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freedom-of-speech333 · 9 months

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The Letters I write by Frredom_of_speech333 on ao3

Summary:

Shoto ran away from home and works at a barista at the nearby coffeeshop. He lives in a ten mile perimeter, away from prying hero eyes. He’s quite fine with his life until he meets Izuku. He wants to protect him, to be by him, to shared in the green haired’s joy and sorrows. This is the story of Shoto opening up his walls as he falls in love, told in letters to his dead brother.

Dear Touya,

I nearly died today. Or, well, I think I did.

I was on my way to work when a large woman with long blonde hair and green eyes bumped into me. She was having a bad day and threatened to ‘crush my skull’ if I didn’t pay her for wasting her time. I forget my wallet at home. I think I had a panic attack because I started breathing heavy and woke up looking at a shining sun of messy green hair and emerald eyes.

His name is Izuku Midorya. After I passed out he stepped in and…. Somehow got me out. He won’t explain how. He must have used his quirk. I won’t tell on him though, he saved my life. And he’s cute.

Still Alive,

Shoto T.

•••••••

Dear Touya,

I saw him again today. He showed up at the coffee shop and ordered a double expresso mint extreme, no foam. He has a new bruise on his jaw and an infected cut on his third knuckle, right hand.

I put my number on his cup and asked him to call me if he gets hurt again. His face, was interesting. It turned all red and he started spluttering. He might have high blood pressure from the coffee. I tell him that when he calls.

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

••••••

Dear Touya,

Midorya texted me. I invited him over but he said we should take it ‘slow’. Why would he want to wait to fix his injuries? Is he afraid it will hurt? We scheduled to meet at the park for a picnic lunch. I suggested the bench by the tree. It’s above ground, visible, and I can hide in the nearby crowd if He shows up.

I packed some soba, sauce, and a few fishcakes. Do you think he likes fish? You never did but I think he might enjoy it.

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

•••••••

Dear Touya,

Midorya is quirkless. He always wanted to be a hero but wasn’t allowed to attend hero schools. He doesn’t have a home and lives on the streets. His face looks sad when he talks about his mom and lights up when you mention all might.

He saw me that day because he had been on the lookout for Miss Kim, the lady who assaulted me. She’s a big boss around here who makes a living off of newcomers. Midorya has been intercepting her and helping people.

I think he’s great for helping people, but he doesn’t seem to care about his own well being. He had two cuts above his eyebrow, several bruises that will need time to heal, and his arm was dislocated. He didn’t say anything when I relocated his arm, which is concerning. How do I help him more?

Frustrated,

Shoto T.

••••••

Dear Touya,

We met up after work today. He came up to the counter and asked ‘how the most handsome person in the world is doing?’. I thought it was weird because he could have asked himself, but he said he was fine. His face became red again tho.

We chatted about our days and I told him about Endeavor. I want him to trust me, and to like me. Honesty is the foundation of any relationship. At least, that’s what the internet says. Besides, I have several plans if he… but Midorya is different.

He cares. Too much I think.

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

••••••••

Dear Touya,

Midorya has been visiting me after work for a week now. It’s, nice. He even offered to walk to the store with me. I usually order online because it goes past the local heroes daily route.

It was nice, we went through a couple alleyways to avoid detection and I got some fresh food. I forgot what apples tasted like. Too bad they don’t ship apples.

I invited Midorya to spend the night. He was walking on a sprained ankle. I covered it with an ice pack and wrapped him up. He is asleep on the mat right now. I’m writing in the bathroom so the light won’t wake him up.

I wonder what he thinks about my ‘studio’. I don’t do art but that’s what it’s called. Midorya likes katsudon. I’ll make him some for breakfast.

Your Brother,

Shoto T.

•••••

Dear Touya,

It’s nice living with Izuku. And frustrating. He keeps pushing me to expand my three block traveling distance and visit another city. Traveling brings attention I don’t want, can’t he see that? But I understand why. The cherry blossoms were beautiful and the crowds actually hid us from any watchful eyes.

Izuku loves going on dates, even if it’s just a few candles and bowl of ramen. Oh, and we are dating now. I should have started with that.

Touya, I’m concerned. He continues to help people, even when he is hurt. It’s hard to see him in pain, but he seems to enjoy it. Knowing he made someone else’s day better, I mean. He reminds me of you, and that scares me. Because your dead, and I want him alive.

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

••••••••

Dear Touya,

Izuku didn’t come home yesterday. I can’t call the police because they’ll bring me back to him. And his boss flipped me off when I asked him today.

I’m scared. What do I do?

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

————-

Knock-knock

Shoto got up from the mat and peered thru the eyehole of his door. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled it open.

Izuku was covered in blood, supported by a badly burned raven haired man with familiar blue eyes.

‘Touya?’ The raven haired man grunted in reply as he pushed his way in and lowered Izuku onto the tatami mark.

‘Great pick in partner little sho’, got some brains, this one.’ Touya sighed and looked at Shoto, who was still frozen by the door, stunned. ‘That was sarcasm, come here, and close the door.’

Shoto quickly shut the door, checking that it was locked, before scrambling next to Izuku with the med kit.

Izuku’s arms were broken and bruises danced all over his body. The blood was coming from a cut on his lip and one on his leg that was deep enough to put his finger into.

Opening the kit, Shoto got to work bandaging Izuku up and creating ice to soothe his wounds.

Touya sat back and watched as his brother to care of the dumbass who he loved.

‘You really like him, hmm?’ Shoto looked up at Touya, lines of tears running down his face.

‘I thought you were dead.’ Shoto said.

‘We’ll, you sure wrote a lot of letters to a dead person.’ Shoto blinked in surprise, he left the letters at the cherry tree in the park. He always assumed some squirrel was grabbing them away.

‘You read them? Why didn’t you talk to me, write back?’

Touya looked out the window, a beautiful view of a brick wall. ‘I’ve been in hiding too. You know what he’s like. Besides, you wouldn’t have accepted my help if you knew it was me.’

Shoto’s brows furrowed. ‘What help?’

‘Your boyfriends alive, isn’t he? Your not the best hider you know. Endeavors not the only one who wants you. Plenty of villains fancy you have a high random.’ Touya looked back a Shoto, a smile stretching his scars.

‘I’m glad you got away. You made a pretty good life for yourself.’ Touya stood up and walked towards the door. ‘I wanted to be a hero, and it killed me. Now I just want to fix what father broke. My family. You should answer Fuyumi, she misses you.’

And with that he walked out the door. Leaving Shoto to tend to Midorya. And text his sister.

————-

Dear Touya,

Thank you. Fuyumi misses you too. And Izuku says he would love to meet you, when he’s not passed out. Maybe we can meet up sometime. You know where to leave a reply.

Sincerely,

Shoto T.

#Shot #shoto todoroki #bnha fanfic #tododeku #tododeku fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi is a good brother #just a vengeful one

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crqelsummer · 1 year

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home + hearth [tododeku]

Title: home and hearth Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairing(s): Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto Character(s): Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: another unnecessary kid fic! Language: English Archive Warnings: None Rating: Gen

Published: 2023-02-16. Word Count: 5,718. Chapters: 1/1

Summary: izuku's working late. shouto needs a bedtime story. how i met (fell in love with) your father with the baby of the midoriya family.

