No warnings just fluff that’s been clouding my mind
It’s been in my brain for forever now but imagine once trans fem todoroki comes out to her bf hanta ,sero our Latin king just starts changing the endings of certain word to be the feminine version
like if he’s teasing her he’ll be like “aww my baby is tan Tímida just look at the way your blushing” or if Roki walks into the kitchen sero will greet her with a “hola mi hermosa”
Because In Spanish there are feminine and masculine endings for words like the word for pretty- lindo is the masc and linda is fem
I can’t tell if this is as cute as it is in my head
Hanta has been alone for a lot of his life. He has friends now that he’s in UA, but he’s not that close with them, you know? Denki always tries to hang with other people before him; Kirishima and Bakugo are always together and never really express interest in wanting him there. But Hanta’s okay with it, he guesses. Maybe he’s just not that fun of a person to be around; maybe he’s not one of those people who has friends.
Which is why he is so confused when Shoto Motherfucking Todoroki™️, UA’s resident pretty boy, takes an interest in him. He’s so confused, because doesn’t he already have Midoriya and Bakugo as his friends? Why the hell would he care about some plain, background character of a person?
Shoto taps him on his shoulder one day in class, after he finishes his work and sees their other classmates chatting and laughing.
“Hey,” He softly says, “Have you had a good day?”
Hanta kinda turns up his brow at Shoto’s words. He turns around and Shoto is very stiff, very awkward. It’s obvious he doesn’t really know what to say to someone when he wants to start a conversation.
“Uhhh,” Hanta starts, “Yeah. It’s been good I guess. How’s yours?”
“It’s okay.” Shoto smiles. “I rented a movie last night and I’m gonna watch it whenever I get back to my dorm today.”
Hanta kinda blushes. He does take in Shoto’s words and listens to him, but holy shit it is so hard not to get lost in those fucking eyes. Why the hell does Shoto have to be so pretty and not even be fucking aware of it?
“That’s pretty cool. What movie?” Hanta can’t blame Shoto for being so awkward, he feels so out of place right now he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.
“It’s a movie about All Might and his rise into being a hero. Do you wanna watch it with me?” Shoto offers.
Hanta’s heart stops. “You wanna watch it with me?”
“Sure. Come to my dorm around 5 okay?” Shoto smiles brightly at Hanta, leaving him starstruck.
UA’s resident pretty boy wanted to hang out with him. Not Midoriya, not Bakugo, not anyone who seems to be of any actual importance, him. Hanta smiles sheepishly, face ablaze.
“Uh yeah,” He stammers, “Y-yeah, that’s good. I’ll be there at 5.”
Shoto smiles back, then returns to his worksheet Aizawa assigned them.
Hanta turns back to his too, unable to hide the smile on his face.
When it’s finally 5 o clock, after a day that felt infinite and tiresome to Hanta, he bounds up to Shoto’s room with a skip in his step and his crooked smile on display, excitedly knocking on the door to Shoto’s dorm. He’s practically vibrating when Shoto opens the door with a smile on his face.
But what really gets Hanta? Shoto’s wearing a baggy shirt that falls over to the side and reveals Shoto’s perfect collar bones, and short shorts that leave little of his legs to the imagination. He tries his best not to stare and smile and giggle like a schoolgirl after he’s invited in and told to sit down on the bed, and to be honest he’s fucking proud of himself for not combusting right there.
Hanta’s clothes suddenly feel really right on his body, his plain brown shirt and jeans suffocating him while he stares at the fucking beauty that is Shoto Todoroki. Hanta feels it should honestly be a crime to be that pretty.
“I set up the movie on my laptop, since I don’t have a tv. I hope that’s okay,” Shoto says, his voice soft and angelic, featherlight and harmonious. Hanta’s never heard a more beautiful sound in his entire life.
“O-oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind,” Hanta laughs, watching as Shoto sits down on the bed and scoots back, wrapping a blanket around his waist while he flips the laptop open.
