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euthymiya · 3 months

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part of me (is part of you) — ft. todoroki touya

you realize for the first time, when touya brings you home to his mother, just how much he looks like her. he realizes for the first time, when he brings you home to his mother, just how much he doesn’t look like his father

before you read: fem reader ; non quirk au + canon divergence (enji is in JAIL) ; established relationship ; touya has tattoos instead of burns (he has one burn scar on his back, though) ; rei lives in a peaceful little home of her own like she deserves ; mentions of fuyumi, natsuo, and shouto ; hints at child and domestic abuse (canon enji core) ; food as a love language

“Keep your schedule free this Friday.”

Touya doesn’t ask, just tells you like he expects it to happen. You roll your eyes, sparing him a glance as he scrolls through his phone sprawled on your couch.

“And if I’m already busy?”

“Then get un-busy,” he grumbles. Then, after a moment of consideration, adds: “you’ll enjoy it, anyway.”

“Why? Are you taking me on a fancy date?” You grin, walking over and giving his head a playful shove. He glares up at you, but lifts his head wordlessly, long enough to let you sit before he lets it fall onto your lap.

“No,” he huffs. “Keep dreaming.”

“You say that,” you tease, poking his cheek as he clicks his teeth, “but you always end up taking me.”

“Not anymore,” he swats your hand away. He pretends to go back to scrolling through his phone, but you can tell he’s not paying attention. Not with how fast his thumb swipes, too quickly to register anything on his screen.

“So what’re we doing?”

“You’ll see.”

“C’mon, Touya,” you flick his forehead, making him grunt unhappily, “you have to tell me. How else will I dress appropriately?”

“Just be yourself.”

“What if my true self is dressing up like a hooker?”

“Well, I’ll appreciate it,” he glances up, giving you a cheeky grin, “my mom might not.”

You pause.

He casually goes back to scrolling through his phone, still not really paying attention like he tries to pretend he his.

“Your mom?”

“The woman who popped me out, that’s the one.”

“We’re meeting her?”

“Well, she’s been nagging about it nonstop,” he sighs, “she wants you to meet the rest of my little siblings eventually, too. There’s no way out of it.”

He sounds irritated by the idea. Unhappy enough that your hand tangles into his hair soothingly, threading through the white strands as his lips curl into a puckered frown.

Touya doesn’t talk about his family. Not much, anyway. Sometimes he gives you short, clipped details about his childhood. Just the fond memories—the ones he hardly looks back on like they’re few and far in between.

Me and my brother Natsuo used to fight over those, he’ll tell you sometimes, when you open a bag of candy.

You sound like my sister, he’ll snort when you cry over his feet on the coffee table.

He has another younger brother too. Shoto, he slurs the name one night, drunk and too far gone to realize what he’s saying, y’know he used to be my dad’s favorite? Before the old man got himself locked up. Man, that brat gets on my nerves.

“You don’t sound too excited,” you murmur softly, running a finger along the bridge of his nose. He shrugs, refusing to look up and meet your gaze.

“S’whatever. Was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s just my mom this time around, anyway—shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I could get sick,” you offer, “from…from sushi you brought me.”

“Why does it have to be my fault,” he snorts, face breaking into a small grin, “I bring you nice things.”

“You do,” you giggle, nodding. “Then…oh! I could twist my ankle falling down the steps. Right on our way there—such a tragedy,” you huff theatrically.

“I like your bright ideas, doll,” he shakes his head, eyes glinting with amusement, “but we might as well get it over with. I already promised her.”

“You sure?” You cup his cheek, staring down at him as he finally looks up at him. Two teal, pretty little eyes staring from your lap. You’ve never gotten a face to match them too, one to show you where they come from.

He grabs your hand, fiddling with your fingers as he mumbles a quiet, “yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you nod. And then, because you can’t ignore those eyes, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

He relaxes at that, grins as he murmurs, “and then we can fuck on my childhood bed, too.”

“No, Touya. Absolutely not.”

——————————

The drive to Touya’s childhood home takes a good hour. It’s not his first home—he tells you that in the car. His mother moved him and his siblings not long after his father’s trial.

She couldn’t stand being in those walls, he’d mumbled, starting his car, neither could I. The paint was ugly.

I didn’t realize you had an eye for interior design so young, you’d teased. That got a laugh out of him—enough to ease the tension in his shoulders as he drapes a hand on your thigh and starts driving.

You trace the tattoos littering the back of his hand on the way there, finger gentle and light as it maps out the ink on his skin and earns hums of approval from him every now and then.

“We’re here,” he says blandly when he finally parks. “It isn’t much. My mom couldn’t afford something as nice as the one my old man—”

“It’s nice,” you smile sweetly. You mean it. You stare at it with an awed expression as you murmur, “looks cozy.”

Touya pauses, staring at you for a moment before he lets out a shaky breath.

He can’t help but pull you into a kiss—abrupt and hard as his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you against him. “You’re something else,” he mumbles between kisses along your mouth, “you know that?”

“Are you crazy?” You gasp. You still kiss him back, regardless, making him smile smugly into you.

“Why?”

“Your mom might see through the window,” you whisper into his lips, earning a chuckle from him.

“Do you always have to worry?”

“Someone has to,” you hum, rolling your eyes as you finally pull away. You glance at the mirror to make sure your lipgloss isn’t too damaged. (It is. It’s all over Touya’s lips as evidence, too). “You’re not exactly the brightest mind.”

“Well good thing I have you to think for me so I don’t have to,” he says with a wink, sliding out of his door as he does a little jog to reach yours.

You giggle, watching as he opens your door for you and offers you a hand. “Please join me, milady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you beam, taking his hand and stepping out.

Touya spent the better half of his life brooding. Bitter. Something of a cynical guy who hated every happy couple he’d witnessed, wondered why it was like that for them and not him. Not his family. Not his parents. Maybe, if his asshole father had decided to be the husband the old man should’ve been, then he wouldn’t have to dread the idea of you meeting his family.

It feels too real this way. Feels like he has to relive it all just so you can know about it—you deserve to know about it, know about him. And you will. Someday, at least. He doesn’t know if he can handle it right now.

But you seem content with what he gives you, never asking for more than what he offers you little by little. It’s nice. It feels like maybe, in some twisted stroke of luck, maybe he can be a happy couple he used to hate so much, be so jealous of, be so bitter about.

And maybe he could be the husband his father should have been—for you.

But that’s for later. Right now, he has his mother to worry about as you both approach the front door.

“She can be a bit much,” he pauses and murmurs, “just so you know.”

“I think every guy says that about their mom,” you hum.

“You meet a lot of guys and their moms?” He asks offended, giving you a curled pout as you snort.

“No,” you roll your eyes, “quit pouting.”

“M’not pout—”

“Touya,” a voice calls softly before a woman much shorter than him is opening the door and grabbing his cheeks, pulling him down to inspect him.

“Hi mom,” he sighs, letting her study his face before she finally nods approvingly.

“You’ve been eating enough?”

“Yes.”

“Drinking enough water?”

“Yes.”

“Sleeping at normal hours?”

“Yes.”

“No more cigarettes? I mean it.”

“Yes,” he sighs in exasperation, ears burning a slight red. “No more cigarettes.”

“Good,” she nods—and then she looks over at you.

She looks just like him, you think. White hair. Soft, round face. Those pretty lashes you’re so jealous of. The only difference is that she’s missing those beautiful, warm teal eyes of his. Hers are cooler, an icy gray that makes her eyes look sharper compared to Touya’s.

He must have his father’s eyes, you think—it must be why he never looks in the mirror for too long.

“Oh,” she breathes, cupping your own cheeks, “it’s so lovely to meet you—Touya talks so much about you.”

“No I don’t,” he grumbles. “Never mentioned her.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she laughs, admiring you as she holds your face, “he’s very fond of you.”

“Am not,” he huffs. “I don’t even like her that much.”

“I’m sure,” you giggle—his face is turned to the side, the small pieces of his dignity left barely holding him together as he tries to hide his reddened cheeks from you.

