Chapter Text
You groaned once the sunlight hit your closed eyelids, the warmth caressing your cheeks. You carefully stretched your limbs then allowed the morning melodies of your husband in the shower, the songs of the birds in the garden, and the occasional car passing by. Getting married to the pro hero Shoto Todoroki coupled with your hard work in the hero agency ensued you both a luxurious and comfortable life as you owned your own house and property together with a large yard and garden. You rubbed your eyes before slowly opening them, blinking once or twice to adjust your vision towards the silk curtains drawn across the bedroom you shared with your husband. Usually, you would get up and do some morning stretches before heading to make a quick breakfast for you and your dual-haired husband. However, the warmth emanated from the bed you shared and the gentle thrumming from the shower had you in their calming embrace. You let out a contented sigh, and absentmindedly rubbed your pregnant belly of four months. Then you felt a good mood climbing over you as your palm met your bulging womb that housed your child before you reviewed yourself briefly of what the agenda was that day.
Footsteps approached your bedroom and the house fell silent signaling that Shoto was done in the shower. He briefly looks over your sprawled-out form, towel drying his bi colored locks before he began to dress himself. Shamelessly, you ogled your husband’s toned back and tight bum while he pulled over his slacks and belt before grabbing a crisp white button up you ironed last night. By his choice of clothing that morning, you were relieved to know that it meant he would simply be working on his reports today and he wouldn’t be on the field. You smile, knowing full well that your intelligent husband would be quick and efficient in that area that he’d be bound to finish early, that meant he could accompany you for another baby checkup.
You were staring into space as you thought that you barely noticed him walk over to the bed, before leaning over to press a kiss on your temple. You smiled, despite the sensation of his soft lips being cold,
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Shoto merely hummed, brushing your mussed-up lock behind your ear. You expected him to turn away and heat up breakfast himself. In your two years of marriage, you realized he preferred finishing tasks promptly and diligently so he could enjoy down time later. Hence you felt surprised when he seated himself beside you, hand through your hair, thighs beside your head, back on the headboard, and feet on the floor. The proximity allowed you to smell the vanilla scented body wash and the lingering tinctures of his natural, cinnamon musk. You looked up from your pillow in curiosity, but your husband said nothing, his heterochromatic eyes stared down your womb.
To anyone else, his expression would be labeled as blank, but you knew better. You smiled at the softness they held towards the life you both had created and you can see that he was deep in thought. You held your tongue, knowing that the male would voice out whatever he was thinking once he was done or when he felt it was important. Shoto’s warm fingers absentmindedly brushed through your hair in rumination. Your hand was still rubbing your belly, a habit you came to have from the moment you learned of your pregnancy. You both basked in the silence, not feeling any urgency to move just yet.
Shoto began to shift in his position, and when you glanced up once more, you saw that he was somewhat leaning over, eyes still focused on your belly as though he was scrutinizing it. The gesture was strange when he tilted his head to the side, so you allowed yourself to ask,
“Sho, what are you doing?”
He didn’t react to your question, eyes still intent on your womb. It would have looked as though he didn’t hear you, so you were about to nudge his side when he asked softly,
“(Name), what is the shape of your belly?”
You blinked at the strange question, not understanding the context nor the question itself.
“Uh…” you tilted your head and raised your brows, “what?”
Your husband leaned back a tad before his left palm gently caresses your stomach as if measuring the shape. He barely spared you glance, seemingly nonchalant about the weird question that caught you off guard.
“I read somewhere that if your belly is pointed, it’s male,” he informed you flatly, oblivious to your astonished stare, “and if it is round, it’s a female.”
Uh oh.
This habit of his is awfully familiar.
