bnha x reader || scenarios, oneshots, and headcanons

writers block | todoroki

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: upsetti-spaghetti, fluff

word count: 1,454

a/n: so, I wrote this last night as something super self-indulgent. I had a second thought as to whether I should upload this, but I think this is something that all of us writers experience at one point. writers block. since october i've been heavy in writers block and entailed in this story below is every frustration I have, every annoyance I have. it's hard and its frustrating. I wish that it wasn't something that is as common as it is, and I want to get over this writers block because I love writing. im getting there I know it, just not quite there. thank you for reading this, and hope you enjoy. this is also for any and all people experiencing some sort of block.

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You stared at the blank screen in front of you.

Your fingers hesitated above the worn keys as you contemplated what to write next. What should it be? Who should it be about? Why were you writing this?

Why were you writing?

The screen fades into subtle darkness as you're unable to think of anything, and your frustration rises as you slap your hands against your face. Why couldn't you write? Were you out of inspiration? Was this a writer's block that seemed to weigh on you for months now? Are you writing because you loved it or because you wanted the recognition?

Countless unfinished drafts sat in your documents, untouched prompts swam in your head, and yet whenever you sat in front of your computer ready to work, your creativity diminished. You had no inspiration and every word you thought about leaving you questioning if what you were doing was correct.

Writing was among the hardest things you've ever done. It was your saving grace and it was your downfall.

Were you writing for you or for them?

"You know, you don't look okay, love," a voice whispers in your ear.

Your body is tense with suppressed annoyance, suppressed anger, and bitterness. The tension in your jaw comes undone and the pounding headache eases, but as you move to speak you realize how thick with emotion your throat is. So, you stare at your boyfriend who stands behind the chair you sit in. His fingers resting on your shoulders as you lean back onto him.

"I'm just trying to write," you murmur as you stare at the blinking line of the cursor. You need to write something— anything really. Yet you couldn't think of a single word to write.

Everything seemed too cliche when you tried to write and you were sick of it.

"Why do you write?" Shouto asks as he gently massages your terse shoulders.

A sigh escapes your lips as he works out stiff knots in your skin and you shudder as his hand warms up pleasantly around your spine.

"I don't know," you groan as he works out another knot.

"Don't you like writing?"

"I guess," your eyes fall as tears prick the back of your eyes.

Why would you say that? You loved to write, it was calming and therapeutic. It was an escape from reality and it was something that gave you joy to see others appreciate as well. Right now it seemed that you couldn't remember your excitement. It seemed you could only focus on the nonsensical reasons for your turn off to writing.

"Then why do you continue?" Shouto continues to prod as you moan softly against his touch. "If you don't like something, why do you keep forcing yourself to do it?"