AO3 LINK

They’re up way too late for the seven year old that lays across his lap without a trouble in the world, the small body that rests her head against his leg warming ever so slightly as she shifts again. Her Quirk is activating off and on the sleepier she gets. He brushes a strand of scarlet hair out of her face, the artificial light of the television drowning out her pale skin. The clock blinks back an angry red 10:00 pm at him. Over an hour past her bedtime, and he knows she’s going to be drowsy tomorrow if he doesn’t get her off to sleep soon.

Another news broadcast plays, the dull reporting about to lull him off to sleep. A lot of the children’s shows had gone off already for the night, and keeping her in bed without her dad home seemed near impossible. He’d bathed her, sat with her for a bit while they read out of one of her new chapter books. Kimiko had seemed tired when he laid her down to sleep, shutting off the main light and making sure the night light bathed the room in gold. He’d barely finished cleaning the kitchen, putting Izuku’s bowl away in the fridge and slumping down on the couch when he’d realized he’d heard her door open again. She’d bounded back into the living room, blanket trailing behind her with the puppy eyes he can only attribute to Izuku’s genes. He’d almost protested, wanted to tell her to get back in bed and get some sleep. But he couldn’t find the strength to, his shoulder already giving him trouble and rest of his body sore from an early shift. So, he had opened an arm to let her crawl into his embrace. She’d talked about school, about heroes, about whatever Makoto and Takato had gotten up to lately. He’d responded with as much understanding as he could, though found most child politics quite confusing. An hour had ticked by while they’d watched the late broadcast, covering a minor villain attack. He’d thought Izuku would be home by now, hopefully at his side rather than running off and saving as many people as he could. He’d never ended up making it back home after Shouto had gone home for the day to pick Kimiko up from school.

Where he figures there should be bitterness, he finds little. He’d known who he married, and it hadn’t bothered him when they were twenty two and coming home to their tiny apartment with more scrapes than their rubbing alcohol could handle. The quiet tender moments in the bathroom as he dabbed away at new cuts that ran perpendicular to Izuku’s old scars. The more hurried ones, Izuku’s trembling hands stitching him together the best he could when it was all they had. It hadn’t bothered him when they’d considered settling down properly, after all Izuku had just hit number one and had a responsibility to Japan now to be the shining example. He’d wait up for him most nights except for the days when he’d been called in early, but was plenty pleased to wake to his scarred husband clinging onto him in the early morning hours.

Any residual bitterness dissipates almost immediately.

He looks down at the little one in his lap, her slow blinking giving away her tiredness. She rubs at her eye with a fist, curled up underneath a small children’s blanket with the faded embroidery of All Might in the corner. Her rose red hair is splayed against his legs like a fan, long fallen out of the braid that his steady hands had done before she’d run off to school this morning. It’s getting long again, but she doesn’t seem to mind this time around.

He remembers having a moment of unbridled fear of the threads of hair when he’d first seen her, the day she was born. It reminded Shouto too much of him, too much of Enji all at once. He wondered at that moment what her Quirk would be (would she even have one?), pyrokinesis? Could he even deal with that? And then he caught himself thinking about it too long while his hand had a thin layer of frost over it and Izuku was already about to start crying to his left. Her olive green eyes had at least put him at relative ease, when she’d really started registering the world properly a little while later. He started seeing more of Izuku in her as she grew, the years passing them by. Even if his husband was convinced she was taking after him in every aspect but her face.

Speaking of him, Izuku carries another civilian out with a smile on screen, face dusted with soot but eyes shining beneath it. Something in him flickers to light, a small smile of his own ghosting over his face. Kimiko sits up a little, leaning her tiny form against his side now, and he looks down at her as well. Her toothy grin makes his heart squeeze in on itself, “Daddy!”

“Yes,” He responds, pulling her a little closer, “Still not your favorite?”

She thinks on this for a moment, small eyebrows knit in thought with a tiny finger to her chin. She looks back up at him, a mischievous look peering through her dark eyelashes, “No, I still like Uravity more!”

Shouto thinks he can make a guess why Uravity is her favorite, her favorite color being the blush colored pink that all of her merch donned. The pink shoes that she’d almost worn a hole through before she outgrew them recently, the pink jumper she wore everywhere with the almost completely faded embroidery of Uravity across the chest. The visor that she’d gotten once for a costume that had been worn so often he was afraid the plastic would shatter. That and how she’d exclaimed one day that the martial arts Ochako employed on screen was something she was going to learn to do and for sure use it against every bully ever. Izuku had of course quietly and swiftly told her not to, he didn’t want her getting into any trouble, but that he’d look into putting her into some martial arts classes after the school year was over.

He and Izuku had taken the loss with grace when it’d been announced earlier this year. He thinks. Quietly he wonders why, her dad’s were first and third in popularity rankings, but Kimiko is also seven and certainly doesn’t care for old rivalries that had long fizzled out by the time she was born. Amused, Izuku had commented he was glad it wasn’t Katsuki at least. Izuku hadn’t known what he going to do if that ended up being the case.

“Your daddy is number one though, you know.” He says, mostly teasing as he gently tickles her with one hand. She giggles to his left, something akin to I know on her lips as she laughs, “Did I ever tell you how I met your dad though?”

She looks up at him, viridescent eyes wide with curiosity. Probably wouldn’t be the best bedtime story, but is one of the few ones he knows that wouldn’t make her worry. Shouto hadn’t yet showed her that fateful sports festival clip, he hadn’t seen much reason to when she could catch whatever hero she wanted daily, but he remembers it fondly. Kimiko shakes her head, “When?”

He leans back a little, thinking about how to frame it, “Well, a long time ago —”

“A really long time ago?”

“Twenty one years ago, in fact,” He responds, momentarily feeling a little old. Her surprised face certainly gives away that she thinks that was so long ago`, “Your dad was a classmate of mine in our first year of high school. We weren’t friends just yet, I was still getting to know him and adjusting to school. He was smart, analytical —”

“An-a-li-tical?” Kimiko sounds out the word in a tinier, inexperienced voice.

He notes his mistake, recognizing she doesn’t understand it, “It means he knew a lot and how to apply all of that knowledge.”

“Oh.” Is all she says, and he watches as the cogs turn in her head, not dissimilar to watching Izuku do the same. Filing the definition away for later, “Then what happened?”

“Well,” Shouto realizes he should probably omit the conversation he’d had with his father during the festival. Then figures he should probably omit his troubles with his father and family troubles to his seven year old. That was something that could be discussed at a later date, a very later date, even if it did remove crucial context in his opinion, “I used to only use the ice part of my Quirk. It was easier for me to draw on, easier for me to work with. I did that for a very long time. I was satisfied with it until our first sports festival. Do you remember the sports festival from earlier this year?”

She nods vigorously, “Misato was in it!”

Misato, the dark haired niece of his that had done well for herself in her own first year festival. Kimiko and Izuku had been glued to the TV for most of it, Izuku noting the students he could scout and Kimiko getting excited whenever her dad did even if she didn’t understand what was going on. Shouto hadn’t watched most of it, he’d been responding to a call during the first two rounds, but had gotten away long enough to watch Misato’s final fight with one of her classmates. She hadn’t won, but it had been something he was understandably impressed by, “That’s right. But I also had a festival like that.”

“Did you win?” She tilts her head in question.

