#sorry abt the typos/weird pacing i wanted to keep these prompts pretty lowkey

[corujalesbica]

The legal procedures were boring and long, but easy enough. After all, the man had not only beat up his kid but stabbed a well know pro hero. His quirk was to shoot daggers, and he almost escaped the police because he was fairly distant when he stabbed Todoroki. But the , they were all in court, Shoto almost shaking from the bad memories and the excitement all together, his husband holding his hand firmly.

The judge had decided, finally, so after signing some papers he knew he could look at the sleeping girl on his lap and call her his daughter. Him and Midorya would welcome her home, and no one would ever, ever hurt her again.

I'm so sorry for writing this without permission I'll take it down if you want @highabovethecloudssomewhere but my heart needed this end. 🥲

number 7 from the prompts?

(thank you for the prompt!!)

Prompt: "Here, hold my hand." (Dialogue may be altered to suit situation/characterization) Future fic, pro heroes, established tododeku (queerplatonic or romantic)

TW: child abuse (mentioned, implied), character injury/blood (unrelated to the abuse)

~*~*~*~*~*~

‘Muscling through it’ is more or less what Todoroki has done his entire life.

Even discounting how he was raised, the expectations he’s placed on himself to maintain an image are devastatingly unhealthy. But he’s good at image management on the average day-to-day, and to some extent he has to be now that he’s gone pro, for better or for worse. Endeavor drilled it into him, too (don’t let them see you falter, don’t let them see you cry), and that combined with his own self-set expectations solidified that mask. 

But today isn’t the average day-to-day, and today he slipped up.

He has enough objective sense of self to know that he’s good at what he does. He’s good at everything heroes should be good at, minus petty societal non-issues like media appearances and “smiling for the camera”. But he slipped up today, because a little girl ran into his leg with bruises all over her and tears on her face, and she was running from her father.

Todoroki’s slip-up isn’t technical. He didn’t hesitate to take action. He didn’t use excessive force, as much as his heart churned dangerous and nebulous. He held the girl with one arm, kept her close and kept her safe. It wasn't a long fight. And he fought damn well.

He didn’t realize he'd been stabbed until he sees the hilt of a knife sticking out of his shoulder. 

That still isn’t part of the slip-up.

He handed the girl off to the nearest hero before she had the chance to notice. He’d spared her from seeing the injury, thankfully. She cried, scared, but echoed thank you in between her sobs. Medics dragged Todoroki into the ambulance. His legs stopped working.

His heart is slipping up. 

Todoroki can just say he’s in shock. That’s what the medics tell him--he’s in shock, they’re on their way to the hospital, they have to wait to remove the knife until they’re in an operating room. They explain it clearly, effective, and Todoroki could double down on that if he wanted. It’s definitely part of it. 

But he slipped up today, for himself, because the moment that girl was out of his arms and in somebody else’s, his heart caved like it’d been crushed, and he couldn’t breathe past the suffocating pressure that took its place.

Midoriya meets them in the parking lot as he's wheeled via stretcher through the hospital double doors. The knife is still in his shoulder when he’s shunted into a room and wires are plastered to his skin. His costume is cut open, fabric torn carefully from around the knife. Midoriya’s at his side, and his status as a hero is high enough, along with his and Todoroki’s relationship being public enough, that the doctors take his word for Todoroki’s medical history without batting an eye.

The IV stings Todoroki’s arm. It’s the first thing he’s felt since that girl rammed into his leg.

The dormant but looming pressure swallows up his chest, breaks open over his skin. He finally feels the knife in his shoulder, but it doesn’t hurt. His eyes burn. A tear evaporates off of his left cheek. 

That girl- she’d held him so desperately, like he’d push her away or disappear and leave her alone.

Don’t let them see you falter, Endeavor’s voice echoes, because it’s always there, always, no matter how many years he’s spent trying to kill it, trying not to listen. Don’t let them see you cry.

He could blame it all on the knife. He hears the words ‘something for the pain’ rush over his head as a nurse rifles through cabinets. He could put his image back in place, and it would be easy because he is in shock, and he is in pain, and it hurts, and-- 

And maybe he will. Inevitably he will, for the public and for the doctors and for his reputation. He will, because he needs to, and this situation isn’t about him for as much as he can relate to it.

But he won’t put it up for Midoriya. Midoriya would never let him, and Todoroki doesn’t want to. 

“We’re going to remove the knife now,” a doctor says, leaning in. She’s speaking to Midoriya, but Todoroki hears it clearly through the ringing in his skull. “He’s in shock, and he’s lost too much blood--” 

Mom, Endeavor, his siblings- Todoroki saved that girl today, because he was there and because he knew, but when he was growing up, and Natsuo and Fuyumi were growing up, and Touya was growing up, and Mom- Mom... 

No one was there.

Midoriya snags up both of Todoroki’s hands. He’s worried--hazy and unable to breathe, Todoroki can still see that much. But the weight of his gaze runs deeper than just fret over an injury. Midoriya understands. 

Midoriya is here. 

He’s the first person that was ever there for Todoroki in this way.

Todoroki sobs and squeezes his hands. The hospital lights are turning his headache into a migraine, and the suffocation hasn’t helped. The IV is uncomfortable and the unnatural sensation of fluids being pushed into his bloodstream makes his stomach squirm. Midoriya strokes his knuckles, scoots as close as he can get. 

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t have to for Todoroki to know that he’s there to stay.

When the medics finally move in to remove the knife, he doesn’t hold his breath. 

