#blueberry Shouto

[teen-spirited-away]

MHA characters as starbucks drinks part 4/?

Shouto (Ice Version):

Very Berry Hibiscus

Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher

Additional Blueberries

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shouto #todoroki shouto #anime #manga #red #blue #fire #ice #aesthetic #starbucks #very berry hibiscus #blueberries #drinks

[slexenskee]

Ru-kun’s Excessive Guitar Collection

Fell down a rabbit hole debating what guitar Ru-kun plays and decided there was no reason to narrow it down to one lol. Also he’s totally the type to just have way more guitars (and shoes) then he could possibly ever use and should totally have one of those epic guitar walls whenever he gets around to making that recording room.

Squier Contemporary Jaguar HH ST Electric Guitar (Sky Burst Metallic): His first guitar. He bought it as a teenager living in Endeavor’s house to a) make noise and piss his father off and b) because he really liked the color. It’s still his favorite. He played it in his junior-high garage band Band Aids. Fans saw a bit of it during the first few years of No Scrubs’ live shows, back when they still played in tiny dive bars and Ru-kun was so close you could touch him 😭. It makes fans very nostalgic whenever they catch sight of it. 

Fender American Ultra Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Arctic Pearl): Another guitar he bought because it was very pretty (let’s be real, that’s the reason he bought all of them). Achieved critical acclaim as a fan favorite when Ken-chan grabbed it out of his hands on stage and threatened to beat a belligerent drunk out of the venue with it. She was talked out of it after Ru-kun said she’d have to pay for a new one if she busted it over some guy’s head. 

Gibson Les Paul Traditional Pro V Flame Top Electric Guitar (Blueberry Burst): Super glossy beautiful guitar with a great sound. Recorded the albums Thanks I Hate it Here and Good News for People Who Love Bad News with this guitar. He also gives it away in MDNSY Ch 39 to Shouto, who treasures this beauty as it deserves, even if he really doesn’t know how to play it all that well. 

Gretsch “Stump-O-Matic” Electromatic Electric Guitar (White): He really likes to play this one during live shows, very versatile and unfussy. Played it all throughout the ‘Scrubs Unite’ tour and eventually gives it away to Izuku in MDNSY Ch 38(?) and reclaims it briefly in FLW Ch 29 to play Say It Ain’t So. 

Gibson Lzzy Hale Signature Explorerbird Electric Guitar (Cardinal Red): His guitar for the “I’m never going to Hosu again” show Makoto dragged them all to during their hiatus in MDNSY Ch 15, aka the guitar he serenaded Tensei with 🤣 Also recorded Glass Onion Heart on this guitar, bc I love the idea of him playing Misery Business on this baby. He also posed for his magazine cover for Sound & Sundry in FLW Ch 20 with this guitar. 

D’Angelico Premier Series Gramercy LS Acoustic Guitar (Matte Sky Burst): I call this the Limitless guitar cause it’s just the perfect color to match his eyes lol. He went out and bought this just to record the acoustic album Tensei guilt-tripped him into making, Don’t You Know Who I (Think) I Am. Also serenaded Hawks with it during the No Scrubs radio interview with Present Mic in FLW Chapter 23. 

Fender American Pro II Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Miami Blue): Very cool vintage blue guitar he recorded Death Before Decaf on, bc I love the very neon 90′s era look and I love the idea of him playing Nirvana/Weezer/3EB tributes (even if no one knows they’re tributes) on it even more. It’s also Yui’s favorite guitar, for obvious reasons. Did he buy it because he knows it’s her favorite color? Probably. He already promised he’d never sell off his collection (gifting them is another story) but he especially promised not to part with this one. It’s a legacy guitar that’s going to end up in the hands of someone special someday (aka Eri lol)

Fender H.E.R Stratocaster (Chrome Glow): I have been told rather reliably by the mysteriously large amount of friends I have in indie bands that there’s no such thing as too many guitars, and on a related note, no such thing as too many Stratocasters. I am obsessed with H.E.R’s stratocaster and I can 100% envision it being custom made by Fender for Ru-Kun once No Scrubs reaches the international critical acclaim they deserve. He names it Infinity, and records the album Infinity on High with it. In recorded performances for the album he alternates between this one and the Gibson Explorerbird. 

Duesenberg USA Starplayer Electric Guitar (Crimson Red): Yet another stunning guitar with a very vintage vibe. I was so torn on whether I liked the black one or the red one more bc both are so beautiful. Let’s be real he probably buys both but plays the red one live just because it’s pretty and shiny and red always reminds him of Hawks’s wings ♡ Records the May Death Never Stop You album on this baby, and plays the tour of the same name. Also the guitar 

Taylor 614ce Special-Edition Grand Auditorium Acoustic-Electric Guitar: Has a lot of Feelings™ and goes out and drops 3k on this baby just because it reminds him of Hawks and that’s got him feeling a way and records his second acoustic album with it. He absolutely plays a lot of Anti-Hero on it, just bc the brand name lol 

#fic may death never stop you #I spent way too much time on this tbh #but they're sooo pretty #mdnsy FAQ

[acesabo]

@temeraire tagged me! thank you so much <3 Three Ships:

monkey d. luffy/roronoa zoro (one piece)

midoriya izuku/todoroki shouto (bnha)

jinbei/nico robin (one piece)

First Ship: uhhhh probably mamoru/usagi from sailor moon (which i still ship *points at icon*)

Last Song: i thiiiink it was pico from the friday night funkin soundtrack

Last Movie: kung pow? it's not a good movie but it's a childhood favorite of my metamour's sdlkjf

Currently Reading: the subtle art of not giving a fuck: a counterintuitive approach to living a good life by mark manson

Currently Watching: my polycule just started jjba! i fucking hate dio!

Currently Consuming: blueberry cobbler coffee =w=

Currently Craving: milk tea

Currently Listening To: gwen shambli lara & the remnant fellowship by Fundie Fridays! (BIG BIG BIG TW FOR DISORDERED EATING AND BAD DIETING AND CHILD ABUSE AND CHILD DEATH.)

taggin uhhhh @ghostymeat @lemonadelyric @dialoglog and anyone else who wants to!! none of y'all have to, obviously, but y'all are like. My Other Two Beloved Mutuals™ (+ my metamour) (FOR THE RECORD, temeraire, you're also on my list of Beloved Mutuals) and i felt safe tagging y'all lsdkjf

#talkbox #tag memes #ilysm thank you for tagging me <3

[ao3feed-tododeku]

Tododeku Feels

Tododeku feels by Blueberry fic

Short moments and thought that cross my mind when I think of all the Tododeku possibilities.

Some finished, others unfinished.

Enjoy!

Words: 755, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Pining Midoriya Izuku, Pining Todoroki Shouto, Secret Crush, They love each other but they haven´t told each other, Jealous Todoroki Shouto, Possessive Midoriya Izuku, Tododeku endgame

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39734259

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Tododeku #💚 #💙 #Tododeku #♥ #R:T #A:Blueberry Fic

[refrigeratedboombursts]

Dabi,Momo and Shouto(For context,these are triceratops plushies that the creator called 'Blueberry,peach and strawberry pieceratops'

RJFNJDJTJWJNFJ2SN 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#cute!!!!

[niks-minion]

Me: ok, Hawks is the cutest kid!

Bnha 301: yeah? Think again

Me: ....I take that back.

#just look at them!!! #touya throwing a tantrum #blueberry Shouto #Fuyumi shielding Natsu #oh my heart #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #manga spoilers #todoroki shouto #bnha 301 #mha 301 #incorrect bnha quotes #incorrect bnha

[scarletdestiney]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Blueberry Angel Food Cake, owned by MarshmallowyGhost *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ [ Commissions | DA | IG | Twitter | Redbubble ]

#sweeticals #sweetical #scarletdestiney #blueberry angel food cake #cute #kawaii #magical boy #mahou shouto #gijinka #food gijinka #design character #personification #humanization #humanized #anime #cute boy #cake #angel food cake #precious bb

[iwantapoptartqwq]

✨Blueberry Popsicle-Shoto x Reader Smau!Masterlist ✨

When Todoroki goes to get his favorite popsicle at a convenience store, he didn’t expect to see a girl carrying 100 popsicles- but not just any popsicles, the last Blueberry popsicles in Japan. What happens when they keep on coincidentally meeting?

Summer/Roomate Au!

lmao ik summers legit over but let me live 😔

✨Taglist✨ Is Closed!

Warnings: I suck :D Fluff, Angst (??), Crack, and KiriBaku 😳

Y/N’s Circus 🌟 Shouto’s House

Running Away

Doing Business

Clean My Lamp

Grandpa

Loml

Love At First Sight

Fate 1.

Fate 2.

See Me

Popsicle Girl

Eat It

Mom Come Pick Me Up

It’s Time

I’m Always Here

Living With Phycos

Slob

Tomato Tomatoe

Ur Mom

A Spoons Alive

Chicken-Fish Smoking

Tea And Crumpets

It’s Show Time

Fin

«——————————•——————————»

#shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #izuku x reader #ururaka x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #sero x reader #denki x reader #mina x reader #smau #mha #bnha #my hero academia #Blueberry Popsicle #look back at this makes me wanna start all over #I DONT LIKE HOW I WROTE THIS PLS

[melone-bun]

All the cool stuff you could possibly do with Todoroki’s power and this is what I end up with........

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #tododeku #iida tenya #uraraka ochako #dekubowl #ahhhh the date gap between my last post is amazing #on another note my coloring style for midoriya is slowly evolving into a blueberry.......

[touyaspeach]

Todoroki Shouto x fem!Reader Hanahaki AU

A/N ; This is an unofficial second part to Blood and Syrup I guess? They aren't related so maybe it's the start of a series or something? I want to write more hanahaki aus because they're fun for me and I love the angst! Next is maybe Bakugou?

Summary ; And it's not so bad, he thought. Getting to be with you felt worth the pain in his mind. But maybe that's the hidden poison of hanahaki. Maybe the real danger is a love so consuming that you wouldn't mind dying for it - wouldn't mind suffering for it. A love you want to hold onto with white knuckles, unable and unwilling to let go for fear of the emptiness that lies in its wake.

Warnings ; fem reader, graphic descriptions of injury and medical conditions, hanahaki au, angst, heavy on the angst, fluff, shouto is dense but what else is new, reader is also not very smart but that's okay lol Words ; 9k Thanks ; @katonshoko for beta-reading and helping with ideas, @a-shy-blueberry for support when I about gave up, and everyone from Bubble! Pop! who bolstered my confidence and said such nice things. Bonus ; Playlist

A gentle warming sensation in the back of his throat, a subtle spice lingering on his tongue, a bitter, floral aroma that pervaded his sense of smell. These are the things that first had Shouto suspicious of something being wrong. A meeting with his family doctor provided no results, so he took to chewing on minty gum and peppermint candies to try and keep the resulting nausea at bay.

Then came the itching, the tickling in the back of his throat that no matter how frequently he drank water, wouldn't disappear. Was it harder to breathe? Or was he imagining it? Summertime in Japan is hot and humid, so perhaps he's just failing at self-regulation.

Not wanting to bother his classmates, he's kept this to himself for almost six months now. Over this time things had gradually gotten worse, but he could get over the taste enough to eat and push through the difficulty breathing. He'd endured much worse in many ways, so it wasn't an issue.

When the coughs started it was no different. Maybe allergies, or a seasonal cold? Peppermint candies were traded for medicated lozenges, but this wasn't bad. He could deal with it.

When his friends had asked him what was wrong, mentioning that he looked paler, more tired, he brushed them off. Why should they be concerned if he wasn't? He knew his body better than anyone.

Everything changed early one autumn morning as Shouto was ripped from his slumber by a pain in his throat only matched by the aching in his chest. He failed to suppress the coughs and sputters, leaning halfway out of bed to desperately dislodge whatever was stuck in his esophagus.

By the time the first petal fell, he was shaking. His body covered in a cold, fevered sweat from exertion. Did he just….throw up a flower petal? What the hell was that about? Shouto’s throat burned, his chest ached as his breaths came out ragged and shaking and wet. And he was scared.

Shouto wasn’t someone who got scared easily, but not knowing what was happening to his body was terrifying. So he shakily grabbed his phone, and sent a message to the one person he trusted implicitly: you.

You were at his side in moments, still dressed in your nightclothes, bare feet and messy hair. You gasped audibly at Shouto’s crumpled form, curled in on himself on the floor beside his bed. He was wheezing, trying to catch his breath, his hand clutching the fabric of his plain white shirt. When he looked at you, there were tears in his eyes and your heart broke.

“Shouto-what’s going on?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and flattening a reassuring palm to his back.

He didn’t understand what was going on, but when you touched him, he felt his chest seize and another rumble of coughs shook his body. He tried, gods how he tried, to stymie the coughs, to not show you just how pitiful he was feeling. But he was powerless in the face of this unseen invader, the flowers that grew in his lungs and threatened to take his life. The flowers, that would be the cause of his death.

It was all you could do to bring him to your chest, to cradle his head as more coughs wrecked his body. You could see the pain written all over his face, in his body language, in the pathetic whimpers that escaped him as he gulped as much air into his lungs as he could. You had no idea that in doing so you were only exacerbating his condition.

What started as one petal morphed into several as they finally dislodged themselves from Shouto’s throat. A flurry of purple coated with sticky sap and bile. The taste of cloves weighed heavy on his tongue and made him nauseous - more nauseous than he’d felt over the last few months. He swallowed hard, a futile attempt to keep whatever else wanted to force itself out of him at bay.

He was vaguely aware of your presence, of you shoving a trash bin beneath him to vomit into. The strong scent of spice and stomach acid pervaded the air and made you wince, but you knew. You knew immediately upon seeing those petals what was going on, and despite the churning in your stomach, it was your heart that was in worse condition.

Shouto was dying, a painful, slow death at the hands of his love. His love for who? That was a question for later. Right now he needed you, and as he continued to wretch into the bin, you quickly grabbed a wet rag to keep him cool.

The coughs sounded painful, raspy and wet and those damned purple petals were ejected from his esophagus at almost every heave. You tried your best to assess things, how bad the condition was, how far along the plants had progressed, how long he…

Just petals, that’s what you tried to focus on for now as slowly the episode subsided. Not flowers, no stems, no leaves - just petals. And he hadn’t spat out any blood yet, so that was also a good sign. There was still time to get help.

Sensing that things were over with for now, Shouto flopped onto his back, his head landing in your lap, as he sucked in as much air as he could. Gasping, panting, his chest heaving and rattling with each breath, his mind was in a haze. His eyes found yours, pleading silently, ‘please make it stop, it hurts, I don’t understand.’

“We need to get you to the infirmary, Shouto,” you whispered, “Can you stand?”

Shouto didn’t understand why the concerned look on your face tugged on his heart. He didn’t understand why seeing you so worried over him made him panic. He didn’t understand the sudden urge he had to reach out and touch your cheek.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, lower than usual, and strained, “I think...just...give me a moment.”

You nodded, attempting a reassuring smile, and brushed his hair back from his face. He was still covered in sweat from the exertion of the episode, and you ran the cool rag over his forehead, down his cheeks, to his neck. The action caused his eyes to flutter shut as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to just a moment ago when he was curled into a tiny ball - impossibly small and weak and breaking.

If this were any other circumstance, any other situation that wasn’t traumatic, you’d be flustered. Having Shouto’s head gently cradled in your lap, brushing his hair away and studying his handsome, delicate features were the stuff made of dreams. You’d been close before, after all you were best friends, but this was different. This was romantic, straight out of a shoujo manga. Well, it would be if he wasn’t dying.

After a moment, you helped him up, supporting his weight as best as you could. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, yours around his waist as you helped him hobble to the infirmary.

“Hanahaki, huh?” You asked in an attempt to make conversation, this trek would be slow-going in his weakened state, so you might as well ask some questions to fill the silence.

“Hanahaki?” He questioned, his voice was still rugged.

“That’s… what you have, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a disease, a lovesick disease. You love someone who doesn’t return your feelings, right? Because of that, those flowers are growing in your lungs, and if you don��t take action soon they’ll slowly suffocate you.”

A pause, Shouto needed to process that. It should be impossible, right? Flowers growing in lungs? If he hadn’t just experienced it firsthand, he would call bullshit. But well, the ache in his chest, the rawness of his throat, the taste of cloves and syrup on his tongue begged to differ.

His brow furrowed as he continued to think on this, but the worst part, worse than dying in his mind, was that he had no idea who he’d developed these supposed feelings for.

He racked his brain, looking for… anything to signify that he’d fallen in love with someone. Shouto didn’t know what love was, anyway. It was the last thing on his mind as he trained to become a hero, literally everything else in his life came before the prospect of a relationship.

