Just My (blood) Type | Todoroki X Reader

just my (blood) type | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 5,300 words

summary: The real Halloween treat was how sinfully handsome Todoroki Shouto looked in his vampire costume. But that wouldn’t be enough to save him from the petty wrath of one drunk lobster. (In which you suffer deeply, wingwoman a friend, and pick a fight with the hottest boy at UA.)

tags: romance, sfw, halloween, idiot behavior

warnings: aged-up characters, underage drinking, drunk kissing (the characters knowingly and purposefully keep it to kissing only, and everyone is happy about it, but reader is def tipsy.)

notes: Happy (early) Halloween!! I’m not quite where I had hoped to be with this fic but I will be out most of the weekend and wanted to get this up in time. I hope you guys stay safe and have a super fun day!!

You hadn’t been serious when you’d said it.

At least, not at first—not until you saw how much it could mean to your best friend, how much it could alleviate her insecurities.

It had started as a joke, meant to encourage Eiko to stop being a self-deprecating idiot, and start working up the guts to ask her crush out. The UA third years were throwing a halloween party in the Class A dorms, and it would be the perfect opportunity for Eiko to make her move. You had been working on her for the better part of an hour, wheedling, trying every single angle—until you came to the final, extremely regrettable comment that set everything into motion.

“It’s Sero Hanta,” Eiko wailed, from where she was currently sprawled atop your covers with a pile of snacks and her homework, taking up your entire bed. “He’d never be into me.”

You rolled over from your spot on the floor to glare balefully up at her. “Sero Hanta is a confirmed straight boy. There is absolutely no reason why he wouldn’t be into you like one hundred percent of all other men on this earth.”

If three years at UA had taught you anything, it was that every flavor of man—business student, general course, support course, or hero track—was always interested in Eiko. She was a tiny thing, with shiny dark hair, pert features, and a sweet-tempered charm. Even Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t immune, remembering his manners enough to mutter a “sorry” when he bumped her in the halls—instead of declaring her an extra and demanding she retreat before him like the tides before Moses, which seemed to be his standard for handling everyone else.

Eiko had had a bevvy of admirers since your first day of classes, and their ranks had only grown larger over time. There was no way Sero wouldn’t be into her. She was too pretty, too interesting, and too sweet.

But she was also inexplicably far too shy for her own good.

And far too whipped for one gangly, tape-themed future hero to see they were of the same league.

“There’s going to be a million girls at the party, there’s no reason why I should stand out to him,” Eiko said, running a hand through her dark tresses, before throwing it down on your pillow in apparent exasperation.

You rolled your eyes. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this. You would just have to play along.

You patted your chin as if in thought. “Hmm. If that’s the case, then we’ll just have to make you stand out.”

Eiko blinked, like she hadn’t considered this. “How? I’m just…me.”

God if she wasn’t your best friend you could have strangled her for how oblivious she was.

You’d have liked her less, you supposed, if she was actually as up her own butt as she rightfully should be, but this was bordering on idiotic. She was already going to be the hottest girl at that party, in the tiny black dress and cute little cat ears she’d shown you earlier today.

She’d stand out by just existing.

“I don’t know,” you said, picking your phone up off the floor and absently scrolling. “We’ll spend extra time on your makeup. We can put fun chalk and glitter in your hair. We can hire you a phalanx of men to bear you around like a queen. I’ll even stand next to you dressed as a frigging lobster if I have to—then you’ll look insanely good by comparison.”

You expected a snort to issue from her direction—and it did.

But not before there was a slightly too-long pause, like she had briefly considered the idea.

“….You’re serious,” you said, sitting up. “You want me to?”

Eiko looked horrified. “No, I don’t want you to! You have to be cute, too! What if there is some boy you end up wanting to get to know?”

You’d met the majority of third-year boys, and they generally did not want to get to know you, so her point was immaterial. Even Todoroki Shouto, who was reputed among your classmates for his princely manners, seemed openly mystified by your very existence.

In your opinion you’d done nothing wrong, the few times you’d interacted with him—on school-cleaning rotation, in joint-class assignments, at third-year movie nights—but he seemed perplexed by you nevertheless.

Your first meeting had been in the dorm basements, where he’d stood, looking handsome but utterly lost, like some tragic prince from an ancient ballad. He was gazing helplessly between a basket of laundry, a bottle of detergent, and the washing machines, and you couldn’t stifle the laugh that burst its way out of you.

You’d made your way over, gathered just enough information from him to determine that his laundry had always been done by hired house staff, and then proceeded to talk him through the process of doing his own in your least judgmental tones. You also took care to also detail what he was going to do when it came time to use the dryers, laughing when he acted as though they were going to wake up and bite him.

You made light conversation with him while he worked through the process, and then you’d dumped in your own laundry and bade him farewell. You’d thought the entire interaction had been normal enough, as you hadn’t talked for that long or discussed anything super serious.

You guessed you must have stepped wrong somewhere, however, as ever since then, Todoroki had watched you with that same little wrinkle on his brows, like he was just as confused by your existence as he was the washing machines downstairs. You tried your best to act normal whenever you ran into him after that, but nothing seemed to disabuse him of his prejudices.

Whatever.

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