“You can lay down,” Shoto offers, patting a spot on the bed beside him.
Suddenly Hanta is very aware of how stiff he is, how his hands grip his knees and how uncomfortable straight his back is. He scoots back a bit on the bed to see the laptop better, only slightly slouching his back.
They watch the movie in almost utter silence, Hanta barely paying attention to it. How could he, when Shoto Todoroki is so close to him they’re practically touching and holy shit even his fucking breaths sound pretty.
Hanta takes deep breaths, scolding himself in his head for how little self control he was demonstrating. Shoto wanted to be his friend. And here he was, being a fucking pervert and thinking about how soft his hair might be and how much softer his lips would be. Hanta feels that Shoto would surely be disgusted that someone like him could ever hope to have a chance with him. He scowls and turns his head away for a second, his heart aching in his chest.
If he hopes to continue to hang out with Shoto, he’s gonna need to get whatever this is under control.
Later, after the movie finishes and Hanta heads back to his dorm, he stares at himself in the mirror. He understands why Todoroki is the pretty boy of class 1A and he’s not. Hanta stares in the mirror and just… doesn’t like what he sees.
His mouth is crooked, his eyes are oddly shaped. His teeth are too big for his mouth. His ears stick out too much. His nose is shaped funny. And by god, whoever told him that haircut was good? Hanta’s eyes drift down to his body, his shirt cast aside and pants ready to follow suit. His elbows are really fucking big, really fucking big. Of course he had to have a quirk that made him have huge elbows, out of anything else.
His torso is shaped wrong. He can’t place it, but it’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and stares back up at himself, staring into his dark black eyes that he probably hates the most. They’re like a sea of fucking nothing, completely plain and boring.
Hanta scowls and turns his gaze away from his mirror, flopping down on his best on his stomach with a grunt.
I can not like Todoroki, He thinks. I absolutely can not like Todoroki. Not when I know he’ll never like me back.
The weeks go by like this, Shoto inviting Hanta up to his dorm a couple nights a week, sometimes spending the night on the weekends. They actually have fun. Hanta has never laughed more, never smiled more than when he’s with Shoto. He’s actually really funny when you get to know him and understand him, he’s not always serious and emo all the time. And Hanta fucking loves getting to see Shoto like this.
They’re chilling in Hanta’s dorm this time, Shoto lounged up on the bed while Hanta chills on the floor, his homework open up in front of him.
“Do you need any help?” Shoto asks, so sweetly.
“Nah,” Hanta smiles. “I got it. Surprisingly I actually know how to answer this stuff this time.”
“You have trouble with your homework a lot?” Shotos brows furrow, in what Hanta believes to be disappointment. Fuck.
“No!” He says too suddenly. “Just- sometimes I struggle you know? Not everybody can be top of the class and get perfect marks.”
Shoto frowns. “Ask me for help next time, okay?” He says.
Hanta’s heart skips a beat. He can’t believe Shoto would care about him enough to offer to tutor him without even being asked.
“I-uh yeah, for sure,” Hanta agrees, his warm face turning back down to the papers in his lap.
They sit in almost-silence for a bit, the only sounds in the dorm being Hanta’s pencil scratching against the paper. He occasionally glances up at Todoroki, who’s laying on his back on Hanta’s bed, hands folded over his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling.
When Hanta finishes, he shoves his papers back in his folder and puts it in his bag, some of them crumpling from how quickly he’s doing it.
“All done?” Shoto asks, his perfect little eyes staring down at Hanta.
“Yep.” Hanta says. “Hopefully it’s not too bad.”
Hanta sits up on the bed, right at the end of Shoto’s feet. He looks down at him so lovingly, anyone else would be able to see how in love Hanta is with the boy. Anyone but Shoto, since he’s about as observant as a blind man.
“You’re really smart,” Shoto compliments, “I think you did good.”