Sure, there were people he admired - Midoriya, Bakugou, Aizawa, his brother Natsuo and sister Fuyumi. All Might, Aizawa, all the pro’s he’d worked with before now. You. And people he considered close friends. Again, Midoriya, Bakugou, Iida, Uraraka. You. People he would gladly take a hit for; Midoriya, You. People who could easily rely on, who he could trust; You.

He felt like, as his mind continued spinning, there was something in there. The repetition meant… something. But his body was sore, and as you stepped out into the cool autumn air, he was pulled from those thoughts - for now.

When did the seasons change? He didn’t remember. He’d spent so much time fighting this Hanahaki disease, fighting the exhaustion, the weakness, the loss of appetite, that the world had kind of faded into the background without him realizing. And summer had faded to fall.

The crisp air was a relief on his burning body, a gentle breeze carded through his hair just like the leaves that threatened to blanket the grounds any day now. Moonlight shone from above, somber and luminous, bouncing off of the white of his hair brilliantly.

Shouto was so handsome, so stupidly pretty that it made your heart squeeze. What a beautiful tragedy he was, a hard life lived thus far now cut short by his love. This unfair love that he didn’t even understand. This love that would kill him, drown him in blood and sap and flowers; too early, too soon.

Whoever it was, you were going to try your best to convince him to get the surgery. It didn’t matter to you who, even if it was… no. No. It wouldn’t be you. But whoever it was… surely they weren’t more important than his life. His life that had already been wrought with so much heartache, so much pain and trauma. He didn’t deserve this, and your chest tightened at the thought.

But Shouto was smart, he was kind, and he knew his worth. Surely he must know that whoever it is, isn’t worth dying over. No love is worth dying over.

As you both stumbled through the cold darkness to the infirmary, Shouto felt that itch in his throat again. That ache in his chest that made him want to curl in on himself and beg and plead and pray that it would stop. Would it get worse from here? He had never heard of this Hanahaki disease before now and so he didn’t understand what would happen to him.

If things were different, you’d revel in your closeness. You’d blush at the warmth of him against you. You’d look up at him with starry eyes full of wonder and adoration and feel your heart swell in pride that this man, this hero, was your best friend.

And you were his.

The night aid took one look at Shouto’s condition and all but threw him into a bed. All it took was for you to whisper a broken “Hanahaki” and they immediately got to work. A bedpan was given in case another episode happened, throat lozenges and cough medicine as well as mild painkillers were swallowed carefully. He was grateful for the cool water soothing his raw throat.

“Recovery Girl will be here soon to discuss things further, would you like me to contact your parents?”

Shouto shook his head, red and white hair mixing and bouncing as he did, “No, it’s okay. I’ll contact them myself, thank you.”

His poor voice, coming out all rough and uncharacteristically ragged made you wince. You loved his voice, smooth, low, calming; what once was now replaced with the agony of this disease - of this love.

When the aid left, he turned to where you sat by his bedside, picking at the hem of your top and lost in thought. He reached a hand out to you, flattening his palm over your knuckles to stop you in your fidgeting. He didn’t understand why touching you made his chest tighten.

Your eyes met his, and his agonized expression had given way to his normal calm, stoic facade.

“Can you please tell me more? Explain more about what’s happening to me?”

You nodded, inhaling shakily. “Yeah but, eat a lozenge while I do, it’ll help soothe your throat.”

Oh, he knew. Shouto had been suckling on cough drops for months now, and he popped one between his delicate lips as you began your explanation.

“So, I already told you what this is. Hanahaki. The longer it goes untreated the worse it’ll get. Flowers grow and bloom in your lungs until they suffocate you. You’re coughing up petals now, but soon there'll be flowers, stems, twigs if you’re unlucky. And you only have a few options for treatment, too.”

You sighed, moving your hand to place his back on the bed and then covering it with both of yours. He was so much bigger than you.

“The first and easiest option is to confess, and if they return your feelings then it’ll heal. If they don’t you can always opt for the surgery. Which… is painful in more ways than one.”

He eyed you curiously as you spoke, his gaze lingering on your mouth as you did. The way your lips navigated each word - each syllable. The soft plushness of them, surely you must use an amazing chapstick, right? For your lips to look so soft? Why did he suddenly want to kiss you? Was it because you helped him so much already? Because you were the first person he could call when things happened and that you were reliable? That you cared?

Shouto cleared his throat, tasting blood and syrup as he did.

“They go in, meticulously removing all traces of the disease in a process that can take hours depending on how advanced your symptoms are. But the thing is…” his eyes snapped back to yours, “The thing is you’ll forget the person of your affections. Everything. You won’t have a single memory of them. It’ll be as if you never met.”

“That’s why most people forgo that option. It’s not worth it to them, to lose everything about the one they love. But Shouto-”

Just as you were about to convince him to not care about such a thing, Recovery Girl waddled in.

“Another one with Hanahaki,” she sighed, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, kid. It’s late so I’ll be honest with you. You’re a top student with a lot of potential. Don’t be an idiot, and take the steps necessary to save your life. I have seen too many bright hopefuls lose their lives over this.”

You both watched as she moved to his side, returning the glasses to her face and pressing a stethoscope to his chest through the thin material of his shirt. The room was dead silent as she listened, hope and doubt, fear and anxiety swarmed in your belly.

“Hmm,” she spoke after a long moment, “Sounds like it’s still early. That’s good.”

Her experienced eyes raked over the boy, analyzing his state. She checked his file, reading over his measurements and weight and overall details before continuing.

"Alright, young Todoroki. We're going to run some tests, and take some measurements so that we can carefully monitor your body while you make a decision. You'll need to contact your parents, tell your teacher, figure out how to break it to your classmates and friends."

"For All intents and purposes, you're dying. So treat this like you are. At least until you make your choice."

She removed her glasses again, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "Please, prioritize your life, kid."

You glanced at Shouto then, trying to get a feel of his headspace, gauge his reaction. He was stoic as always but his eyebrows were lifted and his fist balled in the fabric of them sheet beneath him. He was being brave in the face of this, but you knew.

You knew that inside he was panicking. Did he know who it was? Gods, what a tragedy that this would happen to him. Shouto, who had almost no life experience outside of the Todoroki household, and his experience at UA.

After a few moments and a bit more medical talk, Recovery Girl took her leave. Shouto had the clear to return to the dorms and classes for now, but first the night aid was to take the aforementioned data.

As soon as she left, you were going to ask him, ask him who it was and finally convince him to get the surgery. But the vacancy was quickly filled with the night aid, who ushered you out so that she could take blood, get measurements, take his weight and temperature and whatever else they needed to monitor his state.

You waited patiently just outside the drawn curtain, fiddling again with the hem of your shirt. Anxiety and fear leadened your belly, raced like ice through your veins, burned like fire in your heart. You tried to think about who. Who could have done this to him?

Not that it was anyone's fault. It wasn't as if he'd been seduced, as if he'd been forced into loving someone. But… it still made you angry.

First suspect was Midoriya. The boy who'd irrevocably changed the course of Shouto's life by convincing him of his own worth and of his own power.

Then, Bakugou. But no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't make it make sense.

Uraraka? She was cute and sweet and… had eyes for Midoriya. That could make sense. But had Shouto ever spent more than casual moments with her?

Yaomomo was next and that… that made the most sense. He'd helped her in much the way Midoriya had helped him. Convincing her of her worth, bolstering her confidence. So far that was your best bet.

For a moment, one fleeting moment you wanted to consider yourself. But that'd be impossible, Shouto would never have fallen for you of all people.

Right?

Behind the curtain, Shouto's mind and heart were sprinting to see which one could work faster. That same fear and anxiety that flooded you also ran laps around in him. The same questions that weighed on you, reflected his own thoughts.

Who? Why? How? When? He'd never been too in touch with his emotions, he didn't catch himself feeling any differently about any one person over the other. He tried his best to treat everyone with equal regard and respect, so how had he fallen in love?

What did love even mean? What did it feel like? He'd never felt it before, that he could remember. Not this supposed romantic love.

Sure he'd had it before his mother's breakdown. Felt it in the way his sister provided for him and Natsuo protected him. In the way that his classmates uplifted him. But those were different. He knew. He'd read it in a book once.

Familial love, platonic love. But this… romantic love? He'd have to do more research, ask his peers that might have an inkling, read up on it. Because what else is a boy to do when something he's never had is killing him?

The tests were over before either of you had any concrete answers, and Shouto was dismissed. You walked back to the dorms in silence. Your paces slow, the tension between you thick and heavy. The night breeze was welcome once again, and you snuck another glance at the boy beside you. He looked better than before, less pained, still beautiful.

As you reached the door to the dorms, you both paused. Something in this moment felt monumental to the both of you though neither knew why. As if, once you entered the building, things would change. The reality of Shouto’s condition couldn’t be ignored, shoved down, swallowed like the water he attempted to gulp to ease his aching and raw throat.

“Shouto-”

“Y/N-”

You both turned to one another, and spoke simultaneously, causing you to giggle sheepishly and him to look away and scratch the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he said plainly, “You first.”

“I just… who? I want to know who.”

His gaze flitted to the moon which hung low in the night sky, dawn would break soon. Things would shift soon.

“I don’t know.”

Three words to break your heart, three words but not the three that you longed to hear. Three words to solidify the lump in your throat and the lead in your gut, the ache in your heart.

“Well, if you don’t know then… then the surgery is the best option, right?”

“It’s more than that,” he glanced back at you and his mouth tasted of clove and nectar. The moonlight bouncing off of your features made you look ethereal, the breeze flitting through and rustling your hair only added to it. You were beautiful. God, you were beautiful. How did he not see that before now? Shouto cleared his throat, drawing a fist to his lips as he did so to keep the petals at bay.

“I feel like the answer is right in front of me, but I just can’t figure it out.”

He stifled a cough, then. Shoulders shaking, body lurching just slightly as the muscles in his abdomen tensed with effort. He attempted to clear his throat once more, but the episode was already starting.

You immediately rushed to his side to support him, “Come on, we can talk inside, lets-”

“No,” he wheezed, “No… not… I’m not ready yet. Just… Give me a moment.”

Shouto fished in his pocket and produced a small bottle of cough syrup and a medicated lozenge; the same ones he’d been almost constantly nursing over the last few months. His throat bobbed as he downed one, two swigs of the medicine, and you were mesmerized by the long lines of muscle that were prominent there. Then he popped the lozenge onto his tongue and you were captured by that, too.

What were you doing? Eyeing him in such a way when he was literally dying, when his love for whoever wasn’t you would kill him?

He took a few deep, experimental breaths and though his chest rattled as leaves and petals shook, he was able to retain his composure. “Okay. I’m fine.”

You were warm by his side, a stark contrast to the cool autumn. Your hands felt searing against his back, his chest as your attempt at support still made his throat itch. Why? Still he couldn’t understand how and why you were having that effect on him.

“Ready to go back to your room now?”

He nodded and you continued to support him all the way there. The ride up the elevator was silent, the walk to his door was silent, even as you both entered there was silence. Too many things left unsaid, unacknowledged hung between you like thick molasses. It flooded your senses, begging to be seen though neither of you wanted to look. Neither of you understood where to look.

You puttered around while Shouto emptied the bag Recovery Girl had given him onto his nightstand. A myriad of small bottles of cough syrup, a few blister packs of pain medication, and two bags of lozenges were amongst the gifts. Meanwhile, you went about cleaning up the mess from before.

The wet tissues from the syrup and bile, the petals that lingered and clung to the bathroom tile… all of the evidence to be discarded. You didn’t have to do this, Shouto was clean, he’d get to it eventually. Maybe. If things were going to get worse from here, he’d eventually be unable to do anything without getting winded, though. Without coughing and bleeding and --

No, don’t think about it. It’s too much right now. Focus on what’s in front of you: helping him. Cleaning. Getting him water and maybe a snack if he could eat. God this made so much sense, a few pieces clicked together in your mind.

The way he barely picked at his food during lunch because the nauseating taste of pollen and sap coated his tongue. How he got too winded too quickly during training because his body was wasting away, because he was struggling to breathe properly. The weight he’d lost..

Shouto was never a large guy, always on the slender side, though muscular. You wondered how much of him had wasted away, how long this had been going on.

As you made your way back into his bedroom, that one thought clung to your mind. How long? How long had he been suffering without telling anyone? Without knowing what was happening to him? You cursed the sheltered life he’d been brought up in, cursed his stupid father for keeping him from the outside world and for only teaching him how to be better, to be more and more and more. For not teaching him anything about real life outside of that.

He sat on his bed, arms resting on his knees as his head hung low. His shoulders and chest heaved with effort, just breathing was hurting.

You took the spot beside him, and ran your hand along his back reassuringly, though as you did he stifled a cough deep in his throat. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“It’s okay, Shouto. What are friends for, right? But, I do want to talk about this.”

Why did your hand feel so good? So soothing and so wonderful as you rubbed along his taut muscles? Like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

Perhaps it was because he’d never known such solace in all his years. He’d never known such a gentle touch, a kind word, a sweet softness that only you could provide. Well, he assumed, anyone could. But you were here, you were doing the providing, so it was you.

He nodded.

“Like I said before, you have options. Even if they’re limited. The easiest one is to confess, hope they return your feelings. Which, I mean, come on, who wouldn’t?”

He lifted his head to peer at you, “What do you mean?”

“Well, come on, Sho’. It’s not like you haven’t noticed nearly every girl in the school fawning over you. Remember Valentine’s when your locker was so flooded with chocolates you needed a garbage bag? And that by the end of the day you had… how many? Full of candy?”

Shouto hummed a quiet chuckle at the memory. It was a mess, and you were the one who helped him carry it all back to the dorms. You were the one who had the idea to share it with everyone so that not only it wouldn’t go to waste, but he didn’t look rude by throwing it out or not accepting it.

Funny, he didn’t think you’d given him any chocolate that day. Not that he gave you any for white day, which is fair.

“I don’t think there’s a person in this school who wouldn’t return your feelings. You’re smart, handsome, strong… everything about you is amazing, Sho’. If they don’t want to be with you they want to be you, you know?”

He didn’t, not really. But he understood where you were coming from. He couldn’t deny the proof in the chocolate, the way the press had inflated his performances, how he’d catch whispers of people venting their jealousy. Those things were concrete. Love? Not so much.

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment too long, he wanted to memorize your eyes. The color, the shape, your lashes. Those eyes he’d looked at a thousand times before suddenly looked… different. Why?

“So, I think… maybe we should try figuring out who it is first, yeah? I mean, especially since you're still in the early stages, it could save a lot of trouble and pain and heartache later. If you can manage the symptoms, at least.”

“It’s been fine so far,” Shouto shifted back then, wanting to get a better look at you. You watched as his eyes searched your face, what was he looking for?

Nothing, really, was the answer. He just wanted to look at you. Just wanted to enjoy the concern for him, the softness for him. The curve of your lips, the furrow of your brow, the shape of your cheeks and chin and nose. He just wanted to look at you. Why?

He lingered on your mouth, unconsciously sliding his tongue across his lips to wet them. You looked so kissable. Have you been kissed before? Would you taste as sweet as he imagined? Feel soft against his own lips, slotting together in perfect harmony?

Why… Why was he leaning in? His eyes were trained on your lips and Shouto was leaning in as if he was going to kiss you. Your heart started pounding, the blood rushing to your cheeks. Surely not. Surely there was something on your face or your hair that he was getting a good look at.

His breath was hot against you, so close you were sure he could hear your heart hammering away in your chest. His eyes never strayed from your lips.

“Shouto…” you breathed, wetting your own lips in anticipation. Was he really going to kiss you?

Could it be… you?

But your whisper of his name brought him back to reality, and just before your lips could meet he pulled away. “Yes?”

You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding and pulled away from him.

“U-um...Do you have any ideas… on who it could be?”

He watched you carefully. Why did you look disappointed? And why did he almost kiss you? A moment of weakness brought on by the severity of the situation? Surely it wasn’t you.

Right?

The thought nearly choked him, and as he doubled over in a cough a great cloud of petals ejected from his mouth. They fluttered to the floor as he couldn’t stave off the episode anymore.

Shouto fell to his knees beside the bed, clutching his chest as he coughed and hacked and did everything he could to dislodge that which was stuck in his esophagus. More petals, covered with...blood. Blood, nectar, bile, acid. A disgustingly sweet mixture that nobody should ever have to taste.

You sprinted to the bathroom again, grabbing the same waste bin and wetting a rag to help him through it. You also snatched another bottle of water, just as before.

God this… this was awful. Seeing him like this again and not knowing why. Well, you knew why, you just didn’t know who. And knowing who was the first step in fixing this - fixing him. You dropped beside Shouto as he continued to cough, retching as the nausea took over occasionally, which only gave way to more coughs. More blood. More petals.