His mother ushers you in, hand guiding you on the small of your back as you walk through the small hall into the living room.

It’s as cozy inside as it looks from the outside. Touya’s mother has taken great care to make this house a home. (Rei, she introduces herself. Call me Rei). You suppose it makes sense. Their first house was so far from a home, so desolate of the safeness and comfort it should have had. You don’t know the details—Touya can never talk about it long enough to offer too many.

You’ve stringed together the gist of it through the small details, though.

My old man’s in jail. Gets out sometime next year, I think, he’d said vaguely at the start of your relationship. You didn’t ask any further questions, just squeezing his hand in yours. He squeezed back with a thick swallow.

My mom couldn’t look me in the eyes for years at one point. They reminded her too much of him, he’d said on the first birthday you spent with him. He returned from the other room after a phone call with his mother, eyes hazy and distant as he recalls that small detail of his past. You kissed him extra hard that night.

Got that from my old man, he’d smiled dryly one night, when you’d traced a small burn scar running across his back, pissed him off over something. Don’t remember what. You kissed his scar that night as he slept with his back towards you, curled in your arms.

So much of Touya is foreign to you. So much is not. So much of him is kept locked away to keep him protected so no one who should love him can hurt him again.

This house, however is cozy. Homely. Safe. There are pictures everywhere. That’s the first thing you notice—Touya as a baby, as a toddler, as a young child. Touya on a bike. Touya on the swings. Touya in a pool. Touya grumpy at his high school graduation sandwiched between his two brothers, his sister beaming at the side.

His siblings are everywhere too, of course, but your eyes seem to only find him. He looks happy, you think, despite the less than happy start to his childhood. He looks happy in the few moments stolen by the camera, framed for his mother to look back on.

“You were so tiny,” you giggle, “not much has changed.”

He raises an eyebrow with an amused scoff, shaking his head as he murmurs, “not what you said the other night.”

It’s out of earshot for his mother—or so he thinks. She slaps his shoulder hard enough with a disapproving frown to make him hiss and hold a hand up in surrender.

“Touya,” she scolds, “watch that mouth of yours.”

“Jeez,” he says through a low, petulant grumble, “fine.”

“You let me know if he gives you any trouble,” Rei gives you an apologetic look. You laugh, ruffling your boyfriend’s hair as he clicks his teeth and crosses his arms.

“He’s not much trouble, actually,” you murmur gently, “I think he’s pretty great.”

He softens, face burning with a flush of pink as he looks down at his feet and grunts something under his breath. It sounds something suspiciously close to what a sap, earning an eye roll from you.

But his mother beams—eyes crinkled at the edges as she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the dinner table. There’s plates filled with your favorite dishes, home cooked and piping hot. It makes you realize Touya must have told his mother beforehand: the things you like, the things you don’t. Maybe more.

You lean up, kissing his jaw.

“What was that for?” He mumbles, watching his mother grab plates.

“Because I love you, of course,” you whisper. “I need a reason?”

“You love me, huh? Enough to consider my proposal about my bed?”

“Not that much,” you snort.

He pouts, fighting back a grin as he huffs, “you’re a stick in the mud. Love you too.”

You don’t know much about Touya’s childhood. Bits and parts of the ugliest moments are vaguely familiar to you, shattered pieces of a mosaic you can’t get a full picture of. But you smile at Rei—it feels like grabbing a smooth, unshattered piece and filling in the holes for him, filling in the gaps of love he missed out on.

You take a seat, right beside Touya, watching as his mother insists on plating your food for you. Somehow, despite it being your first time here, it feels like coming home.

This might be considered ooc idk but I write touya and rei how I want idc this is real to me in a non quirk au

#writing tag #touya x reader #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #touya x you #dabi x you #bnha x you #mha x you #touya fluff #dabi fluff #bnha fluff #mha fluff

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hatsukeii · 1 month

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Today I'm thinking about...haikyuu + other anime characters who think you're just a little too sweet for them.

warning(s): nothing LOL you're safe with me again today!!

To them, life should be lived silently, like slipping between cracks that emerge amidst the lives of others. Their presence is fleeting, manifesting as a helping hand in a crowded hallway that is never seen again, a coffee order that is forgotten after the next few customers, a glossary that is skimmed through once, then never looked at a second time. A presence that you know for certain was here once before, but have nothing to show for it. When you grace their life for the first time, maybe in a library, or a bakery, perhaps a coffee shop, it is as fleeting as a comet that zips across a night sky, your presence escaping from between the seams of their own life the way they do to others. A glance shared between the gaps of leathery bookends, the dropping of change in their hand, the calling out of their name for their black coffee order. He finds eternity in the gleam of your irises, the clink of coins as they fall from your hand, the sugar that leaks from their name in your mouth. You find solace in the darkness of their tired eyes, the wrinkles and calluses in the palm that collects change, the grainy, sultry earth that echoes in their thank yous. They return to the libraries, and bakeries, and coffee shops day after day, hoping to bask in the sweetness of whatever you do and say again, mellowing out pools of black caffeine with mugs of syrup and milk, neat whiskey with crisp ice, balancing the earthy, soiled ground with a star-studded night sky. They change their order from an Americano to your recommended latte, smile at you from the opening created between books on a shelf, treat themselves to a small cake once every so often along with their usual purchase of plain bread. And when you finally chat them up one day, a wink flashing across your face as you slide your number to them on a doodled-over sticky-note across the counter, or thread it through hardbacks on a shelf, or palm their hand sneakily as you hand them change, their presence becomes an engraving on the spine of a book, a coffee stain in a worn out mug, the lingering decadence of mousse and cake that dances on their tongue, impatient for the next taste. They are a bitter canister of brewed tea, a hollow body and soul worn down by the trials of life. You are a shot of espresso in the afternoon sun, golden daylight peeking through half-lidded blinds, honey in your veins and prosperous life in your eyes. Perhaps your sweetness could accomodate for two.

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Kenma Kozume, Iwaizumi Hajime, Aone Takanobu, Akaashi Keiji, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shirabu Kenjiro, Osamu Miya, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Maki Zenin, Yuuta Okkotsu but specifically after training in Africa and coming back to Shibuya, Megumi Fushiguro, Aki Hayakawa, Kishibe, Shouta Aizawa, Hitoshi Shinso, Shouto Todoroki, Tomura Shigaraki

author's note:

be honest chat do i post like a scary amount and does it get annoying </3 i have too many ideas when i should be studying for externals in two months but i DON'T CARE i need to rest for like the next week after that trials period

i had hozier's too sweet in mind with this one and i initially wanted to do like just nanami but UGH too many characters work with this i can't DO ITTTTT so i made it a general drabble EE

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @fiannee @bailey-reeds @akaakeis @hiraethwa

ok bye bye until the next one which will be soon LMFAO love u all

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dira333 · 4 months

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The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing.

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone.

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest.

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

Years later

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg.

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is…” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that.

“Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is.

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before.

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced.

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong.

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most.

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.”

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain.

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

#my writing #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff

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gravesung · 1 month

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@eraserisms said:

do not worry. i will be right here with you. (Shoto)

a prompt i lost. meme tag.

❝ NO. YOU SHOULD GO, aizawa-sensei. ❞ his voice is firm, calm — so much more grown-up than it should be at this age. and despite what this visit may bring, he finds himself calm. it's not as if aizawa hasn't ever had to deal with endeavor. he is the number-two hero, after all, and the UA circle of connections is relatively close-knit. even so, shouto feels a warm surge of pride in his chest at being able to shield his favorite teacher from his father's wrath.

it isn't as if he's resigned to it, not by any means. shouto speaks his mind to endeavor whenever he has the chance; he never stopped being defiant. here at UA, surrounded by people so much stronger and kinder than he thought was possible, he has already learned more than his father could have ever hoped to each him.

the fear is still there when he looks endeavor in the eye. it grips him by the throat every single time, panicked nausea rising deep in his stomach, but he doesn't let it rule him anymore. his classmates and his teachers taught him that bravery is acting in spite of fear. not in the absence of it.