Hanta’s heart stops again. Shoto does that to him a lot. It’s got to be at least somewhat dangerous, hearts probably shouldn’t skip a beat that much.
“T-thanks!” He stammers.
Shoto pats a spot on the bed next to him. “Lay down.”
“Oh- uh- okay.” Hanta agrees, stiffly laying down next to Shoto, their shoulders and hips touching. Hanta’s skin feels electric.
They sit in silence for a few moments. Hanta keeps his eyes trained towards the ceiling, despite every instinct and desire in him telling him not turn his gaze to look at Shoto’s pretty face.
“Hey Sero?” Shoto asks, turning his head to look at Hanta, so he does the same.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Hanta coughs and sputters, caught off guard by Shoto’s question. Of course he’s never kissed anyone, who would want to kiss him?! More importantly, why is Shoto interested in that?!
“No, i- I haven’t,” Hanta chuckles, looking into Shoto’s pretty blue and gray eyes. Shoto’s probably kissed a lot of people, he thinks.
“Hm.” Shoto hums. “I haven’t either.”
Hanta’s eyes widen in shock. “You haven’t?”
“No.” Shoto says again. “I don’t think anybody wants to kiss me. I think I’d be bad at it.”
Hanta’s eyes bug out if his head. There is no fucking way Shoto thinks no one wants to kiss him. He has to be out of his mind.
“Are you kidding me? So many people wanna kiss you man.” Hanta laughs, shaking his head.
This time it’s Shoto’s turn to turn pink and stammer, and Hanta melts at the sight of a flustered Roki.
“N-no!” He yells, “That’s not true!”
“It really is dude,” Hanta says again, “I guarantee our entire class has thought about it at least once.”
Shoto stares at him in astonishment. “Including… you?”
Hanta’s heart is probably beating so fast it’s in danger of breaking his ribs.
“W-well, I-I don’t know… like once. B-but I do that with everyone, I’m just weird!” Hanta laughs awkwardly, wishing he could crawl out of his skin and die.
“Oh.” Shoto says, his eyes seem to sink in disappointment. Hanta fucking hates it.
“Unless! You don’t want me to…?” He asks, sitting up and looking down at Shoto. Hanta scolds himself for his words; what the hell is he even saying? Of course Shoto doesn’t fucking care!
“I don’t want you to think about kissing other people,” Shoto says, like it’s just something you say to your friends.
Hanta swears he’s daydreamed about this before, this exact scenario; Shoto asking to kiss Hanta and being completely enamored by him and professing his love for him and declaring he’s never wanted anyone more than he wants Hanta.
“Other people?” Hanta asks, “Why? Its not like we kiss.”
Shoto furrows his brows, takes a deep breath, and says, “I want us to kiss.”
Hanta swears he stops fucking breathing.
“W-what?” He asks, his face fever hot and face probably as red as half of a certain someone’s hair.
Shoto looks away from him, face red in embarrassment. “‘M sorry, I know it’s weird,” He apologizes.
Hanta grabs the side of Shoto’s face, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of his scar. Hanta wants to kiss it.
“No! It’s not… it’s not weird,” He reassures, “We can kiss… if you wanna.”
“Really?!” Shoto asks, eyes lighting up in excitement.
“Mhm,” Hanta agrees, not saying anything because he doesn’t trust his voice not to crack and break with happiness.
Shoto sits up with Hanta, and moves so their bodies are even closer than they’ve ever been before. Their faces are inches apart, their warm and excited breaths brushing across each other’s faces.
Shoto shakily reaches his hand up and places it on the side of Hanta’s face, gently cupping his cheek. The tips of their noses brush together. Hanta is breathing so light he’s probably about to pass out soon.
Slowly, frightenedly, their lips brush together. The kiss was just a peck at first, but after they slightly pull away they go back for more, crashing them together despite not knowing what to do. Hanta feels butterflies in his stomach, his whole body going warm and light, feeling like he’s flying. He places his hand over top of Shoto’s, trying his hardest to not smile into the kiss.
