Work Text:
Winter softened U.A. in a way Izuku Midoriya didn’t think he would ever get used to.
Snow made the campus look less like a fortress built for training and more like a place where students actually lived, paths turned quiet beneath drifting white, the edges of buildings blurred into something gentler, and the air carried the faint scent of sugar and steam from the festival stalls.
The Winter Festival wasn’t as big as the School Festival, but it had its own warmth. Lanterns strung between buildings glowed like small suns.
Booths lined the main walkway, each run by a class or club trying to outdo the others with hot drinks, games, and handmade crafts. Students wandered in scarves and gloves, laughing in small groups, cheeks pink from cold and excitement.
Izuku volunteered for a shift because he didn’t know how to sit still when there was work to do.
He told himself it was simple. Responsible. A way to contribute without overcomplicating anything.
Then he arrived at his assigned booth and saw the sign:
HOLIDAY LUCK & HOT CHOCOLATE
Spin the wheel. Win a charm. Say something kind.
Behind the counter, Pony Tsunotori was already at work.
She was bundled in a winter cardigan over her uniform shirt, scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Her horns were decorated with candy-cane ribbon, red and white spirals tied neatly, festive without being ridiculous. She hummed as she lined up paper cups with almost perfect precision, then looked up and smiled brightly when she noticed him.
“Midoriya!” she said, warm and casual.
“Thank goodness. I was starting to worry they’d stick me running this thing solo.”
Izuku blinked, then quickly stepped inside the booth. “Hi-sorry. I’m here. I just… I didn’t know where they’d put me until the last minute.”
Pony grinned. “You’re good. I’m honestly relieved it’s you. You’re… reliably competent.”
His face warmed for no good reason. “I try.”
Pony studied him for half a second, like she was reading a label on a bottle, then nodded.
“You do that thing,” she said.
“What thing?”
“The ‘compliment dodge.’” She mimicked him perfectly: shoulders tightening, eyes widening, hands half-lifting like he could deflect praise physically.
Izuku made a small sound of protest. “I don’t-”
“You totally do,” she said, delighted. “It’s kind of impressive, actually.”
“I’m not trying to,” he muttered.
“I know.” Pony’s smile softened just a fraction. “It’s okay. I’ll just keep complimenting you until your system stops short-circuiting.”
Izuku’s ears went red. “Please don’t.”
Pony laughed. “No promises.”
She ducked under the counter and produced a stack of small cards. Each one had a short phrase written neatly, some with English beneath it, doodled with snowflakes and hearts.
“This is the deal,” Pony said, tapping the cards. “People spin the wheel, get hot chocolate, get a charm, and we hand them a nice message. Like a tiny holiday blessing.”
Izuku looked down at the careful handwriting. “These are really good.”
“I wrote a bunch,” Pony said. “Kendo wrote a bunch. Tetsutetsu wrote one and it was basically a battle cry.”
Izuku laughed before he could stop himself.
Pony’s eyes lit with satisfaction. “Good. I like your laugh.”
Izuku’s mouth opened, then closed
again. “You-thank you.”
“There it is.” Pony pointed at him.
“Compliment dodge.”
Izuku sank a little in place. “I’m going to focus on the wheel now.”
“Perfect,” Pony said brightly. “You do wheel-and-host duties. I’ll do drinks and charms. We’ll be unstoppable.”
They started.
The booth was more popular than Izuku expected. Students trickled in and out in small groups, hands tucked into sleeves, breath fogging in the cold as they stepped under the awning. They spun the wheel, cheered when it landed on something cute, accepted their charms like they were treasures.
Izuku found a rhythm quickly:
“Welcome! Go ahead and spin when you’re ready.”
“Nice! Snowflake-okay, here’s your charm.”
“And your message is… ‘May your winter be kind.’”
Pony poured hot chocolate with steady precision, adding marshmallows like it was a science. She handed out charms and messages with an easy confidence Izuku envied. She didn’t shrink when people looked at her horns or asked questions. She just smiled and answered like it was normal, because for her, it was.
Izuku tried not to watch her.
He failed.