“No. Your uncle, Katsuki, he won first place that year. I was second.”

“Did you win next year?”

“No. Your dad won that year.” Shouto remembers that one like it was yesterday, that time he’d gotten third, surprising even to him, but Katsuki and Izuku had gotten to fight fairly on a proper stage. It was less tense than he would’ve imagined, watching after his fight with Katsuki. He was impressed, it was almost like was watching two completely different students than the constantly brawling ones from the year prior. They certainly weren’t restrained, the full capabilities of One For All at Izuku’s fingertips as he dove and twisted around Katsuki’s attacks. He also wasn’t about to hold back against the successor, not to be outdone by someone else. Izuku’s fumbling knowledge about One For All at the time had definitely held him back and made the victory well earned in the end when his opponent had been properly defeated. Katsuki had been understandably angered about it, but he seemed more revved up than actually bothered by it. Or at least, when they were trading insults later in the day it still seemed mostly lighthearted. He definitely remembers when he’d complimented Izuku afterwards, expressing that he’d enjoyed watching it.

Izuku had turned a color closer to crimson when he’d said it, and made up an excuse about having to go and talk to Recovery Girl. Shouto had pointed out he hadn’t broken any fingers this year (another welcome surprise), why did he feel the need to go? And Izuku had left him behind in the hall, stammering a string of apologies. Turning to Kimiko now, aging almost twenty years, “He fought your uncle Katsuki that year.”

“Did you win third year?”

That he definitely remembers, having actually beaten Katsuki for the second spot. The other boy hadn’t certainly not been very amused by this, considering how Eijiro had to hold him back afterwards — but he had been surprisingly pleasant later about how he’d beat him fair and square. It’d left Shouto very suspicious, Katsuki had gone from first to third place in three years consecutively and knowing his explosive personality he imagined he wasn’t taking it well, but nothing ever came of it. His and Izuku’s second time fighting during the Sports Festival, this time nothing but good intentions between the two. A silent promise not to hurt each other to the point of real injury again, but everything else was all fair game. They’d both pushed their limits far beyond where they should’ve gone but it had felt so good to let loose. He didn’t have the necessary precision to really use his fire as well as his ice even then, but Izuku had a habit of removing his mental barriers to it. He was more afraid to hurt him, burn the only friend he really had. But the stadium had faded away halfway through, forgetting about everyone else and only seeing the boy ahead of him. A scrappy dance around the concrete beneath them, ice protecting him from his air based attacks and his flames enough to keep Izuku back so he could get in a few close-combat hits. He’d managed to hold his own against One For All for long enough, something that even stunned him in the heat of the moment. But, predictably perhaps, Izuku had won. His control was admirable, with all of the Quirks he harbored within him, and Shouto had been stunned into silence afterwards. Shoved outside the bounds of play with a string of apologies when they were no longer adversaries, Shouto had almost burst into flames afterwards for an entirely different reason that year when Izuku had complimented him back, “No, your dad won that year too.”

“Dad’s really strong.” Kimiko seems to think about this a little more, somehow her tiny mind wrapping around the concept as she yawns again. A toothy grin, “That’s why he’s number one!”

“Indeed,” Shouto says, gaze flickering back to the news station. A flash of green, and he’s gone again, away from the camera’s attention. He can’t believe it was that long ago, really. That many years ago and he hadn’t been able to put a name to his feelings until the end of their third year, armed with chocolate he had almost begged Fuyumi to help him with. He thinks Izuku was lucky he wasn’t born with a fire quirk, because the red he turned would’ve surely lit him and his uniform on fire. Shouto smiles at the memory. They’d come so far since then, “But yes, my first year at UA. Your dad was my opponent in the second round.”

“You fought dad?” She seems incredulous by this, “That’s not very nice.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” He answers, thinking about all of the restrained emotions he’d been holding back that year. His intentions weren’t exactly the purest when he stepped in the ring, “Did you know that in that fight, your dad broke almost all of the fingers on his hand just keeping me back?”

Kimiko grasps her own tiny, unmarred fingers at this, gasping at the admission, “Really?”

“Yes,” Shouto still cringes at the image of the purple and blue digits barely able to even move during that fight. He still has so many questions how Izuku was even managing it at that point, ones he never exactly got answers to. He wonders if that’s when his admiration really started, with his physical and mental strength during that fight, “He was very determined. Even though his Quirk was hard to control, he pushed through it all.”

“Whoa.” Her amazement is something that is so precious to him. It’s something he’d have to tell his husband about when he got home.

He feels himself twitching into a frown regardless, recounting the fateful few minutes they were on the field together, “When I used my ice too much, it started to hurt me more than it was being useful. Like when you get too hot, I had gotten too cold. I hadn’t wanted to use my fire to counteract it because I didn’t know how. Didn’t want to use it because…”

He trails off at that. What does he tell a seven year old, one that has had admittedly little contact with her grandfather but still has some neutrally positive opinion of him? She waits on him to finish the story, playing with the end of her fraying sleeve. He shakes his head for a moment, trying to get rid of the thought and figure a way to frame it.

“I didn’t have good memories with it,” He admits, feeling her hand grow warm on his forearm when she places it there. Her way of comforting people, something she’d learned from him by accident. He smiles softly at the action, “Your dad cared though. Wanted to fight me properly, without holding myself back, and he saw me struggling with it. So, he told me it was my power. Mine and mine only.”

Shouto sits with the memory for a moment, flexing his fingers. Remembering Izuku’s pained and strained voice yelling out to him, unlocking that part of him to burst to out like the flames that had erupted along the right side of his body. At the time, it’d only been a flicker of surprise, of realizing that he could even manage it. Then —

“It’s your power, isn’t it?”

Staring directly at him, running on pure adrenaline with his extremities bruised and entirely incapable of even making a fist. The same green eyes that he stares at now, begging him to let go of it all and face him without restraint. An uncontrolled One For All brimming at his fingertips, knowing he’d lose when Shouto lit himself ablaze. And yet he’d done it anyway, and felt somehow proud of himself when he did. When Shouto had approached him later, asking him why, he hadn’t had a cohesive answer. With his actions the rest of the year, he can only imagine it was because Shouto was the first in a long line of people he wanted to save. And save him he had, in a way. Izuku was the sole reason he’d ever used his left side to begin with.

Where would he be without him?

He loves that man more than he can say. More than he can articulate properly. It had confused him when Izuku had put his own life on the line when Shouto had unleashed what at the time had been the full extent of his power, and scares him now when his husband still does it on the daily — but perhaps it’s just what makes him him.

His heart flutters a little. Shouto needs to show that clip to Kimiko when she’s a little older.

“And so I did. It was the first time I used my fire in a very long time, but your dad made me feel confident enough to use it again,” He carefully angles left hand away from Kimiko, far enough that when he lights a small flame in his palm she’s in no danger of burning herself. She’s transfixed on the the light, the small golden globe washing her features in red How much fear, how long had he lived with it to now be comfortable enough to show it to his own daughter? He’s grown, lived long enough to reassign another emotion to it. He doesn’t love it and still relies on his ice primarily, but instead of being distressed by it, he’s duly neutral.

Neutral was all he could ask for.