When they break apart for air, they both can’t stop the smiles from leaking onto their faces. They push their foreheads together and stare into each other’s eyes, laughing and smiling despite just doing something they had both been horribly afraid of doing.
“That was an excellent first kiss,” Hanta whispered.
“I think it was too,” Shoto whispers back.
Hanta hugs Shoto, pushing Shoto’s head into his chest, his arms wrapping around the boy. Shoto fits so perfectly in his arms, he never, ever wants to let him go.
Hanta kisses the top of Shoto’s head, all of the fear he had once felt about showing affection, keeping a distance between them, completely gone. He’s on cloud fucking nine and he’s going to enjoy it.
“Hey Hanta?” Shoto whispers again.
“What is it ‘Roki?” Hanta’s fingers thread through Shoto’s hair, gently playing with his locks.
“You know how some people are boyfriends and girlfriends?“
“Yeah?” Hanta forgets to breathe.
“Can we be boyfriends?”
Hanta smiles. “Of fucking course we can Roki. I’d want nothing more.”
Shoto’s grip on Hanta tightens, and so does Hanta’s grip on Shoto.
“are you trying to seduce me into a healthier sleeping pattern?”
“is it working?”
or; sero is a caring boyfriend who always knows exactly what to say.
the room is completely quiet, save for hanta sero’s soft breathing. it’s illuminated only by lamplight and moonlight shining in from the balcony doors, curtains drawn back. one door is cracked slightly, letting the cool night air circulate through the room.
it’s perfectly cozy, and hanta has his knees drawn to his chest, his nose dipped beneath his blanket.
ask him when he fell asleep and he wouldn’t be able to answer.
actually, scratch that.
ask him if he was asleep at all and he’d deny it all the way to his grave.
just resting my eyes, he would say.
a pencil falls, and a chair scratches on the floor as the person in the seat leans back to retrieve it.
this, of all things, startles hanta from his comfortable slumber (or eye resting, whatever he decides to call it).
as his dark eyes crack open, adjusting to the dim light, coming back to his senses, he sees his boyfriend in the chair at his desk, left hand raking through dark red locks, tapping a pencil eraser against his lip. his leg is lifted, socked foot curling over the edge of the seat, cheek pressed against his knee. hanta watches shouto todoroki blink rapidly, trying to chase away exhaustion, trying to formulate answers in his head, stressing for next to nothing.
hanta leans up, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. trying not to yawn, he asks, “hey, what time is it?” then, when shouto turns very slowly toward him, he asks, “why are you still up?”
shouto sets his pencil down, cheek still pressed to his knee, lips pursed in a pout. the lamplight gives his white hair a golden glow almost. hanta’s sleepy self suddenly imagines shouto blond, like bakugo, but the image shatters when shouto finally replies.
“still studying.”
hanta narrows his eyes, obviously not satisfied with that answer alone. “how long?”
“hm?” shouto is staring at his notebook again, at his opened textbook. hanta wonders if he’s still on the page they were on when hanta passed out.
“how long have i been out?”
shouto finds his phone under the textbook cover, taps the screen. he hesitates, hanta can see it, just barely. “four hours.”
frowning, hanta tries doing the math, as much as his brain doesn’t want him to. that must mean it’s closer to—
“shou, it’s, like, two in the morning.”
shouto is unphased, even as his shoulders sag, as his notebook mocks him. “i’m aware.”
hanta considers throwing a pillow at his head. instead, he throws his blanket to the side, making room next to himself. “shou, come to bed.”
shouto looks at him fully, then. his eyelids droop, hair messed up from running his fingers through it too many times, pulling and twisting. “if the light’s bothering you, i can—“
“no, don’t worry about the light,” hanta interrupts, patting the spot next to him. the dorm beds are full size, which is just big enough to hold two grown boys. every single night, hanta sends his thanks to whoever fashioned these dorms, because twin size beds suck when you’re seventeen and six foot two inches tall.
and also when you wanna spend the night with your almost equally tall boyfriend, but that’s beside the point.