Shoto Todoroki never seemed like one to do such as he was not a talker, but he is a curious being and would read just about anything and everything when it came to a topic. You noticed this back in your U.A days where he once suggested to a classmate to find a pressure point in their palm to relieve their nausea. In the beginning, you thought it was endearing, until you began dating, it seemed to intensify. You remembered once when he was in your dorm room during your period. Despite, assuring him you were fine, he insisted on being there incase you needed something. The whole time you were groaning, and clutching your belly on your bed, your clueless boyfriend sat in front of your laptop searching for facts on periods and what he could do to alleviate the pain.
“(Name), there’s a pressure point between your big toe that could help with the cramps.”
“You’re not supposed to eat chocolate because you could have—I can’t pronounce this, sorry.”
“Hey, it says that painkillers make it worse.”
“...but (Name), this one says you’re supposed to take aspirin before the cramps.”
You growled, attempting to calm yourself before you threw an extreme fit towards your gentle, caring, clueless, albeit useless at the moment boyfriend.
“Sho, just please reach for the tampons on the top drawer,” you instructed. Initially you were embarrassed to have him touch such things for you, but you’d be damned if you were to stretch your sore body.
“But (Name),” your boyfriend gently interjects, “it says that virgins can’t wear tampons.”
Needless to say, you threw the closest object towards him before kicking him out.
He could be such a nerd, both in a good and bad way. Your husband always seemed all mighty, intelligent, and composed, and while he was, you knew better. He was a curious being with a resolve to meet all your concerns and needs. With that ‘research’ habit, however, he would, suggest these absurd assumptions and solutions with a flat face. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they embarrassed you. The latter became heavily apparent as outlandish sites surfaced through the years.
At present, you sighed, and smiled before you sat up to kiss your husband’s cleanly shaved jaw.
You were definitely in for a surprise in your pregnancy journey.
~
“Sho, can you reach the toilet paper for me?” you asked you husband while your eyes went over your grocery list hand over your belly of five months. Shoto nodded, effortlessly reaching above you, his warm chest pressed against your back as he did. Once he retrieved the material, you tilt your head back to quickly peck his unsuspecting cheek,
“Thanks, babe.”
You missed the small smile that tugged over his lips as he added the item to your cart. You both continued to stroll down the aisle, looking over the selections all the while checking if they were part of your shopping list. Shoto pushed the cart towards the fruit section when you both saw that strawberries, and watermelon were on your list.
Despite the development of technology and the availability of online grocery shopping, you loved grocery shopping with your husband. It was a simple way to have quality time while being able to discipline each other when you had wants over needs.
You were eyeing the row of pre-sliced watermelon, scrutinizing which box looked the freshest and ripest. When you found the perfect one, you turned towards your cart to see your bi-colored husband holding a bundle of bananas in hand. He examined it, before looking over to you, standing there with a questioning gaze. Bananas were definitely not on your list, and it was not something your husband would usually choose. But you shrugged the thought off and placed the box in the cart. If he wanted it, he could take it.
“There’s a twin banana,” Shoto informed you to which you looked over in curiosity. You chuckled at his child like discovery stated in such a calm tone. Indeed, there were two bananas conjoined to make a thicker banana, you smiled at him before telling him to add it in the cart.
“Do you want twins, (Name)?”
The question caught you off guard since you both just came from ultrasound last week, revealing your baby’s current condition and health. It was strange since you both saw that it was just one fetus. Unless, he meant it for future reference.
“That would be, uh, cool actually,” you mumble, your expression riddled with confusion before they deadpanned at your husband’s response.
“They say that if you want twins, you should eat a twin banana.”
~
It was your last day as a deployment specialist at your hero agency before you could take your maternity leave the next day since your pregnancy was now seven months in. Your hand was supporting your back as you waited in front of your agency for Shoto to pick you up. Despite the swelling of your feet, your heart was full and light as the day was filled with sweet sticky notes, small snacks, and wishes for the best. Your co workers were ecstatic since the beginning of your pregnancy excited to see what the little Todoroki (you later on learned was a boy) looked like, how the highly respected Shoto would be as a father as well as witness your small family antics. They wished you farewell along with several ‘you will be missed Todoroki-san!’
A familiar, sleek, silver Volvo V90 pulled up the driveway and you grinned towards the tinted windshield, knowing your husband would see. The guard quickly jogs over to open the front seat for you as you clumsily slid in the leather cushion. You both thanked the guard to which he returned with a smile and congratulations. The door shut close and you turn to give Shoto a peck on the lips before he drove away.
Before he could ask you how your day went, you beat him to it when the familiar tune of The Magic Flute: Overture of Mozart played through the speakers.
“I didn’t realize you were into classical symphonies, Sho.”
It was strange really, Shoto, if he ever did choose to listen to music, he would opt for lo-fi or mellow beats. While you did not mind Mozart, the concerto of violins and flutes mostly struck fitting for a formal or fancy occasion. Simply put, his choice of this music this month was out of place.
Shoto gave you a curt glance before slowing down at the red traffic light. His warm hand encompasses yours while you waited.
“It’s not for me, it’s for the baby.”
Oh dear.
Here it comes.
“Research says it enhances the child’s intelligence.”
You sighed before rubbing a hand over your tired features.
~
Who was that motherfucker that said you would be glowing during pregnancy?
You scowled at your reflection, particularly towards your dry hair and split ends. It had been a while since you went to the salon so you decided today would be the day. You used to be a firm believer of waiting your emotions out before you got a haircut, however, in that moment, you were desperate to alleviate your depreciating self-esteem and a haircut seemed to be the best solution. You needed to get rid of the split ends anyway.
It was Shoto’s day-off so you thought it best to ask him to drive and accompany you to your trusted salon. You left the bedroom in search of your husband. You waddled through the hallway, and judging by the sounds of shuffling, you knew he was still in the nursery.
He was there alright, attaching the hanging crib toys above the crib he was setting up that morning. An endearing smile crossed your lips watching your husband’s back concentrating on carefully attaching the screws. He swung the toys a few times making sure that it would not fall out of its attachment so it would not drop on his defenseless, infant son. He turned around to grab the mattress resting by the doorway and a look of surprise briefly passed over his handsome face when he saw you leaning there. You smiled up at your husband and he returned it with a smaller one while he approached you. He pressed a palm against your belly, caressed it fondly before he kisses your forehead in reverence. You grinned at the warmth of the moment, temporarily forgetting about your distress over your appearance.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help you, Sho,” you mumbled apologetically, looking over the crib, “but it’s looking great!”
He sighed and shook his head, telling you not to worry. His strong arms gently encompass your form, careful not to harm his son in his wife’s womb. You rested your cheek against his chest, your eyes scanning how the nursery was put together. The walls were plain white while the ceiling was a baby blue for according to your dear husband’s research, the color blue was calming. You humored him at the suggestion since it was one of the few of his suggestions that you agreed on. There was no other furniture than the crib at present, but they will be in by next week you hoped.
You then remembered what you came in for, so you tilted your head upwards, “Hey, when your done, could you bring me to the salon?”
Your husband’s blank stare began to fill with panic and worry and you wondered why. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Is it safe?”
You pulled away slightly in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Shoto hesitated, expecting you to immediately deny his outlandish discoveries,
“I don’t believe it since it’s absurd,” he murmured guessing it was better safe than sorry,
“but they say you could cut off the baby’s vision i-“
“Bullshit!” you huffed crossing your arms, suddenly feeling defiant and your earlier ill tempers coming on full swing. Your husband was visibly startled at your sudden swearing. Despite it being your eighth month of pregnancy, your mood swings never reached that point.
“Seriously, Shoto, you should analyze your sources before believing such damnable things,” you grumbled, your scowl deepening as you allowed the man in front of you to absorb what you just said.
He blinked a few times, unused to you calling him by his full first name before his hands dropped to his sides. His gaze lowered to your shoulders, feeling the burn of embarrassment and shame encompass him,
“I apologize,” he mumbled, “I just wanted to make sure everything is perfect for you and our son.”
At the simple apology, your shoulders sank a tad as you realized that his abusive father and family issues spurned him to be this extreme in ensuring everything went well. Your initial anger subsided, and you sighed. He did not directly tell you, but you knew he was worried he would fail this early on as a father,
“You’re doing so well, Sho,” you assured him softly as his heterochromatic eyes met yours, “You’re not perfect, yes, but you’re definitely going to be the best father any son could ask for.”
Shoto said nothing as he found rest and assurance in your words. The way you looked at him adoringly made his chest swell that he did not fight off the gentle smile that crawled up his lips.
~
“Hey, Sho?”
Your husband hummed; eyes focused on the parenting book you were reading together on the bed. Your head was rested against his chest as your backs were leaning on the cushions by the headboard. His arm was around you while the other held up the book in front of you as you rubbed your belly that was due any week from now. There was a small kick that meeting your palm and you winced at the force but smiled in happiness, nevertheless.
“We still haven’t decided on a name yet,” you told him and while you already suggested a few, you both felt it didn’t fit well. Shoto lowered the book and glanced down at you, as your gazes met, he seemed to be deep in thought. Thinking that he would share a ‘knowledgeable’ fact about baby names, you glare at him and immediately warned,
“And I hope you’re only going to give me names.”
He blinked in confusion before responding, “But I was going to.”
You grinned, pushing yourself up in eagerness to hear his suggestion. He does the same, leaning up straighter but then paused, he hesitated while he stared at the open book in his lap. Your brows furrowed in concern at the behavior, so you gently touched his arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like your suggestions are useless,” you apologized softly. But your husband shook his head, sparing you a brief glance before he spoke,
“I was-,” he paused again.
Shoto had been thinking about it for a while and he felt that the name would fit. The name meant a lot to him and he hoped you would consider or at least listen to his explanation if you needed it. He inhaled before looking at you, and he was somewhat nervous that you’d find it strange. However, when he saw the encouraging look in your eyes and the patient smile you wore, he was reminded again why he married you. Other than being an amazing woman, you always did your best to understand and to be patient with him with his aloof and enigmatic demeanor. He exhaled before speaking lowly,
“I was going to suggest Touya.”
He observed your surprised expression, but you said nothing, as you waited for him to expound on why he would name his first son by his eldest brother’s name especially as his case involved traumatic memories of his family.
Seeing as there was no objection in your gaze, Shoto continued,
“I know it’s strange, but I never got to properly meet my older brother especially since-,” he clenched his fist as the familiar feeling of bitterness towards his father came over him. Before he could feel its poison fully encompass his being, your hand gently rests atop his larger one, the feeling so tender and warm. He slowly calmed down before proceeding, “You know what happened to him, (Name).”
You nodded at the statement when you remembered how it was a grueling time for Shoto back then when he learned the uncanny resemblance and pieces of evidence of his villain-turned older brother. But you both perfectly understood why it happened despite the revelation being painful and traumatic for your husband.
“I thought that if ever,” your husband continued, voice low and intense but with passion instead of anger, “If ever there was another Touya in the world, I want him to have the family my brother never had.”
Shoto was now looking at you, his expression holding nothing but desperation and passion. Initially you were worried it was Shoto’s way of contemning his father, and that was something you did not want your child to bear. But now, as you saw the flicker of hope in his heterochromatic eyes, and the loving, protective way he looked at your womb, your heart was filled with joy. You couldn’t help the tears brimming in your eyes as you smiled, realizing he trusted you to be part of his dreams to give your child the family your son deserves and what your husband never had. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he laid his palm on your belly while he held the back of your neck with the other. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relieved at your acceptance,
“Touya Todoroki it is.”
~
“A little more, (Name), you’re almost there.”
You screamed in agony as another contraction hit you, “Fucking hell! Shoto Todoroki this is your own damn fault!”
Shoto does not wince as he was pretty sure his ears were deaf with the amount of screaming you threw during the drive to the hospital till you were now in the labor ward, clutching his fingers in a vice grip. He spared a glance towards your legs as your doctor and nurses encouraged you to push.
“I am pushing, you motherfuckers!”
Shoto grimaced at your growing temper and distress. If anyone from his high school class walked by, they must have mistook you for Bakugou Katsuki but he knew it stemmed from your own anxiety and pain. You were in so much pain, tears stained your flushed cheeks and the veins on your clammy forehead began to pop. Your husband brushed the hair sticking to your face so you could concentrate, but you snapped at him after,
“This is your fucking fault Todoroki! You and your damn dick!”
He began to feel embarrassed, hearing some of the nurses discreetly chuckle. He sighed, realizing why some husbands were not allowed in the labor room for this very reason.
“You’re doing great, Todoroki-san! I can see the crown now,” your doctor encouraged.
Suddenly, a thought crossed Shoto’s mind. He meant to ask you the question earlier, but the rush and urgency pushed that thought away.
“Doctor, may I be allowed to be the first to touch my child?”
The doctor looks up from the operating table in surprise and query at the abrupt, albeit strange question. The bi-toned haired male monotonously told him,
“I learned that first skin to skin contact creates an immediate bond.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP SHOTO!”
~
Thirteen hours later after extreme yelling and crying, your beautiful baby boy was born.
You were exhausted and your throat was dry and scratchy from all that screaming. But despite the utmost fatigue weighed in your every bone and the searing pain in your lower regions, you willed yourself to stay awake as your baby was being bathed and swaddled. You lolled your head to the side to find your husband in the same exhausted state and you were amazed his ears haven’t bled from your screaming. He sat beside you, his red and sore fingers caressing your knuckles as you both waited. He looked down when you weakly squeezed his fingers for attention. There were shadows of stress and worry over his features and slight stubble from not being able to shave the morning you were having contractions. Nevertheless, he gazed at you lovingly and you smiled up at him apologetically.
“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Todoroki! It’s a healthy 2.6-kilogram boy!” your doctor proudly announced, the excitement in her tone masking the fatigue she felt as well.
You carefully took the precious, squirming bundle in your arms, tears beginning to well your swollen and tired eyes. You were so curious as to how he would like and which of yours or your husband’s features did he inherit.
Dear Lord, he was beautiful.
His fine locks were eminently light, and you could tell they were alabaster in color, like Shoto’s secondary hair color and you wondered if he would develop bi-colored hair as he grew. While infants generally have their physical characteristics yet to develop, his flushed features showed that his closed eyes were similar to your own eye shape. Thick lashes rested on his plump cheeks, and he silently lets out a yawn. His eyes were what you were most excited about, but you could not find it in your heart to wake the boy, not when he seemed to calm down in the arms and presence of his mother.
“(Name),” Shoto whispered, his arm was around you, and his fingers gingerly caressed his son’s soft, red cheeks,
“He’s perfect.”
The tone he had with the latter statement sounded so emotional and cracked. You gazed upwards, before realizing that Shoto had been nothing but calm, precise, and careful during your pregnancy. Hence, when you saw how much emotion swimming in his heterochromatic eyes, and the hint of tears brimming at his lashes at this point of your journey, you could not help but release your own tears. You were so damn happy to have this family and even more so to have Shoto as your husband. You leaned up for a kiss to which he readily gave, your lips molding in an affectionate, slow dance. You exhaled when you pulled away and your husband leaned his forehead against yours,
“Thank you.”
You smiled and you both lovingly gazed at the slumbering infant in your arms,
“Welcome, Touya.”
~
“(Name), it’s almost 7 AM, we should wake him up.”
You looked at your husband holding your sleeping child, “What for?”
“They said that we need to immediately train an infant into a regular waking and sleeping rou-“
“Shut up, Shoto.”