“You’re not scared of it anymore?” She asks, voice light and unaware of the emotional turmoil that had occurred. Had he been too afraid to use it, had Izuku lost to Hitoshi the round prior…Shouto really doesn’t think his path to healing would’ve begun as quickly as it did without his interference.

“No. It’s apart of me as much as the other half of my Quirk,” He answers. It’s the truth when he says it, even as a wave of old anxiety washes over him as he admits it. She reaches out with a small hand, and he stiffens, afraid but she’s too quick. Her tiny fingers leap to touch and he extinguishes it as soon as one of her fingers touches it, “Kimiko!”

She shrinks back, a sad expression taking over her surprise. The momentary paternal terror washes away when he reaches for her hand, his own trembling and quick, but confused when he doesn’t see red skin or a welt beginning on the edge of her index where most of the flame had licked her. Kimiko must catch his expression, her voice low and barely loud enough for him to catch, “Didn’t hurt, felt funny.”

“Felt…funny?” He asks, carefully brushing a hand over her head, “Did you touch it?”

She nods. He hadn’t imagined that part then. And she came away unscathed them.

He doesn’t know what to do next. Shouto blue screens for a moment, thinking, thinking. His curiosity gets the better of him, even as it feels like his nerves are shot. He adjusts his shoulder enough to face her a little, carefully lighting another tiny column of fire in his palm. Barely bigger than a candle as he looks her directly in her eyes, his own voice struggling to stay calm, “You’re being honest?”

Her eyes widen at it again, but she nods vigorously. He reaches out with his free hand to push her free curls back out of her face. Even if his hypothesis is correct, he doesn’t want to put her through the experience of lighting her hair on fire too. She meets his eyes, and then looks back down. He takes a breath, “Then…you can touch it again.”

Her mouth opens to a little oh, as she unfurls a small fist, first reaching out with her index. Shouto’s holding in a breath that he can barely breathe around, watching her pale finger grow ever closer. He’s ready to extinguish it and run for the first aid kit at the first sign of fear. Hold her close if she cries, like his own younger self would’ve wanted. And yet, her yelp of pain never comes, as she makes contact with it. The red and orange engulf the digit, flickering around it. Then in her curiosity, more fingers. Almost the entirety of her hand. Kimiko giggles at the touch of it.

Shouto breathes, extinguishing it. He knew her Quirk allowed her to raise her body temperature just under what he thinks is boiling, but he hadn’t guessed that she inherited the ability to be immune to fire. He’s surprised. In a good way, he thinks. If she hadn’t scared him first.

Her amusement at the flames makes him feel some sort of way that he can’t name. He’d only had fear of them at her age, most of them at the hands of his father. They represented something dangerous, something to be terrified of. A punishment, a representation of everything that had frankly traumatized him as a child. A part of him that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much he tried to ignore it and shove it down into the recesses of his mind. And yet, there’s wonder in her eyes. Not any alarm or panic. He at least had avoided scaring her with it, a whole other can of worms he’s glad he hasn’t accidentally opened for her.

He’s okay with this, he thinks. His child is unafraid of fire. A new development. A welcome one.

He thinks.

The tight band around his chest loosens. She yawns again, the TV still rolling. It’s 10:30. He’s beginning to think she may be able to miss just one day tomorrow, she certainly wouldn’t argue with it. Leaning back into the couch, he pulls one of the bigger blankets off the other sofa with his good arm. Wincing, he scoops Kimiko up in his other arm, laying her against his chest. She wriggles into him, obviously getting herself comfortable as he drapes the blanket over the two of them. Kimiko shifts ever so slightly to his right, likely just for the cooling properties. He yawns himself, protectively laying one arm over her smaller body and muting the TV, “We’ll just wait here until your dad gets home, okay?” He asks. Shouto gets no response, noting Kimiko’s breathing has already evened out to her usual sleep pattern. Out cold then, with only the childhood ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere without a care in the world.

He watches as the broadcast silently goes to commercial, another inane product being the last thing he sees before darkness overtakes him.

Izuku is so late.

He knows he’s late too, racing home as quick as he can. He didn’t even bother changing out his hero costume, hurriedly tossing his day clothes into his duffle bag and booking it out the door with a request over his shoulder to one of his sidekicks to lock up for the night. He didn’t even wait for an answer before he headed for his car.

He didn’t think it’d take this long. One call after another. Logically he thinks he could’ve let some of the other heroes take one or the other, but he just felt better and safer about it being there wherever anyone needed help. Mirio had also been on scene already, along with Nejire so he really does think the two of them could’ve handled the earlier incident (a robbery with two decently powered criminals) by themselves, but he imagines their capturing and clean up had gone smoother with him there. That’s what he wants to think, at least when they’d thanked him before he ran off the next call.

It wasn’t until the media had gotten there, noting it was a late night broadcast when he’d been helping an older man out of the now-no-longer-burning-building that he even thought about what time it was. He’d noted the darkening sky over his shoulder and almost cursed on live TV before putting a bright, if not strained, smile on his face to speak to the reporter for a few minutes. Very, very long minutes. He hopes his answers were even a little camera appropriate because he was on auto-pilot, thinking about the fact he’d entirely forgotten…well everything today.

The villain had been apprehended, people saved, media placated for the time being. As soon, and he means as soon as the cameras were switched off, he was gone. Already on the way back to his agency to pick up his keys and clothes and headed right back out the door. Shouto had left hours earlier to get Kimiko from school, and he’d not-quite-lied that he’d be right behind him after he finished up some paperwork.

Damn it.

He’s a safe driver, he reminds himself as he just barely pushes the speed limit down the darker streets of Musutafu. It wouldn’t do anyone good if the number one was caught speeding.

But he’s also missed dinner, something Kimiko hates and Shouto seconds before telling her that her daddy’s a very busy man sometimes. The way his brows furrow in disappointment sometimes is not lost on him, as much as Shouto tries to make his own emotions scarce. Izuku always makes time for dinner except in the most emergency situations. And yet he let himself get taken away again, and done exactly that. He’d only scarfed down a protein bar between now and when he slammed into the office, he hasn’t eaten much if anything at all today other than lunch he’d shared with his husband. He’d forgone breakfast because Shouto hadn’t been home and Kimiko needed to be taken in to school.

A headache’s already lurking in the shadows when he turns onto his street.

He just almost trips getting out of the car, narrowly saving himself when his hand catches a wall. Sighing, he quietly, carefully unlocks his front door, careful not to let it slam behind him as he takes off his boots and stores his duffel in the corner. He shoves his keys in his pocket (which one he’ll certainly forget by tomorrow morning), and pads into the rest of the house. It’s dark and nearly silent as he tries to make his way around the entry hallway, only muscle memory saving him from running another appendage into a wall.

The TV is still on, as he can see the light flashing onto the wall in front of it. Reaching the end of the hall, he finds it playing the broadcast from earlier. A rerun probably. Shouto must’ve accidentally left it on.

Starting to look for the remote, he pauses before smiling softly and stopping just before the TV.

His husband and daughter are fast asleep, the latter clenching her father’s sweater in her fists and drooling onto it. Shouto isn’t much better, head lolled to the side ever so slightly and hair a mess as it fans out on the headrest. Still, he holds her close as they slumber underneath one of their newer blankets, the All Might one he’d pulled out of storage for their daughter long forgotten on the other side of it.

