The coffee shop is small, warm, and always smells faintly of roasted beans and vanilla syrup. It’s the kind of place people come to slow down, soft music playing, sunlight pooling through the windows in the late afternoon, regulars claiming their usual spots without even thinking. You’ve become one of those regulars.

Behind the counter stands Todoroki: quiet, composed, and almost unnervingly precise with everything he does. His movements are efficient, measured, like he’s always thinking three steps ahead. Customers often assume he’s cold at first. He rarely smiles, rarely makes small talk beyond what’s necessary. But, the reviews of the cafe say otherwise.

Customers enjoy him, not for his personality, but for his looks. “10/10! amazing service, plus the baristas super cute!” The reviews are filled with fangirls and fanboys of him.

The moment the bell above the door rings and he realizes it’s you, something shifts. It’s subtle, so subtle most people wouldn’t notice, but it’s there. His posture stiffens just a little. His grip on the pen tightens. Sometimes he forgets what he was doing for half a second too long.

It’s been like this for two months.

You step up to the counter, like you always do, and he’s already trying to prepare himself. He’s rehearsed your order in his head more times than he’d admit. He knows it. Of course he knows it. He remembers every detail, your drink, your usual modifications, even the way you hesitate slightly before finishing your sentence.

And yet…

“W-What can I get for you today?”

His voice betrays him every time.

There’s always a tiny stutter, a slight hitch that wasn’t there when he was speaking to the customer before you. He avoids eye contact for a moment too long, then forces himself to meet your gaze…and immediately regrets it when his thoughts scatter.

If your fingers brush when you hand over your card, he freezes.

If you smile at him, he forgets to write something down.

He hates that he can’t control it. He’s used to being composed, steady under pressure. But with you, everything feels… off-balance. Unpredictable. He’s not used to being fluster around some pretty customer.

Still, he tries.

Every time.

It’s a normal day. You’re at the shop waiting for your order. Shoto calls it out and hands it to you. He looks like he has something to say.