared then he let on. who was originally afraid of letting anyone close to him, given his past. who just happened to bump into you one day while you walked the halls of u.a. who took a chance that day and didn’t look back.

new husband! shoto who looks down to see you asleep on his chest, smiling softly as he pulls you closer and the sheets around you both.

new husband! shoto who’s eternally grateful to you for wanting him and nothing more. who can’t wait for the rest of your married life together and the memories you’ll create.

new husband! shoto who knows his younger self would be proud of him and who he was now. one of the top pro heroes, as well as having his biggest supporter and cheerleader by his side for the rest of his life.

new husband! shoto who finally realises that everyone deserves love. even him.

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