“come on,” hanta keeps pushing even when shouto doesn’t budge. “come to bed. you need sleep.”
shouto is still staring at him, or rather, through him, looking ready to clock out right here in this spot. their test isn’t for another two days, but damn is he nervous. he has to do well, for himself, for his sanity, but also to pass and progress forward. finals are kicking his ass and god, shouto just wants to do well. that’s all he asks.
also, he told bakugo he'd score higher than him, so his pride and dignity is on the line, as well. but hanta doesn’t need to know that right now.
“i’m not tired, hanta,” shouto says, lying straight through his teeth. he ignores the pull in his bones, the pull he always feels in hanta’s presence. hanta is like a supermassive star, with the strongest gravitational force out of everyone he knows.
he’s undeniable. shouto wonders if hanta even realizes it.
back on earth, hanta disproves of this answer as well, and shouto represses a sigh. “i won't be long, i promise. just need a bit more—“
then, the room is much louder than necessary.
“shouto, my darling!” hanta reaches out a spidery hand to him, post-midnight-delirium soaking in. “i’ll be so lonely without you! come to bed, come to bed so we can cuddle and i can feel whole again!”
hanta is trying his hardest not to laugh, face pulled in mock distress, hands reaching out, lips pulled into a quivering frown. shouto sees it, now; the mess of his hair, the exhaustion in his eyes, the hazy sleepiness pulling at his boyfriend’s limbs. the sight of him in his pajamas, t-shirt twisted, blanket thrown aside, illuminated in that gentle lamplight glow, god, does it pull.
shouto should just give in. close his notebook and give in. he knows hanta won’t give up.
“are you… trying to seduce me into a healthier sleeping pattern?” shouto asks, lip quirking as hanta snorts. they both fall into barely contained, enervation-induced giggling. “is that what you’re trying to do?”
then hanta drops his headback down onto his pillow none too gracefully, smiling lazily, tapping the spot next to him again. it’s enough.
finally, shouto shuts his notebook.
“is it working?” hanta asks, already knowing the answer.
it’s enough. shouto flicks off the lamp and stumbles blindly to the bed. when he crawls into his hanta-assigned spot, his eyes are finally adjusted. hanta looks even more unearthly with the moon lighting up all the high planes of his face.
the moon must favor him, shouto thinks. that’s okay. shouto supposes he can share his boyfriend with the moon.
his moon-favored lover boy leans forward to plant the gentlest of kisses to shouto’s forehead after brushing his hair out of his face. he’s too good, too soft, too pure. shouto’s heart aches with all the adoration, all the love he feels for hanta. it’s cheesy and it’s ridiculous but it’s good.
shouto feels so young in this moment, so whole. cared for and loved.
“sleep, shou,” hanta whispers, his pointer finger dancing over shouto’s collarbone as their eyes start to drift shut. “you’re a natural, and you’ll do wonderful on the tests. i know you will, but you’ve got to start sleeping better.”
instead of answering, shouto presses a warm palm to hanta’s heart. their heartbeats align in no time at all, breathing easy as the moon and all her stars watch over them from above.
hanta feels so ancient, like he’s done this before a thousand times, like he’ll do it a thousand more times, like he’ll never tire of shouto todoroki.
he won’t.