❝ you have a class to teach. i can deal with my old man. ❞

#ic.#eraserisms #shouto threads.#shouto... you're too young to be this weathered... i'm sobbing

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— phone calls from far away + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki get's grumpy when he's away from you - but luckily his groomsmen know just who to call to make him feel better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack? smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, slight praise!kink, pro-hero!bakugou, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.6K.

⭑ notes — hello my lurvs! i feel like its been ages since i wrote the main man bkg so here's an old wip i found and ended up finishing so i could practise short form! twas picked by you guys! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

“i need you take this phone, drop your panties and have sex with bakugou. now.”

“kaminari— what?”

you’d just picked up the phone, halfway through a peaceful afternoon relaxing before your own bridal shower in a few days and hadn’t been expecting a call from some of your husband’s closest friends.

“you heard me! take the phone, take off your underwear and fuck—“

“please!” kirishima pleads with you next, looking like he’s about to cry. “he’s driving me insane!”

“what’s he done now?”

“he’s grumpier than usual, threatened to skin deku alive for chewing too loud and nearly ripped the damn bolt out of my hair when i asked him to pass the salt at breakfast— please, be my saving grace here and have phone sex with your fiancé before he kills us all!”

you smile and cock your head, picking up the kettle to finish your tea. “that just sounds like regular old katsuki,” kaminari’s bottom lip wobbles and kirishima groans in the background— it was obvious you were their last resort. a guys only holiday for your lover’s bachelor party had been their idea despite your warnings but you did miss katsuki and you were feeling pent up from being away from him. you were sure he felt the same, he was clingy and pouty, threw tantrums when he couldn’t have you.

“we’re begging you here,” shouto cuts in as he enters the frame— ice cold drink in his hands and his face calm. though his mismatched eyes blaze with stress. “thirty minutes of your time and i’ll let you take a spin in my father’s private jet.”

you note sero tugging on his hair in the background.

“i thought hush money wasn’t your thing, todoroki.” you’re coy with your words, watching the boys fall into a pit of despair at your boyfriend’s tantrums.

izuku speaks next, his green eyes large and glassy. “please.”

in the end, you relent in amusement and send the boys off to give the phone to bakugou while you make yourself comfortable in your shared bedroom— surrounded by his lingering scent of caramel and sweet musk woven into the threads of the expensive linen sheets the blonde insisted on buying.

you can’t stop your heart from fluttering once your fiancé pops into view— he’s decked out in a lose fitting button down, open to reveal his perfectly cut washboard abs and the expanse of his skin, slightly golden and tanned from the caribbean sun. katsuki’s luminous red eyes soften as soon as they settle their sights on you, love flickering amongst the darkened flecks that spiral within them. “hi baby, how’s your vacation going?” you sing, sinking back into the blankets and holding your phone up above so that he can get a good view of you.

“awful. these idiots wouldn’t know how to plan a trip outta this damn resort if they tried.” bakugou comments, going quiet as he waits for your laughter. he gets clingier when he’s away, finding himself souring over the fact that he can’t just roll over and bury his face in your neck every morning— instead he’s met with eijirou or stupid izuku trying to drag him out for some bachelor’s fun…when really all katsuki wants is to be with you. “miss you, wish you were here.”

“i miss you too kats, so much.” with a voice that drips like honey, you lower your tone until it’s sultry— your siren’s song running smoothly through bakugou’s ears. he quirks a brow at you, recognizing it as he mumbles a quiet ‘yeah?’ “mhm…wanna see how much i’ve missed you, baby?”

“‘course i wanna see you, pretty girl…” acknowledging his hum as one of approval, you pan your camera down the expanse of your lounging body. using one hand to hike up your (katsuki’s) shirt— revealing plush thighs and a soft tummy and the stretch marks that curl around your waist and curve of your hips. the low groan bakugou lets out from over the line shoots straight down to your clit, the little nub pulsing with need as you drag your fingertips over your skin just like your fiancé would.

both of you develop a hitch in your breath when you hit the waistband of your panties— they’re nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary but katsuki finds the comfort and confidence you have in yourself incredibly sexy. you can tell by the intensity of his stare, ruby gem eyes honed in on your every movement, that he’s hungry for you— like a feral animal that hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“how bad d’ya wanna see, katsuki?” you ask him shakily, toying with your waist band, hips wiggling as if to prompt an answer out of him.

bakugou’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and even though the service on your call isn’t the best, you’re still able to pick up on his ragged and uneven breathing. “you’re killin’ me here, sweetness. show me.”

“m’kay, let me get you a better view.”

feeling the flame of desire ignite in your core— you make quick work of propping your phone up against spare pillows and spread your legs either side of the frame. he does the same. there’s a growing wet patch from where your slickness seeps into the crotch of your underwear— obvious to katsuki even from over the screen, painted in darker shades of pixels. you’re so wet that it defines the puffiness of your folds pulsing between the material and for a bit of relief, you slide the length of your middle finger between them, whimpering out your fiancé’s name.

“that’s it, touch yourself f’me,” the blonde slurs, his eyes hooded and voice hoarse, entranced by the way you slap three fingers against your sticky and clothed cunt. “can you take your panties off too, sweetness? wanna see that pussy ‘n how she’s doin’ without me.” katsuki knows how turned on you get from him watching you, admiring you like you’re a work of art belonging to one of the finest galleries in the world— so he takes it upon himself to guide you softly, command you even when he’s thousands of miles away.

you do as your fiancé says, peeling your panties off despite how thick, clear strings of arousal glue them to your sex before you toss them into the room somewhere. a choked moan rattles around in katsuki’s throat, watching your unused, tiny hole quiver around nothing after being exposed to the cold air— he can’t help but whine next, all high pitched and desperate, wishing it was him who was circling two digits around your entrance and occasionally dipping them into your salacious sex instead of you.

that should be him stretching you out, should be him in his bed— touching up his girl and playing with her swollen clit as blood carrying lust and happy hormones rush to it. “such a…such a good fuckin’ girl for me, baby.” bakugou goads, his eyes damn near rolling back at the sound of your lewd pussy squelching around your fingers echoing around his hotel room. your hips slowly rocking against the palm of your hand so you slowly fuck them into yourself.

his camera picks up on every detail, the way your cunt glistens with arousal and the way your thighs twitch the more you give yourself— curling your fingers against your soft velvet walls bakugou’s been dying to be inside since the night he left for this stupid fucking bachelors trip. the more he sees you stuff yourself, the more his cock twitches to life and strains against the netting on the inside of his swim shorts, the first spurts of milky precum smearing against it.

before you get too lost in the pleasure, you sit up and pull your fingers from the snugness of your selfish sex and spit onto them as if to give yourself more lube to fuck yourself deeper— taking a break to reel katsuki in. “take your cock out f’me kats, i know you’re hard.” you say breathless, the tail end of your words tapering off into a quiet sigh while slap down on your soaked pussy for his viewing. “probably so pent up, miss your pretty cock. miss havin’ you inside me.”

bakugou shudders at your praise, moving quickly to kick off his shorts and letting his aching cock spring free— the length of it smacking against his tummy, precum beading just above his belly button. “i miss you baby. fuck…so sensitive,” he hisses, forming a fist around his shaft, rough palms from his quirk brushing up against the pretty blue veins that wrap all the way around him. you’ll never get over how beautiful his cock is, how beautiful your fiancé is with his skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat— chest heaving rhythmically as whimpering as he touches himself to you and spits in his palm to mimick the wetness of your pussy around him. bakugou’s cockhead, a bright shade of red, bleeds white against his knuckles while he matches the pace of his hand to your fingers sliding sloppily in and out of your fluttering hole. “rub in circles baby, don’t forget. jus’ like that… jus’ like how i do it.”

pressing a thumb into your clit and dragging the hood of it back, you squeal— seizing up and gushing all at once. “ooh, shit ‘suki!” you stutter, bucking your hips up eagerly to meet your hand— imaging your fiancé stuffing you full instead of your tiny fingers. “w-what do you miss about me, kats? t-tell me baby.”