It wasn’t just that she was pretty- though she was, and that fact seemed to have permanently moved into his brain like it owned the place. It was her presence. The way she filled space without apologizing. The way she spoke plainly and still managed to sound kind.
A group from Class 1-A approached about twenty minutes into the shift: Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu. Izuku straightened automatically, half relieved and half terrified.
Mina spotted him and immediately sharpened into trouble.
“Oh?” she said, drawing the word out.
“Deku’s running a booth.”
“I volunteered,” Izuku said quickly. “It’s just a shift.”
Kirishima grinned. “Manly.”
Yaoyorozu smiled politely. “It’s decorated beautifully.”
Kaminari leaned in, eyes flicking to
Pony joining him “Joint staffing? A and B team-up?”
Pony stepped forward with a bright smile. “Yep. And Midoriya is a fantastic host.”
Izuku made a quiet choking sound.
“I—thank you.”
Mina’s grin turned predatory. “Fantastic host. Wow.”
“She’s just being nice,” Izuku muttered.
“Mm-hm,” Mina said, not believing him for a second. “We’re spinning.”
They crowded the wheel. Mina spun first and got a snowflake. Pony handed her a tiny felt mitten charm with a flourish.
Izuku read Mina’s card: “May your winter be kind.
”Mina clasped her hands dramatically.
“Awww. So sweet. Like you, Deku.”
Izuku stared hard at the cards. “Please don’t.”
Kirishima spun next and got a star.
Kaminari got a candy cane. Yaoyorozu got a heart and received a charm shaped like a tiny book, which made her genuinely happy.
Then Mina leaned toward Pony, lowering her voice in a way that was
absolutely not subtle.
“So,” Mina said, smiling sweetly, “how’s Midoriya as a coworker?”
Izuku’s soul attempted to leave his body.
“Mina!”
Pony blinked, then answered without hesitation. “He’s great. Super attentive, super polite, and he actually listens. Which is rare.”
Mina’s eyes glittered. “Attentive. Interesting.”
Kaminari stage-whispered, “That’s basically a boyfriend résumé.”
Izuku made a sound that should not have come from a human being.
Pony’s eyebrows lifted. “Is it?”
“It’s nothing!” Mina said brightly. “Just teasing.”
Yaoyorozu cleared her throat. “We should let them work.”
Mina finally backed away, but not before giving Izuku a look that promised she’d revisit this later.
When they left, Pony watched them go, amused.
“They’re relentless,” she observed.
Izuku exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Pony glanced at him. “Does it bother you?”
“No,” Izuku said, then corrected himself.
“I mean, sometimes it’s embarrassing, but… they mean well.”
Pony nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. Good. Because I was about to start charging them for harassment.”
Izuku blinked. “You were?”
Pony smiled brightly. “Kidding. Mostly.”
Izuku found himself smiling too, despite the lingering heat in his face.
The booth settled into a calmer stretch as the afternoon crowd thinned. Pony wiped the counter. Izuku reorganized the message cards, aligning the edges as if neat stacks could calm his thoughts.
He noticed one end of Pony’s ribbon had slipped, curling at the tip.
Before he could stop himself, he reached out.
“Your ribbon-” he began.
Pony leaned forward at the same time, and Izuku’s fingers brushed the base of her horn.
It was brief. Barely anything.
But Pony froze.
Izuku jerked his hand back like he’d been burned. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean- I was just trying to fix-”
Pony blinked, then laughed, warm, surprised, not offended.
“It’s fine,” she said, cheeks faintly pink.
“You weren’t grabbing me. You were being helpful.”
“I just- I didn’t want to invade your space,” Izuku said, mortified.
Pony adjusted the ribbon herself with easy fingers. “I appreciate the instinct, though.”
Izuku’s heart did something stupid.
“Yeah. Instinct.”
They worked through the last wave of students, and Izuku found himself noticing small things he hadn’t expected.
How Pony stepped slightly closer when Izuku got tense under attention from strangers.
How she kept the booth moving smoothly when he started to over-apologize.
How she shared small smiles with him like they were private jokes.
