#bhna fluff

The first thing you notice when you finally emerge from the depths of your slumber is how comfortable you were. Everything feels just right, your pillows are cool against your neck, and your sheets hold the perfect amount of warmth; enough to keep you cozy, but not so hot that your sweat is creasing the silky sheets and making you feel sticky and gross.

The second thing you notice is the very large, very male hand sprawled on the pillow next to your head. A deep male voice lets out a surprised cry as you jerk back, the hand moving with you.. It takes you several moments to realize that it had come from you. 

Your bare feet thump against the wood paneled floor as you stumble out of bed disoriented and realize where you are for the first time. Namely, not in your bedroom.

Glancing around in confusion, you wonder what the hell happened, and how you ended up somewhere so nice.. The space itself is fairly bare, but you can tell that all of the furniture inhabiting it is expensive. From the sleek wooden dresser to the geometric modern light fixtures to the insanely high thread count of the sheets, everything screams tasteful luxury. 

Where are you? You definitely feel asleep in your own bedroom. Reaching up you rake your hair out of your face and freeze. Instead of the familiar texture and length of your own hair, you’re greeted with short, silky soft strands that definitely did not belong to you.

Mussing your hair to make sure you’re not imagining things, you glance down, and for the first time notice some inexplicable things.For one, the ground is a lot farther away than it normally is, and for two, last time you checked you did not have washboard abs, or a male anatomy.

The entire situation was confusing, and you were still slightly sleep-addled. Despite that you knew that you needed to find a mirror. A quick glance around the room located one in the corner and you hurry over to it. 

Sliding to a stop you grip the edges of the little stand, frost spreading from your right hand to cover the wood while you gaped at your appearance.

Intense heterochromatic eyes stared back at you, shock filling them. Your hair was a unique mess of red and white strands, the two colors mussed with sleep. With those distinctive features, plus high chiseled cheekbones, a jawline that could cut stone and a slim yet unfairly muscular body there was no doubt about it.

You were Todoroki Shouto. At least, that’s whose body you’re currently inhabiting. His very shirtless body. 

BZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

Saved from having to fight your urges to poke at his abs by the noise, you jump, swinging your gaze around in search of the origin.

BZZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

A simple black phone flashes on the otherwise empty nightstand (does he seriously not even have a lamp??), the caller i.d. sending you scrambling across the room to the phone. 

Fumbling in your haste, you manage to swipe and pick up the incoming call from your cell phone.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute. There were only two ways to get into your phone. The first was the password, but even you forgot it most of the time. It sat safely tucked away on a post it in the safe you store all of your important documents in. The second was through face i.d. and the only person who could unlock your phone with their face was you. And since you were in his body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that he….Lifting the phone to your ear you speak hesitantly.

“Todoroki? Is that you?”

“Y/N?”

It was unnerving to hear your voice saying your name from the other end of the phone,

“What happened?!” You’re a little mortified to hear the hysteria lacing your words, but you can feel the panicked adrenaline flooding your veins as your body goes into fight or flight.

“I believe that the quirk we got hit with yesterday caused us to switch bodies. However, it is highly unlikely that it is permanent so it will be fine.” Even though it’s your voice, something about knowing Todoroki is on the other end was reassuring enough that some of the tension bled from your shoulders.

“That’s good.” You sigh, rubbing your face. There’s a mildly uncomfortable throbbing coming from your lower half, and you absentmindedly reach down to rub at it, forgetting you weren’t in your own body. Brushing against a bump in your gray sweatpants, you shiver as a familiar feeling spreads through your lower stomach and something twitches.

“Todoroki?” Your voice suddenly gets a little higher, the hint of hysteria from before returning to the normally deep monotone. “We have a problem.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” 

Ignoring his questions, you stare in growing horror at the very obvious tent in the front of the sweatpants you were wearing. You have no idea how you didn’t notice it earlier, but now that you’ve seen what’s going on down there you can’t help but be extremely aware of the uncomfortable pressure. 

“Y/N? Please explain what’s going on. I’m growing concerned.”

“I-” You splutter, unable to form a coherent sentence. Finally you gather your wits enough to say something. “It’s uh, it’s hard.”

“What do you mean? What’s hard? Oh...” He trails off into embarrassed silence.