—
i wrote this in less than an hour. they own my heart and soul.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953362
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
in which feelings are discovered under early morning light, finally.
psst, part one and two on my account :)
after the war.
another nightmare—no, memory, rages through todoroki’s head. he’s drowning in blue flames, bakugo is bleeding out on the ground, midoriya is lost in the sky. there’s unspeakable pain all around him, inside him, and there’s no way out.
he sees bakugo fall from the sky, hears the sickening thud of him hitting the ground.
he sees midoriya erupt in black and green light, running out of energy, running out of time.
he sees his brother’s horrible smile, the old scars and fresh burns pulling at his skin.
this is a nightmare. this isn’t real. it’s over, so you can wake up. just wake up. wake up!
todoroki bolts upright with a massive gasp. he’s completely still for half a second before he plants his face in his hands. his eyes sting and he wills the tears away, wills the fear away, wills himself to calm down. it doesn’t work.
it’s over. it’s over. it’s over.
you’re safe now.
it’s over. it’s okay.
sero.
without hesitating and without checking the time, todoroki yanks his phone off the charger and calls the first contact in his favorites list.
inhale.
one ring.
exhale.
two rings.
inhale—it’s too warm—
three rings.
exhale—too cold—
four—
“i’m up—oh, todoroki, hey—“
“nightmare,” todoroki sucks in another breath, voice weak and hitched. “i know it’s late, it was—it was horrible. i had to watch them fall—had to—“
“hey, hey, shh,” sero cuts him off. “you don’t have to relive it. you're okay now.”
todoroki bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, shuts his eyes tight. he refuses to cry. not now. “there were—“ another crack in his voice; he tries again. “there were so many things i could have done differently.”
he doesn’t need to spell it out for sero to know exactly what he’s talking about.
the war. it’s still not over. they've all been dealing with the effects, the aftershocks, in their own ways. the dorms are quieter, classes still haven’t resumed, even after sending a number of students home for a short amount of time. everything is wrong.
todoroki had stayed here, then, when the majority of his classmates had gone.
“hey,” sero starts, drawing it out, like he’s thinking something over. “todoroki?”
todoroki peeks one eye open. “sero.”
“why don’t you… come over?” sero murmurs. “might be better than laying there all on your own, after a nightmare like that.”
todoroki wipes a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his free hand. it takes him a moment to process sero’s offer, and no time at all to make up his mind.
“you’re—you're sure?”
“of course,” sero says immediately. “to be honest with you, i couldn't really sleep either. i can at least keep you company, you know?”
“yeah, okay.”
“i’ll leave the door unlocked.”
the line beeps, and todoroki heaves a heavy sigh. he slips out of bed, fixes his twisted t-shirt. leaving his phone on the pillow, todoroki exits his dorm as quietly as he can. as expected, the hall is silent and empty. light bleeds out from underneath sero’s door.
todoroki tiptoes in with no preamble, not allowing himself time to second guess his actions. sero is in the middle of kicking something under his bed when todoroki crosses the room and sits right next to him.
purple fairy lights are strung up around the ceiling. the light cascades around them like they’d entered another realm. sero’s room is, by far, the homiest, coziest room on this floor, including todoroki’s own. his curtains were pulled open, window cracked just a bit. a breeze blows in and sero’s hair blows with it.
sero peers carefully at todoroki, hardly processing the way their thighs are pressed together, the way todoroki smells like the air after a heavy rain, the way his heart pounds in his rib cage. he wasn’t even the one who had a bad dream.
todoroki is clad in gray and blue, pajama pants and a slightly too big t-shirt, wrinkled and soft. his hair isn’t smooth like usual, but frizzy in the back where he likely had it pressed into his pillow, sticking up on the red side in odd places. sero’s never seen todoroki so pulled apart, so raw, except for on a battlefield.
this was different.
this was… intimate.
sero may be sitting by his right side, but todoroki radiates a lulling kind of warmth.
and despite all that, the shorter boy looks like he might dash for the door at any moment, still strung up from his nightmare. even in this dim light. sero can see the dark, almost bruise-like colors under todoroki’s eyes.
sero reaches for him without thinking, fingers ghosting over the small of todoroki’s back. “how long has it been since you’ve had a proper night's sleep?”
how many nightmares have you had and haven’t told me about?