“miss…y-your…fuck! you’re so pretty. mm’god, baby…” it’s impossible to focus on anything but your pussy on display for him— your movements syncing up with each other, touching yourselves as if you’re fucking one another. the glisten of your nectar around your fingers only serves to turn the explosive pro hero on even more and he only hopes the view of his precum dripping down his balls and his knuckles has the same effect on you.

“don’t be shy kats, focus.”

“miss your skin, s’so soft. your lips on mine. my tongue in your fuckin’ mouth… fuck, your pussy wrapped around me, squeezin’ down on me just like that…” bakugou grunts out over the sound of his fist slapping wetly up and down his dick. “cant wait to get home ‘n sink into your tight little hole, fuck you like your fingers can’t.”

“i should make you wait until after the wedding day. s’what you get for leaving me.” you tease him despite your pout, saliva pooling on your tongue as you just about manage to brush at your g-spot, something katsuki wouldn’t have struggled with if he were here making a mess of you in person. you suppose fucking him over face time would have to do for now.

“no baby, please. please don’t make me wait, ‘m gonna fuck you so good i promise.” katsuki begs and you believe him, how can you not? with his cheeks all red and face twisted in desperation… perhaps agony from not being able to grind his girth into the deepest parts of you— sufficing with his soiled fist and the memory of you instead. he’s only been away from you a week, but it feels like eternity. “if you wanted to wait until after marriage i’d have put a ring on your finger the day we first fuckin’ met.” he somehow quips, his voice falling just underneath the sound of skin on skin as he pumps himself towards orgasm— matching how you get yourself there with rapid circles on your pleasure nub and fingertips pressed against your g-spot.

if he were there, you would have cum by now— squealing on his cock like the little princess that you are, your juices running down your inner thighs even more than they are now. the thought of you ruined like that that nearly kills the blonde.

“are you close katsuki? don’t hold back for me.” the way you say his name and pull him back into the present has bakugou’s hips lifting from the bed in his hotel room, the course pad of his thumb swiping eagerly over his burning cockhead as he rubs his seedy arousal into his sensitive slit. his fist around his cock mimics the way you would squeeze down on him every time you curl your fingers in your pretty cunt.

the pro hero shakes his head, the tips of his ears flushing red too even though it’s grainy from over the face time call. “d-don’t wanna cum without you.”

it’s not that he doesn’t, it’s that he can’t. katsuki can’t cum unless he’s got his eyes on you, watching every detail and shift of your facial expressions when you’re close— when you’re mewling out for him and crying for his cock just like you are now… except on the other side of the world. he can’t cum unless your body tells him that you’re close too.

“i’m there baby. let go for me.” it’s your turn to make a promise to him, throwing your head back into the pillows so you can take in bakugou’s scent— picture him rutting into you from above, droplets of sweat running down his forehead as he pounds you into oblivion. the ecstasy running through your system threatens to make the dam burst, the symphony of your moans harmonising over the call only dragging you closer and closer to your highs. “c-cum with me. please.”

neither of you can hold back, bakugou pumping his dick until it hurts— a raw and needy cry ripping through his sticky chest as his thick load shoots up it, painting him white with his own seed and contrasting against his sun kissed skin. you’re no better, gushing so hard that you force your fingers out of you, clear streams of your juices spewing out of your cunt and soiling the sheets below.

for a moment, the pair of you lay on call with each other, panting in unison as you come back down to earth. katsuki cleans himself up with a tissue and you lean down to grab your phone, wanting to see him better.

“i really do…fuck… made me cum so much. i really do miss you baby.” he’s the first to speak, his voice gravely from all the cursing and groaning he had been doing but his facial expression soft and satisfied.

“i know. i can’t wait for you to come home, have fun for me okay? i’ll be waiting.” you whisper to him, smitten and longing— mentally counting down the days until he’s back from his bachelors vacation. “no more tantrums. behave.”

“m’kay sweetness,” bakugou laughs at your warning, rolling his eyes albeit fondly. “drink some water ‘n eat somethin’ good yeah? you always forget if you fall asleep right after you cum.”

“i will. you eat somethin’ too. i love you.”

“love you more.”

it takes a while before either of you hang up— clinging onto the few moments you have with one another before one of the boys come looking for katsuki and whisk him away.

you manage with shaky legs to get up and pee before fixing yourself some cup ramen so you can head to bed for the night on a full stomach ( as your fiancé had wished ). when you wake up the next day you have several happy texts from kaminari and an attachment, so you rub your eyes to clear your bleary vision to check them.

kaminari dunce face - 13:52PM: thank you for whatever the fuck you did to kacchan tonight.

kaminari dunce face - 13:53PM: he’s literally never been nicer.

kaminari dunce face - 13:55PM: (attachment.mp4)

downloading the video, you can’t help but grin— adding the video of katsuki drunkardly hugging deku and singing his love for you in the middle of the resort at night directly to your camera roll.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha thirst #bakugo thirst #bakugou fic #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x you #bnha smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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devilray-art · 1 year

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A mutual of mine on Twitter wrote an absolutely adorable thread about TouKei taking Shouto to the zoo with them and I had to draw it.

#art #drawing #bnha #digital art #bnha art #mha #todoroki touya #keigo takami #todoroki shouto #todoroki fanart #dabihawks #toukei

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victoryclaimed · 2 years

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xuchiwa liked ✧ for a starter !

". . . wait. . . are you and bakugou together?"

#xuchiwa #threads.#✧ i'll be the hero i want to be. ( arc ii | shouto t. )#shouto ft. sasuke ( xuchiwa )#✧ queue.

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ferigrieving · 2 months

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born a weapon.

⊹ ࣪ i know there’s better brothers / but you’re the only one thats mine.

a.n tumblr user @mrchickennuggetjr this ones also for you

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; iii. lost and found part one ; v. coming soon ; 3.6k words

the memory of what happened kept replaying in touya’s head. it was like a broken record, stuck on the same scene over and over again. he could see it all unfold in front of him as vividly as when he’d actually lived it.

but for now, he tried to push down the memories. he forced himself to stay in the present, to focus on what was happening right now instead.

and right now, touya had never been more away of how shitty their lives were until now.

the building was old. peeling paint, exposed pipes, and missing tiles on the floor. you had found an abandoned library to take shelter in months ago, and you and touya had spent any free time you had fixing the place to be more… livable. or as livable as possible it was in a place like this.

it wasn’t great by any means, but it was away from the hustle bustle of the city life, and that was all you could ask for.

here were two sleeping bags laid beside a ratty futon in the corner, with blankets and pillows to keep them warm. you had even decorated a little, hanging up small trinkets and a few pictures of you and touya from happier days.

the place was still far from homey, but it was better than the streets. and it was better than that cold house that the todorokis grew up in

it wasn’t the place itself that made the library feel like home. it was your quiet presence that made a house a home. it was the way you never made a sound when you moved around, the way your lips would quirk slightly when touya did something you found amusing, the way you seemed to understand him better than anyone else.

touya wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you were warm, and he found himself craving the heat.

“i miss having a bed,” touya mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him. he didn’t mind the cold cement floor, for it was better than sleeping on the streets, but he longed for the comfort of a real bed. his bed.

the sleeping bags belonged to you and touya, stolen from some unassuming campers on your trip to find food. the futon, on the other hand, was reserved for shouto. it had pillows, a blanket, and two stuffed toys, yet shouto often slept beside you or touya in the comfort of your sleeping bags.

but, for the moment, he was sound asleep, arms wrapped around a black cougar with a large, purple ribbon on it.

touya buried his face in your chest, letting his eyes flutter shut. the sound of your heartbeat was gentle, it filled his head with memories of easier times. and he was safe, for just a moment, from the cruel world that had forsaken him.

a smile tugged at your lips as you heard touya's quiet complaint. it was always the same thing with him, wasn't it? he would find something new to complain about every day. “yeah,” you hummed in agreement. “a bed would be nice.”

you gently threaded your fingers through his hair, raking through his shaggy locks. “maybe one day,” he mused, “we can buy a house.”

in response, you felt touya nuzzle against your chest, like a cat seeking attention. the gesture was almost childlike, and it brought a wave of fondness over you. he hadn’t changed in the years you knew him, still clingy and childish as ever.

touya let out a soft sigh as your fingers danced across his scalp. the feeling was soothing, and he found himself melting against you.

