Shoto: Bakugou made Midoriya cry.
Uraraka: But Deku always cries!
Deku: That's not true!
Shoto: Bakugou made Midoriya cry.
Uraraka: But Deku always cries!
Deku: That's not true!
Rating: T Pairings: Todoroki Shouto/Sero Hanta Characters: Various Universe: Howls Moving Castle Au
Summary: A day of impossibilities starts with a mystery man, with mismatched eyes and cold hands, rescuing him in a dark alleyway as he attempted to go about his business and the pet name sweetheart being said a little too tenderly. It ends with another stranger cursing him in his own store after telling them to leave.
Things like this don’t happen to people like Sero Hanta.
AO3 Previous Chapter Next Chapter
“Stop fucking hovering, Deku.”
“He spent most of the night on that stool, Kacchan! What if he’s too sore to move?”
There’s the sound of something being set down, the crackling of firewood sounding endearingly angry as Sero is reluctantly pulled from sleep. Who or, rather, what was a Deku? His track record of meeting new people recently having been reduced to sentient inanimate objects, mentally running through a list of possibilities only to open his eyes and find not an object but a very, very human face.
Sero isn’t sure why he’s so disappointed by that fact.
It’s no surprise he’s as sore as he was the previous morning, if not more so, knowing he should be more concerned about the deafening crack his back makes as he sits up than he is, the concentrated pain in his spine seeming to bleed out into a more bearable ache that bloomed over his shoulder blades and rib cage. The kid, Deku if Bakugou was to be believed, was there in an instant hovering with his arms open, having absolutely no idea where to place them.
“I’m good.” Sero croaks, dismissing the kid with a wave of his hand, legs mid swing off the bed when someone knocks on the door, watching with humoured curiosity as the green haired boy runs down the stairs, back up them again, draping a cloak over his shoulders and changing his appearance with a pull up of his hood as Bakugou barks out what door it was.
How can it lead to Port Haven when Sero had come in through the wastes?
“Is the great wizard Frostfire present?”
His confusion of the name speaks volumes of how little information on magic had made it to the countryside, Sero pushing himself off of the bed with another grunt, smiling to himself when he notices his walking stick leaning against the arm rest of the sofa he’d previously been sleeping on. How had he gotten onto the sofa anyway? Surely that teenager at best hadn’t carried him over?
“He’s out at the moment, sir, but I’ll be sure to pass on any message.”
The glare of the morning sun makes him wince, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his free hand, blinking rapidly in the aftermath. He’d never seen the ocean before, never really left the small town he’d grown up in, living vicariously through Mina when she would talk so enthusiastically about everywhere she had visited to gather inspiration for the hat shop. He wonders, fondly, how mad they were going to be when he eventually came home and he revealed he’d finally left town, not because of them but because he had a run in with two wizards.
“It has been requested by his Majesty that all witches and wizards are to report to the capitol city at once for service in the war to come.”
How much of this would they believe though? The only reason he was due to the fact he was living it for how often did stories of curses, magic fires and scarecrows, and moving castles turn out to be true? Not often enough to be true. How many stories of Shouto’s supposed victims had been proven false now? Too many for the concept of him as a heart eater to really have any credibility but not enough to dismiss them entirely.
“Oh, he’s not going to be happy about this.” The kid mutters walking up the steps, carry a scroll he deposits on the table, the form of an old man melting back into him as he pulled the hood down and cloak off. He jumps upon noticing Sero staring at him, Bakugou laughing at the teens expense in a way that was more cackle than anything else. “I forgot to ask! What’s your name? I’m Midoriya Izuku, also how did you get in here? Are you a wizard too? Are you one of Master Shouto’s friends?”
“I’m Sero Ha-”
“KINGSBURY DOOR!” Bakugou yells, cutting off Sero and pushing Midoriya back into a slight panic, yellow cape back on and the old man he had been moments before came back into view. Weren’t they in Port Haven? How were they getting knocks in Kingsbury? Sero leaning over the railing as teenager took a breath and turned the small dial above the handle, the sound of seagulls and the near by port being drowned by the clamour of a busy city, the rumble of cars and the sound of people going about their day.
“Hello, is this the residence of the wizard Iceflame?”
First Frostfire and now Iceflame, how many aliases did Shouto have anyway and why would he even need them? Perhaps he should stop going down that train of thought now, nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand, he has his own issues to deal with without getting caught up in the dramatics of wizards anymore than he already has done. Conversation with the men at the door over, Midoriya closes the door, resting his head against it before changing the small dial again, the vibrance of the city melting away into the dull pallor of the wastes and the gentle sound of rain fall.
“Sero, I walked in, no and no.” He offers in hopes of melting away at least some of the stress off of the other’s face, only for it to be replaced with confusion, the teenager still wearing that face as he walked up the stairs and deposited yet another scroll next to the one he’d been handed not even five minutes ago. Even Bakugou looks on the sceptical side of confusion, making it perfectly clear he didn’t believe a word Sero had just said.
“That doesn’t make sense, most people can’t just walk in here, especially those who aren’t friends with Shouto.” Midoriya stated firmly, a determined look on his face, Sero half concerned he was going to challenge him to a fight despite any assertion Sero may give that he was right and that he did not know who Shouto was, just the rumours that followed him everywhere.
“I’ve never met the guy.” Sero states flatly, earning another strange reaction from Midoriya, this time one of confused surprise, and an oddly smug look from Bakugou. Was he missing something here that he should know, the old man sighing before moving to inspect the cluttered counters around them, frowning at the sight of potions mixed with food, parchments filled with recipes draped over crockery that were perhaps beyond the point of saving.
How anyone lived like this was beyond him, knowing full well he wasn’t the tidiest but he’d never let his messes get to this point, wondering vaguely which side of the line between too busy to clean and too lazy to try the occupants of this house fell under. It’s why its so surprising when Sero finally manages to find food, still fresh and edible, hidden partially beneath a cloche, eyeing the bacon and eggs hungrily before looking up and checking for other ingredients.
Carbs. He was missing carbs, bread being the best suited for what he had in mind but he would take any at this point in order add some bulk to the meal. Vegetables he’d given up on looking for, the only splash of greenery coming from the patches of mould attached to what was once food residue. How was Midoriya an image of health in conditions like this, he was feeling ill just thinking about what layer in the deeper layers of mess.
“What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast.” He replies like it’s obvious, gently extracting the basket of meat and eggs from the side, wincing at the clatter of plates as they fell into the gap left behind, hooking it into his elbow and grinning as he finally spotted a loaf of bread on the table, still fresh and, with any luck, not entirely stale. “Do we have anything to make tea with?”
“Yes, we have a teapot but Kacchan doesn’t listen to anyone bar Shouto and even then, its reluctantly!” the panic in his voice is palpable, Sero only acknowledging his statement with a click of his tongue, setting the food down on a stool by the fire demon, turning his attention instead to the collection of pans hung against the wall. The second from the left is his best option, Sero thinks, big enough for two portions, maybe even three at a push, eyeing the irritated fire and wondering if it even ate.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll listen.” Sero grins, perking up the way he always did when he was about to get Kaminari in trouble with Mina or vice versa, turning he cast iron frying pan in his hand. It’s a comfortable weight, pleasantly surprised that even with the aches and pains ridiculing his body he was able to hold it this easily, moving back over to the hearth, smile widening with every step as Bakugou started to look more and more like a pissed off cat. “Won’t you Bakugou?”
“Fuck off.” The crackle of fire wood and the floating specs of flame is more comforting than intimidating, Sero feeling more like he was in the presence of a friend than personified fire. “I aint doing shit for you.”
“I guess I’m telling Shouto of our deal then.” Sero smirks, voice dropping to a low whisper so Midoriya could not hear them, taking small joy from the way the fire seemed to still, looking away from the fire to the pan as he turned it in his hands again. He had become more daring with age, it seemed, knowing full well he’d have at least given it a second thought before speaking so brazenly with Bakugou. “Do I look like a man with much left to get fucked up by a wizard?”
The sound of steam, a billow of smoke, fire tempering down to a blue concentrated flame as Sero brings the pan down, flames kissing blackened iron and his hand hovering over metal to check how the pan was heating up. “Then have this curse from me, may all your food burn, bastard.” It doesn’t sting, no anger behind the words masquerading as a curse, Sero noting that the other seemed almost impressed again, electing to not comment on it.
There’s an awed whisper somewhere behind him of ‘Kacchan is doing what he says’, Sero shaking his hand as he moved it from the frying pan, finally hot enough, to the slices of bacon thick enough to be belly pork. Two or three? Two or three? He settles on three, unsure of if it was an apology slice to Bakugou or an extra one for Midoriya, a level of concern in him over the way the teenager stood shorter than him despite Sero having shrunk with age. Maybe this is why his friends referred to him as their dad jokingly.
Sero barely notices the creak of an opening door, the tap of footsteps on stairs, Sero too focused on the sizzling fat and inward lamentation at the lack of seasoning to give the new distraction his attention. “Master Shouto! You’re back early, you received summons from the palace as both aliases, what do we...” The teenager trails off before brightening again, Sero freezing as something cold radiates beside him.
Before a burning fire demon and yet it felt like all the warm had been sucked away, a shiver running down his spine as he looked up at the source of the drop in temperature and he feels himself freeze further.
Apparently, he had met Shouto after all.
It was the man from the alley way, the man who swept him off his feet and into the air, had let him float onto a balcony, kissed his knuckles and called him his. He’d not only met Shouto, he’d also been haunted by the man for the past thirty six hours, the curiosity over what it had all meant dying on his tongue as he remembered his bitterness from yesterday. It was Shouto’s fault he was in this predicament, Sero having only made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Obedience isn’t like you.” A quiet quip, a light laugh in his voice as the sound of a gas stove seems to increasing in volume, Sero throwing himself further into cooking so he didn’t become lost in that voice all over again. Flip the bacon? Check. Add the eggs? Check. Empty shells lay on the edge of the hearth, the sizzle of opaquing whites an all too welcome distraction as the wizard spoke again, this time addressing Sero. “And you are?”
“Oh! That’s Sero.” Midoriya chirps in, Sero thankful for the teenager’s interruption, still not entirely sure of what he wanted to say to the wizard. ‘Thank you for saving me, by the way, I appreciate that the price of not being mugged was being a pensioner’ was too angry, too antagonistic for this time in the morning, smiling at the memory of his grandmother telling him that aggression should not be spoken before breakfast, least they sour the food.
“Here let me-”
“No.” His voice is firm, the silence in the kitchen stifling, as Sero looks up at the wizard, look as set as his tone, tightening his grip on the panhandle, challenging the other to try and take it from him. “I don’t trust people who let their kitchen be this messy to cook for me.” Maybe his new found age had made him too bold, watching shock overtake Shouto’s face before he’s laughing behind his hand again.
“Okay, that’s fair.” He leaves Sero’s side then, scooping up the eggshells and moving them closer to Bakugou, turning on his heel to busy himself with something behind the old man. A clatter of ceramic, the whistle of a boiling kettle and the awed curiosity from Midoriya that spilled from his lips like a waterfall, Shouto answering every single one with patience.
Maybe the rumours were incorrect after all, Sero surmises, turning to the table, pan in hand, to find a corner haphazardly cleared, for how many Casanovas spent their time answering a multitude of questions on the properties of rosehip tea from a teenager that was made of curiosity and wonder. He’s barely taken three steps when Shouto is by his side again, strangely reminiscent of the alleyway only this time the cold hand is on his shoulder, not his waist, the warm hand brushing over his own holding the pan before gripping it just above the towel.
Why wasn’t that burning his hand? “Here, let me.” It’s difficult to not listen to what that voice, kitchen towel falling to the floor with a dull thump, hand slipping from his shoulder to the middle of his back to give an encouraging push forward. Midoriya is in the middle of pouring tea when he takes his seat, eyebrows raising in mild disbelief at the small bowl he is given in place of a cup, noting that the makeshift cups for both Shouto and Deku seem to be in a similar state of not being remotely cup or mug shaped.
Plate of food slide towards him, Sero nearly drops his head into his hands as Midoriya offers him a selection of two spoons and a fork, commenting a little awkwardly that he could only have one as ‘the rest are dirty’, Sero taking the fork, making sure to wipe it on his shirt before trusting it enough near his food. He’d been through the wastes and slept in this shirt yet he still trusted it more than this kitchen area.
“So, is there a reason why you’re in my kitchen, Sero?” His voice isn’t accusatory, just a gentle curiosity that takes Sero by surprise and renders him off guard. Shouldn’t he be more annoyed by this? Was a random man that much of a common occurrence in his home that he found no need to question it or was it something else? He daren’t entertain the idea that Shouto not only knew he was cursed but could see him as he actually was.
“I’m your new house keeper, Bakugou hired me.” There’s a choked noise from the hearth, Sero once again questioning where this boldness came from, focusing on looking at the cooling eggs as opposed to giving Shouto any form of visual acknowledgement. He’s going to end up in more trouble, the wave of confidence that came in the form of believing things couldn’t get worse seeming to have dried out already.
Things could get worse. There was still so much he could lose.
“It would be nice to have a more organised kitchen.” It’s Midoriya that speaks now, contemplative, Sero biting back a laugh at the offended noise from Shouto, feeling more at ease. He’s not sure what it is, something about the green haired boy is putting him at ease, the tension that was slowly building in his shoulders slipping away just as easily as it came. “Would probably stop customers commenting on everything.”
The younger pair slip into easy conversation, mostly one sided as Midoriya talked of practicalities within their art of magic, Shouto only offering the odd word here and there in either agreement of dismissal, Sero tuning out the conversation easily enough. Where would he even begin with a place like this? Eyes flicking from the pile of books and parchment before him, to the dire state of the sideboards, looking past Shouto to look at the hearth, grimacing. He hasn’t known Bakugou long but he already knows cleaning the mountains of ash and charcoal from the hearth was going to be an endeavour in and of itself. Maybe he should save that for last.
“Sero?” He jumps at his name, looking back to the magical pair and finding them both looking at him, Sero blinking owlishly under the mix of concerned and humoured looks. Why did Shouto look like that? What had he missed? “I asked you what was in your pocket.”
Wrinkled hands pat trouser pockets, bemusement clear as day when something crinkles under his touch, slipping his hand into his pocket to find a note. How long had that been there? These had been fresh out of the drawer when he’d put them on, his only handling of paper when he left the note for Mina and Uraraka, eyeing the purple note warily before placing it in Shouto’s extended, expectant hand.
Paper touches skin. Paper explodes into blue flame and ash, hands recoiling at the flash of heat as intricate details scorch themselves into the table, Sero quickly checking his hand for any burns before looking to Shouto, no longer weird in his welcome but aggravated, a tension building in his shoulders, something about the expression seeming weirdly familiar but Sero couldn’t place why.
The silence stretches as a pale hand presses against the table, the smell of acrid, burnt flesh filling the air as blue fire sparked to life around Shouto’s hand. Sighing deeply, Shout stands, the mark on the table gone and the hand that had been on the table now cradled to his chest, the remainder of his tea downed, his half eaten plate of food dumped into Bakugou’s flames.
“Move the castle seventy miles north, I’ll be needing hot water too.”
It’s Midoriya who first breaks the silence at the table, Bakugou cursing up a storm towards Shouto in the background as he turned to Sero, a set look on his face that the teenager was failing to not show as threatening. “Are you working for Dabi?” His voice is low, Sero growing more confusion at the sudden tension. He hadn’t known who Shouto was until about ten minutes ago, how was he supposed to know who this Dabi was?
“Kid I have no idea who Da-”
“Pass that on to little Shouto, would you.”
Something snaps in him then. A white boiling rage that was so out of character for him that it threatened to suffocate him. Dabi. Dabi was the man following Shouto. Dabi was the bastard who had done this to him. Slamming his hand on the table, he barely feels the pain from the impact, Midoriya jumping back from him and even Bakugou stops his tirade against Shouto.
“I do not work for Dabi.” He spat his name out like it was poison. “He’s the reason I-”
His lips seal, a pain developing in his vocal cords as he tried to speak of the curse, tried to tell the increasingly panicked looking teenager about how he wasn’t in his seventies but twenty four, how he’d been cursed for just being seen with his master. Sero’s attempts to speak of his predicament end with an angry sob, coughs wracking his sore throat, a warm hand rubbing his back as another cup of tea was slid towards him, the comfort Midoriya offered welcome but doing little to ease his mood.
“I don’t work for Dabi.” He repeated softly, the floral tea providing another performative sense of comfort, warming his old bones and easing the physical aches and pains that plagued him.
“I know, I’m sorry I asked.”
Shoto: Ok so olive oil is made from olives right?
Shoto: alright, so baby oil-
Shoto: I loved playing doctor as a kid.
[flashbacks to child Shoto]
Shoto, standing next to a sleeping Endeavor, holding a knife: HE'S FLATLINING! QUICK! WE NEED TO CUT OUT HIS ORGANS AND SELL THEM ON THE BLACK MARKET!
I honestly started this blog cause I really enjoy writing and honestly I had no intention to actually monetize my work cause idk, it's always been just a hobby to me and I don't think I'm THAT good at writing either. However, I've been facing some family issues where my dad is not paying for my education and while I already have a job, it really doesn't pay me enough. So yep, I decided to make money out of writing. Aaanyway, that's it for my sob stories. The rules for commissioned fics are as follows:
1)I will work extra hard on these fics so expect better writing style than the fics on my tumblr blog. These will also be much longer than the ones I write for free with a minimum of 500 words. I decided to charge $5 for every 500 words and please mention how many words you want on your asks.
2) Everything else is pretty much the same as my ask rules on tumblr.
3) Please make your asks as detailed as possible cause that would help me out a lot while writing since these are bigger fics and I need as much context as possible.
4) I'm still very new to this and I've never used patreon before soooo if I mess anything up, please bear with me🥺🥺
Here's my link to patreon.
Do you ever think about todo picking at his scars when he's stressed and eventually wearing gloves so it wouldn't be as bad or maybe him wearing just the most obnoxiously colored watches to cover his wrists so he doesn't rub his wrist til they hurt or him wearing chokers so he goesn't go scitchy scratchy at his neck or is it just me
Find me and my art on tiktok
Tododeku sun and moon trope because yes
Also I have a Redbubble shop now and this is one of the designs! https://www.redbubble.com/i/hoodie/Sun-and-Moon-by-EclipseMakesArt/76149906.O6XP1?utm_source=rb-native-app&utm_campaign=share-product&utm_medium=ios
Disco in the air.
☆★ like or reblog ‹3
Boku no hero layouts??!!!...
my soulmate names anime characters: part 1, bnha
sO, I might make a smau with a faceless singer fem reader 🤩
but....there is no "but" I'm gonna make it
is anyone gonna see it? probably not
but I'll make it regardless
22 years old
- queen bee, chapter seven.
Izuku and Mei come to visit the palace with a surprise.
I’m so sorry this chapter took two months to finish, I don’t have an excuse😭😭😭 I hope you enjoy it tho!!!! reader and shouto get some interesting developments👀
「僕だけのために歌う,あなた」 “Sing only for me, my love” – Do not repost.
i saw bakusero art of them as dads raising three children and now i’ve got mild baby fever and the intense urge to write seroroki as fathers. jesus take the wheel.
hERE ARE MY IDEAS THO. tell me baking/cooking wouldn’t be a big thing in the seroroki household! it absolutely would be! cooking and movie nights! reading to the kids in their rooms! playing hide and seek in the backyard!
shouto is not very great with kids but he’s wonderful with his own! he’s very nervous and is always scared he’s doing the whole parenting thing wrong, so sometimes he’s a lil overprotective or overbearing and hanta has to remind him he’s doin great, tjat he just needs to relax!
hanta is wonderful with kids becayse i KNOW that man has younger siblings!!! he’s a hellion, he knows how to keep them occupied and how to entertain them without anyone getting hurt. he’s the Coolest Dad but even cool dads get insecure, he never wants his kids to feel like they can’t come to him or that they have to keep secrets, so he’s very chill and very open and shouto learns a lot from him, and he learns a lot from shouto in turn.
obviously by the time theyre raising whole ass children together, they’ve been established for a while, but there’s always something new to learn with new situations, especially when small humans are introduced. they work together well, and they’re always lifting the other up and supporting them while raising and protecting their kids at the same time.
srrk as dads is possibly one of the best ideas i’ve ever had
TODOROKI SHOUTO THROUGHOUT BNHA ↳ S1xEP10: “ENCOUNTER WITH THE UNKNOWN”
Not me thinking of starting "Tododekucore"
I- what is going on in my head-
But also if anyone wants to join me 👉👈