When it’s over, the wound is numbed and stitched and he passes out under the gravity of the IV meds, the exhaustion of his memories and the weight of his pain. 

When he wakes up in a hospital room, Midoriya kicks out of his chair and hugs him, tight, and Todoroki tucks his face into Midoriya’s shoulder and sobs until he can breathe again and the world doesn’t feel so big. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

[highabovethecloudssomewhere]

number 7 from the prompts?

(thank you for the prompt!!)

Prompt: "Here, hold my hand." (Dialogue may be altered to suit situation/characterization) Future fic, pro heroes, established tododeku (queerplatonic or romantic)

TW: child abuse (mentioned, implied), character injury/blood (unrelated to the abuse)

~*~*~*~*~*~

‘Muscling through it’ is more or less what Todoroki has done his entire life.

Even discounting how he was raised, the expectations he’s placed on himself to maintain an image are devastatingly unhealthy. But he’s good at image management on the average day-to-day, and to some extent he has to be now that he’s gone pro, for better or for worse. Endeavor drilled it into him, too (don’t let them see you falter, don’t let them see you cry), and that combined with his own self-set expectations solidified that mask. 

But today isn’t the average day-to-day, and today he slipped up.

He has enough objective sense of self to know that he’s good at what he does. He’s good at everything heroes should be good at, minus petty societal non-issues like media appearances and “smiling for the camera”. But he slipped up today, because a little girl ran into his leg with bruises all over her and tears on her face, and she was running from her father.

Todoroki’s slip-up isn’t technical. He didn’t hesitate to take action. He didn’t use excessive force, as much as his heart churned dangerous and nebulous. He held the girl with one arm, kept her close and kept her safe. It wasn't a long fight. And he fought damn well.

He didn’t realize he'd been stabbed until he sees the hilt of a knife sticking out of his shoulder. 

That still isn’t part of the slip-up.

He handed the girl off to the nearest hero before she had the chance to notice. He’d spared her from seeing the injury, thankfully. She cried, scared, but echoed thank you in between her sobs. Medics dragged Todoroki into the ambulance. His legs stopped working.

His heart is slipping up. 

Todoroki can just say he’s in shock. That’s what the medics tell him--he’s in shock, they’re on their way to the hospital, they have to wait to remove the knife until they’re in an operating room. They explain it clearly, effective, and Todoroki could double down on that if he wanted. It’s definitely part of it. 

But he slipped up today, for himself, because the moment that girl was out of his arms and in somebody else’s, his heart caved like it’d been crushed, and he couldn’t breathe past the suffocating pressure that took its place.

Midoriya meets them in the parking lot as he's wheeled via stretcher through the hospital double doors. The knife is still in his shoulder when he’s shunted into a room and wires are plastered to his skin. His costume is cut open, fabric torn carefully from around the knife. Midoriya’s at his side, and his status as a hero is high enough, along with his and Todoroki’s relationship being public enough, that the doctors take his word for Todoroki’s medical history without batting an eye.

The IV stings Todoroki’s arm. It’s the first thing he’s felt since that girl rammed into his leg.

The dormant but looming pressure swallows up his chest, breaks open over his skin. He finally feels the knife in his shoulder, but it doesn’t hurt. His eyes burn. A tear evaporates off of his left cheek. 

That girl- she’d held him so desperately, like he’d push her away or disappear and leave her alone.

Don’t let them see you falter, Endeavor’s voice echoes, because it’s always there, always, no matter how many years he’s spent trying to kill it, trying not to listen. Don’t let them see you cry.

He could blame it all on the knife. He hears the words ‘something for the pain’ rush over his head as a nurse rifles through cabinets. He could put his image back in place, and it would be easy because he is in shock, and he is in pain, and it hurts, and-- 

And maybe he will. Inevitably he will, for the public and for the doctors and for his reputation. He will, because he needs to, and this situation isn’t about him for as much as he can relate to it.

But he won’t put it up for Midoriya. Midoriya would never let him, and Todoroki doesn’t want to. 

“We’re going to remove the knife now,” a doctor says, leaning in. She’s speaking to Midoriya, but Todoroki hears it clearly through the ringing in his skull. “He’s in shock, and he’s lost too much blood--” 

Mom, Endeavor, his siblings- Todoroki saved that girl today, because he was there and because he knew, but when he was growing up, and Natsuo and Fuyumi were growing up, and Touya was growing up, and Mom- Mom... 

No one was there.

Midoriya snags up both of Todoroki’s hands. He’s worried--hazy and unable to breathe, Todoroki can still see that much. But the weight of his gaze runs deeper than just fret over an injury. Midoriya understands. 

Midoriya is here. 

He’s the first person that was ever there for Todoroki in this way.

Todoroki sobs and squeezes his hands. The hospital lights are turning his headache into a migraine, and the suffocation hasn’t helped. The IV is uncomfortable and the unnatural sensation of fluids being pushed into his bloodstream makes his stomach squirm. Midoriya strokes his knuckles, scoots as close as he can get. 

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t have to for Todoroki to know that he’s there to stay.

When the medics finally move in to remove the knife, he doesn’t hold his breath. 

When it’s over, the wound is numbed and stitched and he passes out under the gravity of the IV meds, the exhaustion of his memories and the weight of his pain. 

When he wakes up in a hospital room, Midoriya kicks out of his chair and hugs him, tight, and Todoroki tucks his face into Midoriya’s shoulder and sobs until he can breathe again and the world doesn’t feel so big. 

~*~*~*~*~*~