Touch Starved Boys || My Hero Academia Imagines

~Name~ Todoroki X fem!Reader

His wife, through this entire ordeal, was patient with him.  She didn't want this arrangement either, but she figured they could at least talk and come to a mutual agreement.  The entire month, she never pushed him to speak to her.  She anticipated that he would be rational about this, as she was told by her family, and that they would be able to talk things over when they were finally alone.  Just as she was going to speak her mind the way she had rehearsed it many times, he dismissed her.  She was hurt, but she understood.  He's exhausted after a whole month of stress and preparations, she rationalized, He just wants to rest.  I wouldn't want to talk to a stranger after all that either.

Resolving to try again tomorrow morning, she undressed (with great difficulty), crept into the master bedroom for her clothes while Shoto showers, retrieved her pajamas quietly, and retreated back to the living room.  The girl searched all the closets for a thick enough blanket and settles down to sleep on a couch, the exhaustion putting her right to sleep.

The next morning, the new Mrs. Todoroki woke up bright and early to make breakfast for her husband as an olive branch.  She toiled away in the kitchen, somewhat making a racket even though she wanted to stay quiet so Shoto can sleep.  Just as she finished setting the table and had to face the question of how to wake him, the boy padded down from the room.

"Oh, morning!" she smiled brightly at him.

He murmured a greeting back only to be polite, his face devoid of any real emotions other than coldness.  He sat as far away from her a possible, thanking her for the meal halfheartedly and digging in without another word.

After waiting a few moments to let him satisfy his hunger, she cleared her throat.  "So, um-"

"Your tamagoyaki needs more soy sauce and butter," he stated bluntly.

She blinked at the harsh comment.  It was shocking he said anything to her at all, and the first thing he said was an insult.

"And the miso has no flavor," he continued in the same tone.

The girl finally gathered her wits.  "I'll do better tomorrow.  Thanks for the feedback, I guess?" she laughed nervously, trying to erase the immense tension Shoto bled into the atmosphere.  When he didn't respond, she tried again.  "I know this isn't something either of us wanted, but that doesn't mean we have to live here like enemies.  We could be friends, or even just roommates!"

"I'd rather be strangers," he interjected harshly.

It felt like a stab in the heart.  Here she was, trying to make their lives somewhat bearable together through their common misfortune, and all he wanted to do was live like ghosts in the same house.

Shoto placed his chopsticks down firmly, glaring her straight in the eyes with the iciest hatred she's ever seen.  "Just to be clear, I want no part of you.  You live your life and I live mine.  You can have the bedroom to sleep at night if you want, but it's mine when I come home to shower and prepare for bed.  We will not sleep, talk, or breathe near each other as long as we are in this house."

She dipped her head in defeat, unable to bear the weight of his stare.  "C-Can we at least have our meals together?" she asked feebly.

It's something he respected, coming from family values no matter how broken.  It's the only exception he made to their less-than relationship.

Months passed and she kept her end of the bargain through a suffocating routine.  At first, the girl was kind, trying to get him to open up to her somehow without overstepping her boundaries.  She made excuses for him constantly.  He's just tired.  The least I can do is leave him alone.  I can't comfort him anyway, I'm a stranger.  He's still upset about the whole thing, he'll come around.  She even begged her boss to let her leave a little early every day to make sure she had ample amount of time to get home, shower, and prepare dinner before Shoto returned.  When he did, he wordlessly showered, sat down to dinner, nitpicked at her cooking, finished eating, and went to sleep on the living room couch, all without even sparing her a glance.