“yeah,” you muttered, “i'd like that.”

he closed his eyes, taking in the sound of your slow, steady heartbeat. it was a comforting lullaby, and it made him want to stay like that forever.

a brief moment of silence passed between the two of you. he could feel your heart rate begin to quicken, and he frowned. something was bothering you.

he lifted his head to look up at you, his expression quizzical. “what's wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. he tilted his head to the side, studying your face for any signs of distress. “you're thinking too loud.”

you shook your head, nudging him off you. “no ‘m not.”

touya raised an eyebrow at your response. he knew you weren’t telling the truth. he could tell just from the look in your eyes.

he leaned in closer, until his face was inches away from yours. his breath ghosted over your skin, and he could see the way your eyes flickered down to his lips for a brief moment.

“don’t lie to me,” he murmured. “i know you too well.”

“its about shouto.” you mumble, eyes darting over to the boy in question, and touya couldnt help but follow your gaze, his gaze landing on shouto. the boy was happily engaged in a fierce battle between two stuffed animals, completely oblivious to the conversation between you and his older brother.

“what about him?” he asked, turning back to you with a frown.

“we don't have anything, touya.”

touya’s expression darkened as you voiced your concerns. he knew it was true. they had nothing. no money, no home, no future. it was only a matter of time before everything in their lives came crashing down.

“i know,” he said, his voice quiet. “i know we don’t.”

“he cant go to school anymore, he sleeps on a ratty old futon, and eats once a day. i— i dont know what to do. i cant let him live like this.”

touya’s heart ached at your words. he knew all too well the struggles you faced daily. the endless days and nights spent scavenging for scraps, and the exhaustion that never seemed to leave their bodies. they had been surviving for so long that it seemed like it was all they knew how to do.

he let out a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “i know,” he murmured. “i don’t know what to do either.”

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and cold. “all this time, i’ve been so focused on surviving that i hadn’t stopped to think about his future.”

touya looked over at shouto again, watching as the boy played with his toys. it was then that he realised just how much he had taken for granted. “he deserves a better life than this.”

he pulled you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. he buried his face in your shoulder, taking solace in your warmth and familiarity.

“we can’t keep living like this,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt. “we can’t keep living in abandoned libraries and eating scraps off the streets. it’s no way to live”

“i know. and that’s why i have to get a job, touya.” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “even if it means i get caught.”

his arms automatically tightened around you, his heart skipping a beat. the thought of you getting caught and taken away from him was enough to make his blood run cold.

“no,” touya said firmly, lifting his head to look at you. “absolutely not. i’m not risking losing you.”

he let out a frustrated sigh, his grip on you growing even tighter. he knew you were right. they couldn't keep living like this. the constant worry of being found, and the never-ending cycle of struggle and exhaustion.

he knew he couldn't keep you safe and protect his brother at the same time. but neither did he want to risk losing you. without you, touya wasn't sure what he would do.

“what if you get caught? what if they take you away from me?”

“then it’ll be one less mouth to feed.”

touya’s eyes widened at your words. he could feel a pang in his chest, like a knife had been plunged into his heart. his eyes darted around your face, searching for any sign that you didn’t really mean it.

he pulled back just slightly, his hands still gripping your shoulders. “don’t say that,” he said angrily. “don’t you dare say that.”

“the lawsons down the street is hiring.” you turned away him, wincing at the sharp tone in his voice. touya was always rough, but something about this time was different. “its not much but–”

“this is a suicide mission, you know.”

touya clenched his jaw tightly, his mind in turmoil. on one hand, he knew that you were right. they needed money, and the lawsons down the street was a small grocery store that could give you a job.

but the thought of you being away from him, in a place he couldn’t reach, was enough to send his heart racing. he was terrified of losing you.

“touya, you’re a walking target! fuckin– fuckin’ look at you, dude. we both know im the only one who can do this.”

that comment stung, but touya knew there was truth to your words. he was a walking target, with his messy black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the numerous burn scars that covered his body. it was a miracle he hadn't been found out already.

he was silent for a moment, his mind racing. you were the only one who could do this, and he knew it.

"just... promise me one thing."

“i’ll try, toy.’”

his heart clenched at your words. he knew you too well. you’d always put yourself on the line to keep him and his brother safe.

he let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a stern look. “don’t play the hero,” he warned. “do the job, get the money, and come back. no side quests, no unnecessary risks. understand?”

touya studied your face for a moment, trying to judge your resolve. he knew he couldn’t stop you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry.

after a few moments, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. he closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

“just... come back to me. please.”

“ill always come back to you, touya.”

those words filled touya with a mix of relief and fondness. he knew that you would do anything for him, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you.

"you better," he mumbled, his voice soft. he wrapped his arms around you more securely, almost to the point of hurting. "or i'll hunt you down myself."

he held you like that for a few moments, his heart racing. he could feel the steady beat of your heart against his chest, a small comfort in the chaos of their lives.

he knew that there was no going back now. you had already made up your mind, and he couldn't stop you.

so all he could do was hope and pray that you would come back to him in one piece.

“i love you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by your hair. “you better not forget that.”

“i love you too i just–” you frown, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “i have to go before it gets dark, touya.”

touya tensed as you mentioned leaving. he knew this moment was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. he wrapped his arms around you tighter, unwilling to let go.

he didn't want you to leave. the thought of not having you there with him, being able to touch and hold you anytime he wanted, was unbearable.

still, he knew he couldn’t keep you. you were right. this was something you had to do.

he let out a deep sigh, and reluctantly loosened his grip on you.

he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of worry and resignation. they were darker than usual, almost stormy as he studied your face.

he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady the anxiety that was coursing through him. he knew he had to let you go.

but that didn’t make it any easier.

touya watched as you crawled over to shouto and scooped him up, giving the young boy a gentle kiss on the forehead. a lump formed in his throat. “ill be right back, shou.’”

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice small and fearful.

shouto looked up at you curiously, his eyes wide and innocent. he had no idea what was happening, or why you were leaving.

“‘m gonna get dinner, kay?”

shouto’s expression brightened at those words, a small smile appearing on his lips.

he was probably hungry, touya thought. it had been a while since their last meal.

he glanced over at you, watching as you set his brother down on the ground.

“i want lots of soba,” shouto proclaimed, as if it was the only thing that was important to him.

god, you were going to die here. you were sure of it. “ill– ill try.” you whimpered, looking up to prevent yourself from crying. lots of soba.

touya's heart ached at the sound of your voice, and he could feel a lump form in his throat. he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and assure you that everything would be okay, but he knew better.

he couldn’t promise that. for all he knew, this might be the last time he saw you.

he clenched his jaw, fighting back the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“now i have go okay, shou?” you stood up, placing him back down on the futon. “be good to your big brother.”

shouto seemed to sense the seriousness in your voice, and the small smile on his lips faded to a look of confusion.

he looked up at you, his small fingers reaching out to grab the fabric of your pants. “when will you be back?” he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

“soon. i promise.”

touya stood silently, watching as you disappeared through the door, taking a piece of him with you. his heart ached, and he had to resist the urge to run after you.

he turned his attention to shouto, who was staring at the door with a confused and lonely expression.

touya knelt down beside his brother, ruffling his hair gently. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, knowing that his voice would betray his anxiety.

he knew he had to stay strong for shouto. touya wrapped an arm around his younger brother, drawing him closer. he could feel the boy's small body tremble slightly, his eyes still fixed on the door.