“i—ah, can’t remember,” todoroki replies. he leans into the touch, just barely. it’s instinct at this point, to fall into sero’s orbit, to turn toward his light. already, he feels closer to earth than he had in the silence of his own dorm.
prior to attending ua, todoroki hadn’t known what closeness could feel like, but with sero, there was no other option besides closeness. he never wanted anything else, anything less. closeness with sero was different from closeness with anyone else. and now that todoroki’s gotten a taste of true connection, true closeness, it’s like he can’t—doesn’t want to—live without it. sero’s touch makes his skin prickle through the fabric of his shirt.
despite his nightmare, despite being shaken, terrified, todoroki considers curling up next to sero like a cat. he just wants—what do you want?—to be held. that’s it. it must be.
sero takes his hand away.
“why don’t we, uh—do you think you could sleep better here?” sero whispers hurriedly, tensing like he might stand or make a run for the window. “in my bed? i can take the—“
then he really does stand, gesturing vaguely to the hammock todoroki has seen him fall asleep a number of times in. todoroki reaches for him, this time, cool hand taking sero’s wrist.
“stay,” todoroki blurts out. “stay by me.”
sero turns to meet his eye, deep brown on dull gray and blue. his brows pinch together helplessly. todoroki doesn’t look away, giving sero a solid, sure look.
sero feels infinitely heavier and, somehow, lighter, than he had just moments ago.
it takes some time, some adjusting, but eventually they’re both settled side by side on top of the covers on sero’s bed. cool night air flows over them. the fairy lights have been unplugged, leaving only the moon to brighten the high planes of each other’s faces. glow in the dark stars dot the ceiling. their sides are touching, and sero tries to soak up some of todoroki’s radiating heat to fight off the goosebumps.
sero talks into the open air, he’s not sure how long, trying to keep quiet. he mentions the betrayed look on iida’s face when he’d walked in and found sero and a few others with their feet on the couches or chairs they were sat in. he mentions something bakugo had said, something particularly bakugo-esque, trying to mimic the blonde’s rock salt voice. that makes todoroki chuckle, and sero’s chest blooms with warmth. he talks todoroki through the complexities of his younger self’s favorite anime.
then, sero turns on his side, hands flat between them. todoroki’s eyes are closed.
“are you asleep?” sero asks, not entirely expecting a response.
“not yet,” todoroki replies. with his eyes still closed, todoroki shifts until he’s on his side, too, hands tucked under his cheek. red hair falls, splays across his forehead.
and sero—clueless, hopeless sero—in a moment of quiet awe, silent confidence, lifts a hand to brush that hair back, revealing todoroki’s forehead.
the wave of pure adoration hits sero so hard he nearly leans forward to plant a kiss in the center of the other boy's forehead.
todoroki’s eyes blink open. they shine in the moonlight, brighter than they’ve been in weeks. they shine with exhaustion, with contentment, with something else close to… daring, maybe.
unthinking, sero sighs and says, “you look really pretty.”
it’s true. it’s always been true. sero has thought so since the first day of school. but somewhere along the line, it became a new kind of pretty. a kind of pretty that almost felt like it was reserved solely for sero. todoroki had opened up a lot since starting here, sure, but there’s a certain look to him whenever they’re alone that always leaves sero breathless, wondering if todoroki smiles at everyone else in private like that, too.
sero hadn’t ever wondered something like that about anyone else before.
todoroki flips onto his back and shifts until his head is over the edge of his bed, just like sero had been all those weeks ago in his hammock.
sero tilts his chin up, already grinning. then todoroki smiles, upside down and pure, and time seems to slow.
it’s a look sero’s never seen before, a look he’ll likely never forget.
of course, sero’s never been shy of telling his friends how much he appreciated them, loved them. he’s never shied away from consuming them in his arms, hoping to share his gentleness and kindness. he never wants anyone to forget just how important they are to him.
but this—this was starting to feel different.
sero has no idea when it started.
not even the shadows of the room can hide the way todoroki flushes, all the way down his neck. his eyes widen, just a tiny bit. then his mouth opens, and sero turns away before todoroki can say anything at all.
he slaps his hands over his face, groaning half to himself. “i'm sorry, wow, i really—i’m really tired and i guess i just—“
that same cool hand takes sero’s wrist again, featherlight as it drifts down his forearm. then todoroki pulls, pulls sero’s hand away from his face, pulls it closer to him.