A pang of guilt hits him. Shouto must’ve been waiting up for him. Kimiko joined him at some point and he hadn’t put her back to bed. He hopes he hadn’t worried his husband too much, how long had they been up together?

He’s in the moral dilemma of whether or not he should wake Shouto so they can put Kimiko in a proper bed. He knows for a fact Shouto is going to complain about his shoulder in the morning if he leaves him like this.

But they’re so cute, the other half of his brain reasons, what’s the harm?

In the end, Izuku settles for a quick photo instead. Then, ever so carefully he gently taps Shouto’s shoulder as he carefully sits on the edge of the couch next to the pair of them. Shouto’s a notoriously light sleeper, so Izuku’s unsurprised when his eyes flash open. They dart around for a moment before looking to him, then looking down at their daughter, then back at him. Izuku smiles sheepishly, speaking in barely a whisper, “Evening.”

Shouto blinks a few times, reaching his free hand up to rub at his eye, “Did you just get home?” He asks, tone quiet and far less accusatory than Izuku thinks he deserves.

“Yeah. A couple of minutes ago actually.” 11:15 blinks back at him when he looks at their clock on the wall, “I’m sorry, how long were the two of you up?”

“Maybe until 10:30. Kimiko got back up because you weren’t home,” He responds. That answers that question then. There’s a small smile on his expression, “I told her the story of our first sports festival as a bedtime story. She seemed quite proud of you towards the end.”

Izuku is a bit bewildered, but chuckles lowly. He flexes his misaligned fingers at the thought, then looking to her. That isn’t exactly the word he’d use, “Proud of me? Did you tell her I broke almost all of my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t leave out how I egged you on to basically win the match?”

“I did not.”

“Or how I took that losing fight?” He asks even more incredulously. Shouto nods. Well, color Izuku surprised, “Well. At least she’s a fan of fifteen year old me, even if she isn’t now.”

Shouto shakes his head, “You know she thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, love.”

“But not since toilet paper, Ochako stole that spot from me right under my nose,” Izuku says sarcastically, leaning back into the couch himself. Oh this is dangerous, he can feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He knew he was right when they bought a new couch a couple of years ago, “What made you do that?”

He shrugs, as much as he can with a child in his lap, “Inspired, perhaps. We were watching you all night, after all.”

“That’s fair then,” Still an odd subject for a bedtime story. The only one she’s really watched was this year’s, and that’s because her older cousin was in it. But if Shouto wanted to reminsce to their daughter, who was he to stop him? Regardless, he sleepily begins taking off some of the augmented parts of his gear. The gloves, the belt. He clumsily stands, narrowly avoiding a coffee table to the calf, and unzips the outer part of his suit and stepping out of it. Haphazardly putting them on the other side of the couch, he’s left in only his undersuit, leaning against Shouto’s shoulder with sigh of exhaustion. Oh yeah, he’s not making it up to Kimiko’s room to put her in bed. Nor is he making it to his own room to go to sleep. He reaches over carefully to tilt Shouto’s head down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that Shouto leans into, “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s alright,” If even possible, his husband’s voice grows even softer at this, “I’m thinking since it’s Friday, we let Kimiko have the day off tomorrow. She’s going to be exhausted in the morning.”

“Mhm. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all,” Shouto’s left is so warm as he leans into it that he barely registers what the other man is asking. Or saying. He’s sure whatever decision he makes will be the right one. His husband shifts enough to that they’re leaning into each other, Izuku’s head on his shoulder as Shouto’s head is on top of his, “ ‘Love you, Shochan.”

Shouto makes some noise of agreement next to him, the slow tone betraying his own exhaustion, “I love you too, Izuku.”

A moment later, “Mmm. Forgot. Our daughter’s fireproof.”

Izuku blinks awake at that, momentarily forgetting his exhaustion as he lifts his head to look at Shouto with a bewildered expression. Shouto only puts his head back right where it was, patting his hair down when he rests his head atop it, “Tomorrow, love.”

Izuku.

Izuku doesn’t know how to take that but he supposes he’s going to sleep. He really wants to know how the two of them figured that out. Or maybe he doesn’t. He doesn’t know. He can’t be late home anymore if this is what it results in.

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soukokucchi · 10 months

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Me, every time AO3 is down:

Please I cannot keep going on like this. I need my daily fix of gay fanfiction. I hope they will be able to fix it soon. I cannot stand being alone with my own thoughts for so long 🤣

#ao3 #fanfiction #destiel #drarry #johnlock #soukoku #shin soukoku #kagehina #iwaoi #kuroken #sakuatsu #satosugu #itafushi #bakudeku #tododeku #kiribaku #kaebedo #chiscara #kazuscara

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chodzacaparodia · 5 months

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it's hard to be a shipper

what ship is on your mind right now?

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iridecsense · 1 year

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Lip Smacker - m.

⤷ summary: in which izuku, katsuki, and shouto make a bet about what flavor chapstick you wear.

word count: 4.8k pairing: tdbkdk | fem!reader warnings: none ♡ genre: crack, smut | lime author’s note: This is a COLLEGE AU, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults—more specifically all characters are in their 20s.

If there was one thing about you that everyone knew, it was that you were not one to shy away from PDA with anyone. And by anyone, that means anyone. It was no secret you were overly-affectionate, especially with your friends. It wasn't a bad thing, just a little jarring at times.

You were a big cuddler. It was absolutely normal to embrace one of your friends and hold them hostage on the common room couch. It was practically routine. Holding hands was another habit of yours. You hated walking to class alone, and whoever you convinced to go with you would have your hand tightly wrapped around theirs the entire time.

There were other ticks too, like how you’d sit on the nearest person’s lap even if there was space for you elsewhere, or when you essentially tackle your friends into a hug when you got too excited, which was surprisingly quite often. It’s just how you were, and your friends had long since accepted that.

There was one thing, however, that a certain group of testosterone-heavy someones couldn't wrap their heads around. As harmless and simple as it may have seemed to you, it really stirred up tensions with your guy friends. Out of all your little ticks, there was one tick you loved to do the most, and that was kiss.

It wasn’t a sexual thing. In fact it was far from it. You kissed everyone, including your girl friends. Truthfully, you kissed your girl friends more often than your guy friends, but it didn't change the fact that you kissed a lot. Like... a lot. So much so that the guys of your dorm have a bit of a competition around it.

You see, you were a very pretty girl. You were sweet and kind, and adorable, and all the things guys fawn over in a spritely young woman such as yourself. Having someone like you around the dorms was a blessing for them. A pretty girl who isn’t afraid of some platonic touching with the opposite sex? What an absolute win!

“I’m telling you guys, y/n totally wants me!” Denki burst into the common room.

“Did you take the stairs? Why are you sweating?” Mina asked, turning around on the couch to face him.

“Yeah, the elevator was too slow,” he huffed, throwing his bag on the floor and jumping onto an empty chair.

Jirou scrunched her nose. “We live on the third floor why are you sweating that much?”

“Oh my GOD, did you guys not hear what I said?” Denki groaned, changing the subject. “y/n wants me! She wants my plug in her outlet, and she wants me to stick it in and out all night long!”

The room erupted into a sea of disgusted groans. A rogue pillow found itself impacted in Denki’s face, courtesy of Mina.

“Ew, dude?!” Jirou cringed.

Kirishima shook his head disapprovingly. “Come on, man. Not cool.”

“That’s just gross,” said Sero.

“Trust me, the last thing y/n wants is any of...” Mina gestured to Denki. “that.”

“I know I am going to regret asking you this, but what happened to make you think that she wants you.” Kirishima curiously asked.

Denki smiled and excitedly made his way to sit on the open seat between Mina and Kirishima.

“I was walking back from class, right? And I saw y/n walking to class on her own. So, I ran up and offered to walk with her there. She smiles all big, bats her eyes and goes ‘Oh Denki, thank you so much! I’m so happy you’re here! Why don’t you just take me already, oh-hoo-hoo-hoo~!’”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “She did not say that.”

“She might as well have!” He countered rather defensively. “Anyway, she takes my hand and––dude, she’s so close to me I can smell her shampoo—she's brushing against my arm, laughing at all my jokes; and when we get to the science building she’s all big-eyes and pouty lips, ‘Thank’s again Denki, you are such a good friend,’ and then, boom! She lays one on me, right here!” He points to his left cheek where there was a faint pink glossy mark.

“Oh, so like, what she’s like with literally everyone else,” Sero bleats.

“Nah man, you weren't there, you didn’t see the way she looked at me! Those were fuck me eyes, I’m telling you.”

Jirou suddenly stood from her seat in the lounge chair. “Seriously, guys? If you’re gonna keep talking about y/n like that, I’m leaving. You guys are gross. Animals.”

“Yeah, I’m out too.” Mina followed Jirou to their room leaving the boys to themselves.

“I don’t know what they’re so mad about. They get to room with her. If I got to share a room with y/n I'd be the happiest man on earth,” Denki swoons.

“Yeah because you’d be the last man on earth, dipshit,” Sero snickers, causing the others to laugh.

Denki’s cheeks turn red. “Whatever! You guys are just jealous because y/n likes me the most.”

“What, because she kissed you once on the cheek? Please, she’s kissed me at least three times,” Sero not-so-humbly brags.

Denki shoots up from his seat. “No way!”

“Yeah, and even then, it’s obvious who her favorites are, and—newsflash—it's not you or me.”

Just as Sero was picking apart the last bricks of hope Denki had left, the elevator dinged, revealing the other occupants of the floor.

Kirishima smiled. “Sero’s right. Your little science building peck ain’t got nothing on whatever the fuck those three got going on with her.” He gestured to the three boys who leisurely walked in.

“What are you guys talking about?” Izuku asked as he stepped from the elevator with Katsuki and Shouto following behind.

“We were just trying to see which one of us is y/n kisses the most to figure out who her favorite among the guys is,” Sero answered.

Katsuki sucked his teeth, his already permanent frown deepening. “Do you idiots really have nothing better to talk about?”

“It’s easy for you to not care when she’s all over you 24/7,” Denki pouts. “‘Katsuki can you open this for me please? Katsuki can you walk with me to psych? Katsuki can I lay on your lap while you play overwatch?’” Denki offensively mimics the sound of your voice.

The common room erupted into snickers, turning the hot-headed blond’s neck red. “Watch it, dumbass,” he warns.

“Well, if you’re really that curious, I believe it's me,” said Shouto confidently, earning everyones attention.

Katsuki’s brow twitched. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that Icy-hot?”

“I can think of many occasions when y/n has kissed me and most of them were on the mouth. I think that would make me the favorite,” he stated as if it were fact.

It was this revelation that captured the attention of everyone in the room with great surprise.

“You’ve kissed y/n on the mouth multiple times?” Sero gawked.

“She kissed me,” he clarified cooly.

“No way Shouto kissed y/n on the mouth before me!” Cried Denki dramatically, causing Shoji to comfort him. “That sneaky bastard preyed on our sweet, innocent girl and took advantage of her!”

“I told you, she kissed me,” Shouto reiterated once more, becoming increasingly irritated.

Kirishima gave a heavy-handed pat to his back. “Congratulations, dude! I didn’t know you had it in you,” he smiled encouragingly.

Katsuki scoffed and crossed his arms. “So what? y/n’s kissed me on the lips too, and some of them weren't just innocent pecks neither.”

A strangled cry muffled by Shoji’s chest escaped Denki’s lips.

“Guys should we really be talking about this?” Izuku shifted nervously.

“Don’t go acting all high and mighty, Deku!” Yelled Katsuki. “I saw you and y/n kissing at the culture festival last month!”

“Stalk much?” Sero muttered snarkily under his breath. Izuku’s cheeks went red and a coy smile spread across his lips. “Well...”

Denki broke free from Shoji’s strong arms and rushed towards Izuku, taking him by the collar. His reddened cheeks were stained with tears and nostrils flared. “Is this true Midoriya? Please, tell me it isn't true!”

“It is,” Izuku admitted, completely flustered and somewhat scared of his passionate, but clearly deranged friend.

Denki fell to his knees. “You have to tell me what it was like! Was there tongue? How soft were her lips? What did she taste like? Tell me, I need to know!”

“This is getting sad,” Kirishima frowned, genuinely concerned, and Sero nodded in agreement.

“I-I don’t know,” Izuku stuttered. “It was nice, I guess...” His mind went back to the day she kissed him at the festival by the taiyaki booth, and all the other times she’d placed her lips on his. He smiled softly. “Her chapstick tastes like watermelon.”

Denki smiled. “Watermelon,” he hummed. “Why didn't I think of that, that’s perfect for her! Fresh and sweet, just like her!”

“It’s not watermelon, idiot,” Katsuki spoke up. “It’s vanilla. It's always been vanilla.”

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Vanilla?”

“Now that I think about it vanilla does suit her style better,” Denki muttered to himself. “I think Bakugou might be right on this one!”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s watermelon,” Izuku asserted.

“Strawberry.”

Everyone turned to Shouto, who all of the sudden looked very serious. “Her chapstick is strawberry flavored.”

The three boys locked eyes in an intense stare-off. Kirishima and Sero shared a look and identical smirks, hatching the same idea.

“Why don’t we make this interesting,” Sero cut in, his mischievous grin glinting. “Why don't we make it a bet? Watermelon vs. Vanilla vs. Strawberry. Whoever is right can claim that they’ve kissed y/n the most, and therefore is her favorite.”

“I’ll take that bet,” says Izuku confidently.

Katsuki scoffed. “You seem pretty confident for a jackass that’s about to lose!”

“The same could be said about you too, Bakugou” Shouto quipped, poking the blond’s already short-temper.

While the three fought, the rest of the boys that still littered the room placed their educated bets, spreading the word to the others in a group chat. Soon all of class 1-A and some of class 1-B had placed their bets on what flavor chapstick you wore.

All of this, of course, was unbeknownst to you as you were conveniently left out of the betting chat, along with Mina and Jirou as were your closest friends and would undoubtedly blab to you about the whole thing. You had to be kept in the dark, which made the events of the following week rather...interesting.

It started the next day, after bets had been placed and the tension between Shouto, Katsuki, and Izuku manifested in their sudden desperate efforts to cater to your every need. You didn't suspect anything at first. You’d just assumed that the boys were being kind.

You woke up early, two hours earlier than when you needed to be up in preparation for your first class. It was sunrise and despite you still being tired, you couldn't fall back asleep no matter how hard you tried. Giving up, you slipped from your bed and into your robe and slippers. Groggily, you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a mug of coffee to sip on while you watched TV in the common room until you decided to start your day.

It was there that you ran into Shouto, standing in his pajamas over a hot stove cooking a fried egg. His back was turned to you and you debated announcing your presence. However, you should have known the son of the number one hero was always incredibly keen on his surroundings.

“Would you like some?” His question hung in the air, waiting for you to catch it.

“You don’t have to,” you sputter, suddenly flustered. “It looks like you’re almost done. I was just getting some coffee.” You said as you stood at the kitchen island.

Without saying a word, he grabbed the bowl full of fried rice at his side and slid the fried egg on top, drizzling a demi-glace sauce on top before turning around and placing it in front of you. He took your mug from your hands and replaced it with a spoon. You watched him, almost starry-eyed, as he placed your mug under the coffee machine and pressed the button to make it brew with coffee. He said nothing, and made himself another bowl.

You smiled softly and took a seat on a stool at the island, deciding to watch him cook instead of another episode of Too Hot To Handle.

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said as you scooped a spoon full of rice into your mouth. You hummed in delight.

Shouto’s lips twitched into a barely-noticeable smile, not that you could notice it with his back facing you. “Do you like it?” He asked.

“I love it!” You praise. “I didn’t know you could cook so well!”

Shouto did the same as he did before, taking his bowl of fried rice and covering it with a hot egg and demi-glace sauce. He found himself a spoon and walked over to the coffee machine, which had filled your mug with hot, black coffee. He grabbed it too, and came over to take a seat at your side. Reaching his long arms to the center of the isle he brought closer the sugar and creamer for your brew. You thanked him again.

“My sister Fuyumi is the better cook,” he told you. “She taught me how to make a few things for myself while I am away at university. Quick, simple meals, like rice and ramen. Nothing special.”

“Thank goodness for your sister then,” you said. “Maybe I should wake up this early everyday so I can steal more of your delicious breakfast, simple or not.”

You giggled to yourself and took another bite. Shouto watched you from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen you like this, in the morning with a fresh face and your hair tied back, dressed in your pajamas and a robe that hung loosely off one shoulder.

It is in moments like these, when Shouto finds himself alone with you that he is reminded of your magnetic attraction. Even he could not resist it, the thing about you that cast a spell upon all those you meet, rendering them your adoring subjects. He ate silently beside you, only occasionally engaging in small talk when you incited it. When you had finished, he reached for your empty bowl, prepared to clear it for you, but your hand gripped his wrist. You stood from your stool.

“The least I can do is clean the dishes. You should go. I know you’re only up this early to train before class.”

Though it was your hand that encased his left wrist, it was he that felt burnt by your touch. You took the bowl from his hand and collected his from the isle counter to wash, but not before you stood on the tips of your toes to plant a soft peck to his lips on your way to the sink. It was sweet, innocent even, perhaps only lingering a half-a-second longer than it should’ve. But unlike the many previous kisses you’ve shared before, he licked his lips and could not help the smirk that appeared in response to the taste of candied strawberries that lingered on his tongue.

“I was right,” he muttered to himself.

You raised an eyebrow. “Right about what?”

Shouto cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. You’d never seen him do that before.

“I mean, you were right,” he corrected himself. “I should go. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

You nodded your head. “Oh, alright. See you later!” You called after him as he left to return to his room.

The rest of the day went on rather normally. You had gotten ready and got to class on time (something that was rare) feeling particularly spritely and energized. You assumed it had something to do with having an actual breakfast instead of a singular mug of coffee. You reminded yourself to thank him properly the next time you saw him.

Around lunchtime was when you encountered Katsuki. You had just gotten yourself lunch from one of the dining halls to eat at one of your favorite spots outside. It was a particularly nice day, especially for the dead of winter, so you decided to not let it go to waste. On your way there you saw a familiar mess of blond hair ahead of you.

“Katsuki!” You yelled excitedly, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

His shoulders tensed and he stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to look behind him and expected to find someone annoying headed his way. He relaxed only a little when he saw it was you. Still someone annoying, but a lot less annoying than all of the people he knew. Once you reached him you gave a bright grin. The sun shone down on you, igniting the highlights of your hair and the color in your eyes, imitating an almost heavenly glow; the kind that even he couldn't deny made you look perfect. It was one of the many things about you that pissed him off.

“Where ya goin’?” You asked in an almost sing-song voice.

“Back to the room to take a nap, why?” He grumbled.

You held up your plastic bag of food. “Want to have lunch with me? I have extra.”

“No.” He said simply and began walking towards the dorm.

You pouted, a small whine came from your chest and you chased after him. “Please, Katsuki?” You begged. “I don’t want to eat alone today. Besides, who else is going to help me eat all this spicy pork curry?”

He sighed, once again stopping his journey to his comfortable bed that had been calling his name since his 8 AM class. You smiled triumphantly, knowing you had won. He looked down at your heavy plastic bag full of what he now knows is spicy pork curry and other side dishes. Sucking his teeth he grabbed the food from your hand. “You’re lucky I’m fucking starving. Why buy so much if you weren't going to eat all of it?”

He nagged you all the way to the campus arboretum, where you had a special place among the grass and trees you liked to sit and eat at. He was only giving you a hard time because it kept him from thinking about how pretty you looked in your dress, or how cute you had sounded begging him to come eat with you. He didn't want to think about how your arm often bumped his because you had an awkward, lop-sided gait, or about the smell of your perfume. All he wanted to do was get to your picnic spot and eat. So he did.

The two of you ate together on a blanket you had brought. You’d gotten on the topic of final exams which turned into a shit-talking fest about who you both felt in your class would pass and who would fail. He found it very easy to talk to you and you never made him feel bad about the things he said, unlike most people who spend most of their energy scolding him instead of just talking. Not you though. You always let him talk.

It was when he said something that made you laugh that you accidentally spilled your soda on your dress. You cursed and fumbled for napkins to dab it clean, but the stain was evident.

“Dammit!” You groaned. “I have class in fifteen minutes I don't have time to change.”

You were so busy cleaning your mess, it wasn't until you felt the weight of Katsuki’s thick hoodie plop over your head that you knew he had even taken it off. You snorted a chuckle and pulled your head threw the neck hole to see him left in his black compression shirt.

“Take it dumbass,” he told you.

“You won’t be cold?” You asked.

“I’m done for the day. Just bring it to my room later.” He said.

You smiled and pushed your arms through the sleeves, pulling the oversized hoodie over you to cover the stain. It was...toasty, you think is the correct word, and it smelled like his cologne. You closed your eyes and held the fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent deeply. Katsuki furrowed his brows as he watched you.

“It smells so good!” You practically moan. “And it’s so warm. It’s like I’m getting the best hug in the world. A Kaachan hug!” You teased, snickering to yourself.

Katsuki’s face grew hot, and he pinched your cheek, tugging with his fingers, making you yelp and whine from the minuscule pain. “Who told you to call me that, huh? Can’t you just say thank you like a normal person? I can take my hoodie back and let you walk around with a shitty stain on your dress.”

Your hand gripped his arm, attempting to pry him off. “Okay, okay!” You yell, half laughing, half hissing in pain. “I’m sorry! Thank you!”

Satisfied he let your cheek go, and you soothed the spot by rubbing it in circles with your hand. You pouted while he cleaned the blanket of your mess and threw the trash away while you folded it back up. He decided to walk you to class since he had nothing better to do and he knew you wanted him to (certainly not because he wanted to). When you made it to the entrance of your building you stopped and turned towards him.

“Thanks for walking me and for the hoodie,” you smiled. “I’ll see you back in the dorms.”

You started to turn around when you felt his hand wrap around your arm, keeping you in place. Confused, you stood still. You might have been imagining things, but from where you stood, it looked as though his cheeks were flushed red.

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” You asked, concerned.

“Don’t I...get a kiss?” He couldn't believe what he was saying.

“A kiss?” You repeated, also not believing what he was saying.

“As a thank you,” he explained.

Your lips twitched into a teasing smile. “I thought you didn't like it when I did that in public.”

“When has that ever stopped you before!” He countered, his cheeks growing redder.

You laughed and took a step closer, closing the gap between you. You craned your neck up to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Unsatisfied, Katsuki sucked his teeth and reached his hand up to your chin, turning your head in a position for him to press his lips against yours, and kissed you. It was unexpected, but after a few seconds, the shock drifted away, and you closed your eyes, returning the kiss. It was longer than the kiss you shared with Shouto earlier that day, but not by much; and once it was over, he licked his lips.

‘Vanilla...’ He thought as he pulled away.

His hand fell from your chin and he sighed. “Hurry before you’re late,” was all he said before turning around and walking back towards the dorm, leaving you in a post-kiss daze.

You made it to your class, albeit, late because your mind kept trying to make sense of the kiss that you’d accidentally passed the door to your classroom...twice. Of course, you had kissed Katsuki before. Kissing him on the lips wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence either. But never had he incited a kiss on his own—and in public? Well, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility before. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself it wasn't strange, you couldn't help but feel suspicious.

As you dissociated from your lecture your brain kept replaying the kiss, searching for a reason to why the kiss felt different. No, it didn't feel different. It felt strange. But it only felt strange because something about it felt familiar. It shouldn't have felt familiar. If a guy initiates a kiss with you for the first time it shouldn't feel familiar. Why did it feel familiar?

And then it hit you. He licked his lips.

He licked his lips!

Your brain switched to your kiss with Shouto earlier in the day. After you kissed him he had licked his lips too. You thought it was weird then, but didn't think twice about it. Now you were thinking twice.

‘I’m just being crazy,’ you thought.

In what way could the kisses be related? What? Because they both happened to lick their lips afterwards? So what? That didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing. You were sure of it...

Almost.

You shook the thoughts from your head, refocusing your attention back to your professor at the front of the room. After class, you made your way back to the dorms to get started on your studies while Mina and Jiro were out. The sun had long since set, and you were two hours deep in frustration preparing for your Hero Physics midterm when a knock came from the door.

You welcomed the distraction, considering you were about to re-read the same question for the fifth time with no progress of understanding it anytime soon, and if you read it again without a miraculous conclusion, you were going to bash your brains in with your laptop.

Needless to say, when you opened the door to see Izuku standing in the hall, you welcomed him with open arms.

“Hey!” You smiled.

Izuku looked you up and down. You were still wearing Katsuki’s hoodie, but you had switched out your dress for pajama pants and fuzzy socks. It was subtle, practically unnoticeable, but the slightest crease formed in-between his eyebrows when he noticed.

“Is that Kaachan’s hoodie?” He asked.

You looked down at your torso, as if you had forgotten you were wearing anything at all. “Oh, yeah,” you said. “I spilled soda all over my dress earlier while I was with him and he let me borrow it. Honestly, I’m thinking about keeping it at this point. I was supposed to return it as soon as I got back but it’s freezing in here because the thermostat is stuck at sixty-nine degrees and this hoodie is so much warmer than any of mine.”

“You should really call maintenance to fix that.” He brushed past you, entering your room and plopping his backpack on the floor by your desk. You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms.

“What's this?” He asked, picking up your notebook.

“My suicide note.”

Izuku chuckled, looking over your notes and at the assignment on your computer. “I took Hero Physics last semester,” he told you. “I can help you if you want.”

“If you want to dedicate your time to a hopeless cause, be my guest.”

And he did. He took a seat next to you at your desk and spent the next hour tutoring you on Hero Physics by walking you through questions like ‘Find the velocity of this speed-type hero’ and what-not. Surprisingly, it wasn't long into your session that you began to understand the words on your screen. You didn't suddenly become Einstein or anything, but at some point you started to work your way through them on your own with few mistakes. The assignment you had spent two hours slowly killing yourself over was completed in one with the help of your freckled friend.

“I think you’re aiming for the wrong profession, Izuku,” you tell him. “Schools need more teachers.”

“Then schools should pay them more.”

You tried to snort back your laughter, ultimately failing, causing Izuku to laugh along with you.

“Want a drink?” You asked, standing to your feet.

“Sure.” He nodded. You left him at your desk and came back with two Arizona teas from your mini fridge to share with him.

“You never mentioned why you stopped by unannounced,” you said as you took a sip. “Not that you’re ever unwelcome.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “I guess I just wanted to see you.”

You looked down at your hands wrapped around the can, unable to meet his eyes. Izuku always managed to make you blush. You weren't sure if he meant to or not. Either way, he was completely oblivious to the effect he had on you.

“Well thank you. It’s always nice to see you.”

Similarly, Izuku blushed as well, his cheeks turning pale red. His eyes shifted to the clock on your desk. “I should probably go,” he said, not really wanting to go. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh, right.” You both stood to your feet and Izuku gathered his things. You walked him to the door, leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he exited into the hall. “Think you can keep tutoring me?”

Izuku turned around.

“I still need to pass finals,” you said.

He nodded. “Then I'll make sure you pass finals.”

Grinning, you closed the space between you, mindlessly reaching to place a kiss on his cheek when you were reminded of the other kisses you'd shared with Shouto and Katsuki. A thought in the back of your mind spurred from your suspicions—a thought that quickly turned into an idea. At the last second, you acted on your impulse to b-line for his lips, catching you both off guard. You stuck with it, pressing your lips against his harder than you intended. The action stunned him, but it didn't take him longer than a second to embrace it.

It was just a kiss. Not unlike the many kisses you often shared with the others. Not unlike the kisses you've given him before. It was just a simple peck...until it wasn't.

You pulled away, prepared to give him your thanks for helping you with your studies. But, you never got the chance. Your words were silenced by his lips chasing after yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as your back pressed against the door frame. His hands cupped your cheeks and your lips moved in sync, his tongue daring to swipe across your lips. In the heat of the moment, your mouth nearly opened for him, but he pulled away just as your lips began to part, and you opened your eyes to meet dark green irises peering down at your flushen face.

Your eyes flickered down to his pink lips, now reddened and somewhat swollen. You watched in disbelief as—just like the others—he, too, licked his lips.

“Watermelon,” he said lowly. Your chest heaved, your words escaping you. Izuku stepped back, his usual sickeningly sweet smile staring back at you as if nothing happened.

“We should split some watermelon,” he said. “The next time we study together. That’s my asking rate.”

You nodded hazily. “Okay.”

With that, he said goodbye and left you standing in the doorway to your room dumbfounded.

Yeah.

Something definitely was up.