touya silently cursed himself. if he had just gotten a job sooner, or had done something to keep you safe—

he didn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. there was no point dwelling on what could have been.

he held shouto close, his mind racing with a hundred different thoughts and scenarios. he knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it.

he was so used to everything in his life going wrong.

but this time, just this once, he hoped that things would go right. that you would come back to him safe and sound.

he couldn’t lose you.

time ticked by in slow motion, and touya found himself obsessively checking the clock that hung on the wall. minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. every second away from you felt like a lifetime.

he tried to distract himself by playing games with shouto, but they both knew their hearts weren’t in it. the tension was thick, and the silence deafening.

every little sound made touya jump. every car that passed, every door that opened, every loud noise from outside. each one felt like a possible sign of your return.

he felt like he would vibrate out of his own skin. he had the urge to pace, to do something, anything to relieve some of the anxiety that was coursing through him.

shouto eventually fell asleep, his tiny body curled up against touya’s as he dreamed about heroes.

touya envied his brother. sleep seemed like paradise, since he could forget about his worries in his dreams.

but he couldn’t shut his eyes. not when you hadnt returned yet.

touya sat there for what felt like an eternity, his back pressed against the wall as he cradled shouto in his lap. his brother was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of his big brother's anxiety and fear.

it was strange. touya had always prided himself on being tough and in control of his emotions. he had been through hell and back, and yet, here he was, feeling like a broken, vulnerable mess because you weren’t home yet.

he wanted to believe that you were okay, that you were safe and on your way back to him. but his traitorous mind kept reminding him that it had been hours since you left, and there was still no sign of you.

he tried to keep it together, for shouto's sake. but he couldn’t stop himself from checking the door every few minutes, or from flinching at every small noise outside.

he tried to keep his eyes open, but his body was betrayed him. his eyelids grew heavy, and he found himself dozing off, only to jerk awake, and the cycle repeated.

but he was only human. and humans needed to sleep.

every day was the same. wake up as the sun rose, make breakfast. butter on bread, jam if you were lucky. say goodbye to shouto, say goodbye to touya. work eight hours, and work another eight hours. go home, eat stolen onigiri for dinner, and sleep. dream of a better future, and when you woke up, you did it all over again.

it was monotonous, exhausting, and soul-crushing. but you pushed on, knowing that touya and shouto depended on you.

each day was a struggle, and you found yourself growing more and more tired. your body ached, your mind was fuzzy, and you found yourself dreaming of a better life.

but life only got harder. touya continued steal whatever he could, and you continued to work long hours.

the only time you saw each other was in the early morning and late at night. you were both exhausted, both struggling to make ends meet.

life was a endless cycle of work, sleep, and stress. you could feel your nerves frazzle, and your mind weary. you were so tired. tired of struggling to make ends meet, tired of working endless hours, and tired of seeing touya push himself as well.

nights were the hardest. even when you were at home, resting your sore body and aching mind, you couldn’t fully relax. worry gnawed at you, both for yourself and touya.

you worried about him stealing, about him getting caught and taken away from you. you worried about shouto, about how he was growing up surrounded by violence and the threat of poverty.

your heart ached as you thought about how innocent and playful he was, how he had no idea about the struggles that you and touya were facing. you wanted nothing more than to protect him from the harsh realities of life, but you knew that you couldn’t shield him forever.

amidst all the struggle, you still managed to save up a little bit of money each week. you tucked away every spare yen you could find, hoping that one day, it would be enough to get you and touya and shouto out of this situation.

you had been eyeing a small apartment in a slightly less impoverished part of town. it was small, but it was clean and safe, and it was just within your price range.

you could picture it vividly, the small but cosy apartment, the warm beds, the running water, and the clean sheets. and most importantly, you could picture the look on touya's face when you told him that you had finally saved up enough to move.

and when the day finally came, you felt that it was better than you had dreamt. you had never seen touya cry. not like this. and you promised him that he never would have to again.

touya's reaction was everything you had hoped for and more. the moment you told him that you had finally saved up enough to move, his eyes widened, and his face flooded with an expression of disbelief and joy.

he couldn't believe it. he had worked so hard, and you had worked so hard, and it was finally paying off.

tears welled up in his eyes, and he threw his arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace. he buried his face in your shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks.

in that moment, as touya held you tight, you knew that all the struggle had been worth it.

the long hours, the hard work, the endless cycle of work and sleep. it had all been worth it to see the look of relief and joy on his face.

you knew that things were still hard, that there were still obstacles to overcome, but in that moment, it was all you could ever hope for.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ greywrites #⊹ ࣪ ˖ born a weapon #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #dabi #dabi x reader #touya x reader #mha touya #touya todoroki x reader #dabi my hero academia #shouto todoroki #shoto torodoki #todoroki x reader #dabi todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

Text

fingerprints | 7 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 4k of est. 35k words | 7th of 9 chapters

summary: When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run.

tags/warnings: romance, soulmate au, fluff, pining, not actually unrequited love, aged up characters, eventual smut

It was worse than you could have ever imagined.

Almost as soon as you’d gotten inside, your neighborhood had begun crawling with unfamiliar people. Your phone had started ringing incessantly, your texts and twitter notifications suddenly exploding.

From the brief flashes of the messages you could see, it all had to do with Shouto. Text whizzed past–hiii i saw your handle posted in a thread, are you really running girl? and Is it true?? Are you Shouto’s soulmate???? and worst of all, die in a ditch bitch you’re too ugly for him.

Your stomach churned.

You didn’t dare open your laptop or turn the television on, for fear of how far the speculation had spread, and what people were saying about you. You tried to ignore the murmur of the crowd amassing outside your apartment building, and opened a random book with shaky hands, trying to focus on something else.

You were not quite successful.

Your apartment building was old and thin-walled enough that you could never fully block out the drone of dozens of voices, the shutter click of cameras, and the loud, authoritative tones of someone ordering people back—likely Shinsou’s aforementioned partner, Real Steel. It all coalesced into an unsettling undertone that kept you on edge for hours.

It wasn’t until that evening, a hundred unread pages later, that conditions changed. The sounds of a muffled argument came through the wood of your front door, and you couldn’t help but peer out the peephole, to find Shinsou looming over your roommate Ami, clearly blocking the entry to your apartment.

“It’s my friggin’ house!” she was saying when you poked your head out.

At the sound of the door, Shinsou turned to eye you. “Stay right there. I need to put her under before she can come in, in case she’s using an appearance altering quirk.”

Your roommate did not look thrilled by this prospect. But Shinsou did not look like he was going anywhere.

Intrigued by whatever Shinsou’s quirk might be, you watched as your roommate gave up, letting him do what he wanted. He murmured a question, and your roommate’s eyes suddenly went vacant with her response.

“Drop your quirk,” Shinsou ordered her. You didn’t know what was supposed to happen–but when nothing did, he looked satisfied.

He gestured her inside, giving you a significant look over the top of her head. “Todoroki says don’t look at anything online.”

You nodded. “I–yeah, I uh–it doesn’t look kind out there. I guessed I shouldn’t…”

Shinsou watched you for a minute, violet eyes sliding over you in some kind of assessment. “Whatever shit they’re saying, disregard it. They just want a piece of Todoroki’s flat ass.”

You blinked, a shocked laugh spilling out of you. “I don’t–-it’s not flat!”

One of Shinsou’s eyebrows lifted, that smirk touching his mouth again, and you whirled around, yanking your roommate through the door with a strangled, “Anyway thanks!” You slammed it behind you before you could say anything else embarrassingly revealing of the stock you’d taken of Shouto’s…assets.

Your roommate gaped at you, immediately demanding the details of how you of all people had gotten caught up in the biggest romantic scandal in hero history. You summarized it as best you could, trying to ignore her slack-jawed look.

“But you’re so normal,” she said when you finished. “You’re just–-you.”

You hid a wince, but had to agree. The last couple of months had been a giddy blur, but you still were just some girl with an hourly wage, working in an animal shelter and living in a squashed little apartment with zero merit to your name.

“Yeah, it’s…It doesn’t feel real,” you said. “Maybe we’re dreaming this.” You thought back to the time you thought you’d hallucinated Shouto in the doorway of the shelter. “Maybe we’re all just experiencing some mass hallucination…”

Ami nodded seriously, like this was an option. She floated off to her room, where you heard her answer a call from another of her friends—“It’s true, you are never gonna believe what she told me!”—and you quickly retreated to your own room, trying not to think about the shock she’d exhibited, or any of the unsettling messages that had flashed past before you put down your own phone.

It made you rethink the events of earlier in the day, frowning as you went over lunch with Shouto’s mom, your wild shopping spree–events that felt light years away now. You could have even sworn that Shouto had been waiting for something as he left you outside your apartment–lingering, watching your face, standing so close like he’d been expecting you to lean up and—and—-

But no.

That was crazy. And Ami’s reaction, plus the reaction of thousands of other people online underlined that.

You’d let your mind run away with you just because Shouto had made you feel like someone. Someone special to him—but that was fucking unhinged. Delusional. Deranged.

As if drawn by your need to remind yourself who you were, you opened your phone again. Hundreds of texts from friends clogged your message app, and your twitter notifications numbered in the thousands.

Hey it’s Mari, one text from your coworker said. I’m covering your shifts for the next couple days, management is asking you not to come in or the crowds will agitate the animals.

Your heart sank. You loved the pets at the shelter, and they were possibly the only beings in your orbit who wouldn’t know or care about your newfound notoriety. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the patchy fur of shelter cat, run off your anxieties with the dogs on the track out back. You would settle for Princess giving you her smug little stink eye over Shouto’s shoulder, even.

And how were you ever supposed to achieve your dream of opening your own rescue if you were suddenly being denied shifts? You hoped they didn’t have to let you go over this—you didn’t want to dip into your tiny pile of hard-earned savings to cover your rent and food, didn’t want to backslide on months and months of progress all because people couldn’t be chill over a man who didn’t even like you like that.

As if to torture yourself further, you let yourself flick through your twitter notifications. Some bordered on kind, things like omg i’m soooo jealous of you and this girl’s first reaction to finding out she was shouto’s soulmate was to RUN AWAY?? queen of relatability but there were many more that were just as you had feared.

Guys relax, it's obviously not real, someone had tweeted. Look at Shouto and then look at her. Another had posted, it’s not even that he’s in a different league, they’re not even playing the same sport.

When a glance at the sidebar showed you that #shoulmatehoax was the highest trending topic in your area, your stomach twisted. You quickly clicked out of the app, retreating into your own room to hide under the covers.

Part of you blazed in rage that people were being so awful about you—you were just a normal fucking person! You never asked for any of this, you had tried your best to mind your own business, and you weren’t a supermodel by any means but that didn’t give people the right to be assholes!

But another part of you knew you’d gotten too big a head over Shouto and needed to be brought down. Spending his money, meeting his mother, thinking he was going to kiss you? You were playing a different sport altogether, and you needed to remember that.

You tossed and turned, rolling around under your blankets, feeling hot and cold and ashamed and embarrassed. No matter how much you tried to put it out of your mind, you couldn’t.

You lay awake for a long while, thoughts roiling, until eventually, when dawn had finally started to creep under the gaps in your curtains, you slipped into an uneasy sleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by your roommate pounding on your door, her voice high and strangled.

“Y/N!” she screeched. “Y/N you’re gonna wanna get out here right now!”

Her fist pounded with urgency, heavy staccato beats. She sounded panicked.

Your eyes shot open and you fell out of bed, clumsy with sleep. You tore the door open, heart in your throat, only to find Ami on the other side, flanked by a tall, handsome silhouette you knew only too well.

“Sh–Shouto!” you garbled out, fuzzy with shock and the clinging threads of slumber. “Why are you–? What are you–?”

He peered at you calmly over Ami’s head, eyes trailing slowly down your form. A white eyebrow went up. You realized with horror that you were still in your sleep clothes, an old tee shirt and the world’s tiniest pair of shorts that clung unflatteringly to the swell of your thigh. Your hair had to be a bird’s nest, your face puffy and pillow-creased.

And here Shouto was, perfect and put together, looking like he’d just stepped right out of the pages of like, a Ralph Lauren catalog. Damn him.

“You were not answering your phone,” he said. You watched, mortified, as his eyes dipped back down to your bare leg and pinned there, like he couldn’t help himself. Your face heated in shame.

He probably couldn’t believe the nerve of you to show yourself like this to him.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, trying to angle yourself in front of Ami to hide, but he was tall enough that his eyes followed you right over the top of her head.

“Ami, please entertain Shouto for a minute while I, um, put clothes on,” you pleaded, then threw the door shut in both of their faces before either could respond.

You raced to your closet and frantically dug out the first sweater you saw, then tripped over to your dresser and unearthed your pants, bra, and panties. You yanked it all on at the speed of light, and then frantically did your hair, cursing as your fingers tangled in it. You ran into the bathroom and hurriedly washed your face, power washing your teeth with all the speed and force of a carwash.

You spilled out a few minutes later, to find Shouto looking out of place on your couch, shamelessly looking through the collection of things on your coffee table–Ami’s incense burner, a pile of your books, a well-watered succulent in a tiny pot, and a few sheets of what looked like one of Ami’s nursing assignments.

Ami pulled on her coat to head to work, looking almost relieved that she was about to be out of the same room as someone as hauntingly beautiful as Shouto.

“He’s real,” she hissed as you passed one another in the hall. “And he looks like that!”

And then she was out the door, Shinsou’s drawl greeting her as she stepped into the hall.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Shouto. Your heartbeat spiked.

Shouto watched you for a long moment, those pretty, heterochromatic eyes sliding back down to your now-clothed legs as if to affirm you were properly attired now. You watched a tiny smile tease at the corner of his mouth as he eyed your slippers, before his eyes flicked back up to your face. Your skin went weirdly warm.

“Um, sorry I wasn’t dressed,” you said, cheeks heating. “I didn’t expect, um, company. Or to leave the house, really, for the next few days–-”

Shouto interrupted you by getting to his feet, and in two long strides he had reached you, pulling you close to him with an arm around your back. He was so tall and warm against you, and that faint cologne of his lingered at his pulsepoint. Your blood went molten in your veins, your brain suddenly blue screening.

“Shouto–?” you asked, muffled into his shoulder.

A large, calloused hand came up to cup the back of your head, pressing you more firmly into his shoulder. Almost automatically, your hands went around his back, fisting in the material of his coat. Every inch of him felt like relief against you, and you had to fight not to slump bonelessly into him, not to curl up and hide in him.

“You were not answering your phone,” Shouto said, finally, his voice a low murmur against the side of your head. “I had thought…” he trailed off, like he was unwilling to finish the thought.

The soft, concerned tone of his voice, and the way he was holding you too him made a weird, shivery sort of feeling well up inside of you. He had seen—he knew what some of the people had been saying about you online. You suddenly wanted to hide your face in his neck, something horrifyingly like tears prickling at your waterline.

Obviously he’d known, already, that you weren’t compatible in the way that soulmates usually were, as evidenced by the fact that he hadn’t made a move on you and was most probably seeing someone already. But hot shame twisted in your gut at the idea that he would have to be confronted with it all over again, for it to really be driven home that with the kind of soulmate he deserved, he’d been given you instead.

You blinked quickly, trying to fight the sudden wave of emotion back. How embarrassing.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, hoping you sounded normal. Really, you could handle a couple of assholes online. It’s not even like they were wrong, necessarily. “Really it’s fine.”

“It can be…overwhelming,” Shouto said, his mouth in your hair. He made no move to pull away from you, just stood there holding you, like it didn’t bother him at all. “You do not have to be fine.”

The care in his voice almost undid you. You clutched harder at his jacket, trying to breathe slowly.

“Shouto–”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “You do not have to be fine. You did not ask for this.”

You quickly shoved your face into his shoulder as a pair of hot tears finally spilled over, embarrassment curling in your belly. It was just a couple of kind of rude tweets! Shouto was a pro hero and had been subjected to so much worse over the years–-especially given his relation to a notorious war criminal, and the still-widely-condemned former number one hero. It was horrifying that all it took was a couple of asshole tweets to drive you to this, especially when they weren’t even incorrect.

You struggled against the rest of your tears but they kept coming, slipping out and wetting the fabric at Shouto’s collar.

“The agency was able to get the book delayed, and Yoshizuki Ayumi’s next few interviews suspended. She has recanted her speculations in a tweet, but I do not anticipate that the news will be suppressed forever,” Shouto said.

His hand petted over your hair softly, and you wondered, half-crazed, if this is what Princess got to feel like all the time.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s fine.”

“There is…something else,” Shouto said. You were too embarrassed to turn and look at him inquisitively, so you made a questioning noise into his coat.

“I regret that…you will not be able to return to the shelter,” Shouto said. “It won’t be safe for you there.”

Your heartbeat stopped, hammering to a halt in your ribcage.

The shelter. Your job. Your dream—

If you couldn’t go back to the shelter, then you couldn’t go back to your job. Couldn’t make rent. Couldn’t put away funds for a rescue.

And if you couldn’t work at the shelter, where else could you go? Was it only that kind of job that was unsafe? Was any public-facing job unsafe? How were you supposed to work anywhere and not show your face—unless…you could get a job washing dishes in the back somewhere. Or maybe unloading trucks or something?

Your breath came fast and you strained in Shouto’s grip, trying to keep collected. You wouldn’t cry over this too–you could find something else. People lost jobs all the time…

“Oh, I—” you fumbled. “I. Yes, right. Um, I’ll look for—something else. You will have to advise me—”

You cut off, horrified when your voice began to creep up into something high and reedy with upset.

Shouto suddenly stepped back from you, and you had a wild moment of terror and disorientation, before he leaned back in, cupping your face in his hands. He tipped your chin up to him, looking grimly handsome and horribly, horribly regretful.

Your tears came harder and you stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to do or say.

“I am sorry, love,” he said. “I did not mean for this, when I came and found you.”

You swallowed, conscious of his fingers where the tips brushed your throat, then shook your head. “No, no. I’m so happy that you did. Of course I am—you’ve been so unbelievably kind. Shouto, don’t ever think that.”

Shouto’s mouth was a hard, serious line. “It’s where I met you properly, for the first time. I do not like to see you leave the shelter under these conditions.”

You wished you could stop crying, to be even a modicum of more reassuring. “It’s fine. People have to leave jobs all the time. I have a couple months of savings, and I’m sure like, washing dishes doesn’t need too many creds, or–you’ll have to tell me what else you think could be safe…”

Shouto’s brows knit, and his mouth twisted into a frown. “Washing dishes?” he echoed.

You watched his eyes trace down your face uncertainly. “That’s a bit dramatic. Obviously there’s other stuff. I just thought…out of the public eye…”

Like, unless you had developed a quirk in the last five minutes, there was no way that you could defend yourself against someone who came looking for Todoroki Shouto’s soulmate, regardless of the fact that you weren’t his romantic partner or anything.

“I had wanted to tell you some other way,” Shouto said, his thumbs brushing away stray tears. “But I suppose now would be best.”

You watched him curiously through watery eyes as he let go of your face, hand sliding into his pocket for his phone.

He pulled something up quickly, then turned his phone to face you. You blinked as a shop front came into view, a few lingering tears squeezing themselves out with the motion. It was a kind of charming, free-standing brick building, surrounded by a neat little parking lot. It looked to be a picture on some property portfolio–a map at the side of the page showed a red dot not far in location from Shouto’s apartment, sandwiched between his home and his agency.

It didn’t look like it was open, whatever it was, and you looked at Shouto doubtfully.

“Are they…hiring…?” you asked, mystified.

Shouto’s mouth twitched. “Unless you planned to rescue all the animals by yourself,” he said.

It took a minute to register what he’d said, but when you did, it felt like the floor had opened up underneath you. You took a dizzy step back.

“An animal rescue? My animal rescue?” You asked, thoughts reeling. There was no way. There was no way.

Shouto nodded seriously. “If you like the location. I’ve put an offer in, but if another location suits better, it is changeable. And you’ll need to tell me where you want things—it’s feasible to put a run in, where the parking lot is, they’ve said. And it will be taken apart to install the proper security measures, layer by layer, so it may take some time…”

He trailed off, peering at you somewhat anxiously, you thought, eyes widening when he noticed an embarrassingly fresh stream of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Do you not like it?” he asked.

You grabbed his forearm, panicked. “No!” you shouted, wincing with your own volume. “No, I love it. Shouto—I—but you can’t—I don’t have the money to pay you back right now. I don’t even have the full funding plan yet, I haven’t—”

One of Shouto’s hands came up to take you by the chin again, thumb stroking just under your eye, smearing the tears there. You thought you’d never been touched so terribly gently.

“I should like to be your funding plan,” he said. “I do not want money from you. You can collect other donations, if you like. But I will fund you fully. And my mother has asked to be included—there is a significant family fortune that needs spending, she says.”

You didn’t know what to do with your face, or where to put your hands, or how to stop crying. You didn’t know anything, except that all you could do was throw your arms around Shouto again, and muffle a hoarse "Thank you," and a sudden sob into the collar of his jacket.

His arms came around you, clutching you to him tightly.

Wave after wave of emotion hit you–anxiety, confusion, happiness, anticipation. It was all a jumble, a wild tangle of things you could do nothing but stand there, holding Shouto like a lifeline.

He held you there for a long time—an embarrassingly long time, actually, while you cried out all your feelings from the last twenty-four hours. You liked that he didn’t prompt you, just stood there silently, tall and strong and warm against you, letting you figure yourself out.

When you were finally able to pull away, Shouto peered down at you, those heterochromatic eyes curious. He murmured something quiet, a query on your feelings.

You took slow stock of yourself, registering a slight caffeine headache and a bone-deep dryness, as though you were a sponge that had been wrung out. You thought you should probably feel other things, too, but those two sensations were the most overwhelming.

“I think…First I need water and also a coffee,” you told him. “I will have to figure out a repayment plan later, when I’m not a mess–”

Shouto opened his mouth but you put a hand over it, heart beating hard with how daring you were being, touching him this much.

“--We can talk about it later,” you said. “Right now, I’m thinking coffees for both of us. Does that…sound okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I am sorry to have woken you,” he said around your hand.

You glanced at the clock, eyebrows raising when you realized it had already passed lunch time. As if on cue, your stomach growled, and you felt Shouto’s mouth quirk against your hand. You quickly drew your palm away, your whole arm tingling with the feeling of his mouth. Your fingers had left little smudges of color at the side of his mouth, almost like you had kissed him, had left an imprint of your lipgloss on him…

“I had also thought we might cook together, if you like,” Shouto said, interrupting that embarrassing train of thought. You followed his gaze over to your door where a tote of what were clearly recently-purchased groceries lay to the side of your door. You spied leafy greens and a bag of rice crowning the top.

“There is a lunch recipe Fuyumi sent me that I would like to try,” he said.

Your heart warmed with the idea, and the knowledge that Shouto had definitely brought food as a means of distracting you from the things people were saying on twitter–to give you something else to do and to focus on. He was so unbearably good.

You could feel your heart ballooning with helpless affection for him as he watched you expectantly–as though there was ever any way you could say no to him.

“Lunch sounds amazing,” you told him. You padded over and scooped up the groceries, then led the way into your cramped little kitchen.

Shouto followed after, his face so carefully still, finally, that you could tell he was trying not to look too smug. You smiled, so full of emotion that you couldn’t even bring yourself to be self-conscious about the state of your kitchen or Shouto’s tear-soaked coat or the thousand other things you should probably be remembering.

And in that small moment, you thought things might actually, unexpectedly, turn out okay.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shoto todoroki x you

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