You were watching the disease develop in real time. What started just a few hours ago as a single petal was now clusters, dozens massed together. It wouldn’t be long before they were flowers, before they were stems and leaves.

It’s progressing too fast. Why? Shouto tried his best to think about anything but the burning in his lungs, the pain in his throat, the air that he failed to drink down. He’d gone months, since early spring, with this condition barely moving and now? Now he was spitting out blood-slicked clusters of petals just hours after the first one fell. What changed?

As he hacked and coughed and sputtered and struggled to breathe, he considered that question. What has changed?

You did your best to tend to him, powerless in the face of the florals that were ripping him apart from the inside. Wiping the sweat from his face, the syrup from his chin, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he continued to struggle.

What perhaps was the most disturbing thing about this, despite the obvious, was the smell. That you hadn’t ever expected; in all your research and reading about the disease nobody had ever mentioned a smell.

Distinctly clove, laced with honey-sweet nectar and accented with metallic blood. The clove smell had to come from the flowers. What else could it be? You made a mental note to research that later as you stared down at the bin. The bottom was covered in those purple petals, spattered with crimson and wetted by saliva and bile and sap.

Gods, he’d expelled so much already. Just how fast was this moving? And why?

After a solid twenty minutes of Shouto struggling, the episode finally ceased. He fell back against the bed with his eyes closed, a pained expression marring his pretty face. He gulped down air as fast as he could, causing his chest to swell as he finally got the oxygen he needed. He must be light-headed and exhausted.

You pushed his sweaty bangs away from his forehead and ran the cool rag over the flushed skin. The action caused Shouto to open his eyes slightly, and then it happened.

It clicked.

The dots connected, and he understood - finally - who it was. Finally, he understood those feelings, the urges, the needs, the wants. It was always there, but he was just too oblivious and dense to notice.

It was in the way you gently took care of him, in the way your touches felt electric against him. In the concerned glimmer of your eyes as you tended to him. The pout of your lip. The worry in your brow. The delicacy of your hands. It was you.

Right in front of him, just as he said.

Of course it was you. He felt so stupid he didn’t realize sooner. The way he’d almost kissed you just a moment ago and the attack that followed; the bile that rose in his throat when you touched him; how his lungs ached when his eyes met yours. God, how long had he felt this way? How long had he… had he loved you?

“Y/N…” he wheezed. His throat was so hoarse, his chest burned, he was still struggling to breathe. It was you.

But what did that mean? Supposedly he could confess and… assuming you felt the same, it would fix him. Right? But what if you didn’t? Would it kill him instead?

He was already dying.

But the thought of being ripped away from you was too much. If his feelings shoved a rift in between you he didn’t think he could handle it. You were his best friend, the one he loved, the only one he truly depended on. What if he lost that because of his stupid heart?

But the surgery… you’d said that would cause him to lose his memory of you. The friendship you shared, the memories you’d made, the moments he desperately clung to during the nights when his sorrow and the weight of his life was too much. He’d lose them. But that was better than dying, right?

Because you could always start over, start anew and rebuild a friendship. Except...that wasn't totally true. You'd still have those memories, you'd still carry the burden of years lost. And arguably wouldn't Shouto be different? He couldn't deny the impact you'd made on him, and losing his memories of you would revert that progress. Right?

So the surgery is off-limits. He couldn't just forget you like that.

So it was die, or confess.

Confessing wouldn't be hard, but that'd also depend on you returning those feelings, and he was clueless when it came to that. You'd never spoken to him about relationships and romance before, therefore he really had no idea if there was someone you liked.

Dying would be… well, dying. Slowly, painfully. So he only had one option, and he wasn't ready for that yet. Because what if you didn't return those feelings? Would that sentence him to death or trap him into surgery? The surgery, he assumed, as death would still be the worst outcome.

And despite that he wasn't sure exactly what these feelings were, what they meant, the weight of them. He didn't think he was ready for a relationship right now, hell- would he ever be? His goals were career focused, love was the bottom of his list.

"Shouto…?" Your sweet voice cut through his fevered thoughts, "are you...are you okay?"

Oh, so that's it. That's this feeling. He finally had a word for the way he felt around you. The light fluttering in his belly, the weightlessness of his heart, the fuzziness in his brain. It was love.

And despite his current state; sick and dying, covered in sweat and sap, Shouto smiled.

It was the smile that shattered your heart. Because not only were you confused as to why, but it was also the prettiest smile you'd ever seen. You had to bite down on your cheek to keep from crying, but it didn't seem to work as he brought a trembling hand up to wipe a tear from your cheek.

"I figured it out," Shouto said quietly, his voice soft and low, but hoarse.

"You did?! This is great- you can confess! You can-"

"No," he cut you off, "Not yet. I need to really figure out what this is, how I feel, what I want."

You took a moment to process his words. Why wouldn't he want this torture to end? Why did he want to prolong his suffering? Surely whomever it was would understand. Surely they could work things out after his life wasn't in danger.

The next few days passed by in a blur. Shouto spoke privately with Aizawa, and then with his circle of friends. He still elected to keep it from his family, as at this point he had no intentions of dying. It would worry them unnecessarily.

You were permitted to stay in his dorm to care for him through the night, to try and help ease the symptoms and the pain. You had no idea you were only exacerbating it.

But Shouto did, and though he was still reeling from realizing his feelings, and the disease that rapidly deteriorated his health, he didn't mind.

Because it was just more time he could spend with you, and the longer you were together the clearer his thoughts became. Everything you did, every touch, every word, every glance had nectar slicked petals crawling up his throat.

And it's not so bad, he thought. Getting to be with you felt worth the pain in his mind. But maybe that's the hidden poison of hanahaki. Maybe the real danger is a love so consuming that you wouldn't mind dying for it - wouldn't mind suffering for it. A love you want to hold onto with white knuckles, unable and unwilling to let go for fear of the emptiness that lies in its wake.

A week later, Shouto was in much worse shape. Nearly every breath had the florals in his lungs rattling, what was once petals now flowers. He was weak, barely eating from the nausea, malnourished. Delicate.

Purple gillyflower. A beautiful life, a happy marriage, unbridled joy. And the distinct scent of cloves.

How cruel.

You were upset by the meaning, how could anyone be in such a state and feel those things? He was dying in such a slow and painful way, how could he even begin to feel such things as happiness and joy?

But he did. Finally, he understood what this was, and it had brought Shouto the feelings determined by the flower's meaning. A life with you would be beautiful, he found himself daydreaming of it often these days. Holding your hand, kissing you, going on dates, marriage. Children. He wouldn't be like his father, he swore to himself.

Unbridled joy, because not only was he experiencing these feelings for the first time, it was the way his heart fluttered when you were near. The way he couldn't stop the smile from spreading, or his gaze from drifting to you. He found himself in love with being in love.

But as the nights grew colder and he grew weaker, Shouto knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He'd have to make a choice. Surgery or confession? Either way this heady bliss of the present wouldn't last. The friendship between you would change for good.

It happened early one morning as Shouto was bent over the bin, coughing and spitting stocks of those purple flowers. So much blood, now. The stems and leaves were painful, and even lozenges and pain killers were helpless in its face.

You'd tried over the weeks to convince him to confess, but every time he just brushed it off. And you hated it, this was unfair and he was doing it to himself. Why? Were they really so intimidating that he'd push it back in favor of this torture?

Shouto fell back against the bed frame, his chest was heaving, his skin pale and clammy, eyes closed, body limp. He looked so small now, having lost a significant amount of weight over the weeks. A small trickle of blood poured from the corner of his mouth which you wiped away with your thumb.

This action had him peeking at you through heavily lidded eyes. He needed to feel your touch again. Even if it was the lack of oxygen clouding his judgment, he needed it. And so, Shouto caught your hand during its retreat, and brought your wrist to his swollen lips.

You froze. What was he doing?

"I need to tell you something," he rasped. His voice low and hoarse from his cut up and bruised esophagus. The taste and smell of clove overwhelmed his senses, tinged with copper and syrup. He felt sick, but swallowed it down.

You watched him carefully as he slid his fingers down to your palm, then wrapped them around your hand. He looked so peaceful, so handsome, even despite the new hollowness in his cheeks and the circles under his eyes. His hand was so cold, like ice though it was the wrong side. That worried you.

“Shouto?” you watched him carefully, and he levelled you with that smile again. The one that was so bittersweet and so perfect that it made your heart squeeze in your chest. He pulled you down to him suddenly, and with the little strength he had left. You landed in his lap, and he pressed your cheek to his chest while resting his chin atop your head.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your hands shook where they lay on his chest wrapped in his own, your cheeks flooded with heat. Shouto inhaled slowly, deeply, and that damn rattle shook in his lungs as he did.

“I know who it is, and I think I need to tell them. I think…” he coughed wetly for a moment before he was able to continue, “I think I’m ready for them to know.”

You blinked slowly. Okay? What did that have to do with this? With the way he was holding you so tight and so painfully tender? He took a moment to catch his breath, and you wondered just how bad it had progressed by now. Coughing out stems was supposed to be the final stages, and he’s just now trying to confess to whoever it is?

“Who is it? Shouto? Tell me, I’ll go get them so you can finally get better.”

You felt him shake his head in the way his chin rustled and messed up your hair.

“You don’t need to. She-”

Fresh coughs forced themselves up his chest and out of his lungs, and he all but threw you to the side to expel the offending flowers into the bin. The bin which was almost ready to be cleaned for the third time today. The bin which might never lose the smell of blood and cloves and sap.

He’s so close to getting better, why couldn’t he just strangle out the name? His entire body heaved with effort as he coughed so hard it brought up the contents of his stomach - which wasn’t much. Shouto struggled to inhale amidst the onslaught, he struggled to draw air past the growing petals and branches and roots and -

His hand shot out to grab your arm, a plea for help as he felt his consciousness fading. He squeezed as hard as he could before collapsing atop the bin and turning it over, effectively spilling the contents all over both of you and the room.

Shouto was floating in a vast void, finally a reprieve from the pain and torment of the last few months. He wanted to stay here forever, to be carried listlessly through wherever this was so that he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

He couldn’t breathe, though. And he’d gotten so used to the feeling that he almost didn’t notice it. And then his senses began to return.

Starting with a steady beeping, low murmured voices, the fluttering of paper and loud footsteps. Then the softness beneath his head, something secured around his mouth and chin, a weight atop him that suggested, perhaps, a pile of blankets. Despite which he was still cold. Freezing, down to his fingertips. He’d half a mind to try and use his fire to warm himself, but that hadn’t worked in weeks.

The taste returned, and he thought nothing could overshadow the ever-present taste of clove, but he was wrong. Copper, iron, the metallic and tangy flavor of blood coated every inch of his mouth and tongue. Backed by a tinge of stomach acid and sickly sweet nectar. It made him sick.

The last thing he felt was the warmth of someone’s hand taking his own, so tender and hesitant. He silently thanked them for the heat.

His consciousness faded again, and he found himself adrift once more.

God, you prayed he’d wake up. Hanahaki had stolen the breath from his lungs, but given him a heart full of love, and it was a damn shame he’d never be able to fulfill all of the great things he was destined for because of it. And he was on the precipice of revealing the person, too.

It’s been two days since Shouto collapsed, and he was fighting for his life. A myriad of tubes and wires connected to him to keep him alive, an oxygen mask tight over his face to keep him breathing.

Natsuo and Fuyumi had come many times, as well as your other classmates, but you were the only one who stayed. Always by his side, even now.

Because he was your best friend, but… wasn’t he more than that? Would you have gone through all of this for just anyone? Maybe… maybe it was more than that. Maybe you were in love with him.

The thought made your already weeping heart break more. Because upon the realization you also concluded that he didn’t return your feelings. If he did, he’d tell you. You told each other everything.

“You love him,” Fuyumi whispered softly beside you. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed her. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and gave you a sad smile.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it. It’s obvious. Why don’t you tell him? On the off-chance that it’s you?”

Your gaze landed on the boy before you, half-dead and unconscious. If it was you… It couldn’t hurt right? To at least try? At least then, you could say that you did everything in your power to stop this.

“I’d tell him soon, if you’re going to. Father has given the go-ahead for the surgery and it’s scheduled for tomorrow morning,” she gave your shoulder a soft squeeze and excused herself, presumably giving you time to formulate your thoughts about her suggestion.

Really, what did you have to lose?

You leaned forward, brushing his bangs away from his face. He looked so peaceful like this, calmer than he’d been in… how long had it been? You hovered over him, getting a good look at the boy as his chest rose and fell slowly. Tentatively, you leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. A kiss that lingered, too afraid to pull away.

And then Shouto shifted beneath you, causing you to pull back and frantically search his face. Was it a fluke or-

Weakly, he took your hand in his; so cold you nearly shivered. His eyes cracked open slightly, just enough to see you, and he smiled.

The dam holding your emotions at bay cracked then, fat tears flooding down your face and plopping onto the blanket that failed to keep him warm. He tried to squeeze your hand, tried to reassure you, but he was so weak now that you barely noticed.

You collapsed in a heap, barely landing in the chair beside him as you brought your head down to rest on the bed. And you sobbed, letting it all out. Your body shook, heaved and trembled as you suddenly became overwhelmed.

It was too much, that smile. It broke you. Because how can he be smiling? After everything how can he still give you that soft, saccharine smile?

It took a lot of effort, and his arm shook with strain, but Shouto placed his hand on your head. Petting you, comforting you as if everything would be okay.

"Sh-shouto-" you sobbed, looking up into those beautiful eyes of his. "I'm so sorry," You hiccups, choking on your tears.

"I know. I know that it's not me. I know, but I… I can't.. I…" you faltered. His hand fell to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him. He tried to thumb away your tears but he was so weak. So tired.

You caught his hand as it fell, returning it to your face and holding your own over it. Blinking rapidly, you tried to steady your resolve.

"I know it's not me, but. I can't just sit here and watch you die because you waited too long. I love you. I love you so much, Shouto. It hurts. This hurts. I need you to know that… that for me, it's you!"

The way his eyes widened at your admission wasn't lost on you, his jaw slacking just slightly before his body lurched forward.

He ripped his hand away from you to tear off the oxygen mask, and what followed was a horrifying and traumatic scene.

A flurry of purple petals ejected from his mouth and blanketed the bed. Some flitting gently to the floor as he wheezed. A wet cough, followed by blood. A lot of blood. Too much blood and you scrambled to thrust the bedpan under him.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you called for the nurse. He must be dying. This must be it.

"Shouto, Shouto please! D-don’t-"

But your pleading fell on deaf ears as more and more flowers were hacked up. They forced themselves out of his body in stocks, twigs, and leaves which were coated in that disgusting slurry of blood, nectar, and bile.

A team of nurses flooded into the room and shooed you out of the way. You couldn't see what was happening, and you collapsed back into your chair, crumpling in on yourself as more sobs tore through you. Recovery Girl waddled in after a terrifying moment and tapped your arm to get your attention.

"So, you finally confessed, eh? About time. Any longer and we would have lost him."

Her statement shocked you out of your stupor and you stared at her incredulously.

"Don't give me that look. It's always obvious with Hanahaki, who the person is. You know, almost every time they reciprocate the feelings, too? Just takes them having to realize it or get over their fears long enough to give a proper confession."

Your head whipped back and forth between where the nurses worked on the heaving boy, and the experienced woman beside you.

"So, he-"

"He'll survive. This is how it has to happen. All the foreign matter in his body is getting rejected and forcing its way out of him. Once this episode is over, he'll be able to start recovering."

It took three months before he could return to normalcy. Three months that you'd put off having that conversation. Three months of knowing glances and lingering touches and late nights spent helping him with studies so he didn't fall behind.

Your class greeted his return with a lavish party, funded mostly by Momo. It was fun, and like a heavy weight was lifted. Perhaps, that's because it had. With your desperate confession came a new beginning, a happier future, a new normal.

And it was after the party, as you and Shouto walked back to his dorm, that the tension between you finally snapped.

He looked so much better now. Still a bit thin but he'd been bulking up quickly. His skin no longer pallid, his cheeks fuller, his breaths unlabored. Handsome, beautiful, alive.

You stopped before his door, and he turned to face you. His expression, ever so stoic, but tinged with a softness that you'd grown used to - at least when he looked at you.

"I'm glad you figured it out."

You looked away sheepishly, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "I didn't...really. I just thought that I didn't want you to die without knowing."

Shouto cupped your face with both hands, knowing that you felt the same, and brought his lips to yours. Soft and sweet, tentatively perfect.

"Thank you for loving me."

#todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x you #todoroki x you #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #hanahaki #bnha hanahaki #shouto hanahaki #todoroki hanahaki #todoroki angst #shouto angst #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #fem reader

[white-poppie]

Songs for you based on the characters you kin (Male students)

Male students edition || Pro hero edition || Female Students Edition || Villains edition

(The images belong to @gojosattoru)

Izuku Midoriya

"But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved; me and my husband we are doing better..."

✧.* Me and my husband (Mitski) ✧.* Verbatim (Mother Mother) ✧.* Enemy (Imagine Dragons) ✧.* I built a friend (Alec Benjamen) ✧.* Jealousy jealousy (Olivia Rodrigo) ✧.* It's been so long (Living Tombstone)

Bakugou Katsuki

"Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply 'Why'd you only call me when you're high?'"

✎Why do you only call me when you are high? (Arctic Monkeys) ✎ Prom Queen (Beach Bunny) ✎ E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE (Corpse) ✎ Hayloft (Mother Mother) ✎ Dynamite (BTS) ✎ ZITTE E BUONI (Maneskin)

Todoroki Shouto

"Was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back, I swear that I would pull you from the tide." ・❥・Line Without a Hook (Ricky Montgomery) ・❥・Daddy Issues (The neighbourhood) ・❥・Hot N Cold (Katy Perry) ・❥・Snowman (Sia) ・❥・idfc (black bear) ・❥・Bubblegum Bitch (Marina)

Kirishima Ejirou

"F*CK THIS $HiT LET'S START A RIOT!!"

: ̗̀➛ Riot (Hollywood Undead) : ̗̀➛ Discord (Living tombstone) : ̗̀➛ Jump (BTS) : ̗̀➛ Cupid's Chokehold (Gym Class Heroes) : ̗̀➛ 0x1=Love song (Tomorrow X Together) : ̗̀➛ all the kids are depressed (Jeremy Zucker)

Kaminari Denki

"Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle; I can't let you go now that I got it and all I need is to be struck by your electric love." ೃ⁀➷ Electric love (Borns) ೃ⁀➷ Balenciaga (T3NZU) ೃ⁀➷ SPY? (WHOKILLEDXIX) ೃ⁀➷ I kissed a girl (Katy Perry) ೃ⁀➷ Mr Loverman (Ricky Montgomery) ೃ⁀➷ Arms Tonite (Mother Mother)

Sero Hanta

"Born, he made it the hard way. Get your bets down, ladies and gentlemen" ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Kismet (WHOKILLEDXIX) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Boy in the Bubble (Alec Benjamin) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SWIPE (Itzy) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ parents (YUNGBLUD) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Rat (Penelope Scott) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Danger (BTS)

Shinsou Hitoshi

"Get a load of this monster. He doesn't know how to communicate. His mind is in a different place. Will everybody please give him a little bit of space?" ╰┈➤ Home (Cavetown) ╰┈➤ 911 (Ellise) ╰┈➤ Control (Halsey) ╰┈➤ Therefore I am (Billie Eilish) ╰┈➤ My Ordinary Life (The LivingTombstone) ╰┈➤ Freaks (Jordan Clarke)

Tamaki Amajiki

"'Cause, it's too cold for you here, and now, so let me hold. Both your hands in the holes of my sweater."

°•. ❧ Sweater Weather (Arctic Monkeys) °•. ❧ Overwhelmed (Royal & the Serpent) °•. ❧ I can't handle change (Roar) °•. ❧ Love Scenario (iKON) °•. ❧ Ghost Town (Chloe George) °•. ❧ Dancing with your ghost (Sasha Alex Sloan)

Mirio Togata

"Look at you, strawberry blond, fields rolling on. I love it when you call my name"

⍣ ೋ Strawberry Blond (Mitski) ⍣ ೋ Unstoppable (The Score) ⍣ ೋ Happier (Marshmellow) ⍣ ೋ Blueberry eyes (Max and Suga) ⍣ ೋ We fell in love in October (girls in red) ⍣ ೋ Stay Gold (BTS)

Monoma Neito

"I'm crazy, but you like that, I bite back. Daisies on your nightstand, never forget it. I blossom in the moonlight, screw eyes. Glacial with the blue ice, I'm terrifying."

༊*·˚ Daisy (Ashinnko) ༊*·˚ Boss Bitch (Doja Cat) ༊*·˚ Literal Legend (Ayesha Erotica) ༊*·˚ COPYCAT (Billie Eilish) ༊*·˚I'm an Albatroz (AronChupa) ༊*·˚MOMMAE (Jay Park and Ugly Duck)

#mha #mha kinnie #monoma kinnie #kirishima kinnie #bakugou kinnie #izuku kinnie #denki kinnie #tamaki kinnie #sero kinnie #mirio kinnie #playlist #white poppie🌼 #playlist based on your favourite character #judging you based on your favourite mha character #mha x reader #mha x you

[gogumasworld]

todoroki shouto-centric fic recs (angst)

ive probably read like 80% of all 50k or so fics out there so this is some top-notch, cream of the crop stuff. what can i say im an expert... ill try to stick to general/class 1A interactions but you should know todobaku has an dangerous grip on my weak, weak heart. also for the sake of my heart there will only be ongoing or complete work here

anywhere here are some of my favorite todoroki-centric fics on ao3 in no particular order: the writers with a star (*) means they are a veteran in writing todoroki and you should check out their other fics

Non-Newtonian by EveryoneThinksImGay

Dabi joins forces with the quirkless villain Deku to take down Endeavor. If what was supposed to be a simple stuff-Endeavor-in-a-fridge-and-run turns into a Shouto rescue mission involving the Todoroki siblings, pissed-off U.A. teachers and students, and the League of Villains, well, that's nobody's business. Main Cast: -Shouto "I Lied, I'm Dying Inside" Todoroki -Izuku "I Bomb Bridges <3" Midoriya -Katsuki "how the FUCK did I become the Mom friend" Bakugou Supporting Cast: -Fuyumi & Natsuo Todoroki: the former of which keeps the fridge stocked with organic yoghurt-covered blueberries, the latter of which may or may not be an anarchist -Dabi: a closeted Swiftie who never learned how to dress himself -Hawks: on a mission (as fruitless as it is perpetual) to impress and befriend Shouto -Dadzawa: a swamp monster -The Bakusquad Non-Supporting Cast: -Endeavor's deodorant. It tries so hard, bless its heart. A for effort.

haha jk i lied about the order... this ones my favorite and i cry everytime it updates. i even drew fanart for it which is the most meta thing ive ever done

make this feel like home by carolinaa *

The Todoroki family, historically, is kind of the worst at being in the same house together. Natsuo's track record of storming out of the house after two days max is well known. But this winter break's supposed to be different, with Enji out of town for most of it, so Natsuo gives it another shot out of the goodness of his heart. What's the worst that could happen?

If worst comes to worst, he'll just leave again.

i wish i could go back in time so i can re-experience the feeling of reading this for the first time. also check out carolinaa's other work!!!! it slays but like in a way that makes you feel like you can't breathe because youre choking on your own tears

the stars are floating and we are flying by lunalou*

Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.”

He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter.

A classic piece of Todoroki literature and more importantly a gem of a writer

A Study in Firsts by Oceanbreeze7

There’s a first time for everything. The first time everyone crammed in Momo’s room to study, a mess of limbs and books on her bed. The first time Mina burned crepes so badly the smoke alarm went off. The first time a jumpscare got Sero so badly, he flipped off the back of the couch. The first time Uraraka fell asleep at the table and accidentally sent it floating. The first time someone realized Todoroki walked far too quietly, and far too cautiously around the dorms to be normal. The first time Midoriya broke his toe on a door frame and kept walking through it. The first time Kirishima woke up screaming through the walls. The first time Tsuyu blanched at the sight of a needle. The first time Bakugo dropped, clutching the back of his neck with eyes scarily vacant and detonating everything around him until Aizawa had to intervene. It wasn’t always pretty, but the dorms were filled with firsts.

surprisingly a lot of todoroki action here, every chapters like a one-shot, i generally read it beaming at the screen like a maniac

Inhibition by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion*

Todoroki gets zapped by a Quirk that effectively lowers someone's inhibitions, and Aizawa deals with the strange, humorous, heart-breaking fallout.

The train ride back is something of a nightmare. Not because it goes badly, or because something awful happens, but because Aizawa can’t get rid of this feeling in his chest every time he sees Todoroki’s unusual, carefree smile. He looks like nothing has ever hurt him.

dadzawa dadzawa dadzawa dadzawa

This Is Now by colormesherlocked*

Todoroki Shoto will be a hero.

...But not just yet. Right now, Todoroki Shoto is a bitter, pessimistic, hurt teenager who doesn't want help, friends or hinderances of any kind getting in the way of his misguided goals.

Thankfully, there will soon be people in his life who will be more than happy to drag him into a place of happiness, safety, and acceptance - kicking and screaming the whole way, if they have to. All he has to do is survive his first meeting with them and all the incredible changes that will come after.

This is Todoroki Shoto's Hero Academia.

(Semi-canon compliant up to a point and told from Todoroki Shoto's POV.)

Just warning you guys this is the first big Todoroki-centric fic i read and now im committing fanception and creating masterlists :/

Return to Ashes by Anxiety_Pickle*

Shouto remembers Touya like he remembers the fire: in flashes of heat and gentle hands.

(In the aftermath of Dabi's reveal, Shouto learns to cope)

The Drawing Board by strangergods*

He understands, intellectually, that other people must do something with their day that doesn’t involve working out or getting beat up by super-powered mutant criminals or harassing one’s boyfriend into fucking them sideways. It’s just that he can’t quite picture doing it himself.

--

Todoroki takes up a hobby.

so so so good

also if youve made it to the end, here's an AMAZING animatic yall should watch by Zoé Plane: send her some love and check out her ig too

#fic recs #fanfic rec #masterlist #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #todoroki shoto #bnha #mha #shoto todoroki #Youtube

[ao3feed-tododeku]

Can't Tell You I Love You

Can't Tell You I Love You (I'll Feed You Breakfast Instead) by todobaku brainrot hours

“I was a dumb kid. If you're gonna hold that against me, you've got every right to, but don't assume I'm the same way now. I like you clingy. I like you however you are,” Kacchan says.

“Really?” Izuku asks, and it comes out too fast, too desperate.

“Of course. I love you. I don't secretly think you're annoying. I think you're annoying to your face. If you wanna hold that against me you can knock yourself out.”

or: Izuku and Katsuki won't talk to each other, and Shouto takes matters into his own hands

Words: 2926, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: POV Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku-centric, Established Relationship, its pretty new though, focus on bkdk out of the sub pairings, Todoroki Shouto is a Good Significant Other, Insecure Midoriya Izuku, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Breakfast, the healing power of blueberry waffles, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, He gets two, he also feels up katsukis pecs a bit

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42439242

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Todobakudeku #💥 #💛 #💣 #Todobakudeku #♣ #R:T #A:Todobaku #Hurt Comfort

[willowser]

i'm melting in your eyes, like my first time that i caught fire (just stay with me, lay with me now)—

pro hero!touya x reader

wc: 13k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, fluff, angst, shouto is a menace, touya has tattoos instead of scars, touya is a pretty rich boy and he knows it, i once again use too many commas

“Blueberry or pistachio?”

Setsuko is shifting uncomfortably on the balls of her feet, looking between the chocolates that are held out in front of her. The options are swimming in her eyes as she glances between the two of them, sighing quietly while laying a gentle hand on her lower stomach, face twisting in agony for a brief moment. The two of you are dressed less than appropriate, standing in sweatpants under the fluorescent lights of the J Store at near midnight, but you were fighting off a sinus headache—and Setsuko, her period—so there wasn’t much sleeping that had been getting done in the shared expanse of your apartment.

“Mmm,” The lips of your roommate twist down into another quick grimace, scratching idly at her red cheeks before pointing to one. “Pistachio.”

The packaging crinkles under your fingers as you flip it over, scanning the nutrition facts before muttering “fuck it” and putting both chocolates in the hand-basket you’re carrying. At the front of the store, the underpaid, overworked cashier is half asleep, slumping forward in her stool as she scrolls through her phone. Gifs play and stop and play and stop at the flick of her finger, and she hardly looks up when the two of you approach the counter, grabbing whatever you hand her to scan; a multitude of sugary, dyed drinks, some crisps, tampons, and medicine for your head.

What a sight the two of you must be.

Just as the cashier mutters out your total, the front door is yanked open, it chimes, and a couple nearly falls through the entrance. A woman's giggles fill the almost empty store, followed by the husky sound of her lover, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as they scramble down the aisle. Setsuko doesn’t look up as the color drains from your face, not even when you whip your head around to stare at the cigarette container behind the counter as your roommate digs the money out of her purse.

The congestion headache you’ve been victim to for the past two days builds to an all time high, the pressure behind your eyes pounding in time with your heartbeat as plastic crinkles only a rows away.

“Get two packs.” The lover commands, a smirk evident in his voice as the woman squeals out another giggle.

“Dabi, stop!”

Setsuko turns to glance over her shoulder, frowning at the sound as another wave of discomfort settles over her stomach. You can feel the glance she casts you, clearly trying to catch your eye at the explicit moan that echoes through the store, but you only grit your teeth and count the different boxes of nicotine. The cashier looks up at the noise, halting her torturously slow process of bagging the few items you have. When the couple rounds the corner and comes to stand behind you and Setsuko in line, you nearly rip the plastic bag from the employee's hand so she can count out the change.

Dabi? It takes all your resolve not to make a face at his hero name, not to swirl around and ask him if he makes all women call him that, but then Setsuko is making an amused expression at you as the late-night snack run finally comes to an end. You nearly trip over your own feet hurrying to the door, digging your free hand into the pocket of your jacket just so you can clench it, and you almost celebrate the fact that he hadn’t seen you when the lover lets out a loud, drunken laugh, your name jumbled somewhere in between the rasp of his voice.

The sound of it freezes you, back against the glass door to push it open and you finally dare to look at him, just before glancing at Setsuko—who is wide eyed and staring at you—and the woman—who is doing the same—and then finally back to him.

With a resigned sigh, you give a short nod. “Touya.”

The white button-up he’d worn to work is still clinging to his shoulders, but the front is wide open, showing off the thin shirt beneath it and the red lipstick smearing over the tattoo on his throat. A pair of black jeans has replaced the slacks he’d worn in the office, the button open, the zipper down, and when you drag your eyes back up to his face, he’s smirking.

“If it isn’t Enji Todoroki’s little princess!”

Setsuko frowns at you and turns back to look at him, just as the scantily clad woman whines that name—Dabi—again, but his eyes never leave yours. The condom package is nearly encompassed by his hand as he curls it into a fist, clearly just as annoyed to see you out and about, despite the playful tone in his voice.

“Have a nice night.” Is all you say before grabbing your roommate and leading her through the door, the ding of your exit sounding behind you as the glass swings shut.

The bag rustles when you dig your hand in it, grabbing one of the pink drinks that seemed appetizing when you’d laid your eyes on it, and Setsuko doesn’t say anything as you take a long sip—she doesn’t say anything until after you’re climbing into the driver’s seat of her car and starting it up, not until after you fidget with the radio and deem every song annoying before just turning it off.

And then she finally says, “Isn’t that—”

“Yup.”

There is only one other car in the small parking lot and it’s clearly Touya’s; a sleek, black sports car that is parked haphazardly over three different spots. It comes to life under your glare, the blue LED lights beneath the car glowing as he turns it on from inside the store. Another squeal is let out into the night as Touya pulls the woman’s dress up over her bare ass when they make a hurried trek back to the car, and you and Setsuko let out a scoff of disgust in unison.

“Don’t you work for Endeavor?”

“Mmhm.”

A beat of silence passes over the car as the two of you watch them with nauseated curiosity, handing the crisp bag back and forth to one another all the while. When the doors of his car are opened, loud, heavy metal music blares from inside the blackened interior, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot and between you and your roommate.

“What did he mean by that?”

“He’s just jealous that his dad likes me more than him.”

The woman stamps a heeled foot, crossing her arms at the choice of music. It makes you chuckle a little, the annoyed look on Touya’s face as the two of them argue back and forth for a moment, and even Setsuko laughs as he dives back inside to change the song. A deep bass rattles the windows of the sports car as a vulgar rap song plays, loud and fast, and you nearly spit out your drink when the woman starts swaying her hips in an attempt to be sexy.

Setsuko gasps, leaning back in her seat to laugh before grabbing your shoulder. “They’re shameless!”

“Touya Todoroki? You have no idea.”

Another flash of her ass is granted to the two of you when she crawls into the car, a manicured hand popping back out into the night just to slam the door behind her. You expect her lover to follow suit quickly after, considering the state of his jeans and the eagerness that brought him here in the first place, but he raises his head over the car to stare straight ahead. The exact expression on his face is a little fuzzy, since Setsuko’s car is across the lot from him, but your roommate chokes on her sweets.