“don't apologize,” todoroki hums.
sero blinks. then blinks again. he turns his head, and suddenly the distance between them is no distance at all and too much, all at once. heat crawls up the back of sero’s neck.
todoroki had shifted, brought his legs up until one knee is nudged into sero’s thigh. both hands wrap around sero’s forearm, gently, almost like he’s coddling it.
sero can hardly catch his breath before todoroki pulls again, lifting sero’s hand up to his lips, ghosting a kiss over his knuckles. sero watches, in a trance, as two toned eyelashes flutter shut, as lips graze over his skin. he’s burning.
his only coherent thought is: holy shit.
“is this okay?” he does it again, kissing those knuckles a little more firmly.
holy shit.
“yeah,” sero responds, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “yes.”
the smaller boy cracks a small smile, a pure one, a tired one, and does it again.
maybe sero’s dreaming. that’s got to be the only explanation, right?
not long after, todoroki falls asleep, just like that; he holds sero’s arm close, dragging cool fingertips over his skin. his cheeks are still tinged a light pink.
sero shifts, just a little, just enough to hook his ankle over todoroki’s. they fit together, somehow. it just… works. like it was always meant to be that way.
he breathes a goodnight into the air and is out like a light.
—
bright light and a chilly breeze washes over sero—and todoroki—the very next morning. the sun has just barely crested the horizon; the sky is freckled with puffy clouds, painted pink and orange.
the raven haired boy wakes first, which is a first in and of itself, squinting away the sunspots in his eyes. he’s very warm on one side, and his neck hurts a bit. as he starts to lean forward and stretch his arms over his head, he realizes.
shoto todoroki is curled into his side, lips parted, sound asleep.
his cheek is pressed into sero’s ribs, legs stretched over sero’s own, a hand tossed over his stomach. his hair is a mess and sero’s pretty sure he might be drooling a little bit, but this warm toned light makes todoroki look more alive than he’s looked in weeks. his forehead is free of worry lines, and there are red lines from his position etched into his chin.
it’s… endearing.
and overwhelming.
“you look really pretty.”
sero inhales sharply at the memory. fuck. exhales jaggedly at the memory of todoroki’s lips pressed into his knuckles, of his fingers exploring the skin of sero’s hand. fuck.
he takes another look at the two toned boy practically attached at his hip and tries to smother the butterflies in his belly, the electricity soaring through his veins.
shoto todoroki is asleep in my bed.
shoto todoroki is asleep on me, in my bed, in my room.
shoto todoroki kissed my knuckles.
oh, how desperately sero wishes he’d kissed him back now, indulged in the feelings he hadn’t acknowledged until only last night.
i do not have a crush on shoto todoroki.
the boy in question takes a deep breath, muscled shoulders rising as he starts to shift. his head pops up, a mess of pink cheeks and disastrous, disgustingly endearing messy hair, and he squints at the light pouring in from the window.
all the air is knocked from sero’s lungs.
“mornin’, sero,” todoroki mutters, unable to even keep his eyes open. “‘s too early. ‘m goin’ back to sleep.”
then he drops his head back down and squeezes impossibly closer to sero.
shit.
sero leans back, careful to not disturb the other boy, and plants his palms on his cheeks. nothing in the world is strong enough to smother the stupid grin growing on his face. nothing in the world is strong enough to settle sero’s pounding heart.
