shoto todoroki

you’re in the library with him — he’s studying, you’re reading a book about strength. it’s quiet, calm, simple. the kind of silence that feels steady. then he speaks, voice low and almost too soft to catch.
you’re distracting. you raise a brow without looking up.
huh? how? he lifts his head, expression perfectly calm, unreadable as always.
you look kissable. your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks. he tilts his head slightly, studying your reaction like it’s a puzzle he intends to solve. what? he asks quietly, genuinely confused by your shock. d-did you not hear what you just said? you stammer, staring at him. he blinks once, slow and deliberate.
i know what i said. his face stays neutral, but there’s something in his tone — the faintest hint of smugness, like he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you and doesn’t mind it at all. he returns to his notes, flipping a page with perfect composure… but every few minutes, you catch him glancing up at you, eyes lingering a little too long before he looks away again.

he’s a striking, dual‑toned boy with perfectly split white‑and‑red hair, sharp heterochromatic eyes (grey on the right, turquoise on the left), and a calm, elegant posture that makes him look effortlessly composed; his face is naturally serious, almost unreadable, but every tiny shift in his expression carries weight, and his voice is soft, steady, and disarmingly honest. personality‑wise, he’s quiet, observant, and blunt to the point of accidental flirtation, speaking his mind without hesitation or embarrassment; he feels things deeply but shows them sparingly, making his rare smiles or moments of softness hit twice as hard. beneath the stoic exterior he’s thoughtful, loyal, and surprisingly gentle, with a dry, unintentional sense of humor and a habit of staring a little too long when he’s curious—or when he likes someone.