“Oh my god,” Her voice is thickly coated in melted chocolate. “He’s looking at us.”

It’s then that you finally put the car in drive, rolling your eyes as you steady the drink in between your legs. “Whatever.”

A flash of something appears on his face, but he’s still too blurry to see—especially since Setsuko’s car is in motion now and, the closer you get to his, the more your window shakes from the music. As you drive past him, you keep your eyes straight ahead and the sound is muffled as he climbs in and slams his door closed.

“Oh my god,” Setsuko says again, leaning forward a little in the seat so she can look in the side mirror of her car.

When you glance up at the rearview one, the black car is jostling—without shame—in the parking lot of the J Store.

—

Just as you start to balance the drink tray in one hand so you can open the door with your other, Shouto pops out from his office—almost a little too urgently.

“Good morning,” He says simply, a smile gracing his handsome face while offering to help you. As you greet him in return, he takes the latte with his name on it, and also Natsuo's. You start to adjust the remaining caffeinated drinks in your hand and Shouto takes a step closer, smiling casually when you halt once more. “How is everything going with you?”

In pause, you search his eyes, curious. Shouto is plenty nice—you would even consider the two of you friends—but it’s unusual for him to strike up a conversation about the personal details of your life this early, especially since he is minutes away from a business meeting.

“Uh,” There’s an awkward silence as you ponder, as if his question has made you forget the current state of your affairs. “Good, I think.”

Shouto cocks his head slightly, taking a noisy sip from his drink. “You aren’t sure?”

The question—and his nonchalance—makes you frown, and you finally turn your shoulders to pass him in the hall. “Hey, let’s have lunch, okay? I’ve got to —”

A loud, clearly taunting laugh sounds from behind the large glass doors of Enji’s office, and then there is a ruffle of upholstery, like a chair has been knocked over. The yelling reaches you then and you cringe at the familiar voices, though the frosted panes give you no insight as to what’s happening inside. When you cast a glance at him, there is an awkward smile on Shouto’s face, smushed around the cup still at his lips.

“Yeah,” is all he says.

The watch on your wrist reads 7:57, but you’d sooner dump all the coffee on the floor and quit your job before walking in on another argument between Touya and Enji, so you just lean against the doorframe to Shouto’s office—which is right outside his father’s. The youngest Todoroki settles back into his desk chair, fidgeting with a pen in front of him as he comments on how good his drink is, even thanking you for getting his order right (though you always do).

Natsuo arrives a handful of minutes later, dressed just as sharply as Shouto, though he seems less hurried and less worried, choosing to slouch down into a chair in the office after thanking you for the coffee. The meeting time starts, comes and goes, as the yelling and laughing reaches a climax, followed by the sound of glass breaking, and then complete silence.

In an attempt to hear something, anything that means your employers haven’t killed each other, you crane your neck and stop breathing, chewing on the inside of your lips.

Nothing.

“Should someone go in?” You ask, flexing one of your hands against your thigh at the ugliness of the entire situation. It’s always so awkward and a little sad—to be caught up in the Todoroki Family Drama ™.

“Nope.”

They say it together; Shouto, staring directly ahead at his computer and Natsuo, holding the still-warm coffee against his temple as if nursing a headache. Another day at the office, you think wryly, and you imagine Shouto coming into his apartment as Momo comes out from their kitchen.

“Honey, I’m home!” He sings in your imagination, “Why yes, father and brother did have a fist fight on the seventeenth floor again today, how did you know?"

Though it was meant to be humorous, it doesn’t make you laugh; the vision sinks in your stomach as you glance between Shouto and Natsuo, at the exasperation written clearly across their furrowed brows. It sinks even lower when the door to Enji’s office flies open, the black of Touya’s dyed hair a whir as he stomps past you, and you barely catch the sight of the sunglasses on his face before he kicks open the door to the stairwell. The guilt makes you sweat, the bitchy thought you’d had about them fist fighting—if Touya was covering his eyes, maybe they really had been.

Shouto springs to his feet and tries to appear unbothered, but Natsuo is a little slower. As he passes you in the doorway, he grants you a comforting pat on the shoulder, giving you a here-we-go kind of look that asks you to pray for the two of them. You hope the smile you wear tells him you will.

“I’ll give this to the ol’ man.” Natsuo takes the cup with Enji’s name on it from your hands, leaving you with only one more to deliver. “Probably should just come back after we’re finished in here.”

In an attempt to redeem yourself—to yourself—with a joke, you salute Natuso half-heartedly. “You got it, boss.”

He grins, nodding down the hallway after Touya. “You might actually have to call Sho that eventually, if he gets his way.”

Another bitchy comment comes to mind, but you swallow it (”rather Shouto than him”) and just smile as the glass doors close in front of you. Alone in the hallway, you finally heave a big sigh, rolling the remaining cup between your hands.

For as long as you’d worked at Endeavor’s agency, you’d known Dabi was set to take it over—in the near future, too; even when you’d started three years ago, people were always saying, “Enji will step down as soon as Touya’s ready” and “Dabi is projected to hit the first spot next month” and “need to start rebranding, before Endeavor retires” but things hadn’t changed. At all. Touya always came close to being the number one hero, but something always held him back just enough for Deku to claim it, or Dynamight, or even Shouto. It was all on purpose—that much you knew, especially after Natsuo revealed to you that all Enji was waiting for was for Touya to “man up”, to claim that number one rank.

Why exactly he was goofing around and avoiding the inevitable, you still hadn’t figured out. It seemed like his egotistical ass enjoyed the hype and the attention, you just as easily assumed Touya would be thrilled at having his own agency, one he took over from his father, no less.

Shouto spoke with you about it carefully, never revealing too much, only that Touya had wanted to surpass Endeavor at one point in time, but—for reasons Shouto didn’t dwell on—he had come to change his mind. He was every bit of a Todoroki, handsome and charming in his own way, but those seemed to be the things he tried so hard to change about himself. It was if as he refused to have hair that resembled any color in his family, dying it black as soon as it began to grow out, and his body—or what you could see of it—was covered in tattoos (of skulls, flames, animals, phrases you didn’t recognize, a heart with arrows in it, three crossed swords, the death-head moth hugging his neck). There were two studs on one side of his sharp nose, even more in his ears, and you swear you’d caught the sight of two on his tongue once in the past.

Every conversation you’d ever entertained with him had been laced with tense, mysterious undertones; sometimes he would give you a sly grin and say something so inappropriate, it left your face red and turned you on your heels in a hurried attempt to get away from him. Sometimes he completely dismissed you or refused to look in your direction, would ignore any question you asked him until you finally gave up and left. It was always touch and go with Touya and you couldn’t imagine him taking over Enji’s position and becoming your direct boss, much less the new Symbol.

(Despite how hard the oldest Todoroki tried to distance himself from his bloodline, you’d heard on more than one occasion—from the Public Relations department, that couldn’t stand him—just how good he was at this hero thing. Even though he was a nightmare in the media, he had quite a large following and seemed to be popular with the younger demographic. In certain reports, his assists and captures were nearly as twice as many as Endeavor had, even when Enji had been Touya’s age (which had been his “prime”), and he had never turned down a patrol—even if it was in the middle of the night, because another hero had an emergency or had been injured.)

Shouto’s office is right outside Enji’s, which might lead some to believe he was in line to take over the agency, but the truth was that Touya’s office was on his own floor, one directly below his father’s—because he would simply take over the top office with his promotion. In a previous attempt to piss off his father, Touya had covered the walls of his professional space with lewd pictures from porn magazines until Enji had nearly burned it down in a fit of rage, and now all his walls were stark white and bare, a simple (and somehow more blatant) refusal of his future.

Even before you pull the doors open, you can see him out on his balcony, halfway leaning over the edge, cigarette smoke swirling above his head. There is soft music playing from his desktop, something different than what had blared from his car only a few nights ago, but it’s been turned down so low that you can’t quite make out the words. Something about the tune seems familiar. When you rap a finger on the sliding door, Touya peeks back over his shoulder and the groan sounds through the glass.

“What do you want?”

Trying to keep a decent amount of space between the two of you, you hold out the still-warm cup after stepping outside. “I brought you coffee.”

Just like you do every morning; he only asked to be a jackass.

“Don’t want it.”

It’s something not near as sweet as you’d like it to be, and you bring it back to your side with a huff. “It’s only going to go to waste if you don’t take it.”

“Oh my—fine.” The sunglasses are still covering his eyes, hiding them from you when he turns just a little to hold out his hand. Touya all but yanks the cup from you.

You have half a mind to ask him if he’s okay—just in case he has been hit—but instead lean against the giant glass windows of his office, waiting; for the right words to find you, for him to tell you to fuck off.

Despite this, it surprises you when he speaks, after taking a quiet sip. “What’re you doing tomorrow?”

The question makes you shake your head in bewilderment and—embarrassingly—the explanation your mind first conjures up is that this is a proposition, that he’s asking you out or something. “What?”

“Tomorrow, you got any plans?” Frustration is evident in his voice and he enunciates his words with a shake of his cigarette, even though he’s still looking at the skyline.

Everything is getting warm—your cheeks, your ears, even your neck. “I—uh—I mean, a few, I guess? Are you—”

“What about the day after that?”

You shake your head again. There is no way Touya Todoroki is being this insistent about spending time with you, outside of what he is forced to. When you don’t answer right away, he continues.

“What about the day after that? Next week, even. In fact, what are you doing three years from now, on the first Tuesday of December?” The cigarette flicks from his fingers and is carried away by the breeze as he turns to you, pulling the sunglasses from his face, finally. There isn’t a scratch on him. “How many kids you gonna push out? Where you gonna live? What sorry sack of shit is gonna tie you down?”

“What’re you —” Of course he’s not asking you out. The harshness of his words only reddens your shame, twists it into hot irritation as you chide yourself internally. Not that you would even want to go out with the asshole, anyway. “I don’t know, Touya, what is this —”

“There it is!” He’d been in the middle of drinking his coffee, and he chokes just a bit with the eagerness of his response. “You don’t know! Must be real fucking nice.”

It’s some game he’s playing with you, all the questions. The implication of his words start to dawn on you: that whatever he’s doing on the first Tuesday of December, three years from now, has already been decided for him. It takes you back to the conversation you’d had with Shouto about Touya, about his change in aspirations (“I don’t know exactly. One day he just, hmm, seemed to get tired of it. They fight a lot, he and my father; I’m sure it has to do with that.”).

It’s no secret the PR team hates his guts, with how often he acts out in public; always giving inappropriate answers in interviews, starting drama on his social media, having too many rumored girlfriends.

Technically, he is your boss, so you shouldn’t take the tone with him that you do, shouldn’t even speak to him like this: “Is that what’s got you so mad? That being a great big hero means you can’t buy condoms at midnight anymore?”

The coffee you’d bought him hits the ground, the lid busting off and the caffeine staining the white concrete of his balcony as he sneers, too menacingly for a hero. “Fuck you.”

“Wow.” Your voice comes out somewhere between a scoff and a gasp, mouth open as you stare at him in shock. “If you ever manage to make it up there,” a finger points at the balcony above his, “do me a favor and hire a new assistant.”

The smile he gives you is the same one he’d worn in the J Store, one that is a hot contrast between the anger in his eyes and the laugh in his throat. “Way ahead of you, babe!”

It takes all your might to close your mouth, to try and swallow the scream of frustration that threatens to rip from you as you twist on your heels. The sound of his cackle overrides the slam of his door, breaks through the soft music filtering through his bare office.

—

Every time Touya speaks, you have to close your eyes so that you don’t roll them.

It’s becoming a problem, how much the simple sight of him irritates you; all you can think about is the flutter of your heartbeat and the sweat on your brow when he spoke to you on the balcony, when you thought he was —

Whatever.

So embarrassing. Every night, you prayed those sunglasses of his had hid the blush of your skin from him. Considering he hadn’t so much as looked at you since then, you gleefully assumed they had and, even as he holds out his hand for a copy of Shouto’s latest patrol, his eyes don’t leave the grains of wood on the conference room table.

Enji stops speaking mid-sentence when you hand him a folder, thanking you quietly, and you feel a rush of satisfaction when a huff of air leaves Touya’s nose. His blazer is thrown over the chair behind him, the sleeves of his starched shirt ruffled up near his elbows so that his tattooed arms—and hands—are on full display. There is a small crack in the table, one he keeps picking at, as Natsuo leans closer to him and whispers something. Another huff of air rushes out of him, though this one is clearly more affectionate, and two of the sidekicks in the room watch them closely.

Natsuo isn’t even a hero, though Enji has other uses for him at the agency, and—from what Shouto told you—it’s not exactly easy to get out of the family business. Fuyumi is the only one that stood her ground, even threatened her relationship with her father so that she could have a future of her choosing, and apparently Enji and his daughter are happier for it.

You wonder why Touya doesn’t try the same approach.

The “fuck you”, the attitude, all the questions: they keep coming back to you. It makes sense, you suppose, why Touya acts out like he does, why he doesn’t want anyone controlling the life he lives, but you wonder exactly what the incident was that made him so adamantly oppose a lifestyle he once wanted. Surely he must have known, after following in his father’s footsteps for more than half of his life, and is not having a different girl in his bed every other night so awful, that he would want to give up the hero dream?

It doesn’t really make any sense to you, and Touya isn’t exactly going to explain it all.

Shouto enlightens you a little bit, later that day, as you sit across from him in a booth at his favorite takeout place. “Touya doesn’t hate you.”

You wait until he’s finished slurping his noodles to respond. “Yes, Shouto, he absolutely does.”

Those different colored brows of his scrunch up, just a little, and he shakes his head again. “No, he just gets jealous easily.”

The comment you made to Setsuko in the parking lot of the J Store, “he’s just jealous that his dad likes me more than him”, comes to mind and makes the food sitting in your stomach sour. Will you ever not eat the careless words you make about these damn Todoroki’s, Touya specifically? Despite his attitude from the balcony, the coffee stain spreading on the ground, you feel a little bad.

“Why would he be jealous of me?”

Shouto seems to realize he’s revealing a lot and tenses up, glances at you through his lashes. “Maybe you should talk about this with him.”

The laugh you let out is more bitter than you intend, but you swallow your food and remind him what Touya said to you. “I don’t think he’ll ever speak to me again, unless he’s forced to, and even that will probably be a huge struggle.”

The booth creaks as he sits back in it, pushing his near empty bowl a little further from him. Shouto taps his fingers along the table idly, looking around at the artwork in the restaurant like it will advise him on how much to say. Finally, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Touya told Natsuo that they used to get along great, back when it was just the two of them, he and dad. I think he’s always felt a little like—like he was replaceable.”

An image of tiny Touya comes to mind, in the too-large arms of his father. You know they had been young, Rei and Enji, when they started having kids, even younger than Touya was now, and the idea that they had been close once tugs on your heartstrings. It makes you think of them these days—all blind fury and haughty laughter—if it hurts them both, the way things have turned out. It must, if what Shouto is telling you is true.

Still doesn’t explain why Touya can’t stand you.

Shouto shrugs and takes another slurp of his soba, repeats himself after he swallows. “Touya gets jealous easily, and dad always has nice things to say about you.”

Enji Todoroki’s little princess!

Any praise given to you by your boss is hardly deserved; you weren’t even the real assistant to Endeavor, more like the assistant to his assistant. All the menial tasks she didn’t have time to do—getting coffee, making copies, typing up miscellaneous reports, directing phone calls—were the hardest part of your day, and you would hardly call those things “hard”. If you excelled at your job, it was only because it would be impossible not to. You hardly considered yourself “Enji’s princess”.

Something else Touya said comes to mind. “Shouto, do you feel like your life has been planned out for you?”

He only shrugs, which surprises you; you had been expecting an adamant denial.

With a shake of your head, you splutter, “But, you and Momo, the two of you are —”

“Momo’s great and I think we’re a good match, but,” Shouto shrugs again and finally finishes what is left in his bowl, “I would be lying if I said we weren’t together because of our families. My parent’s marriage was arranged, too.”

The idea of an arranged marriage makes you cringe. It makes you wonder what sorry sack of shit out there Touya was avoiding, which girl has been decided for him based on her family, on their wealth and status in society. Fuyumi was married, that much you knew, but you had no clue what their name was, what they did or where they came from, which is probably the entire point, which is probably why she was so insistent about getting to make her own choices. Good for her, you think; if the roles were reversed and you were the daughter of a number one hero, you’d like to believe you would have the strength to walk away from it all, if it meant you could be who you wanted.

