The term 'greenie' I've coined up in this fic is meant to be a (racial) slur towards people with green hair and who are Quirkless. I like to think that as the years have gone on in this universe, since Izuku's and Shoto's middle school days, at some point, science eventually 'found' evidence that green-haired people are more inclined to be Quirkless.
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Izuku wakes up the next morning feeling sore.
"You okay, my love?" Todoroki asks as he holds Izuku tight in their bed, against his chest.
No answer.
"Do you want something to eat? To drink?"
Izuku doesn't reply to Todoroki.
Not immediately.
"It's hot." Izuku says flatly. "I hate it."
"I hate it."
Izuku shudders angrily against Shoto's naked body.
"I hate it."
+
"I see you're still obsessing over that Quirkless loser, Kirishima."
Kirishima snarls as he dodges Kacchan's blow as they spar, rain pouring over their heads like waterfalls, the sky a thunderous mess.
"He's not a Quirkless loser." Kirishima teeth grit, hardening his body further, "He was really cool."
Thunder claps over them as they brawl, Kirishima unwilling to lose, unwilling to relent, unwilling to give up .
"So shut your trap!" Kirishima yells.
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Momo eyes Shoto nervously as they sit face to face in a private restaurant designed for Pro Heroes.
The rain and thunder is pouring outside, and Shoto's sending icy daggers towards her as he slurps his cold soba from across the table between them.
Then;
"I want you to change your Hero costume." He booms. "It's incredibly distasteful. A woman, bearing the title of a Pro Hero, something for others to look up to, should not dress like that, ever."
"I can dress however I want to," Momo replies spitefully, "it's my body."
Shoto slurps his cold soba without so much as batting a lash.
"A woman, let alone a Pro Hero, living in _ Japan _, in the time that _we're_ living in, with all the sick perverts on the loose nowadays, should know having a good sense of aesthetics, is vital."
Momo glares, but Shoto doesn't care.
He's had enough of this woman's villainous ways.
"It's bad enough that your revealing costume disables you to move quickly when on the battlefield, but how many times have they distracted our colleagues on the battlefield?"
"That's their own fault."
"People have died, Momo. Our people. "
"Not my fault all men are raging pervs."
Shoto's left side flares. "All men?" And Shoto braces himself for the unheavenly volcano about to erupt.
"You're trying to act like you're not? My breasts, are a heavenly blessing, Todoroki Shoto, son of Endeavor."