“OH?” You can’t handle this. “What do you mean ‘oh?!’ Do something!”

“Like what?” He sounds a little defensive. “What am I supposed to do from here?”

“I don’t know!” You’re shouting now. “But you have to do something! How am I supposed to sit here with your massive boner?!”

There’s a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and you jump. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answers a little too quickly, but his voice still retains his usual impassivity. “Anyways, returning to the problem at hand. It will go away on its own after a little while. Unless you would rather handle it yourself-”

“No!” You wince as you practically shout into the phone. “I mean, no it's okay. I feel like that would be unprofessional.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice as he responds. “I feel like this entire situation is rather unprofessional. After all, I did see your breasts this morning.”

There must be something wrong with your hearing because there’s no way he just said what you thought he did. In such a nonchalant manner at that. “Wha-What?” Embarrassingly your voice cracks as you rack your brain, frantically searching through your memories of the night before. Then it hits you. 

“You went to bed without pants, a shirt, and a bra last night.” He informs you matter of factly, and you must be going crazy because there’s no way that that’s smugness you’re picking up from him. “Judging from the temperature of your apartment I’d say that your air conditioning is broken. You should probably get that fixed.”

You’ve completely forgotten about the boner you’re currently sporting due to the mortification of it all. Of course the one time the two of you switch bodies it just has to be the day your AC broke and you went to bed in nothing but a pair of striped cotton undies.

A small part of you mourns that you weren’t wearing something sexier, but the larger part of you is screaming that he is your boss. Sure you’ve been friends for years, and you have a not so little crush on him, but you are his subordinate. This was going to make things so awkward in the office. Hopefully once this is all over you can go hunt someone with a memory erasing quirk down to wipe his mind. But maybe not yours. You kind of want to remember the toned planes of his abs and the impressive bulge in his sweats. 

Giving yourself a shake you chastise your internal voice. Absolutely not. That would be an invasion of his privacy. In fact, you should put on a shirt right this second to respect his privacy, not that he didn’t walk around with half of his hero suit burned off from time to time. Wait. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“Wait. You have a shirt on now, right? You put on a shirt before calling me.” You laugh nervously, because of course he has more common sense than that. It’s not like he would just sit on the phone with you while your tits were hanging out, right? Right??

“Well no.” Your heart falls out of your ass and you accidentally sear a handprint into the edge of his nightstand at his casual answer. “It’s uncomfortably warm in here and without the use of my quirk I am unable to regulate my body's temperature. Aside from that, I don’t know where you keep your shirts so I prioritized calling you to discuss the situation over going through your personal belongings.

That all sounds perfectly reasonable and you would have fallen for it except for one little thing. “Todoroki. I know for a fact that I was too lazy to put my laundry away yesterday and there is a stack of clean t-shirts sitting on the end of my bed right now.” 

You hear rustling -is he still in your bed?!- as he leans forwards to check. “Oh. You’re correct. My apologies.” There’s more rustling and the sound of fabric sliding over skin as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “It’s on now.”

“Thank you.” You pointedly ignore the fact that he did not sound the tiniest bit apologetic, filing it away to revisit later. For now, the two of you need to discuss what to do next. “I appreciate it. What’s the plan now though? I think we should meet at the agency as soon as possible and go from there.” 

“I agree.” He seems to lack the sense of urgency currently consuming you as he hums in agreement. It’s incredibly annoying. “We should probably give each other directions on what to do, and where to find the things we need.”

On second thought maybe it’s better that he’s calm and thinking clearly because that was an excellent idea. “That’s smart. I keep a pad of paper and a pen on my nightstand to jot down reminders if you want to use that. Where do you keep your paper?”

“Check my bookshelf.” The telltale sound of paper flipping told you that he found the notepad as you crossed the room and stopped in front of the simple wooden bookcase. “Where is it on your bookshelf?”

“I think I keep a notebook and a pad of paper on the middle shelf.” He sounds distracted and a little uncertain, but when you stoop down to check (it’s weird being this tall) you find a simple yellow legal pad and a black pen. “I got it.” 

“Okay.” The sound of a book closing accompanies his words and there’s a hint of some unidentifiable emotion lacing the two-syllables. 

Not thinking much of it you shrug it off, sitting down down at his desk and listening as he tells you where keeps his car keys, hero suit, and other necessities. You ask a few follow up questions, jotting down what cabinet he keeps his cologne and deodorant in, before launching into your own instructions.

“The first thing you need to do is start the coffee machine. Trust me. My body will not be happy unless you give it at least three cups of coffee or like two big energy drinks before 9 am. Next…” After you’re sure he has understood the importance of caffeine, you move on, explaining where you keep your clothes, car keys, and shoes, as well as where you parked your car. 

“Don’t worry about makeup or hair products or anything while you’re getting me ready. I know there’s a lot on my bathroom counter but it’s not necessary. But you do need to go into the first drawer on your left when you’re standing at the sink and grab my anxiety meds. They should be in an orange prescription bottle. Only take one. And please for the love of god do not forget to put a bra on. You got all that?”

“I believe so. Is there a specific outfit you want me to wear or should I just choose?” You stop and think. Left to his own devices there’s no knowing what he might put you in (his first hero costume proof of his abysmal sense of fashion) so it would be best to give him some guidance. “Could you just wear a casual sweater and some jeans?” 

“Yes. Let’s get ready and meet at the agency in about an hour. If that works for you.” There’s not much writing on the yellow legal pad, the black scrawl of your handwriting barely taking up half a page. Okay. It isn’t that much. You can do this. “That sounds good to me.”

“Oh, I also think it might be best if we kept this from the general employees at the agency for the time being just to reduce drama. Is that okay with you?” 

“Of course.” More than okay actually. Some of them were aware of your not-so-little crush on him, so it would spare you some teasing and interrogation.

There’s a couple seconds of awkward silence, and you get the feeling he wants to say something more, the tension crackling through the speaker of his stupidly expensive phone. Opening your mouth, you start to say something then realize you don’t really have anything to say. The awkward silence persists a couple seconds longer before he wishes you goodbye and hangs up.

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick. You didn’t even realize that you had started clicking the pen open and closed, a nervous habit of yours. Sheepishly you place the pen down on his desk and stand. Sure the vibes were kind of weird at the end there, but it’s not like anything worth making you nervous happened. The situation might not be ideal, but it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. You could handle it. The worst part was already over. You just had to meet him at the agency, figure out what to do with the rest of the day, and wake up in your own body tomorrow. Piece of cake.

Gaping in horror, you realize that this was not, in fact, going to be a piece of cake. 

Getting ready had been easy enough so you had arrived at the agency a few minutes before your agreed meeting time, which fortunately/unfortunately put you in the perfect position to witness the walking shitshow.

You had been idly sipping at a cup of coffee, marveling at how many packets of sugar it had taken to make it acceptable to his taste buds when he staggered in, catching the eye of pretty much everyone in the lobby.

Hunched over weirdly, he staggered in, wearing a pair of jeans that rode just a little too low to be professional and a very white, very sheer shirt that was meant to be layered over an undershirt. Or, at the very least, with a sturdy, modest bra underneath.

Alas, you can only stare in abject horror at the sight of what everyone else would assume was you stumbling in, your nipples visible from across the room, the bra that should have been on your body clasped in one hand. 

You’re pretty sure you disassociated for a few seconds from sheer mortification, standing there unmoving for several seconds. Once you had processed (and gone through the seven stages of grief multiple times) you were bolting across the floor, seizing his (your?) arm and dragging him down the hall and into the family bathroom where no one could see.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you shove Todoroki/yourself into the small space, wincing as you watch him stumble in your body. Did you always seem this weak and small in his eyes? The sound of the lock clicking as you shut the door reminds you of the current situation and you turn on him, rage emanating from every pore of your being.

“I. Thought. I. Told. You. To. Put. On. A. Bra.” You’re hurt, and seriously pissed off, neatly trimmed nails digging into your thighs as you grip your pants. Humiliation courses through your body, pulsing behind your eyes in tears that you will not let fall, no matter what. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to embarrass me-”

“No.” It’s disconcerting watching yourself speak and move, but subtle mannerisms remind you that it’s Todoroki you’re looking at, not yourself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear.”

“Then what is this?” You wave your hand at your body, flinching at what others must be whispering about you. “Do you want people to think I’m some sort of crazy person who goes around practically flashing people at their workplace? Someone who has no sense of decency?”

“Of course not.” His tone is as even as ever, but you can tell that he feels bad. “People here know what type of person you are. I’m sure they’re more concerned than anything.”

The fabric of his blue hero suit unscrunches as your hands drop to your sides, chest heaving as you take a deep breath. “I hope so.”

There’s vulnerability in your voice, and for a second you find peace in the quiet of the moment before he ruins it. “Besides, I’m more worried about my reputation than yours right now.”

You look up indignantly. “Why? I did everything you asked, and I’m fully dressed so I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

He winces as your voice raises (maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) but he hides it quickly. “I mean, from their point of view, they just watched me forcibly drag my subordinate off and locked myself in a bathroom with her. They probably have all sorts of unseemly ideas about what I’m doing right now.”

You freeze. Shit. You hadn’t even considered what it would look like to the others. “I’m so sorry. We can explain this to everyone. Like you told me, everyone here also knows you, and that you would never do anything inappropriate.” 

“It’s fine.” He gives you a genuine, yet slightly strained smile. “I’m not too concerned. However, your body doesn’t feel great.”

‘What’s wrong?” You reach out and touch his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” Glancing down, you sigh. “First things first let's make you decent. You literally brought the bra. Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“The best way I can describe it is it’s similar to the time I accidentally ate Bakugou’s extra spicy curry, except it’s not in my stomach. It’s more in my abdomen. And I meant to wear it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it on.”

“Okay. I can help with that.” You motion for him to lift his arms. “Take off your shirt.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Is now really the time?” The bathroom is silent as you give him a death look. “It’s my body. There is quite literally nothing about the body you are currently inhabiting that I do not already know about. Now, shirt. I’ll help put the bra on.”

Understanding that you were not in the mood, he hurriedly pulls the shirt off, and you’re presented with the sight of your bare torso. Ignoring the strange intimacy of the moment (it was literally your own body you had no idea why you felt weird) you help him slip his arms into the straps, then motion for him to turn around. 

He complies, and that’s when you see it. The relatively small, but somewhat noticeable stain on your crotch in the back of your pants. That’s why he wasn’t feeling good. Your body started your period.

The clasp of the bra dangles in your hands as you stare at it, evaluating your choices. One. You could pretend like nothing is happening but chances are he’s going to have to pee at some point during the day so he’ll find out eventually. Plus the stain wasn’t small.

Two. Be the mature, rational adult you are and calmly explain the situation. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly natural, biological function that comes with being a female.

And three. Just leave and go crawl into your bed until this nightmare is over. Let him deal with it himself. 

Option number three was looking pretty good there for a moment and you were calculating how fast you could escape the agency without drawing attention when Todoroki spoke. 

“Everything okay? Why aren’t you doing the hook things?” Snapping out of your trance, you clumsily clasp the back, taking several tries to get all the hooks in the same row. Patting it, you tell him to put the shirt back on before taking a deep breath. “Hey, Todoroki?”

Wisps of hair emerge from the neckline of your shirt, followed closely by your head as he pops into your shirt. “Yes?”

“So like, it’s going to be okay and I swear I’ll help you and I’m sorry you have to deal with this but please whatever you do, don’t freak out. Promise?” He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you say it’ll be okay I don’t see why I would feel the need to freak out.”

His calm response puts you somewhat at ease, and you just rip the bandaid off. “My body just started it’s period. With you in it. That’s why your abdomen was hurting. It was period cramps. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some advil soon. There’s a small stain on the back of your pants, but it’s not bad yet. However, it’s really heavy on my first day so we’re going to need to get a tampon in and a pad on asap.”

A blank stare is your only response. “What…is a tampon? And what does heavy mean? Also, does it always hurt this bad?” A small furrow appears between his brows, and you can tell he’s overthinking.

“Normally it’s only this bad for a few days, but I’m used to it by now.” You reassure him, grabbing a tampon and pad from the free dispenser on the wall. “And to answer your question, a tampon is basically a fancy roll of material that goes up there and absorbs the blood.”

You’re doing your best to remain calm and unbothered on the outside, but on the inside you’re losing your mind because there was absolutely no way that you were about to teach your crush how to insert a tampon into your cooch because you managed to swap bodies on the worst possible day.

He looks at you pensively as you approach him with the hygiene products. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

You pause, considering. How did you want to do this? It would be weird for you to put it in yourself, even if it was your body. The packaging crinkles in your hands as you turn the items over in your hand. The easiest route would be to have him just put the pad on, but you also didn’t want him to deal with the mess and discomfort of sitting in a pad. 

“Alright.” You clap your hands, the sharp sound echoing off the clean linoleum floors. “We’ll get a pad on first, then we’ll try the tampon. Ready?”

“Yes. How do I do that?” Okay. You can explain this. It’s not that complicated. “First things first, pull down your pants and underwear and sit on the toilet.”

A rustle of clothing and the click of the toilet seat against the porcelain bowl told you he had complied. “Wait, but like, don’t look okay. Keep your eyes averted.”

“Understood.” You choose to ignore the amusement in his voice, instead grabbing another pad and giving him a demo. Feeling guilty about the waste, you rip open one of the packages and pull out the pad. It’s thick, and made of cheap material like all free pads in public bathrooms tended to be.

Holding it up so he can see you demonstrate peeling the tab and unfolding it before peeling the sticky back off and showing it to him. 

“Basically you just have to remove the covering and stick it to the bottom of your underwear. Make sense?”

He nods, so you pass him the pad and watch him carefully peel back the appropriate backings and smooth it into the center of your panties. His eyes gleam at you hopefully as he looks up, and when you tell him he did a good job you could have sworn he preened. 

“Good job Todoroki.” A subtle frown pulls at his lips. “So for the tampon-”

“Shouto.” He cuts you off, looking disgruntled. “Call me Shouto.”

“I-What?” Thrown off guard by the sudden demand request you blink at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to what’s going on right now, but you’re my boss. It doesn’t seem right for me to address you so casually.”

“But you call me Shouto while we’re at work.” He stubbornly refuses to give the point up, clinging to it like a dog with their chew toy. “How is it any different?”

“Because-” You give him an exasperated look. “Some idiot decided to make his hero name his first name, so when he’s at work his co-workers are forced to use it. I don’t call you Shouto as in Todoroki Shouto. I call you Shouto as in Pro-Hero Shouto. That’s the difference.”

“But we’ve known each other for years.” He’s very matter of fact, clearly missing the point. “I would say we’re close enough for first names.”

He’s unbelievable. Of all the things to focus on right now why on earth is he choosing to argue over how you address him? “Of course we’re close. I consider you a good friend. But I wouldn’t say we’re close enough where it’s appropriate for me to address you by your first name when you’re my boss.”

“I’m currently in a bathroom with you right now, in your body, sitting on a toilet with no pants, on your period. I don’t see how we can possibly get any closer.” He had a point, and you just wanted to get this whole disaster sorted out as quickly as possible so you conceded. “Fine. Shouto. Now, will you please listen to me so we can get this over with and go on with our day?”

Using demonstrative hand motions and trying not to show how flustered you were you explained how to put the tampon in. Finally you finish, and hand him a tampon. He unwraps it, then hunches over in an awkward position trying to see what he was doing.

A red flush crawls up your neck as he quite literally examines your pussy, your insecurities running rampant, thoughts you’ve never had before occurring. Like, what if it looks weird? You didn’t exactly have a huge frame of reference, and all of your past experiences were horny hookups so you literally had no idea what it looked like from his point of view. He was probably repulsed by it. If everything that already happened hadn’t ruined any chance you had with him this was the final nail in the coffin.

A quiet splash cuts through the silence of the bathroom, interrupting your downward spiral. Looking up, you lock eyes with Todoroki, who’s frozen guiltily on the toilet.

“What just happened?”

“I, er, well I’m not sure.” Your eyes narrow. “What was the splash?”

“I did my best.” He sounds defensive. “I had a hard time finding…it…and it’s not easy to line it up and I think I did it wrong because as soon as I put it in it kind of just…spat it back out?”

Gaping at him, you’re at a loss for words before a loud, unflattering cackle rips itself out of your chest. The self-consciousness caused by the strangeness of the moment and being in the presence of your crush fading away as you reverted to treating him like you did in high school.

“Oh-Oh my god!” You’re doubled over, almost crying with how hard you’re laughing. “You can’t find it. You can’t even find the hole. You must be so popular with the ladies.”

As you laugh, a strange sensation builds in your stomach, and next thing you know it feels like you’re getting sucked into a vacuum and shot out the other end. Your vision goes black and fuzzy, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom hurting your eyes when you finally open them.

When you finally open them and find yourself staring into the unimpressed face of one Todoroki Shouto that is. 

Seeing his face again instead of staring at yours is a relief, but it’s also unfortunate because now you are the one perched on the toilet, your pants hanging around your ankles and a tampon floating around in the toilet water beneath you. 

The two of you lock eyes, and you realize that now you’ve both returned to your own bodies it’s even worse that he’s seeing you half naked (don’t ask you why it just is somehow. Maybe it has something to do with him seeing it from his point of view instead of yours?). 

Embarrassment floods your face, and you yell at him to turn around, hurriedly grabbing another tampon and putting it in before using your quirk to retrieve the tampon from the toilet and dumping it into the trash. A rushed tug has your pants back on, and the two of you stand in the bathroom not moving or speaking. Finally you break the silence.

“Uh, well, anyways. I’m glad this all worked out, sorry for the inconvenience and how weird it was. I’m going to head home and enjoy my day off now. Have a nice day!”

Not giving him the chance to respond, you dart past him and out the door, ignoring him as he calls your name. Yeah right. Have a nice day? More like have a nice life. There was no way you could ever show your face around him again. Maybe you could call Kyoka up and ask her if she needed a new hero at the agency she shared with Denki.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t always go as planned, and you wake up the next morning to your phone buzzing. You called in sick the night before, partially because your cramps were really bothering you, and partially because you were avoiding Todoroki. 

Blearily, you roll over, pawing at your phone before lifting it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Immediately recognizing the smooth, deep voice belonging to none other than the one man you were actively trying to avoid, you do the only logical thing and hang up immediately. 

A couple seconds later your phone rings again, and this time you let it go to voicemail. The sharp trill of your ringtone reaches you through the pillow you pressed over your head, alerting you that he called several more times after that. Finally the calls stop, and you emerge from under the pillows, beating back the strange sense of disappointment rising in your chest.

Ping!

The sound of your phone chiming startles you, causing you to drop it. Picking it back up, you check your notifications with bated breath.

(1) New Message From: Todoroki Shouto

Scared to read the message, you hesitate to click on it, having no idea what to expect. Your thumb hovers over the banner, the light washing over your skin as you work up the courage to check it.

Ping!

Your phone lands on your carpet with a plop as you accidentally drop it over the edge of your bed, not expecting it to go off again.

Ping! Ping!

Cautiously, you poke your head over the edge of your bed, glancing down at the illuminated lock screen. You let out an internal screech of horror.

(4) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Unable to deal with the agony of not knowing what he said any longer, you scoop your phone up and tap the notification, scanning the messages, your heart dropping further and further the more you read.

Todoroki Shouto: Did you just hang up on me?

I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Do you want anything?

*image attached*

Also: are these the chocolates you’re fond of? I asked my mother and sister and they told me they enjoy chocolate when they are menstruating. 

Those are, in fact, your favorite chocolates, but as much as you wanted them you wanted him at your apartment in fifteen minutes even less. The sound of aggressive tapping filled your room as you typed out a response at breakneck speed, praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t actually come to your place.

You: Good morning Todoroki-San. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you and hung up because I was half asleep. It’s sweet of you to think of me, but those are expensive. Also, I’m taking the day off today so is there any possible way the matter you have to discuss could wait until tomorrow? Thanks!

A couple seconds after you hit send, the little label beneath the message changed from “delivered” to “read.” Then radio silence. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of your stomach? What does read mean? Did he agree with you? Is he still coming? Too drained to deal with the emotional turmoil this was causing you, you rolled over and pulled your covers up over your head. This was a problem for future you.

Drifting off, you were awakened a short time later by your phone chiming once, then again a few minutes later, and the sound of your doorbell ringing. Surely it wasn’t…Half-closing your eyes to shield against the harsh glow of your phone, you unlock it.

(2) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki Shouto: I’m here. Open your door.

I didn’t want to tell you over text, but you aren’t responding. Bakugou says I have romantic feelings for you and I think he is correct. He also said you’ve been “a mooney-eyed moron” for me since we were in high school. If that is true and you do feel the same way, please let me in. I would like to see you and care for you while you are on your cycle.

Three dots appear, signaling that he’s typing. A couple seconds later, your phone chimes again, not even giving you a moment to process the previous messages.

Todoroki Shouto: Our former classmates also unanimously agreed that I am, in fact, popular with the ladies. I’ll forgive your comment if you let me in. The old lady who lives next door to you is giving me suspicious looks. 

You blink. Rub your eyes. Squint closer at your screen. The words didn’t change, and neither did their meaning. And Todoroki wasn’t the type of person to joke around like this. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and your pulse thundered in your ears as you realized there was only one thing left to do.

You had to get out of bed and let him into your apartment.

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You never pressed him about it. Never made him feel like he had to remove it.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

Not because of what he looked like, but because of what it meant.

Because showing his face wasn’t just an act of physical vulnerability.

It was him giving you a piece of himself.

And tonight?

Tonight, he was ready to give it to you.

The two of you were sitting together at the edge of a quiet river, away from the city, away from prying eyes.

The moonlight shimmered across the water, casting a soft glow on the both of you.

Shoji had been silent for the past ten minutes, his shoulders tense, his fingers gripping his knees a little too tightly.

You knew something was wrong.

So, like always, you waited.

Waited for him to find the words.

Finally, he let out a slow breath.

“Y/N… I want to show you something.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Okay,” you said softly, watching as his fingers moved toward his mask.

He hesitated, just for a moment.

You reached forward, placing your hand over his.

His six arms tensed slightly, all of them curling inward, his body shielding itself out of instinct.

You squeezed his hand gently.

“You don’t have to.”

Shoji swallowed, shaking his head.

“No… I do.”

And then, slowly, carefully, he pulled down the mask.

The first thing you noticed was his scars.

They ran along his mouth, his jaw, twisting his skin in ways that made your chest tighten with an ache you weren’t ready for.

You had known, of course. He had told you before—about the stares, the whispers, the cruelty he had faced as a child.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The second thing you noticed was his hesitant expression.

He was watching you carefully, his deep, golden eyes flickering with something raw, something afraid.

Like he was waiting for the rejection.

Like he had already convinced himself it was coming.

And that?

That broke you.

Because all you saw was him.

Mezo Shoji.

The boy who always made sure you walked on the inside of the sidewalk.

The boy who always reached for you first in a crowded room.

The boy who carried the weight of the world on his back, yet still held you like you were something fragile.

“Shoji…” you whispered, reaching up.

He flinched, just slightly.

You paused.

“Can I…?”

He hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Slowly, carefully, you traced your fingers along his jaw, your thumb brushing over the scars.

His breath hitched.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.

His entire body went still.

You pulled back just enough to see his expression.

His golden eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted in shock, his brows furrowed like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

“You… you don’t have to say that,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath.

You frowned, your heart aching.

“I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Shoji’s six hands twitched, like he wanted to pull the mask back up, to retreat, to hide.

But you didn’t let him.

You caught his wrist, holding him there, your fingers lacing through his.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Shoji. Ever.”

Something in him broke at that.

A shaky breath. A slight tremble. A look in his eyes so raw, so open, so vulnerable that it made your chest feel too tight.

Then—slowly, cautiously—he leaned in.

His forehead rested against yours, his six hands moving to cradle your back, your waist, your shoulders.

Like he was afraid you’d slip away.

Like he was trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms.

“You really mean it?” he whispered.

You cupped his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

“Every word.”

A slow, shaky exhale. Then—finally—a small, tentative smile. “Thank you.”

And when you kissed him?

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t hide.

He just held you close and let himself be loved. From that night on, Shoji never wore his mask around you.

Not because you forced him.

Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

Because with you?

He was safe.

He was wanted.

He was loved.

And for the first time in his life?

He didn’t have to hide anymore.

Ko-fi / Masterlist