It makes you wonder if the now-cold relationship Touya once had with Enji is what keeps him stuck in his position; hating every minute of it, unable to fully turn his back.

“Would you walk away from it all though? Like your sister?”

Shouto actually makes a pout of annoyance, which is funny to see on his usually stoic face. “Dad has always been soft on Fuyumi, she gets away with everything.” He lightens a bit when you laugh. “No, I don’t think I would leave it all, even if I hated it. I would —” It’s quiet as he licks the corner of his lips, looking again at the artwork as he thinks, “— probably still do it, just in my own way.”

You think of the moth inked into Touya’s throat, of the red lipstick that had been smeared on it, you think of the sunglasses he was wearing and how bitter he had sounded, asking you those questions—and you decide. When the waitress comes, you nearly punch Shouto for trying to pay for your meal, and you order a serving to-go.

—

Touya is tucking his white shirt into his pants when he yanks open the door to your little office, smelling like his cedar and patchouli body wash. One hand pushes damp hair out of his face—you note that it looks a little lighter today, almost gray—and the other is gripping the takeout box in his hand.

“What the fuck is this?”

Just for show, you take the time to pull the receipt out of your purse, pout your lips as you read over it. “Zaru soba with shrimp tempura.” When he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, you flip over the piece of paper, as if it will hold whatever else he’s waiting for you to say.

“If you’re trying to poison me, you probably shouldn’t do it at my job, stupid.” Touya grips the box so hard, it starts leaking onto your carpet.

“All I did was buy you lunch,” This time you can’t help it—you have to roll your eyes. “If I knew it was gonna be this much of a pain, I never would have —”

“Then why did you? I don’t eat this shit.” Touya finally steps into your office enough that the door closes fully and he tosses the box onto your desk so he can adjust his pants. From how fresh he smells, you assume he’s just had a post-patrol shower.

“Why not?” You frown at the food and open it, inspecting it carefully. “Shouto said you might like the tem— ”

“Yeah, well I ain’t Shouto, and I’m not falling for whatever crap you’re pulling here.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turns and starts to place his foot against your door. You wonder what he has against using his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Even before you can say it, you feel yourself smiling ruefully, readjusting your eyes back to your computer. “I didn’t realize soba wasn’t on your little meal plan.”

Touya whips his head around so fast, you hear his neck crack. He stares at you for a tense moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Refusing to look at him, you shrug. The expression on your face makes him audibly growl. “Nothing, but you probably shouldn’t deviate from whatever is usually on the menu for lunch. Should stick to eating whatever has been planned out for you.”

For a moment, you think the corner of your office flashes blue and when you finally spare him a glance, the end of his sleeves are a little black. The grin on his face is that wild and crazy one, the one that makes him look too sinister, and his chilly laugh almost makes you shudder. “Are you fucking mocking me?”

“Not mocking,” You say genuinely, hoping he can tell by the way you turn to give him your full attention, by the sudden softness in your voice. “Just offering.”

It clearly unnerves him and the look in his eye simmers down into one of suspicion. “And why would I believe that?”

It's all gone with another hard roll of your eyes, which makes him sneer again. “You don’t have to believe anything, because it’s already right here.” The box is a little soggy when you pick it up and wave it at him. It’s a good thing you chose cold soba; it’s been at least an hour since you and Shouto returned from lunch. “If you don’t want it, don’t take it. I just thought I’d offer you something off schedule.”

Touya looks between you and the box for a long time, long enough that you want to ask him if he actually thinks you would try and poison him. He takes it when you hold it out to him, eventually opening it to look at the contents, and the hardness on his face finally changes—doesn’t quite soften, but shifts into something else. He picks a long noodle from the box and slurps it into his mouth, keeping his eyes on you as it dangles from his lips. Nothing is said, no ‘thank you’ is offered, before he leans back against the door, pushes it open, then disappears down the hall.

And that’s how it starts.

—

Two days later, Touya is standing in front of Enji’s office, holding out a coffee cup when you approach him. The sunglasses are back on his face, lips pressed into an unreadable line and, after you dole out the caffeine, he slips one with your name on it into your hands. Natsuo and Shouto notice and glance between the two of you, looking just as wide-eyed, but the oldest Todoroki doesn’t say anything before slipping into his father’s office.

The coffee is exactly right, just as you always order it.

When you go for milk tea at lunch, you order an extra—taro, light sugar—and place it on his desk silently, smiling at the way he eyes it. It’s bright purple, a stark contrast to the darkness of his hair and blazer, but he makes a satisfactory face after sipping it. Before you head home that day, you spot the cup entirely empty in the break room trash can.

One day, you buy him a latte made much sweeter than he usually drinks it—but he does, even if he makes a face every time he brings it down from his lips. A CD winds up on your desk, from a band you’ve never heard of, and you like it enough to add the album to your phone playlist. Just as a joke, you find a hoop earring with a little silver flower in the middle, but you spot it on him days later. Touya puts a box with your name on it in Shouto’s office; it’s a tea mug, decorated with cats and balls of yarn. You find a pale tie the color of the sky, which is much lighter than his eyes, though it brings them out considerably when he dons it after his patrol.

Other things keep happening like this, for a few weeks: a few lunch options you would never usually try, sweet drinks he always finishes, the strawberry soda you’d bought during the snack run, a succulent from the market, a new pack of brightly colored gel pens, a humorous book about six teens trying to escape Hell, and lastly —

Your office is sandwiched in the corner of the seventeenth floor, far across across the hall from Enji’s, and it’s very rare that anyone just happens to be strolling by. When you step out of the elevator and see Touya coming from that direction, still in his hero outfit, smelling crisp and earthy, like burning paper, it’s obvious what he’s doing, though he still says nothing to you.

The smirk he sends you makes your face hot, the way his lips turn up on one half of his face, and he doesn’t even wait until he’s out of sight to start unzipping his jacket. Just as you catch sight of the tattoos on his chest, you turn your face to the floor, biting back a smile when you hear him laugh, and you don’t look up again until you pull open the door to your office.

Blue hyacinths are taking up nearly all the space on your desk.

—

Shouto is holding out his phone, asking your opinion on the ring he wants to buy Momo, when the elevator opens.

It's still early in the day, but Touya isn’t wearing a tie, doesn't even have one loose around his neck, and the black shirt on his frame is only buttoned up to the middle of his chest. The sight of him, casually scrolling through his own phone as he leans against the railing, stuns both you and his brother, though Shouto's face doesn't exactly turn the same shade of red as yours.

In between all the gifts and sidelong glances, you and Touya haven't spoken any more words than necessary to each other.

Even when he finally looks up—eyes darting back and forth between the pair of you—he still doesn't say anything, just steps to the side to make room in the elevator. It's on the ground floor, in the lobby, and you aren't sure where Touya came from and why he's not getting off, where he's even going, but he just pockets his phone and smiles casually.

Shouto is every bit of a gentleman and holds out a hand to let you step in first—and you do, as far away from Touya as you can—but the minute he goes to take his own step, his older brother plants a hand into his face, shoves, says,

"Take the stairs, loser."

and punches the glass button that forces the doors closed. The last you see of Shouto is the shock on his face, which (probably) mirrors your own.

Maybe it's because you're a little too used to bickering with him, but some irrational part of you expects him to whirl on you, encroach in your space and tear off into how irritating you are, but the look on his face—as he watches the red floor numbers climb—is relaxed.

1

2

Touya can't keep silent for long. "I don't know shit about flowers, honestly." It's frustrating, how handsome his resting face is; half-lidded, nearly bored eyes, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I had to ask a friend of mine about them."

The blue hyacinths are bright and blooming, taking up all the free space under every windowsill in your apartment—all thanks to Setsuko. However she's doing it, whatever she's doing to them, it’s all working to keep them alive and at the forefront of your memory (his expression, that smirk, the sight of his chiseled, inked chest).

They’re in the kitchen, pretty and soft, leaning towards you, when you drink coffee in the morning; the ones that watch you as you change clothes in your bedroom are darker, almost purple, a noticeable difference than the light of Touya’s eyes; lingering in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, turning the cramped space floral, spring-like.

When he turns his head to look at you fully, the flower hoop jingles against his other earrings.

"Oh," you say, "one of those friends you meet at midnight? The ones that call you Dabi?"

There's a grin on his face, even as he groans and leans his head back against the cool steel. Your eyes are drawn to the edges of his sharp jawline, the bob of his adam's apple. "Oh, come on, are you ever gonna let me live that down?"

With a pout, you purposely drag your eyes all over him, only speaking after he lifts his head. "No, I don't think so. At least not yet." It's silent for a moment, so you finally decide to indulge him. "They were very nice, I liked them."

3

4

"You looked cute that night, you know? In your sweatpants, with your little red nose."

Even with your face burning, you roll your eyes at him. "Excuse me, I was dying, I was so sick."

It makes him laugh, a pleasant sound—a little high pitched, softer than his usual raspy tone. "I noticed, you were miserable all day at this fucking place." His eyes jump to each corner of the elevator, to the numbers, back to you. "Don't even know why you came in."

All of the meeting notes had to be copied beforehand and given to someone else, so they could get them to Enji and the rest; wearing a mask, locked up in your office, you'd nearly coughed your lungs out anytime you opened your mouth. The weight of all the mucus in your nose made your head heavy, and breathing impossible. Thinking about it next to him, you try to remember seeing him outside your office, even in passing—but you can’t.

Curiously, you peer at him. "I'm surprised you did notice."

Touya shrugs and looks down at his open shirt, his shoes, averts his eyes like he can tell what you're thinking. "I notice more than you think."

"Like my coffee order, for example." When you say it, you expect him to look at least a little embarrassed, but he only grins as if he's proud of himself. "That was a surprise, considering you can't stand me."

"Me?" One of his dark, dyed eyebrows arches up, "No, babe, that's all you. You're the one with the attitude problem."

The casual way he's always called you these things—babe, sweetcheeks, doll—you try not to let it fluster you. He probably calls a ton of women these names, just like they call him Dabi, and it'd be silly to let your stomach turn over it. "Touya," there is a flat, unamused look on your face as you step away from the railing in the elevator, crossing your arms at him. "Some days I walk into your office and you don't even speak to me, no matter how hard I try."

"Oh, well," he shrugs, sighs, and the playful look on his handsome face drops. It's replaced by something else, something almost yearning. "That ain't 'cause of you."

His eyes are so blue, so light and full, you realize then why he wears sunglasses inside; Enji can be emotional—about his family, about his job, about unknown things in his past—and you've never seen him cry or anything, but he's definitely turned away when you walked in, or dismissed you with a huff. Even in his late 40s, it's clear there are things that still upset him too much, much more than one would expect of a Pro this far into his career.

The conflict, the annoyance, the guilt—it's all in Touya's eyes and it's something you aren't expecting, not from a man that acts the way he does, that looks the way he does.

Nothing else is said after that, he just stares ahead like he's thinking of something outside of the four walls of the elevator.

Maybe to offer some kind of comfort, maybe because you feel bad, maybe because things have changed—quietly—between the two of you; you don't know why you say it, but you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His eyes are so blue, it's almost like they're glowing, when he looks back at you. One side of his cheek pulls up just a bit, a small crease between his brows like no one's ever said that to him. "Yeah, thanks."

It startles both of you when the elevator dings and halts, when the doors slide back to show the person on the other side.

5

Shouto is panting, shirt untucked from his pants, and his tie is gone. As soon as the doors open and he sees the two of you standing there, he relaxes a little, puts his hands on his knees to slump down.

"I—was in—the middle of something." The glare he sends his brother is all Touya, all deep and dark and too menacing for his kind face.

"What the fuck?" Touya looks both horrified and irritated, like he can't believe Shouto ran up 5 flights of stairs just to interrupt the two of you. "Get lost, five weenies." He kicks the 'close doors' button so hard, you worry he's shattered the glass around it.

But Shouto isn't so easily deterred this time and he steps closer, half into the elevator just to curl his hands into fists. The doors bounce off him. "I hate—when you shove me—like that!"

"Shouto," Touya’s eyes go a little wide and his own hands clench, just before he gives you—curling into the corner, trying not to laugh at them—a quick glance. "I will tear you a new one if you don't fuck off."

"You can't kick me—out of my own elevator!"

Touya grumbles a string of curse words that don't really make any sense, only sound really ugly, before grabbing his brother by the front of his ruffled shirt and forcing him out into the hall.

The doors stay open for a moment, long enough for you to hear bits and pieces of their sibling squabble.

"—not your elevator, it's mine —"

"—aren't number one yet, asshole! This building doesn't belong to —"

"Oh, you think I can't get there? I'll fuck you up, Shouto —"

"—wanna talk to her, just say so, but I was showing her Momo's ring —"

The elevator dings and the doors start to close (you're about to let them, just to see if they both go charging up the stairs, side by side, elbowing each other along the way), but a tattooed hand slaps around the corner before they get very far.

"—gonna hear you if you don't pipe down, you little fucking brat—"

"—tell Fuyumi again and she'll be pissed! You know how she gets when you —"

"—think I care? Shoulda’ microwaved your ass when I had the —"

There's another handful of cursed insults, a hissed "I hate you!", and the sound of hands slapping skin, before the two of them drag themselves back into the elevator, standing as far as they can from one another.

"As I was saying," Shouto breathes from his place beside you, pulling his phone from the pocket of his slacks. It opens back up to the photo he had been showing you, but he is mostly glaring at Touya—who is standing next to the buttons, who has his eyes closed and his head back in annoyance.

6

7

8

“It’s nice,” A smile comes to your face when Shouto shifts his eyes back to you, looking between his phone and your eyes, and he smiles in return. “I don’t know much about jewelry, but it’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I—”

“Shouto has shit taste, by the way.” Touya grumbles, “Yaomomo’s gonna be offended if you show up with that thing.”

Before another fight can break out—before you get trapped between the two of them in the elevator and all the flame that is already heating their skin—you speak for Shouto. “Oh? And what are you going to be proposing with, then?” The question makes him snort.

“Touya’s not getting married and that’s why mom is really mad at him.”

It seems your efforts are wasted; those gleaming blue eyes darken, as they dance between you and his younger brother, as if he’s trying to hold back the urge to wail on him in front of you, as if he’s trying to keep his cool.

That effort is wasted, too.

“Mom is not mad at me, numb-nuts.” The sneer on his face makes you smile—the idea that Touya is in trouble with his mother, the idea that it bothers him.

“Yes, she is. She told Fuyumi.”

“She did not.”

“She wants grandchildren, that’s what she told her.”

Touya makes an audible noise of disgust and rears his head back, as if Shouto has spit on him. “Then get to it, five weenies, ‘cause that ain’t my thing.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Okay,” With a quiet laugh, you step in between the two of them, holding out your hands so they keep their distance.

9

10

“Let’s all just,” The breath you take is purposely loud, slow and steady, though the smile can’t be wiped from your face. Seeing them bicker like this isn’t entirely unusual, but it’s never been this in your face before, and it makes you wonder how they are at home, how they’ve always been. Touya as a grumpy sixteen year old with acne, tattoo-less; Shouto as a ten year old, following around him, copying everything he does. Finally, you settle your eyes on Touya, who raises his eyebrows in response, as if he’d forgotten you were even there. “So, no sack of shit to tie you down?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Shouto shake his head in surprise, and Touya gets that little sneer again.

“Fuck no.”

When you let out a little hum, it drops from his face and he relaxes all at once, under your soft gaze. You rest back against the railing next to Shouto, who is looking between the two of you in disgusted confusion. All this comes out of nowhere, surprising even you, as you cross your arms behind your back, holding onto the bar to steady yourself under that neon stare.

“No friends of the midnight variety waiting on a ring?” You glance at Shouto when he openly gapes at you. “Just curious.”

11

12

That smirk is back on Touya’s face, making him look all kinds of handsome and dangerous. “Not a single one.”

13

“Hm, good to know.”

14

Shouto can’t take it any longer and his phone clicks quietly as he locks it, shoving it back into his pocket. With such a calm and stoic demeanor, it amuses you to see him so distressed. “You can’t be serious. Touya is —”

“Shouto,” The smile is still on Touya’s face, those his eyes are widening with terrifying rage, “Shut—the fuck—up.”

“— an asshole! He still lives at home, and he never washes his socks!”

The sincere astonishment in Shouto’s tone almost makes you laugh, so hard that your eyes close, but Touya is leaping across the small space of the elevator and you have to step forward to stop him; the last thing you want is the fire alarm going off, alerting everyone in the building that you’re caught in the (literal) cross-fire of the 3rd and 5th hero in all of Japan.

“Alright, enough,” Even as you say it, Touya doesn’t spare you a glance, instead keeping his glare fixed on Shouto—who is completely unphased. To get his attention, you tap his exposed chest twice, smiling a little when he finally peeks down. “It’s okay, sometimes I don’t wash my socks either.”

