Short update for our Birthday Boy!!! SHOTO 🫶 I just realized that today is 01/11, and I was like, “It’s Shoto’s birthday!” so I hurried to write a short fic, lol.
P.S. I’M TAKING A BREAK FROM WRITING since I just took the CET last night and have another one next week, so I’m focusing on that—but I’ll update soon! Sorry for the delays!
It had taken months—months of careful observation, quiet gestures, and small, almost imperceptible touches—before Shoto Todoroki started showing you his affection. Even being friends with him was a patient, slow process. But now, after all the little moments building up, he was slowly letting the walls come down.
It started with study sessions at your apartment. You were hunched over math books, groaning at some problem you couldn’t solve. Without a word, Shoto reached over and rested his hand lightly on yours, guiding your pencil in the right direction.
“Uh… thanks,” you murmured, noticing the faint blush on his ears.
He looked away, voice low, almost embarrassed. “It… it’s nothing.”
It was small, but it made your heart flutter.
Later, when you were walking home from school, he sometimes fell into step beside you, brushing your shoulder lightly whenever you bumped into each other. Sometimes, he’d walk a little closer than needed, letting your arms brush accidentally—or not-so-accidentally—against his. He never said anything, but the quiet warmth of his presence lingered.
One rainy afternoon, you shared an umbrella on the way to the convenience store. He was stiff at first, holding the umbrella just over your head, avoiding your hair. Then, slowly, he let the edge of his coat brush yours, awkwardly mumbling, “Better not… get you wet.” His fingers lingered near yours for a heartbeat too long, and you caught him staring at your lips before he quickly looked away.
Another time, at a casual café, you were laughing at something dumb one of your friends said. Shoto—ever the quiet one—leaned across the table just enough to brush a stray hair from your face. You froze, staring at him, and he froze too, ears red, saying softly, “You… you have something on your… uh… hair.” You giggled, and he gave the tiniest nod, pretending it was all casual.
All of these small moments were building up—soft touches, accidental brushes, quiet proximity—but the real test came on movie night.
You had invited him over to watch a romance movie marathon. The lights were dimmed, popcorn between you, blankets draped haphazardly over the sofa. Shoto was unusually fidgety, his fingers tapping against the armrest, occasionally brushing against yours.
“You… um…” he started, glancing at your face, then at your hands. “In… in movies… sometimes people… kiss at… this point. Should we… um…?” He paused, clearly unsure, glancing back at the screen and then at you. “You… think… that’s… right? That’s what… manga and movies… do?”
You laughed softly, the sound light and warm. He blinked at you, genuinely confused, as though he were trying to apply some complicated logic to a completely human feeling.
Before he could overthink it any further, you leaned in and gave him a quick, gentle kiss on the lips.
Then, slowly, his body went slack, melting into the sofa like he was made of water instead of bone. His hands flailed slightly as he tried to stand, but he couldn’t—he was completely overwhelmed.
“I… uh… water?” he asked softly, trying to sound casual, but his ears were flaming red. “Could… you… get me water? I… feel… dizzy.”
Worried, you hopped off the sofa and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a glass of water and hurried back, only to find him slumped slightly, still half-melted against the cushions.
“Shoto?” you murmured, shaking him lightly. “Are you alright?”
He blinked slowly, startled. “Uh… I… didn’t… expect…” His gaze dropped—and then caught yours. The proximity of your lips so close, so inviting, made his heart thrum painfully. “I… think… I like it,” he admitted, voice soft, almost whispering, as if saying it louder would shatter him.
You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You like it a lot?”
He nodded, cheeks pink, ears still flaming. “A… lot. More than… I thought I… could.”
You giggled, a warm, comforting sound, and reached out to brush your fingers along his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes half-lidded, a shy, vulnerable smile tugging at his lips.
The movie played on in the background, but neither of you noticed. Time had slowed, wrapped around the two of you like the softest blanket. His hands twitched, wanting to hold yours again, but he was too overwhelmed to move.
“Stay… stay like this?” he murmured, voice small, almost inaudible.
“Always,” you whispered, leaning closer until your foreheads touched.
And as the night grew darker, Shoto Todoroki—once so reserved, so awkward with touch—finally let himself fall completely into the warmth and affection he had spent so long denying.
When you leaned in to kiss him again, soft and lingering this time, he melted completely—so much that, when you pulled back just enough to breathe, he fainted gently against the sofa.
You gasped softly, leaning close, tapping his cheek with your finger, your heart racing. “Shoto… wake up… are you alright?”
His eyes fluttered open slowly, catching the light, catching your lips. And without even thinking, he whispered, shy but sincere:
