todofics

So, we took a little cruise through her recent posts (on @/fandomimaginewasteland)... the first thing we noticed was the striking similarity of this Sam imagine to one of the chapters of The Wrong Bed by @supernaturalfreewill, in which Sam breaks his hand defending the reader and is put on painkillers which give him the courage to hold her hand and compliment her and ALMOST spill his feelings. It seems like a pretty big coincidence, and we know that Faith knows about @supernaturalfreewill's account because she previously blocked them. Imagines with no accompanying writing are hard to prove as stolen, which is probably part of the reason she switched to them, but we don't overlook anything as coincidence when it comes to Faith. On the other side of the token, it can be said that 'nothing is original' anymore. We all take inspiration and bits and pieces of things we've seen or ideas from other places and it's usually fine. We have a microscope on Faith for obvious reasons, so though this ISN'T proof of a stolen imagine idea, it is suspicious. BUT IT GETS FUCKING WORSE. Faith is doing THE SAME. EXACT. BULLSHIT. to try to get around being a plagiarist. Namely, saying something is "inspired" by a certain fic or post, and EVEN LINKING IT, and then just completely ripping it off and reposting the writing as her own (no delineation where her original additions start or end AND just changing the tense of verbs and slight word changes). She posted a Draco Malfoy fic that she claimed was "inspired" by an author over on Quotev, but she actually simply plagiarized the whole thing, with the exception of a little bit of her own writing at the top. Look below for the evidence. It's pretty blatant.

You wake in the comfort of your boyfriend Todoroki’s arms, the two of you tangled together in the sheets of his bed, your back pressed comfortably against his front. The morning’s first rays of sunlight peek in through the gaps in the curtains, casting the entire bedroom in a warm, golden glow.

You smile to yourself, despite the early hour, contented by the simple fact that there will be no alarms going off this morning, no patrols to attend or mission reports to file. For once, there’s nowhere else either of you needs to be except right here, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Today is a special day, after all, the first one both you and Todoroki have had off in ages as a result of your demanding and often impossible schedules as pro-heroes. Unsurprisingly, you planned to spend it and the rest of the upcoming weekend together, determined to make up for all the time you’ve had to spend apart lately.

You shift in his arms, just enough so that you can admire him properly, and find yourself struck —though not for the first time— by how unfairly handsome he is, all mussed up hair and perfect features as he rests peacefully beside you. He’s always been devastatingly attractive, beautiful in a way that leaves people starstruck and enamored, that makes them wonder if he’s even real, and this is just as true of him when he’s asleep as it is when he’s awake.

Even now, you can’t help but stare at him, taking in the pretty curve of his lips, the strong slope of his jaw. He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps; softer, too, and it fills you with both gratitude and satisfaction, knowing you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, all serene and unguarded. It’s a testament to how deeply he trusts you, how much the two of you have grown together since you officially started dating a little over four months ago.

You’re tempted to curl further into him and fall right back asleep, letting yourself share in the warmth and comfort of his embrace in the way you so rarely get to do. That temptation only grows when he makes a sleepy little humming sound and nuzzles his face further into your neck, his lips brushing against your throat, right along your pulse point.

It takes a tremendous amount of effort not to fall back into him after that, but somehow, you’re able to steel yourself against it, knowing that what you’ve planned for today involves you having to leave bed sooner rather than later.

You know better than anyone that Todoroki’s had a pretty rough few weeks, even by pro-hero standards, enduring multiple overnight shifts, extra patrols, and mountains of paperwork he’s gone through great lengths to avoid.

The metaphoric cherry on top of it all was a fight with the escaped villain Mayhem that left him with a dislocated shoulder and you with a concussion that you know he still blames himself for, even though you’re the one who jumped in without thinking, as you are often prone to do.

It’s why you promised yourself, as you packed your bag for his apartment the night before, that you would do everything in your power to make this weekend together the best one yet, spoiling him with the kind of care and affection he so rarely affords himself. And the first step in your best weekend ever plan is to surprise him with breakfast, which is what leads you to slip out of his grasp and into the kitchen as stealthily as you can manage.

It’s far from an easy feat. Todoroki’s a bit of a serial cuddler, especially in the mornings, with an iron grip that latches around your waist and all but crushes you to him. But with a little bit of patience and a lot of maneuvering —plus a small boost from your wind-based quirk— you manage to escape and start on breakfast without waking him, leaving him behind with a fond look and a light kiss on his forehead.

And, to your utter delight, everything turns out pretty well. Amazingly well, in fact— or at least it starts off that way.

You locate almost all of the ingredients and materials you need for breakfast with relative ease, humming a little tune to yourself as you get to work. Soon there are strips of bacon sizzling in the skillet, the griddle you set on the stovetop heating up in preparation for the pancakes you plan to make. The mix itself sits in an All Might-themed bowl on the counter, sweetened with fresh fruit and just a pinch of cinnamon.

All that’s left for you to do is find a separate pan for the eggs, which you quickly spot on the top shelf in the cabinet, just out of your reach. Still, you refuse to let that deter you, climbing up on one of the nearby stools to grab it.

Why, of course, you willingly choose to get up on a stool when you’re a certified pro-hero with an entire wind quirk at your disposal —one that quite literally lets you breeze through your problems— will remain a mystery to you. Looking back, you’d like to think it’s a consequence of you working too hard, but really, the more you think about it, the more convinced you become that it’s really just a consequence of you being an idiot.

You’ve just latched onto the handle of the pan and are starting to bring it down when your foot slips. Immediately, you begin to panic, and it’s like every bit of pro-hero training you’ve received over the years vanishes instantly from your brain, leaving you almost comically off-balance and flailing. All of the instincts you thought you’d honed to perfection fail you at once, and just like that, you’re tumbling off the stool before you can stop yourself.

You land on your ass on the kitchen floor with a distressed and undignified yelp, your foot twisting painfully as you go. The rest of the pots and pans on the shelf follow you down, clattering onto the floor around you in a way you’re certain the entire apartment complex is able to hear.

You lift your hands automatically, shielding yourself with an invisible wall of air that protects you from getting smacked around with a frying pan like you’re some sort of cartoon character. It isn’t much, but it’s the best you can do for now, the rest of your senses distracted by the sudden throbbing in your ankle and the sheer bafflement —not to mention complete mortification— you feel for being in this situation in the first place.

Todoroki is next to you before you’re even able to form a coherent thought, having woken up and rushed into the kitchen after you the moment he heard all the commotion, which, admittedly, was probably loud as hell.

His mismatched eyes are wide with worry as he examines you, the trail of ice you see behind him letting you know that he must’ve used his quirk to get to you as quickly as he could. You think you’d be more touched by it if the majority of your energy wasn’t currently being focused on trying not to die of embarrassment.

“Are you all right, love?” Todoroki asks, voice filled with concern as he helps you sit up into a more comfortable position. “Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head before he even finishes the question, plastering a smile to your face. Your ego may be bruised beyond belief, your pride all but ready to shrivel up into a ball and disappear, but you'll be damned if you let this put a damper on your weekend, especially when it’s barely even begun.

“No, no, everything’s okay. I’m good, really, let me just—”

What’s left of your sentence quickly transforms into a wince, pain flaring in your ankle and shooting up your leg the second you try to stand up and put pressure on it. Todoroki is quick to reach out and steady you, lowering you back to the floor carefully.

“What happened?” He’s both curious and concerned as he lifts your injured foot and sets it gently onto his lap. He places his right hand on your ankle, fingers cool and careful with the iciness of his quirk, providing you with instant relief that has you sighing and squeezing his other hand gratefully. “Don’t tell me you were training on your day off.”

“I wish,” you huff, letting out a humorless laugh. At least then, you’d feel less annoyed about it, having already accepted such injuries as part of the reality of your work as a pro-hero, but nope, no such luck.

Instead, the injury you’re currently suffering is one that was both completely avoidable and partially self-inflicted. Leave it to a common kitchen stool to humble the shit out of you; and so early in the morning, too.

“I was trying to make breakfast before you woke up.” You can’t help pouting over it, heaving a disappointed sigh as your gaze falls to your lap. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, it worked.” Todoroki places a hand beneath your chin to make you look at him, the smile he offers as loving as it is teasing. “Consider me thoroughly surprised.”

You purse your lips, shooting him a flat look that makes him laugh. You can’t stop yourself from softening at the sound, especially when he leans in close and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead, smoothing away the furrow of your brow.

When he pulls away, you’re all but putty in his hands, the pain in your ankle reduced to a mere afterthought in the wake of how gentle he’s being with you now, how attentive he always is to every single one of your needs. You’ve always known he’d make an incredible partner, even before you started dating, and the fact that you’re the one who gets to witness it now never fails to make your heart stutter with glee.

“Come on,” he says, entirely unaware of the effect he has on you, his voice steady and reassuring. “Let’s get you somewhere a little more comfortable.”

His words snap you back to reality, returning your attention to the situation at hand. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he means to carry you, and while normally you’d jump at any chance to have his hands on you, the fact that it’s only happening as a result of your own clumsiness has you feeling a special kind of pathetic that you’re not entirely comfortable with.

It’s why you’re so quick to try to talk him out of it, placing a hand on his chest to stop him— or, at the very least, slow him down.

“I’m fine, Shouto, really,” you insist, waving your free hand back and forth in some vague gesture of reassurance. “You don’t have to—”

Todoroki cuts you off by scooping you into his arms, ignoring your protests about the food you still have cooking and the kitchen being a mess in favor of starting on a path back to his bedroom. Once you’re there, he deposits you safely on his bed with an effortlessness that would normally have you swooning, if only you weren’t so annoyed with yourself right now.

He takes the time to make sure you’re comfortable, fluffing up the pillows behind you and handing you your phone, like he can tell you’re just itching to complain about your misfortune in the group chat. It doesn’t make you feel like any less of a bumbling idiot, but it does temper your irritation for the time being, so much so that you don’t even protest when he excuses himself from the room in search of supplies.

He isn’t gone long, returning only a moment later with a handful of items from his hero duffle. You’re still pouting when he does, glaring at your swollen ankle as if that’ll be enough to make it go back to normal. You sit up when you see him approach, taking note of the first aid kit and the ice pack in his hands.

He takes a seat on the bed beside you and lifts your swollen ankle into his lap. You watch as he turns it back and forth to assess the damage, careful not to injure you any further.

In no time at all, you find yourself utterly transfixed by his movements. Your phone is still in your hand, the screen lit up with a half-typed text to your friends, but right now he’s all you’re interested in looking at, mesmerized by the gentle press of his hands against your skin and the delicate, almost reverent way he handles you.

You’re no stranger to the process of patching up your wounds, having experienced countless injuries over the course of your pro hero career, but what is new for you is letting someone else be responsible for it. You’ve never been good at asking for help, much less allowing yourself to be taken care of, convinced by an ugly voice in the back of your mind that doing so would reveal a weakness you might never recover from.

You like to think you’ve gotten better at it over the years, but old habits die hard. Your hyper-independence has always been a point of contention in your relationships, made worse by partners whose reactions to your vulnerability only served to remind you why you kept it hidden in the first place.

With Todoroki, though, it’s different. Years of friendship before you started dating have ensured that he’s seen you at your worst, probably more times than you would’ve liked. He’s been there for all your bad decisions and all your stupid mistakes, through shitty breakups and even shittier fights with villains— and not once has he ever faltered in his support of you, nor has he let any of it change his opinion of you.

Even now, he’s still taking care of you, and you’re actually letting him, knowing he’s someone you can trust to do so without any fear of appearing weak or less than. You know you’ve been kind of a brat this morning, huffing and puffing as he tends to your injury with all the petulance of a pouting child, but he’s taken it all in stride, soothing away your frustration with gentle hands and even gentler kisses against your wrists and forehead.

You’ve never been one to open your heart so easily, never saw any reason to, but you take one look at Todoroki and you know— you’ve never loved anyone the way you love him.

Not that you’ve ever told him that, of course. You know all too well about the trauma of your boyfriend’s upbringing, just like you know how hard he’s worked to put himself in the headspace of actually pursuing a romantic relationship. It’s why you refuse to be someone who pressures him into exchanging any sort of I love you’s unless you’re sure that’s a step he’s ready to take with you.

And while you’ve certainly done your own fair share of healing and growth when it comes to being vulnerable in your relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still hesitant to say those three words out loud, terrified that everything will go wrong once you do. That he’ll hear them and change his mind, and then he’ll leave, just like your dad did with your mom. Just like everyone does eventually.

It’s an irrational fear, you know, especially with someone like Todoroki, who’s proven time and time again how much he cares for you, how deep his devotion to you truly runs. Unlike your previous partners, he’s given you no reason to doubt him, but try as you might to convince yourself otherwise, the truth of the matter is that you’re not ready to say I love you either. Like you said before, old habits die hard.

Across from you, Todoroki opens the first aid kit and unfurls a set of bandages, distracting you from your thoughts. He uses one hand to lift your foot beneath your calf and the other to wind the bandages around your ankle, each one of his movements careful and practiced.

“It’s not broken,” he tells you, finishing off the wrapping and setting your foot on his thigh, “but it’s definitely sprained. You’ll have to rest and stay off of it until you’re ready to try putting pressure on it again.”

“Well, there go our dinner plans.” You can’t help the disappointed sigh that leaves your lips, meeting his gaze to send him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to trying that new soba place downtown.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He stacks a few pillows by your foot, his voice easy and reassuring as he rests your ankle on the highest one, elevating it. “The restaurant can wait. I’m more concerned about you.”

“You’re choosing me over cold soba?” You pretend to be shocked by it, eyes wide as you place a hand over your heart, though the teasing smile on your face betrays your satisfaction. “Yikes. You must really like me, then, huh?”

“More than you know,” he answers, steady and sincere, without any sort of regard for the effect his words have on you.

He says it calmly, doubtlessly, with the kind of sureness you’ve always admired in him. It’s a habit of his, you’ve learned, to say such romantic things without any sort of hesitation, to speak of his affection for you so bluntly and unapologetically. As if he doesn’t even have to think about it, as if the feelings he has for you are just another fact of life, a truth as natural and easy to him as breathing.

“Besides,” he adds a moment later, as if he isn’t the one responsible for the current fluttering of your heart inside your chest, “there’s always takeout.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, despite the situation. Todoroki returns the gesture with a smile of his own, reaching for the ice pack next and placing it on top of your ankle.

“How’s that feel?”

“My ankle’s definitely sore, but it’s not so bad. My pride, on the other hand, is hanging by a thread. At this point, I’m not sure it’ll ever recover.” You heave a dramatic sigh, slumping against the pillows behind you in defeat. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything that could help with that, would you?”

He pauses to consider it, tilting his head in a way that only serves to make him more adorable. Then he starts to smile to himself, sliding one hand up your leg and using the other to brace himself over your body.

He shifts on the mattress and leans in close, his lips hovering just a few inches away from your own. “I have one idea…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, more than happy to indulge him, your lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss. He deepens it just for you, tilting his head and moving a hand to cradle your jaw.

You’re both smiling when you break apart for air, all tender and warm as your eyes meet his once more. He cups your face with both hands, and you lean into his touch, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

“Feeling better now?”

“Much,” you answer, turning your face to kiss his palm. “But we’ll probably need to try that again. You know, just to make sure it’s actually working. Nothing serious, either, just two, three, maybe twenty more times—”

Todoroki laughs, a light, quiet sound you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing. He presses one kiss to your mouth and another to your forehead, and then he’s standing up, lightly pinching your cheek as he goes.

“I’ll go get us something to eat,” he says, squeezing the hand you lift to swat at him. “Try not to fall off any more stools while I’m gone.”

“Hey!”

You gasp and make an affronted sound, reaching for one of the pillows you’re not already using and launching it directly at his head. He dodges it, of course —figures his hero reflexes are working just fine, unlike yours— and smirks to himself on his way out, while you stick your tongue out at him.

Thankfully, your boyfriend’s wise enough to know better than to test your temper by coming back empty-handed. He appears in the doorway of his bedroom a few minutes later carrying a tray with two plates stacked with pancakes, an iced coffee for you, and a cup of tea for himself.

You perk up immediately, both at the sight of him and the amazing smell coming from the food, though you can’t help the guilt that settles in your chest when you remember that you were the one who wanted to bring him breakfast instead. You’re happy that the two of you are spending time together now, especially after the week you’ve both had, but it’s definitely not the way you imagined it would be.

Not that Todoroki seems to mind it, his lips curled into that fond little smile he only ever gets around you as he walks across the room to join you on the bed. He takes a seat beside you and sets the tray that’s holding everything down on the mattress between you, careful not to spill anything as he makes himself comfortable at your side.

“The bacon was beyond saving,” he announces solemnly, pausing as if he’s giving you time to mourn, “but the pancakes were surprisingly resilient.”

You can’t help but snort at his words. “They weren’t even cooking yet, Sho. It’d be a miracle if they hadn’t made it.”

“The real miracle is that they aren’t on fire. You know my culinary skills are abysmal at best.”

“Oh, come on. They can’t still be that bad. Isn’t Fuyumi teaching you a few recipes?”

“She’s certainly tried to. I’m afraid we never made it past our first lesson. Apparently the way I sauté vegetables is both frightening and destructive.” That makes you laugh, and Todoroki smiles, pleased at the sound, before handing you a fork and knife from the tray. “Thankfully, the pancakes were a lot more forgiving. I was able to get them out of there alive, and I even had time to add your favorite syrup.”

“My hero,” you coo, cutting off a piece of the pancakes from your plate and taking a bite. And though they’re certainly delicious, they do little to distract you from your earlier embarrassment, or from the disappointment you feel at being the reason why your weekend plans have gone down the drain. “I’m glad at least one of us lives up to our job description. After my epic failure in coordination this morning, I should probably suspend my own license.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Todoroki says, nudging your calf with his foot. “It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone, and it definitely doesn’t make you any less of a pro. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not around me.”

“I know that, Sho, but it’s not—” You cut yourself off with a sigh, your gaze falling to the plate that rests in your lap. “It’s not just that.”

Being embarrassed is definitely part of it, you know, a feeling you’re sure won’t be going away anytime soon, but right now, more than anything, you feel guilty. When you woke up this morning, you were determined to help him relax and spoil him the way he’s always doing for you, but all you’ve done so far is give him more work. And though you know in your heart that Todoroki is far too kind and understanding to hold such a thing against you, that doesn’t make you feel any less awful about it.

You still aren’t looking at him, but you can hear the concern in his voice when he speaks, patient and considerate as ever. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Sho, it’s just— even though we work together, we barely see each other. And when we do, you’re always taking care of me, you know? This weekend was supposed to be my chance to return the favor, especially with how crazy things have been at the agency lately— but here you are, taking care of me again, all because I went and busted my ankle in the stupidest and most unheroic way ever.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” You look up at him just in time to catch the way his eyebrows furrow, his head tilting in confusion as he abandons his breakfast in favor of reaching for your hand. “I like taking care of you. I always have, especially because I know how hard it is for you to let me in the first place.”

“I know you do, baby. And I’m trying to get better at letting you, really, I am, I just—” Another sigh, tinged with both guilt and disappointment, falls from your lips, but you don’t hesitate to let your hand rest in his, winding your fingers together. “I wish I could take care of you even half as well as you’re always taking care of me.”

“Love, you remember all the mission reports I forget to file, you bring me soup whenever I’m sick, and you quite literally save my life on a daily basis,” he says, voice gentle but firm, reassuring in all the ways you didn’t even realize you needed until now. “You take care of me plenty.”

He brings your hand to his lips, and you watch, smitten and starry-eyed, as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. And just like that, all your doubts and guilt fade away, lost somewhere between the graze of his lips on your skin and the sincerity in his mismatched eyes as they meet yours.

“So forget about returning the favor,” Todoroki continues, squeezing your hand lightly, “because you already have. And I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to keep being the one who gets to take care of you.”

And well, after hearing that, it’s hard to do anything besides kiss him, so you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, sweet the way he always is with you, and you hope he can feel the gratitude in it, the affection that’s burrowed its way so deeply inside your chest, it’s a wonder your heart hasn’t burst from it.

“I know,” you murmur against his lips when the two of you pull away for air, “and I—”

Love you, your heart supplies, meaning it. I really, really love you, you want to say, but can’t, the words honest and heavy on the tip of your tongue, held back by memories of past bad relationships and an irrational fear of what will happen if you let yourself be that vulnerable.

“...I want to do the same,” is what you end up telling him instead, safer and not as frightening, but still every bit as true. You place your hand against his cheek and smile at him, even as the voice inside of your heart curses yourself for backing out at the last second. “Always.”

“Always,” Todoroki agrees, returning your smile with one of his own, smooth voice echoing with promise.

The rest of your breakfast is a quiet, peaceful affair. You and Todoroki enjoy both the food and each other’s company as you exchange stories from earlier in the week, content to finally get to talk about something other than work. He tells you about his and Fuyumi’s growing suspicions that Natsuo has a new girlfriend, and you tell him about the gaggle of freakishly large geese you’re pretty sure tried to kill you the last time you flew over the city.

When your plates are empty and your stomachs are full, the two of you spend some time cuddling together in his bed. You pull up your calendar on your phone, wistfully rearranging your itinerary for the weekend now that you only have one good ankle left to work with, while your boyfriend watches from behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder and his arm draped around your waist.

The reservations you made at the spa are the hardest for you to part with, a woeful sound leaving your lips as you swipe to confirm your cancellation. Thankfully, Todoroki is there to distract you, murmuring a suggestive promise into your ear about giving you a massage that has you sighing for a different reason entirely, his hands gliding along your body and making you feel warm all over.

When you’re comfortable and sated, he excuses himself to clear the dishes and take care of the much-needed cleanup in the kitchen. You try to convince him to stay, insisting that you should be the one cleaning up your own mess, but he refuses to be swayed, slipping away after distracting you with a perfectly timed kiss that’s as romantic as it is conniving.

It isn’t long after he’s left that you find yourself completely bored out of your mind. Scrolling through your phone can only be so entertaining before 8AM, and staring at the ceiling while you wait for Todoroki to come back to you isn’t helping much either.

You FaceTime Bakugou to distract yourself, which is your first mistake. Or maybe your second, if you count the whole spraining your ankle whilst making breakfast thing. But he’s an early riser and also responsible for covering your morning patrol shift, so you take your chances, figuring he’s the most likely of your friends to be awake.

You catch him just as he’s leaving his apartment for the day. He answers the call with a gruff “the hell d’you want?” that you imagine would’ve been more threatening if he hadn’t also picked up on the first ring, betraying his fondness.

You let him pretend to be annoyed with you anyway, thanking him for covering your shift in the most sickeningly sweet voice you can muster and laughing when all he does is roll his eyes and flip you off in response. Then you launch into the story of your own morning, eager to complain about your misfortunate to a set of fresh ears.

When you tell Bakugou what happened with your ankle, he offers no sympathy. Instead, he cackles so hard he drops his phone, and you hang up on him, vowing to yourself that the first thing you’re going to do when you see him is summon a tornado to knock him clean off his ass, childhood friendship be damned.

You FaceTime Midoriya next. He’s entering his apartment when he answers your call, having just finished up the tail end of his overnight patrol shift.

He yawns halfway through his greeting, his hair messy and his cape rumpled, but he doesn’t hang up, nor does he let you end the call once you notice how sleepy he looks. Exhausted as he is, he’s also a really great friend. Your best friend, in fact, one who’s far too kind and caring to ignore you, even if it’s for something silly.

He’s definitely amused when you tell him about your sprained ankle and failed breakfast adventure, but unlike Bakugou the gremlin, he doesn’t laugh at you. Instead, he offers you his sympathy, knowing how much you were looking forward to your weekend off. Still, he urges you to stay positive, convinced you’ll recover sooner than you think.

He lets you vent, too, listening to you with his undivided attention as you complain about finding shoes that’ll fit an ankle brace and having to rearrange your plans, and by the time you’re done, you feel a lot better.

“See, I knew I should’ve called you first. All Katsuki’s annoying ass did was laugh at me for being uncoordinated. ‘Some pro you are, Tempest.’” You do your best impression of Bakugou’s voice, complete with a matching sneer, making Midoriya laugh. “I swear, as soon as my ankle gets better, the first thing I’m going to do is kick his ass.”

“Kacchan means well,” he says. His camera is pointed at the ceiling while he changes out of his hero suit, so you can’t tell if he actually sees you rolling your eyes or not, but you imagine he doesn’t need to, having played the peacemaker between you and Bakugou for most of your life. “I’m sure he was worried about you in his own way.”

“Is that what he calls it? Because I’m pretty sure if we called him right now, he’d still be laughing at me. Jerk.” You shake your head, flashing a hopeful look at the camera as Midoriya, now clad in his pajamas, reappears on your screen. “Promise you’ll super glue his locker shut for me the next time you’re at the agency?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckles, walking into his room with his phone in hand and settling into his bed. His green eyes are cloudy with sleep, but the concern they hold is clear as day he meets your gaze with his own. “You’ve been taking care of your ankle, right?”

“I’ve got an ice pack on it as we speak,” you answer, reassuring him with a playful salute. “I’m elevating it, too. Shouto made sure of it. He’s been taking really good care of me.”

“I figured he would. Speaking of which, has he asked you yet?”

“Asked me what?”

Midoriya’s hand freezes in place where he’s running it through his hair. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other through your phone screens, neither one of you moving. His eyes are wide, and he has that look on his face you’ve only seen a handful of times before, the one he only makes whenever he realizes he’s really screwed up.

None of it is making you feel better, especially not when he drops his hand and blinks like he’s trying to reboot himself.

“Uh...nothing?”

“Nothing, my ass! You can’t just say something like that and not tell me what it is,” you insist, narrowing your eyes at him as threateningly as you can manage over FaceTime. “What do you know? What is he going to ask me?”

“Nothing! R-Really, I— I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“Izuku, I swear to god—”

He hangs up on you.

You’re left to stare at your lock screen with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. You scramble to call him back, infuriated that he would even dare to hang up after dropping a bomb like that on you with no explanation whatsoever.

Predictably, he doesn’t respond. Your calls go unanswered, which means he’s either ignoring you, or he’s dead. And if he’s not dead, then he will be soon, because next time you see him, you’re going to strangle him, Symbol of Peace status be damned.

Your fury lasts only momentarily before transforming into panic when his words really hit you.

Todoroki is going to ask you something? Holy shit, is he going to ask you to marry him? What the fuck? The two of you have never talked about marriage before. You didn’t even think that was something he’d want, and honestly, before him, it wasn’t something you’d ever considered yourself to want, either. Not after your parents’ divorce, and definitely not after your own tragic romantic history.

The two of you have only been dating four months, for crying out loud. Granted, you’ve known each other since high school, but still. He can’t actually want to marry you already.

You know Todoroki’s always been a little slow on the uptake when it comes to social cues and expectations, but this is pushing it, even for him. He literally just witnessed you wiping out in the middle of his kitchen while doing something as mundane and uncomplicated as making breakfast. What part of that horrific performance would make him think you’re marriage material?

Why would he even think you would say yes? You —avoidant, allergic to vulnerability you— ready for something as serious and life-changing as marriage? Yeah, right. And to spring it on you without any sort of discussion first? Without even hearing you say you love him? How could that possibly make any sense to him?

But what else can it be? What else is significant enough of a question that it made Midoriya abandon you like he revealed a horrible secret, like you don’t know where he lives and won’t show up to strangle him for leaving you in the dark like this?

This is too much for you, too early in the morning. Your ankle still hurts and now your head does, too, plus you’re panicking and sitting on the bed of the man who may or may not be on his way back to propose to you right now.

Part of you is tempted to run from it, to avoid any and all attempts at discussing your relationship and pretend that what Midoriya told you doesn’t exist. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time if you did. It’s your go-to strategy in relationships, after all: ignoring the problem until it eventually goes away, if it ever does.

And maybe it’s a testament to how much being with Todoroki has changed you and pushed you to grow, but you don’t actually want to do any of that this time. As stressed as thinking about this has made you, the truth is you don’t want to run from him. You love him, after all, even if your trust issues have made it practically impossible for you to tell him.

The one thing you know for certain is that you have to talk to him about it. You have no idea how you’re going to bring it up, much less how you’re going to navigate the conversation once you do, but sitting here overthinking it is only making your anxiety worse. If you and Todoroki are ever going to have a chance at getting past this, then you’re going to have to stop running and start being honest with him, even if the idea of doing so kind of makes you want to hurl.

Still, you think, if anyone’s worth making yourself vulnerable for, it’s him. It’s always been him.

It’s with that thought in mind that you push yourself to stand, rising from the bed on your one good foot. You take about three steps away from the mattress before deciding that hopping around on one leg makes you feel more ridiculous than serious, which is what you’re trying to be right now. You end up activating your quirk instead, using it to hover above the floor without having to put any pressure on your bad ankle.

It’s at that exact moment that Todoroki decides to return to you, the two of you running into each other just before you can reach the doorway. He sighs when he sees you’re out of bed, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze that lets you know he isn’t at all surprised to find you like this, floating above the ground in the middle of his bedroom.

“And where are you going?” He raises an eyebrow at you, leaning against the doorframe with his hands crossed over his chest. “Off to take your revenge on my poor kitchen stool?”

For the second time today, your words fail you. The whole reason you got up in the first place was to talk to him about everything, but now that he’s here in front of you, you find that you have no idea what to say.

All you can do is give a shaky laugh, fidgeting with your hands before wrapping them around yourself protectively, as if somehow that’ll give you the strength to say what’s on your mind. “Something like that, yeah.”

“I had a feeling you’d get bored and want to start walking again instead of resting,” Todoroki says. “It’s why I went back into my hero duffle and brought you these.” He uncrosses his arms, and that’s when you notice the pair of ankle braces he has tucked away into the crook of his elbow. “I figured at least one of them might fit you.” “Oh,” you mutter, “uh, thanks.”

It’s awkward and unsure, the complete opposite of all your playful and easy banter earlier this morning. If Todoroki notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

He makes his way towards you, and your eyes widen when he reaches for your waist. He wraps his free arm around you and leads you over to the bed, helping you sit back down. You deactivate your quirk and watch as he lifts your injured ankle, carefully propping it back up onto the pillow so you’re comfortable.

It’s sweet, the way he takes care of you, how gentle he always handles you. He’s sweet, and devoted, and protective. He’s taken such good care of you this morning, as he always has, and you know, somehow, that he always will.

And you realize, right then and there, that if there’s anyone you want to be married to, it’s him. Because he’s kind, and he’s gentle, and he’s brave. And more than anything, he’s good. He’s really, truly good, good in the way you never imagined you could deserve, good in a way that makes you think about forever.

And thinking that is just— it’s insane to you, really. Borderline impossible, because you never thought it would happen. After everything you’ve seen, all the shitty breakups you’ve been through —both in your home life and your personal one— you never imagined you’d feel comfortable or safe enough in a relationship to want more, but here you are.

Here you are, tentative but open and growing. Willing to try, with Todoroki.

And what a wonderful place that is to be.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t notice that he’s taken a seat at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He holds an ankle brace in each hand, offering them for you to take.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like more, so I brought both—”

“What are you planning to ask me?” you blurt without warning, unable to stop yourself.

Todoroki blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting your outburst. You weren’t expecting it either, honestly —when you decided to have this conversation with him, you really were hoping you’d be able to bring it up a lot more smoothly— but it’s too late to take it back now. And as rushed and awkward as your delivery is, you need to know before you pass out from all the stress.

It takes a few moments for him to understand what you’re talking about, but you see the realization dawning on him slowly, his eyes widening a fraction.

“How did you…” His voice trails off, and then he sighs. “Uraraka told you.”

“Izuku, actually,” you correct sheepishly, biting your lip. “Though, in his defense, he was coming off a night shift and half-asleep when I called him. Not that I should be defending him, anyway, since the bastard hung up on me without telling me what it was. Coward.”

You clear your throat, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Anyway, that’s why I’m asking you now. Whatever it is, I’d like to hear it from you, if you’re still comfortable sharing it.”

He’s silent for a few moments, like he’s considering whether or not he wants to move forward with this. But Todoroki has never been anything but honest with you, so it isn’t long before he lets go of the braces, getting to his feet and moving closer so he can face you properly.

He kneels in front of you by the edge of the bed, and the voice inside your head starts to scream, either in excitement, fear, or some strange combination of both.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he says softly, reaching to take one of your hands in his own. “It was supposed to happen tonight over dinner, when it was just the two of us.”

You don’t say anything, not trusting yourself to speak. He’s definitely not doing much to make you think this is anything besides a marriage proposal.

One of his hands moves to open the drawer in his nightstand, and you nearly have a heart attack right then and there. You swear your whole body jolts, your free hand shooting out and latching onto his shirt to stop him so fast you almost fall off the bed.

He stops reaching for the drawer, his hands going up to your arms to steady you instead.

“Are you all right?” he asks, frowning in concern. “You’re not feeling light-headed, are you? Because if you are, you should lie down—”

“I’m not light-headed, Shouto, I’m in love with you.”

The confession falls from your lips, as most of your words do, before you can stop it. It’s hurried and breathless but also true and sincere, the culmination of four months of rooftop lunch dates and Facetimes between patrols, of comforting touches and lingering glances and all the wanting and affection you’d harbored in the years before that.

It seems to stun him into silence, which is quite honestly your worst nightmare, but you don’t let that deter you. Despite the doubt and irrational fear your past relationships have burdened you with, you know what kind of man Todoroki is. He was your friend long before anything romantic happened between the two of you, and you trust him completely, not just with your life, as you have for years now, but with your heart.

It’s with that thought in mind that you push yourself to continue, taking his hands into your own and intertwining your fingers together while he watches you, wide-eyed and hanging on to every word.

“I think I have been for a while. I just didn’t know how to say it, or if I even wanted to, because honestly, I was afraid to. Not because of you or anything you’ve done, but because of everything else. Because of what happened with my parents and all my shitty exes— and god, I’ve had some really, really shitty exes—”

You shake your head, stopping yourself before that train of thought goes any further, because it’s not the point. The point is that you love him, that you’ve been in love with him this whole time, and you need him to know that before anything else happens.

“What I’m trying to say is that I was scared. I thought that if I told you the truth about how I felt, then things would change, and the thought of putting myself out there only to lose you in the end just— well, it terrified me. But I’m not afraid anymore, because I know you, and I trust you, and I just— I love you, Shouto. I really, really love you. And I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but I just—”

Todoroki doesn’t let you finish the rest of your sentence, cutting you off with a kiss that quite literally takes your breath away. He moves his lips against yours with purpose, breathing you in and cradling your face in his hands like you’re something precious, like close will never be close enough, and it’s all you can do to kiss him back, sighing into his mouth and tangling your fingers into his hair.

It’s not the first kiss the two of you have shared, nor will it be the last, but somehow it feels like the most important, the one where you finally stop being afraid and start being honest. The one where you both do.

It feels like too soon when he pulls away, but even then, he doesn’t get very far, drawing back just enough to stare into your eyes. Todoroki looks at you like you hung the moon, like you’re the one thing he’ll never get tired of seeing. He looks at you like he—

“I love you,” he says surely, doubtlessly, without the slightest waver to his voice, and now you’re the one who gets to stare, wide-eyed and hanging on to every word. “I’ve always loved you, even before I knew what that meant. And I understand everything you said about being afraid, because I was, too. All of this is still so new to me, sometimes I’m not sure what to say or what to do, but when it comes to you…”

He lets his voice trail off, moving his hands from your face down to your wrists, and then taking your hands into his own. Your heart soars when he leans down to press a kiss across your knuckles, rising and stuttering with affection where it rests inside your chest.

“You are the one thing I’ve never been unsure about,” he says, and you can tell by the look in his eyes how much he means it.

It’s the kind of confession that steadies you, one that makes all the doubt and uncertainty you felt earlier disappear, until all that’s left behind is the love you have for him, the love you know is returned.

Your eyes are watery, your bottom lip trembling with relief and affection, but still you find it in yourself to make a joke, winding your fingers through his. “Even when I do something ridiculous, like twist my ankle in the lamest way ever?”

Todoroki laughs and squeezes your hand. “Even then,” he promises. “In fact, I happen to love you the most when you’re doing something ridiculous, whether it’s falling off a stool, or jumping into the middle of a fight without a plan, or even telling off one of the biggest reporters in the country despite what it could do to your career.”

“When did I…” It takes you a few seconds to think about it, but eventually you understand what he’s talking about. You blink as the memory resurfaces, images of yourself in a pretty gown, him in a well-fitted suit, and about a million cameras flashing around you replaying in the back of your mind. “You’re talking about the charity gala for the children’s hospital, with that reporter who wouldn’t leave you alone while we were on the red carpet.”

“She kept asking me all those questions about my father and what our relationship was like. I didn’t think it’d ever end.” He strokes the backs of your hands with his thumbs, lips curling into a small, fond smile, as if the memory somehow pleases him. “Then you showed up and chewed her out for being, and I quote, ‘an invasive, insensitive parasite who was more concerned about being on the front page than she was about sick children.’ I thought your manager was going to have an aneurysm when she heard you.”

“She almost did,” you admit with a laugh, recalling the sight of your usually poised manager Misaki staring at you in horror on the other side of the velvet ropes, red-faced and furiously shaking her head in an attempt to get you to stop talking, which of course hadn’t worked. “I had to commit to a month of good behavior and PR deals just to get on her good side again.”

The incident had been all over the news, the reporter you’d offended labeling you an ill-tempered, bad-mannered brat who had no respect for the art of journalism or even her own country. And that, of course, was nothing compared to the field day the rest of the press had with your reaction, speculating on what your actual relationship with Todoroki was, despite the fact that back then, the two of you were still just friends.

Your boyfriend at the time hadn’t appreciated it at all. In fact, he’d hated every second of it, to the point he’d broken up with you as a result, but you never regretted it. You still don’t.

You tell Todoroki as much, brushing a few strands of hair away from his eyes and smiling at him. “It was worth it, you know. You were worth it. And I’ve never regretted it.”

“I know,” he says, returning your smile with one of his own. “And that’s when I realized how important you are to me. I’ve been in love with you ever since.”

“Wait, what?” The confession leaves you floored, eyes widening as you all but gape at him. “Sho, that gala was almost three years ago. You’re telling me you’ve loved me since then? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure how to,” he admits. “Besides, you were already seeing someone else. And while I certainly didn’t care for him, I didn’t want to get in the way of your happiness. But I know now that I want to be the person who makes you happy. I want to be the one who’s there for you and who takes care of you. Always.”

You can’t help the joy that floods your heart at his words, your lips curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

“Really. That’s why I want to ask you to move in with me.”

It sounds like a metaphorical record scratch. You have to take a moment to make sure you heard him correctly, and even then it still feels like you’ve just been thrown off a cliff.

“Wait, what?”

Todoroki releases your hands to open the drawer of his nightstand. This time, you don’t stop him, letting him reach inside to retrieve what he was looking for earlier.

You hear the jingle of keys before you see them, and sure enough, when he opens his hand, there’s a copy of the keys to his apartment resting in his palm, complete with the matching downstairs alarm and all. And you feel like—

Well, you feel like an idiot, mostly. An irrational, unbelievable idiot who jumps to conclusions and makes stupid assumptions but who is also really, really excited at the idea of getting to wake up with the love of your life every day.

“You were right earlier when you said we haven’t seen each other as much as we should,” Todoroki says, oblivious to both your earlier panic and how hard you’re trying not to laugh at yourself right now. “Our schedules and careers are mostly responsible for that, but having to go back and forth between apartments isn’t helping, either. That’s why I wanted to ask you to move in with me tonight. I even made a whole list of reasons to convince you.”

“Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow at him curiously, taking the keys out of his hand and twirling them around your finger. “Let’s hear them, then.”

“Our agency is closer to here than it is to your place,” he begins, rising from the floor and taking a seat next to you on his bed. “Midoriya and Bakugou are only ten minutes away. There’s a cat cafe on the corner, a plant shop across the street, and you’ve already tried all the local restaurants, so you know what you like and dislike.”

“All very practical reasons.” You move a little closer, and he lifts his arm and wraps it around your shoulders, allowing you to lean against his side. “Go on.”

“You spend more nights here than you do at your apartment. You already have a toothbrush, a place for your clothes, and a cabinet dedicated to just the foods you enjoy. And…”

“And…?”

Todoroki smiles softly at you, resting a hand against your cheek as he meets your gaze before he speaks again. “And I very much like the idea of getting to come home to you.”

“I like the idea of that, too,” you tell him, barely able to contain your own excitement as you smile and lean in for his lips.

The kiss you share now is slow and sweet, soft with the devotion you have for each other, the love you finally get to share. You feel him smile against your lips, gentle and content, and then he’s pulling back to meet your eyes, his fingers brushing the hair out of your face.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a definite yes. I’d love to move in with you, Sho.”

And when you see the way he smiles at you, warm and fond and so, so in love with you, you know you’ve made the right choice.

You snuggle into his side, making yourself comfortable with your head on his chest, while he welcomes you eagerly, tightening his arm around you and letting his cheek rest on the top of your head. When you remember your earlier distress, so different from the calm and comfort you’ve settled into now, you can’t help but laugh, pressing the keys that you were so sure were going to be a ring into your palm.

Beside you, Todoroki hums and faces you with a questioning look. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just— for a second there, when Izuku told me you wanted to ask me something, I panicked. I thought you were going to ask me to marry you.”

A beat of silence follows. You expect him to laugh with you, but instead he grows quiet. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he reaches for your hand and slides his fingers through yours, shifting so he can face you properly, mismatched eyes curious and searching.

“Is that something you’d want?” he asks, more quietly than he needs to, like he’s afraid he might scare you off. “With me?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” you answer, voice as quiet as his. “In fact, I’ve actually tried really hard not to think about it. I didn’t think it was an option for me before.”

“Same here,” he says, and for some reason, hearing him be so honest and knowing that he thought the same fills you with relief, the steadiness of his voice comforting you the way it always has. “But if it’s with you…”

“If it’s with you…” You lift your head to look at him and press your palm flat against his chest, right above his heart. “I think we could make it work.”

He kisses you, then, slow and soft just like before, with his heart beating against your palm, strong and steady, unwavering when it comes to you, the way it’s always been. There’s a promise in it, too, one you hope he feels is reflected in the way you kiss him back, one that feels like forever.

You’re both smiling at each other when you pull away. Todoroki looks at you like he’s always looked at you, like you’re all he wants to see. Like you’re home, and for the first time in your life, you know you are.

And he doesn’t need to say anything else, doesn’t need to prove himself any more than he already has, but he says it anyway.

“Yeah. I think we could, too.”

And the best part is, he means it.

Fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down, the sound of your mother clearing her throat caused you to jump in your seat; right, she was in the room. In the midst of these new bubbling feelings rising in your stomach, you’d just… forgotten. It wasn’t like you to be so ditsy, but you weren't entirely used to having a chaperone for you and Shoto. It may have been the norm to have a chaperone for young girls and their potential suitors, but the two of you never had that kind of relationship, and your parents trusted you enough to be alone (at least as long as you were out of the public’s eye).

Until now, you had never even thought of him in that manner. Sure, you knew he was attractive - everyone did, and it wasn’t like you were blind - but the thought of anything more than that just never crossed your mind. Although you had been childhood friends, your families were simply leagues apart: you, a lowly untitled noble, and him, a future Duke. That type of pairing was uncommon (if not nearly impossible) in society.

Nevertheless, you knew your mother would have dozens of questions about the seemingly out-of-nowhere courtship; not once since your debut had Shoto shown an ounce of interest in you (at least not in that way). Indeed, it didn’t look good to anyone that suddenly, with an arranged marriage on the horizon, he was showing up to your estate on the premise of being a “caller.” Your mother was old, but she wasn’t dumb; anyone with half a brain could see the potential scheme the two of you were whipping up. Even if she was becoming desperate for you to finally make a match, this was fishy at best. Hopefully, the two of you seemed interested enough to put those potential rumors at ease; after all, everyone longs for a love based upon the foundation of friendship. With a raised brow, she finally ushered you over, drinking her tea calmly as if today was just another day. 

“Explain.”

You knew you could never lie to your mother, but you had to at least try. Continuing to fan yourself, the nervous sweat dripped down your forehead - was it hot in here, or was it just you? (It was just you; the full effect of the Summer heat had yet to hit, and the morning time was quite cool). “Explain what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to add to the picture of naivete. 

She sighed, taking yet another sip of her tea; your mother, thankfully, was never the pushy type. 

“I do not know what exactly the two of you are planning, but whatever it is, you need to be careful,” she urged, her tone serious as she looked at you suspiciously as if to gaze directly through you and into your mind. You gulped, flashing her a half-hearted grin in an attempt to reassure her. Typically, besides Shoto, your mother was your closest confidante, but perhaps it was best if she didn’t know about this. You already knew that if she did, she’d give you an earful and forbid you from seeing the boy (and that was a fate you’d rather not be forced into). 

“I promise you, mama, we aren’t planning anything,” you swore, setting down the fan and opting to raise your hands defensively. She continued to give you that pointed look, only humming in acknowledgment at the promise after a moment of pause. She knew you better than that, but pushing was never the answer with you (she couldn’t change your mind once it was made up anyway).

You knew she meant well with her concern, but you were a grown woman - seriously, you had been out in society now for four whole years - and you could make your own decisions. You were more than capable of protecting yourself.

With one last look over, she sent you away, commenting that you were dressed far too casually for a calling with the future Duke and to dress better for the ball tonight. With a groan, you merely nodded, allowing yourself to be whisked away by a maid to be adequately showered and dressed; even if your mother was suspicious, she still found public opinion far too important (at least to your taste).

Later that evening, dressed to the nines in one of your best gowns and fanciest pastes, you stood with your back pressed to the wall again, swirling a glass of champagne around as you stared aimlessly at the crowd. Although you’d typically be talking with the girls, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to join the conversation tonight, instead choosing to listen to the bits and pieces of gossip they seemed to be so entranced by. This time, however, appeared to be a bit different; although you’d have to really be looking for it to be obvious, you could feel a few glances being cast upon you. It seemed rumors surrounding you were already being spread. None of the other girls seemed to notice the rhythm of the conversation continuing without a lull. 

Although you weren’t quite sure what to expect from a “proper” courtship with Shoto (you hadn’t been seriously courted in years now - especially not from someone of high standing), you couldn’t help but look for the man in the crowd. Spotting him wasn’t difficult; his lean stature and peppermint hair made him stand out against just about anyone. It was still early into the ball, and he hadn’t quite made his way over yet, still greeting others of higher status as was expected. It wasn’t until about half an hour into the ball that he approached your little group as others in the area marveled at his presence. It wasn’t often that he found time to stop at the edges of the ballroom - especially not recently -  as he was often stuck directly in the center with his family, growing increasingly acquainted with the duties that came with being a future Duke.

“I hope I’m not imposing,” he started, his gaze resting on you as the girls seemed to move to allow room for him. “I was just going to steal (Y/n) for a moment,” Shoto finished, offering his hand to you expectantly. It was well-known that the two of you were childhood friends, so the event didn’t seem to stick out too much to your friends. That, however, didn't stop their apparent excitement.

“Not at all,” Mina chirped happily, the rest of the group nodding along. “Feel free to take her!” 

You offered him a weak smile, taking his hand as the girls seemed to giggle at the event (they never once believed you when you said you didn’t have feelings for him). “I hope your dance card isn’t full,” he mumbled, leading you to the center of the ballroom. Your eyes narrowed at the taller man; he definitely knew it wasn’t full. Was he daring to make a jest at you now after his promise? You hadn’t made an effort to dance in so long, nor had anyone made an effort to invite you. Maybe this was part of the reason why you had no prospects. 

“It isn’t,” you confirmed, grasping onto his hand a little tighter as the crowd grew denser toward the center of the room. Even if you had longed for someone to finally look at you, this was a bit much. Being with Shoto, in the center of the ballroom, you could feel the piercing stares of everyone in the room; all eyes were on you. 

To the strumming of orchestral instruments, Shoto wrapped his free hand around your waist, his other hand never releasing yours as he pulled you close - closer than you were ever accustomed to being. “I know,” he laughed teasingly, starting to sway rhythmically to the song in the background.

You puffed your cheeks out, pouting just a bit at him. Cute. “I knew it, you jerk,” you replied, following his lead; although you hadn’t danced in so long, the footwork was muscle memory. Maybe those dance lessons your mother forced on you weren’t so useless after all. 

“Just teasing,” Shoto chuckled, flashing you that boyish grin that seemed to be reserved for just you (at least you hoped so; you never truly saw him smiling as often with anyone as he did with you). You scoffed, allowing yourself to be dipped by the taller man as you moved together in perfect harmony.  It was as if you had done this dozens of times.

“And if anyone were to hear you?” you questioned, voice barely louder than the music. No one would hear, of course, but you still had to remind him that you were in public. 

“They wont.”

The song came to an end, but Shoto didn’t seem to want to separate, his grip on you tightening as you attempted to step away. “You want this to look real?” he asked, voice hushed as he continued to pull you along as the next song started. If anyone wasn’t looking before, they sure as hell were now. Shoto hadn’t willingly danced for more than one song in ages. Even Shoto, forced by his family, had only danced once throughout the entirety of the last season (and even then, that was with Fuyumi). With this, Shoto was making his intentions loud and clear for anyone to see - you were his. 

“People are staring,” you mumbled back, not doing much else to refuse. It was hard to refuse when he was looking at you like that. The intensity of his stare caused you to look downwards, focusing on the movement of your feet.

“Ignore them,” he said, momentarily releasing your hand to take your chin in hand as he directed your gaze back at him. He was quick to take your hand back into his, ignoring the way your (and many others) jaw dropped. “Just focus on me.” Rumors were definitely going to circulate after that. 

Although you were usually nervous about being the center of attention, the people staring seemed to fade into the background as you became entranced by Shoto’s eyes; something about being close to him was just so… relaxing. You could easily forget about all of your worries this way.

Shoto seemed to relax as well, letting his guard down as the two of you danced around for many more songs despite the whispers; although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was most comfortable with you. Conversation with you was easy - simple. You didn’t flourish your words with the many niceties others in society seemed to; it was refreshing. In exchange for that bluntness, you got to see a side of Shoto he didn’t let others see - the teasing, fun, boyish side. People often forget that he, too, is a person - not just the future duke.

Throughout the various songs, your conversation with Shoto continued in that easy-going manner; you talked about everything and nothing at all. It had been so long since you had a chance to do this. To just… talk. 

“I missed this,” he interjected during a lull in your conversation, his eyes looking at you with a sort of fondness you weren’t familiar with (or did he always look at you this way? You hadn’t noticed). 

“What?” you asked, the aching of your feet starting to make itself known. You had to have been dancing with him for at least an hour now, and for someone who hadn’t danced in years, that in itself was a feat. 

“Talking to you like this,” Shoto finished his musing, a more gentle smile replacing that usual stoic expression on his face. Although the two of you were close, the last season had done a number on your friendship; his father, especially, had pushed him to focus on the family business, seeing his friendship with you as trivial. As of late, it felt like you could count the number of times you’d had an actual conversation with Shoto on one hand. 

You could feel that same fluttering feeling of butterflies starting again in your gut as your heart raced, “I missed it too.” God, he really knew how to make a girl’s heart race, didn’t he? A matching dumb grin colored your features.

“Hopefully, we can still talk like this after you find your future husband,” Shoto said, his expression almost wistful as he thought about the future. You were just such a good friend. Your smile immediately fell, reminding you what this plan was truly about. 

“Right,” you mumbled, gaze leaving his as you finally broke away from his grip, turning immediately to leave. That was enough for the night. Stupid Shoto and his damn bluntness. Stupid Shoto and his inability to understand anyone’s feelings but his own. “It’s getting late, and I’m tired. It’s about time I retire.”

He nodded in understanding, "Let me walk you out." You shook your head, opting to not respond verbally for fear that your voice would waver. "Then I'll see you tomorrow," Shoto resolved, staring at your retreating figure.

Hopefully, you’d turned around in time to not let him see the beginning of tears pricking your eyes. Hopefully, you were able to mask the hurt in your voice as you bid him goodbye. Hopefully, he couldn’t sense your urgency to get outside that suffocating ballroom.

Fuck. You had feelings for Shoto. Real, concrete, romantic feelings. 

Finishing out this deal would be more complicated than you thought. How could you possibly think you could avoid growing feelings for Shoto and his stupidly handsome face? For years, you knew Shoto had never intended to marry, so you had guarded your heart. You had been so careful. Now, here comes one little proposition, and you let your guard down. Stupid. This was so stupid. You were stupid.

Perhaps you should’ve set more ground rules and allowed for more distance between the two of you. It wasn’t like he was trying to make you fall for him. He was far too dense for that - far too dense to understand the effect that he had on people. He was clear from the beginning with you what he wanted, and it definitely wasn’t whatever this was. It wasn’t fair to him that you were upset at him over something he had no control over. 

You willed yourself to walk at a normal speed, your pace only increasing once you reached the outdoors. As you continued to run into cover of the evening, you felt like you could finally breathe. Wiping your tears, you took a deep breath and stepped into the carriage. He didn’t deserve this.

So, you steeled your resolve. Feelings be damned, you’d go through with this plan if it were the last thing you’d do.

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