Touya scoffs, extinguished for the moment as he slumps back into the corner, crossing his arms tightly against himself. “I wash my fucking socks.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Shouto!” You cry, whirling on him with incredulous amusement. “You aren’t making things any better!”

“Exactly,” Touya spits, though he refuses to look at either of you. “He’s a goddamn pest and he never knows when to shut his trap.”

“The both of you are,” Tonight, before you sleep, you’ll say a silent prayer for Rei Todoroki, “absolute children.”

“Me?”

Much to your entertainment—and to their horror—it echoes out of them at the same time.

15

16

Touya is pushing the ‘16’ button repeatedly, jamming his thumb into it every time the light behind it dies, and he doesn’t waste a moment before shoving himself sideways through the doors as soon as they begin to open. Before he even rounds the corner, he’s pulling a cigarette carton from his back pocket, sparing you one quick glance as he stomps away.

Very quietly, when no one else moves to join you and Shouto in the elevator, you press the button for the seventeenth floor, and look at your feet as the doors close.

17

Beside you, the pest himself says, “He has a giant crush on you.”

—

Setsuko doesn’t realize her mouth is open or that she’s drooling just a bit on your lap.

One of her favorite reality shows is on TV—a house full of randoms, six with quirks, six without, all competing to win a grand prize for participating in some challenges—and the two of you have been watching it mindlessly all day. The season finale is tonight, so the network has been playing the show from the start of the season, and you haven’t even changed out of your pajamas. For the last three episodes, the two of you have been complaining about being hungry but neither of you have made an effort to get up.

“I chose last time.”

“No, I cooked last time, so technically I chose.”

“I’m the one that went grocery shopping, so technically —”

“We went shopping together. And I paid.”

There aren’t any more arguments in your throat, so you just purse your lips and pick up your phone from where it’s resting on the arm of the couch. There is a ramen stall down the street for your apartment, but Setsuko can be a little picky, and you aren’t sure if you want to subject a delivery driver to that nonsense.

Before you can start your order, your phone vibrates.

T. Todorokiu busy?

For some reason, you immediately hug your phone to your chest, as if Setsuko isn’t completely zoned out in your lap. As if the message is explicit in some way. You look at the side of her face, the drool on your shorts, the four empty cups on the coffee table.

Yes

“Who is that?” Setsuko grunts half-heartedly.

“Uh—just emails from work.”

T. Todoroki bullshit u answered too quick

The phone gets dropped into the crack of the couch, as if he hear the choked sound you make at his message. Setsuko’s eyes peer back at you when it vibrates again and she finally slurps up her spit, sitting right so she can wipe her mouth. After being in the same position for so long, you both take the time to stretch, popping your joints and groaning at the soreness of your limbs. The phone vibrates again.

Setsuko raises her eyebrows. “Sounds important.”

“Hmm, don’t think so.” The smile you send her is as fake as the tans of the contestants on the TV. “Why don’t you order food?”

“No,” Her head flops against the back of the couch and she closes her eyes, as if she’s tired from laying around all day. “I’m going to the bathroom and you better have ordered something when I get back.”

You give her a small salute and then fish the phone out as soon as the bathroom door closes.

T. Todoroki if u dont wanna go just say so lol

T. Todoroki just offering ;)

While your fingers hover over the keyboard, reading the two texts again and again, three dots pop up and then another message comes in.

T. Todoroki u have read receipt on btw

Fuck.

Just offering what?

T. Todoroki lunch, unless ur down for smth else

When Setsuko comes out from the bathroom, your hot face is buried in your hands and she finally orders you to spill it. Only a few weeks ago, you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him, only a few weeks ago, he’d blatantly said "fuck you”, and now every message from him was turning you inside out. The exchanges between you were kept short and quiet, though it wasn’t out of disinterest or unease any longer; it was almost like he was embarrassed, after that day in the elevator. It made him seem less intimidating, less bitter, a little more human somehow, with weaknesses that mirrored yours.

Not only did you hold him in a softer light after Shouto’s comments, about him feeling replaceable (about him having a “giant” crush on you), but his gifts had been thoughtful; you couldn’t play that album without thinking about him, without wondering what about it made him think of you. And you couldn’t deny that seeing him wear little things you bought him made you feel giddy in some way—Natsuo commented on the earring once and Touya called it “cute”, Enji even complimented the tie, which had made you both smile. The sweet drinks had never been his thing, but he finished them all, to appease you. It was like this secret thing the two of you were doing, in front of everybody, without them knowing.

And now he was asking you to lunch.

Sounds good

TO LUNCH ONLY

T. Todoroki damn got me fuckin going for a min

T. Todoroki be there in 10

“I wish I could say I was mad at you, but,” Setsuko stretches again, “you’ve been sitting here with me all day.”

“I know,” The pajama shirt is ripped over your head in a hurry and you frown at your roommate as you grab a clean one from the basket that’s been sitting by the couch for two days. “But, I said I’d watch the finale with you.”

She shrugs and smacks her lips a little. “I’ll record it and we can watch it when you get back.” When you peel off your shorts, she raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna wear those underwear?”

“Setsuko!” The phone vibrates as you slap a hand over your face. “It’s not like that!”

“Sounds like it’s like that.”

“Shit, he’s here already.” You finish jumping into your jeans, slipping the phone into your back pocket as your roommate hurries to the window. While you slip your shoes on, she curses, huffing that she can’t see him from where she’s standing, and you bid her a rushed goodbye.

In the elevator, you wonder if you’re being stupid; is it like that? Was this going to be a one and done? Would you end up as another crease in the leather seats of his sports car?

Touya isn’t trying to hide in the slightest, leaning against the door of said vehicle, dressed more casually than you’ve ever seen him. It’s just a simple black shirt and dark pants, but the sleeves cut off above his elbows, folded stylishly, giving you a view of the tattoos you’ve never seen inked into his biceps. It all makes him look devilishly handsome, especially with that smirk and those sunglasses over his eyes. He peers over them as you approach him, shamelessly looking you up and down, before opening the car door for you.

The shirt you’re wearing must be Setsuko’s, you realize—all too late—because it’s a little tight, hugging just under your boobs in a way that makes you worry about how it will crease when you sit down. Touya, however, doesn't seem to mind.

“Is this, uh —” You gesture to the seats warily as he leans across the center console to look up at you. “Have these been sanitized?”

Touya frowns and inspects the passenger seat like you see something he doesn’t, even turns around to examine the cramped backseat. All at once it dawns on him and he gives you a flat look. “What, you think I let cum get on these seats? Just get in, would’ya.”

With a shrug, you slide in and buckle the seatbelt, smiling lightly at the grin he sends you.

Very quickly, you realize that Touya is an asshole driver. More often than not, he’s cutting someone off or rolling down his window to shout something ugly out of it, he changes lanes without using a blinker and sometimes he drives with his knee, even if his hands are free. The music over the stereo has a lot of drums and heavy guitar, but minimal screaming, so it doesn’t hurt your ears as much as you thought it would, especially after the song that blared out of his car in that parking lot.

It also smells really clean, not even a hint of cigarette smoke, and you tell him.

“I don’t smoke in here.” He rests an elbow near the window, one of his hands rubbing at his lips idly. “I do in Enji’s car, though.”

“I’m sure,” The leather interior is nice and cool against your back. “I like it, even if it is a little flashy.”

“Oh yeah? What do you drive, then?”

“My roommate’s car,” The answer makes you laugh, which makes him smile—a friendly one, not the sinister one. “And it doesn’t have any blue lights underneath.”

He’s in the middle of changing lanes when he throws his head in your direction dramatically. “What? You can’t tell me those aren’t sick.”

“Blue? Really? Don’t you think that’s a little —” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side, but Touya just shrugs, mutters something about creative differences. “You aren’t gonna make me call you Dabi, are you?”

At that, he snorts. “Nah, I don’t do that to pretty girls in shirts too tight.”

It reminds you of what Shouto said and has your face flushing, has you crossing your arms over your chest, but you try to hold your ground against his stupid charm. “So you think I’m pretty now?”

Touya peers at you over his sunglasses and lets his eyes burn into yours before he shifts to look at the car behind him, so he can turn. “Who said I didn’t always think you were cute?”

You don’t have an answer and are worried about your voice shaking, betraying you as butterflies fill your stomach. So you just shrug, silently. There is a little metallic clink as he taps the piercing in his tongue against his teeth absentmindedly and it makes you shiver, in some embarrassing kind of way.

Maybe you should have chosen different underwear.

The sushi bar he pulls into is nice, very light and minimalistic with gray slate countertops and wooden, abstract chairs. It’s pretty, casual, though it’s different from what you had been expecting from a man of Touya’s status; you’re relieved, to have a simple lunch, but you had been envisioning some place that needed a reservation, just so he could show off.

That makes him seem more human, too, like a simple date—a simple girl—is enough to satisfy him.

“So,” Touya leans closer to you, eyes brightening as you realize you’d zoned at. The chair is fixed to the floor, but he seems determined not to let that stop him. “What were you so busy doing?”

Watching trash reality television with my roommate as she drooled on me. “Washing my clothes, actually—my socks, too.”

Touya groans, rolling his eyes away from you. “God, you’re such a brat.”

When you smack his arm lightly, he smiles at you. “Do you talk to all your dates that way or am I just some special exception?”

“Oh,” His eyes widen into that predatory gaze, similar to the one he’d fixed his brother with—though anger isn’t the emotion burning behind them. “This is a date now?”

There are a few hairs at the top of his head that are shining dark red in the afternoon sun and they are the cause for your momentary distraction. With how dark his hair consistently is, you'd never noticed them before and, before you realize it, a hand is coming up to touch them lightly. Touya holds back a laugh at you, biting his lip in a way that is entirely too seductive, and whatever response tries to come out of your mouth is just stammered. His light laugh shuts you up, turning you from him as you adjust the too-tight shirt.

After your food is ordered, as you wait on it, Touya surprises you with casual conversation: how your day has been, if you’re feeling sick at all, if you like the tattoo that is new to your eyes, just above his elbow on the inside of his right arm (it’s a smoking coffin, wrapped in a banner that says ‘Sekoto’; he doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t press him for one). Finally you tell him, about the reality show and your roommate—not the drool—and he makes a face, but eventually comments that he would “fuck that competition up”, that he’ll maybe give it a shot if this hero thing doesn’t work out.

It’s what prompts you to say it, however inappropriate of a comment it is, and Touya stops mid-chew to gawk at you. “I don’t think you’re replaceable. At all.”

Silence.

“I mean, I know he annoys you, but,” You’re floundering, under the slow crease forming between his eyebrows. “I can’t really imagine how Shouto would be if you weren’t there. Probably cold and quiet, unassuming.” It’s impossible to look at him, so you awkwardly stare at the walls, at the plate, at the other patrons. “And—and people like you, they enjoy the kind of hero you are. I think it’s important that you know that, that things would be much different if you weren’t—well, exactly as you are.”

Touya’s mouth falls open and he tries to speak, but chokes around the half-chewed rice sitting on his tongue.

It gives you second-hand embarrassment, makes you keep going into this territory you’ve invaded, this quiet place inside Touya’s chest you weren’t invited to. “Enji too, you know?”

On Endeavor’s desk, there is a small photo of tiny Touya, all white hair and serious face, with a little bandage at the edge of his jaw. There are plenty of photos of all of them—the Todoroki Troop—around his office, but the eldest is the only one with a singular photo, one that Enji stares at, hand under his chin, when you bring him tea late in the afternoon. The sound of glass breaking that day, when Touya stormed past you to the stairs—you hope that frame wasn’t the source of it.

“Sorry,” A hand slaps over your face in shame as you shake your head. “I shouldn’t be—I don’t know why I’m —”

Those light eyes of his are dancing all over the place; to you, to the clock on the wall, to his hands. It’s obvious on his face that he doesn’t know what to say and it reminds you of the look he gave you in the elevator, like no one had ever said something like that to him before. This time, however, it’s much more prominent.

Finally, he groans, reaching his hands up to rub into his closed eyes. A small, self-deprecating laugh huffs out of him. “My dad’s gonna be so mad, it’s gonna be hilarious.”

Despite what he’s saying, you can see the frown pulling on his lips, no matter how much he tries to cover his up. “What? Why?”

“When he finds out I took you to lunch—Sho has probably already told him, that little brat.” Another huff of bitter laughter. He still won’t let you see his face. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we fucked? Then he would really —” When he looks up at you, finally, the insincere smile on his face drops at the look on yours.

All at once, you are grabbing your phone from where you’d set it on the bar, pushing your plate away, and throwing yourself from the chair. Just like before, just like on the balcony, embarrassment has flamed into fury; how could you be this stupid again?

“Oh, fuck, wait —”

A stain on the concrete, the tattoo on his throat, the refusal to be number one, a lewd picture in his office; another ploy, something else Touya could use to inconvenience his dad, that’s all you had been. It pisses you off even more, as hot tears burn your eyes, and you shift your jaw, clenching and unclenching it in defiance. They won’t fall, not for him, not for Dabi.

“Hey!”

The sushi bar is halfway across town, much farther than a quick walk home, back to the apartment, but there is enough shame pitting in your stomach to stop you from calling Setsuko. When your legs start shaking and your feet get sore, then you’ll call her—once you beat back these traitorous tears.

Touya’s hand is hot around your wrist, just as hot as the sushi chef is behind him, shouting how much is owed for the meal. “Wait a second!” It isn’t clear which one of you he’s talking to and panic flashes across his face when you yank your hand from his. “That’s not what I—fuck! Do you know who I am? Of course I’m gonna fucking pay!”

Shouto had been mistaken, fooled, just like you. It finally goes quiet as Touya gives up, as you cross your arms over your twisting stomach, as those tears finally track down your cheeks.

Everything you had said, all the thinking and pondering and all the guilt you had felt for tiny Touya—you had meant it all. However butchered it had come out, you had finally pushed yourself to say what you thought he needed to hear, but it had all been for naught; the only thing Touya needed was a slap in the face.

Which is exactly what you give him, when he grabs you again and forces his mouth against yours.

“Fucking shit,” Despite the way you keep hitting at him, he only dodges his red cheek out of the way, reaching up to wipe at the wetness on your face. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, please.” When you don’t, he grips your arms and shakes you a little, enough that you screw your face up at him. “How do you think I know dad’ll be pissed, huh? Because I told him, three fucking years ago, that I wanted to—to do this.”

Finally he lets go and takes a step back, gesturing lazily to the sushi bar that is now down the street. You’re quiet, still, simmering with tense shoulders while glaring at him.

“And he told me no, like I’m some kind of child.” Touya rants, “Because ‘it’s a bad idea for heroes to get involved with civilians, especially ones they work with’. And that’s bullshit! Mom ain’t out there, fighting crime or something. Oh,” He raises his hands in defense, as if you’re arguing back with him. “But that’s different, since their marriage was arranged, it’s different because you’re —”

Quirkless; Touya cuts himself off, staring at you with wide eyes, seemingly ashamed of what he was going to say.

Touya had wanted to surpass Endeavor at one point in time, but—for reasons Shouto didn’t dwell on—he had come to change his mind. The implication of his words, that you were somehow involved, long before you even knew it, horrifies you. The last thing you could have wanted for someone you were dating would be for them to sacrifice their passions for you; if this is what Touya wanted, then he should chase it, not you. The thought put an insane weight on your shoulders—how could he be so sure you were worth it?

It also makes you incredibly embarrassed; Touya wasn’t—there wasn’t any way he was giving up his future for —

With a heavy sigh, he takes a step forward and holds out a hand, looking wary of your still-clenched fists. “Relax, I’m not, like, in love with you or something. Sheesh. I just—” Touya looks flustered then, like he’s sixteen and tattoo-less. “That was just the final nail in the fucking coffin for me. If I can’t even take a cute girl out to lunch because of this job, then fuck it. Mom wants grandchildren?” He cringes again, “With someone of their choosing, a stranger with a quirk that will complement mine? No, I’m not doin’ that.”

It’s silent for a few moments as you digest his words, analyzing the sincerity shining in his eyes. At least for you, in this moment, it’s good he’s so easy to read, otherwise you might have come to the conclusion he was making shit up just to get in your pants. But he wipes his hands against his thighs and shifts on his feet—him, Touya, Dabi.

“Then what are you doing?”

It makes him laugh, a little less bitter than it had been inside the bar, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I have no clue, I just—ugh, fuck—like you, goddamnit. And I’m trying not to say the wrong thing again.”

His eyes are the color of the hyacinths in your bedroom, a little darker than they usually are, and the soft edges of them extinguish the rest of your anger. The realization that he’s liked you for so long makes you nervous—Shouto had been right, after all—but you’re determined not to give in to his stupid charm. At least not yet.