Near the end of the shift, Pony poured two smaller cups of hot chocolate and slid one toward him.
Izuku took it automatically. “Thank you.”
“It’s the cinnamon,” Pony said. “Trust me.”
Izuku sipped and blinked. “That’s… really good.”
Pony looked pleased. “I know. Told you.”
The booth was quiet now. Outside, snow drifted lazily through lantern light.
The festival’s peak had passed, leaving only scattered groups lingering at stalls.
Pony leaned her elbows on the counter and looked at him.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, suddenly more careful.
Izuku straightened. “Yes. Of course.”
Pony’s eyes held his, steady. “You’ve been looking at me all day.”
Izuku’s face went hot instantly. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird.”
“You’re not being weird,” Pony said, calm. “I just want to know why.”
Izuku swallowed, then set his cup down because his hands were shaking slightly.
“I think you’re really cute,” he said, and then immediately wanted to bury himself in the snow outside. “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-”
Pony’s expression softened, surprise flashing into something warmer. “Oh.”
Izuku stared at the counter, bracing for impact.
Then Pony smiled, smaller than her usual grin, but bright.
“I was hoping that’s what it was,” she admitted.
Izuku looked up. “You were?”
Pony nodded. “You get flustered around me in this specific way that feels… kind of obvious.”
Izuku made a helpless noise. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t want you to,” Pony said gently. “I like it.”
Izuku’s heart stuttered.
He glanced upward without thinking, searching for something to anchor himself, and saw it.
A small sprig of mistletoe tucked among garland and paper chains above the booth entrance, like someone had hidden it on purpose.
Pony followed his gaze and smiled.
“Well,” she said lightly, “that feels like the universe meddling.”
Izuku’s cheeks warmed again, but he didn’t look away this time. “Mistletoe doesn’t mean you have to.”
“I know,” Pony said. “I just… want to.”
Izuku’s breath caught. “I want to, too.”
Pony stepped closer, unhurried and certain, closing the distance like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Izuku mirrored her, careful but not retreating. He stopped close enough to feel the warmth between them despite the cold.
Pony tilted her head slightly. “You okay?”
Izuku nodded, throat tight. “Yeah.”
Then she leaned in.
The kiss was gentle but unmistakably romantic, warm, deliberate, steady. Pony kissed him like she meant it, like she wasn’t afraid of wanting something and saying so.
Izuku’s breath hitched, his hands hovering for a heartbeat as he tried to decide where to put them without overstepping. Pony’s fingers lightly brushed his sleeve, permission without pressure, and Izuku relaxed, returning the kiss with careful sincerity.
When they parted, it was slow.
Pony smiled, satisfied and a little shy all at once. “Okay,” she murmured.
Izuku let out a shaky laugh. “Okay.”
Two students passed by outside the booth, glanced in, and then hurried on with exaggerated politeness like they’d seen nothing.
Izuku’s face went bright red again.
Pony looked delighted. “They absolutely saw.”
Izuku covered his face for half a second. “It’s fine. I’m just-”
“Cute when embarrassed,” Pony finished, laughing.
“Please stop saying that.”
“No,” she said, entirely unrepentant.
Something in Izuku’s shoulders loosened. Pony made it feel like being seen wasn’t dangerous. Like it was just… real.
Pony glanced at the taped schedule sheet. “Shift’s over.”
Izuku blinked. “Already?”
“Timing,” Pony said, smiling. “Want to walk the festival with me?”
Izuku’s heart lifted. “Yes. I- yes.”
They cleaned up quickly, cards stacked, charms basket tucked away, counter wiped. Then they stepped out into the cold.
Snow kissed Izuku’s cheeks. Lanterns glowed overhead. Pony tugged her scarf tighter.
“Okay,” she said, “it’s freezing.”
Izuku hesitated, then,before he could overthink it, offered his hand.
Pony looked at it for a beat, then took it without hesitation. Her fingers were warm.
Izuku’s heart did something stupid again.
They walked into the festival lights together, hand in hand, and for once Izuku didn’t try to calculate what it meant.
He just let it be real.