“Well, you’re off to a good start.”

—

When the doors of the elevator slide open, his eyes are already on you, smirk pulling up the side of his cheek. You are without Shouto this time, free from his disgusted shock, and the hyacinth pinned to Touya’s white button up makes you smile openly.

“Mornin’, sweetcheeks.” One of his hands is in his pocket, the other gripped around a cup with your name on it. In your own is a hot latte, in a similar cup, though Dabi is scrawled in hurried handwriting.

“Good morning,” You say simply, stepping in to stand a few feet from him. It’s quiet, the only sound between the two of you being the metallic clinking against his teeth. Touya doesn’t wait very long; impatient, he plants his heel against the ‘close doors’ button and he’s on you before they finish.

The smile on his face is mirrored on your own lips, as he slips his hand behind your neck, knocking his cup against your own. “You’re such a brat.”

“What?” A pout comes to your mouth and he nips at your bottom lip without hesitation. “You don’t like it?”

Touya’s answer is another sharp jab of his coffee and some of yours sloshes out of the opening, staining the white of your dress.

You gasp. “You’re ruining my clothes!”

“I own the building,” He says casually, stepping closer to force you into the corner of the elevator. “We can leave whenever, I’m sure I have something at my house you could wear.”

“You mean your mom’s house?”

Touya sneers, leaning down to bite at your neck, though you can feel the quiet laugh he lets out against your skin when you squeal.

“Also, it’s not your building, it’s —”

“Listen, missy,” The cup is knocked completely from your hand, lid busting off to seep into the ridges of the steel floor. It makes you chirp out a laugh of surprise and you try to press yourself further into the wall, but Touya is right on you. “You better not be mocking me.”

“Me?” Impishly, you knock the cup out of his hand in return, grinning as he looks down at the stain drenching the legs of his pants. When he looks back up at you, just before you step up to press your lips into his, you whisper, “Never.”

an: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! i post all my work on ao3 and i also have a twitter (つ✧ω✧)つ

picture edit/creds go to u/not_oatmeal on the r/BokuNoHeroAcademia reddit

#touya x y/n #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x you #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #touya todoroki #dabi #13 yo me is screaming at the idea of tattooed touya #with a tattoo on the throat? yes bro #IN YOUR EYES #I LOST MY PLACE #COULD STAY A WHILE #LET'S SLEEP TIL THE SUN BURNS OUT #u left read receipt on btw #this might look a little different than it does on ao3 #i tried to take out all the mentions of red blushing in regards to embarrassment #i think i got them all #๑ willow writes ๑ #๑ multi chap: dabi/touya ๑ #๑ i'm melting in your eyes: dabi ๑ #๑ theme: pro hero touya ๑

[kiridarling]

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂.

SHOUTO TODOROKI | f!reader, magic!au, tavern owner!reader, runaway prince!shouto, mutual masturbation, power struggle, praise, ripping clothes. minors dni! — happy birthday to my one and only cherry @eijishimas! love ya buddy <3.

“Are you alright?”

He’s on you in an instant, eyes anxiously flitting of any evidence that that man could’ve crossed a line. Though you both know he didn’t, and now that you’re standing so close in an emptying tavern is suffocating in the best way.

“I’m…fine,” you blink, still absorbing the fact that the runaway prince Shouto Todoroki is in your pub. Y’know, the one with sticky tiles and broken glass, shredded bar-seats—barbarians have never been the cleanest, and you can only do so much. Either way, he’s here in the flesh—not just on some random wanted poster or a pricey royal family photo—protecting you in this almost empty place. You can do nothing it bow. “Thank you, Prince Shouto.”

“Stand up—no need to thank me,” he waves off with a casual sigh, running a hand through his multicolored locks like it's water. “And Shouto is just fine.”

“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Angel, you already make me feel so good.”

“Heya! Welcome to Cherry’s Château! What can I get’cha?”

He’s hiding behind a black cloak. Black as night and it drags all the way to the floor, absorbing the golden light in your tavern and then some from the moon. From what you can see, he’s pale, and his accent hints he hails from the north, raising the question as to why a polished northerner would be here, slumming it with the common folk.

“Just a blueberry muffin,” he says curtly, eyes trained on the laminated menu. “And a water.”

“One blueberry muffin and a water comin’ right up!” You respond with a bright smile, sealing the deal with pen and paper before you swivel on your heel, outfit fluttering as you turn. You feel molten mismatched eyes branding into your back as you sashay into the next table, but don’t turn to meet them.

“Welcome to Cherry’s Château! Are you ready to order?”

“A beer,” a man much greasier and less refined than the last grunts. Upon drinking in your figure, he reclines as his lips slide into an easy smirk. “And for a pretty lady like you to take the seat to my left.”

The “seat to his left” is guarded by the arm he hangs across it, but his hand lifts to invite you nevertheless. You shift, used to being hit on but never under such an intense stare, eyeing whatever disgusting slop that sits on his wife beater.

“Actually um, I have to work, so,” you cringe, waving the waiter pad in your hand as proof. “You want a beer, rig—“

“Awe c’mon,” he presses, leaning in closer. You take a step back, nose wrinkling under the moldy stench. “Y’wont need a job if y’got me, Sweetheart. I can give ya what you want.”

He leans in closer, fat fingers caressing your cheek. You hide your discomfort in favor of not making a scene, for the sake of your pub and entire life’s work.

“I wouldn’t touch her if I were you.”

The customer freezes and so do you as the hooded stranger’s silky smooth voice rises from behind. The man with his hand on your face barks a laugh at the other stranger’s audacity, and you pray to Merlin that you won’t get bad ratings over this.

“Oh?” The man chuckles, standing from his seat at the bar. He’s clearly much more heavy set in comparison to the other, but the cloak shrouds every inch of his being in black. “And who might you be?”

“A man who can tell when a woman doesn’t want to be touched,” the cloaked man challenges, ripping the meaty hand on your face away by the wrist. Hiding you behind his broad shoulders, he growls, “Give up.”

Your customer scoffs, eyes rolling though the pressure he’s being held at is more than intense. After blubbering for words, he finally comes up with: “Take your hood off, coward.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Gladly.”

A pale hand rises to slide the hood off his head, and the tavern goes silent. The man finally takes his hand back.

“Prince Shouto,” he says with a little quiver in his voice and step. “I didn’t—I mean who would’ve—“

“Leave,” The prince threatens, unimpressed. You’ve never been in the presence of anything so regal and refined, and find yourself sitting in the audience with popcorn in your lap with everyone else in the tavern. “Before I make you.”

The man leaves without another word. Prince Shouto still has a hold on your hand and you swear you feel his palm heat to a worrying temperature before it fades with an exhale, and he turns to you as the evacuee rounds the corner.

“Are you alright?”

He’s on you in an instant, eyes anxiously flitting of any evidence that that man could’ve crossed a line. Though you both know he didn’t, and now that you’re standing so close in an emptying tavern is suffocating in the best way.

“I’m…fine,” you blink, still absorbing the fact that the runaway prince Shouto Todoroki is in your pub. Y’know, the one with sticky tiles and broken glass, shredded bar-seats—barbarians have never been the cleanest, and you can only do so much. Either way, he’s here in the flesh—not just on some random wanted poster or a pricey royal family photo—protecting you in this almost empty place. “Thank you, Prince Shouto.”

“No need to thank me,” he waves off with a casual sigh, running a hand through his multicolored locks like its water. “And Shouto is fine—though I should probably get moving. I have no doubt that the royal guard has been notified and will arrive at any moment.”

You watch him pack his things. A book, his satchel. His wand. The last item is his hood, and as he tosses it atop his head to return to his previous, more mysterious figure, you find yourself reaching out before you can slam your mouth shut.

“Wait.”

Shouto’s stood by the door with one hand on the doorknob. It seems like both of your breaths suspend in some stupid anticipation—him waiting for your next words as your mind illustrates his reaction. You have to force it out, but you manage.

“I’ve um, I live on the floor above if you would like to hide for a bit. Or something.”

You find yourself using turns of phrases you rarely use as if the familiarity would coax him into staying. Shouto picks at his hood before pulling it off, and yet, you still can’t tell if you have him when he looks you in the eyes.

“Please? I could—uh, use the company.”

“Is this what you meant by company?”

“Um,” you gulp, mesmerized in the way Shouto’s sweat-glazed skin glistens under the golden bedroom lighting, “Kind of, but I didn’t think we’d get this fa-aah shit—“

He stuffs you with two fingers after shoving your cotton panties to the side. His tunic has been discarded who knows where but you prefer it that way, so you can watch his bicep flex and roll as he works you open and makes you quiver.

“Good grief, Y/N,” Shouto leans to whisper lowly in your ear, and his words run down your spine to make you shiver like cold water. "The way you begged me to stay—you had me wrapped around your finger in seconds."

You mewl, clenching around him as you dig your nails into the meat of his back for purchase. Shouto chuckles at how sensitive you are and crooks his fingers towards the sky, groaning at the way your body seizes just for him.

"And now you're wrapped around mine."

To prove his point, it's almost as if he pushes in deeper. You gasp in surprise as trailing hot lips on your neck, body melting into his. He reaches for your wrists, pinning them above your head and against the headboard. It rocks.

"Merlin, you're breath-taking," Shouto exhales, nosing just beneath your jawline to nip where he pleases. You feel his lips slide into an evil little grin against your neck before he's fitting his third finger inside and watches you squirm.

“I—I wanna—“ you start, hands jerking to grab for his belt. Shouto tuts, his grip on your wrists ever-tightening, and you pout at the fact that you haven’t been able to touch him yet. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

“Oh Sweetheart, you already do.” The Prince guides your knees towards your ears for a better angle and uses himself as the parting figure in between, cooing at the way your eyes roll from his touch. Finally, he moves your hands to press them against his hard cock in his boxers, grinning against your neck as you gasp at how hard he is for you.

“Feel that?” Shouto purrs, breath catching as your hand squeezes. You feel his cock jump under your palm and bite back a grin at his enthusiasm—watching his neck flash red the moment you have your hands on him is a little more than a confidence booster. “That’s what you do to me. Angel, you already make me feel so good.”

Bucking into your palm, Shouto releases his first muffled groan of the night, and you find yourself shoving his shoulders until his back hits the mattress, hair fanning in a halo against the pillow.

“I’m not very patient,” you figure is a sufficient explanation in of itself, and Shouto’s breathless chuckle implies he doesn’t mind the view. You dip your hand underneath the band of his underwear and wrap it around burning hot skin, grinning at the way Shouto’s fingers twitch when you dip your nail under the head.

“Do you do this often?”

You snort and can tell he’s joking from the way his lips slide into a lazy smile, but it quickly falls in exchange for a hiss against your lips as you start to move your hand. Taking it as a challenge, Shouto begins to move the hand between your thighs at his own pace—you suppress a shiver and shamefully, your hips start moving on their own.

“Do I often invite runaway prince’s into my bedroom?” You lift an eyebrow. Shouto rolls his eyes, but snorts.

“Point taken.”

Taking advantage of the leverage and your semi-distracted mind, Shouto sieges the opportunity to send you two tumbling into the sheets until you’re the one facing the ceiling again. You huff but don’t let it deter you for too long, blindly shucking his flimsy underwear only to have your jaw drop at his naked glamour.

“Well in that case,” Shouto grunts to himself, fingers threading through your panties just to tear them off. You gasp, eyes narrowing at the sight of your favorite panties torn to shreds. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

It seems like more of an offer for him to stay rather than an offer to buy you something new. Either way, you plan on holding him to it, but the thought doesn’t last long because he’s stuffing you full with three fingers again.

“You look heavenly,” Shouto groans, licking his lips at the sight of your wetness around his fingers, oozing liquid gold like honey. “Goodness, I’ve got to get myself in between those thighs and soon.”

“You can do it after—“ you gasp as Shouto’s fingers curl, thighs twitching as you inch towards the edge, “—after I make you cum.”

"Well you aren't very far off," he says, and you haven't been able to see the tension until now, in the way his jaw clenches and muscles strain, sweat rolling off his shoulders in rivulets to drip onto the sheets below.

Shouto's hand speeds up in a newfound need to push you off the edge with him as if your thighs weren’t burning already. Your press your lips against his and kiss him feverishly, hips gaining a smooth rhythm with is palm.

“Shouto,” you gasp against his skin. His chest rumbles in approval before bucking against your hand impatiently. “Shouto, I—I’m close.”

“Cum for me, Angel,” he insists as the slide between your thighs turns sloppy. As your hand around him speeds up and you start pressing hot kisses up his neck, Shouto gasps before filling your hand, shuddering silently as his hips lose control and start fucking your fist. Watching his linked face screw in ecstasy is enough to encourage your own orgasm and you help his name as you curl into him. Shouto massages you until you catch your breath and your skin turns tacky.

“You’re beautiful” he says with his face squished against the pillow, body aching from exhaustion. And then, with a snort: “It pains me.”

“You’re cheesy, Prince Shouto,” you respond with a roll of your eyes, but you let the arm around your waist pull you in closer regardless. Stupid Prince.

“But I don’t mind it.”

© All rights reserved to kiridarling 2021. Please do not reuse, modify, or repost.

#— 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐎 #bnha smut #mha smut #shouto todoroki smut #shouto smut

[gingerbreadmonsters]

祝你生日快乐~！

or: it’s ginger’s birthday, which means we’re having a party~!

don’t worry, it’ll be super chill - it’s my birthday and i’ve decided that i want to eat gratuitous amounts of cake with lots of lovely people, so here we are! smiles and presents and music all day, every day, to say thank you thank you THANK YOU for 500 followers <3

now, let me get you a slice - what takes your fancy?

你想吃什么蛋糕？what kind of cake would you like?

choose your flavour (1 only):

vanilla - boku no hero academia

chocolate - shall we date?: obey me!

lemon - jujutsu kaisen

choose your filling (1 only):

buttercream - best for fancy dress parties, this creamy filling is perfect for an exciting, high-energy event full of smiles and sweetness.

whipped cream - best for dinner parties, this classic filling can be dressed up or down to suit any taste, especially at formal events.

jam - best for sleepover parties, our homemade jam is great for softer, more low-key events with friends.

lemon curd - best for surprise parties, this sweet-yet-tart filling is for those who like to be surprised by every bite.

choose your toppings (up to 3):

icing sugar - “i have a little something for you.”

hundreds and thousands - “let me do it for you.”

chocolate buttons - “what do you want to do?”

strawberries - “i can’t help it, i just…”

smarties - “just us today, right?”

chocolate orange - “did you really never notice?”

maltesers - “you’re too sweet.”

raspberries - “why don’t you stay a bit longer?”

cadbury’s flake - “woah, that’s- that’s really good!”

skittles - “here, you can hold on to me.”

mini marshmallows - “it’s not my fault you’re so comfortable.”

blueberries - “hey, that’s not fair!”

haribo starmix - “you’re, um- wow, i-”

oreos - “it’s just really warm in here!”

would you like another fork?

bnha - midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, shinsou hitoshi, uraraka ochaco, kirishima eijirou, yaoyorozu momo

obey me! - lucifer, satan, asmo, belphie, simeon, solomon, diavolo, barbatos

jujutsu kaisen - itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, inumaki toge, kamo noritoshi, nanami kento

过敏警告！allergy warning!

orders should, at minimum, contain the following details: filling + flavour + toppings + companion. 

orders may contain one, two, or three toppings, but no more - we find that having too many will detract from the flavour.

always tip your servers - customers that are polite to their waitress will receive better service!

orders that do not abide by the rules will not be accepted (e.g. multiple fillings or favours, unlisted toppings, poor request etiquette, etc.).

our kitchen does not currently accept orders containing explicit or dark content - while some items on our menu may be slightly suggestive, all cakes are approximately rated PG-13 or below.

cake sizes will vary by order - customers are politely reminded that our kitchen is not open 24/7 and does not contain an endless supply of ingredients!

depending on the volume and complexity of orders, it may take us a little while to get to you - don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten!

customers may submit more than one order each.

however, each slice is only designed for two people - choose who you want to share it with carefully!

this limited-time event is in celebration of, and thanks to, our approximately-500 pre-existing customers - we’re so incredibly grateful to you!

that said, first-time customers are also welcome to participate - come in and say hello!

orders open at 00:01 GMT 15.01.22, and close at 00:01 GMT 29.01.22 - please enjoy!

又饿了吗？still hungry?

take a look at our dessert menu for a complete list of sweet treats to enjoy (event masterlist).

want something a bit more filling? take a look at our à la carte menu for our house specials (main masterlist).

#obey me x reader #bnha x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader