Starboy

Upon first glance, one might think that the man entering the coffee shop was an investigator, a spy, at the least suspicious or creepy. He always wore glasses, a blue mask that covered up to his nose, and a long brown camisole (a brown duster in chillier weather). Izuku and his coworkers were certainly wary the first time the man approached the counter and ordered the unique tea in a deep, yet curiously familiar rasp.

However, when Izuku looked closer, his wariness turned to a sort of awe. The glasses were fashionable, gold-rimmed, and certainly worth more than one of Izuku’s biweekly barista paychecks. The coat was also high fashion; though it seemed oversized, the man carried himself powerfully, like a cowboy in a western, or a detective in film noir- a man that walked with full confidence that he owned the space. When Izuku was unable to hide the curiosity on his face and offhandedly mentioned the drama of it all, he felt like he could sink into a hole and die. So it was more than a relief when the man, who introduced himself as ‘Mr. Y’ pulled down his mask to show a warm, amused smile.

“Drama is my life. Tell me, my boy, do you like movies?”

Izuku’s coworker affectionately rolled their eyes as Izuku slammed his hands down onto the counter. “Oh, sir, you’ve done it now-”

“I… love… movies.”

“Okay, Midoriya. This is clearly your break, go take it now.”

Izuku drank in the long story that followed, and it was nothing short of legendary. It turned out that Mr. Y (“in my day”) was a stunt man in the All Might movies, and one day there was a bad accident that led to severe injuries, including a painful torso wound that resulted in parts of his organs having to be removed. ‘Bad accident’ was underselling the tale- the infamous incident occurred on the set of the movie Kamino Ward, historic for the near fatalities and heroics of everyone involved. As All Might’s last movie and one of his greatest creations, the attention to the notorious incident led to societal outcry and many legal changes in how producers and studios treated the safety of their workers.

“I don’t do stunts in the movies anymore, demoted to nothing but an irrelevant old man that tells tales,” he commented offhandedly.

“You’re wrong!” Izuku had exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “You will never be irrelevant! You’re alive, and you’re a part of history! That’s so awesome! You did movies with All Might?! He’s my hero! But you were putting in the work too to make those movies come to light- your work is irreplaceable!”

Not noticing Mr. Y’s small jump, Izuku soldiered on. “I want to be famous too one day, even though I’m working here and at the school right now, but one day I plan on having my big break! I would love to work on movies and TV shows produced with One for All Studios, which-”

The information spilled forth like water from a burst dam. Izuku’s literal idols have worked on productions made at One for All Studios, his first and foremost favorite being Yagi Toshinori- the famous, multi-talented actor, turned producer and owner of the studios. For decades, he served under the moniker of ‘All Might’, which might be a death sentence for other actors not wishing to be type-cast, but did not stop the man, who seamlessly slipped into other genres when tempted. In interviews, he called his love for the symbol of peace “everlasting”. Unfortunately, after Kamino Ward, he retreated into seclusion to heal, and the public hasn’t seen his face since. Still, his studios and production company only delivered quality. The stern man who represented him, Sasaki Mirai, was also known in the industry as ‘Sir Nighteye’- the man was a titan, with his ability to pick and choose future successes unparalleled. 

Many of the movies were directed by Aizawa Shouta, a relatively young director that started off in indies, so unassuming that people called him ‘Eraserhead’. He quickly gained traction in the mainstream, multimedia world as his range, sharp decision-making, and ability to sculpt a story from perfect edits launched him into the spotlight. His husband, Yamada ‘Present Mic’ Hizashi was famous in his own right as a composer. His start was specifically in indie horror, the ability to chill someone’s spine with discordant sounds synonymous with the villains they were composed for. The more resources he had, the grander his music became, many times outliving the project it was in. When asked about his stage name, he simply shrugged and mentioned that it stuck from his radio show in college. Another famous actress, Kayama Nemuri, also known as ‘Midnight’ for her signature dark looks and sleek performances, had taken on a role as a casting director, her keen eyes and instincts leading to the latest rising stars known as the ‘Big 3’- Togata Mirio, Amajiki Tamaki, and Hado Nejire.

That day wasn’t Midoriya Izuku’s day to stand on the shoulders of these giants, to stand amongst the stars. Neither was the day before, or every other day he’d waited.

But one day, he swore, he will.

As he begrudgingly stands to return to work, Mr. Y gives him another, more mysterious smile.

“What was your name- Midoriya?”

“Yes sir!”

“Well, Young Midoriya, how about this. You make me this licorice root tea when I come in, and I’ll provide you with as many old stories- history- as I can provide, hm? And don’t worry- you’ll make it into the pictures one day. The opportunity will present itself.”

Sure enough, a year into their strange friendship, there’s another bright opportunity presenting itself, and he’s going to seize it. But first, Mr. Y needs to hurry up and take this cup of tea off his hands. Izuku was only ten steps away from the coffee bar when he dashes back behind the counter and tosses back on his apron.

“What- Midoriya?” His coworker leaps out of the way, flabbergasted as he grabs a paper cup and a tea bag, pouring steaming water from the kettle. “What are you doing? Your shift just ended- don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“He always comes in for his licorice root tea at this time today,” he mumbles, staring at the darkening water. “I swore I told him, maybe I didn’t, I should have told him what time the audition was, that’s on me, that’s on me-” His stressed voice trails off as he removes the tea bag in exactly two minutes, adds a spoonful of sugar and honey, spins it, and labels the cup with ‘Mr. Y’

“I can give Mr. Y his tea-” they begin, but just then the front door rings open, and Izuku’s favorite regular for the past year enters.

“Today’s the big day, Mr. Y,” he cries, tossing on his discarded bookbag and shoving the cup into the chuckling man’s hands. “Can’t talk, got to go, wish me luck!”

“Break a leg, my boy! You’ll do great!” Mr. Y calls after him, smiling underneath his mask.

Izuku dashes down the streets, bolting through the busy traffic and shouting his apologies behind him. There’s been a cattle call announced for an action TV series, Heroes Rising, produced by Endeavor Media & Entertainment. Most auditions for these types of shows were closed, with top tier agencies submitting talent for casting, but this role in particular was looking for a newcomer to take a chance on, and Izuku was just lucky enough to slip into the last slot of the last day of auditions. Surely it was fate, and who was he to ignore it? He’s breathless by the time he arrives at the community center, the sun falling in the sky as the workers there begin to clean up from the large amount of foot traffic.

Taking a look at his watch, he realizes that he’s ten minutes early, which gives him just enough time to rush into the bathroom and clean up.

“Shit,” he hisses, realizing that he’s still wearing the milk and coffee stained apron from his job, the smell of old, stale espresso clinging to his clothes. Quickly shoving the apron into this bookbag, he grabs a paper towel, wets it and wipes the sweat off his face. A quick mint and a swipe of deodorant, and it’s as neat as he can make himself after a long day of drawn-out orders and cold-brew and dishwater.

“You got this, Izuku,” he whispers to his harried expression. “Smile. Smile like All Might! You got it! Let’s go! Let’s do this! Plus Ultra!” Putting his brightest, friendliest smile, he rushes out of the bathroom and to the room where the auditions are being held. His audition is from 5-5:20pm. When the clock strikes 5pm on the dot, he knocks on the door. A man opens the door, his expression widening when he realizes what’s happening.

“Oh, shit, don’t pack up guys, we’ve got one more here. I am so sorry, it’s been a long day.” He steps out of the way to lead Izuku further into the room, where two other exhausted people are leaning back in their chairs behind a long folding table. Coffee cups and water bottles are strewn amongst stacks of papers. Overall, it doesn’t look very good to Izuku, but he tries to keep his chin up. Positive, keep positive, it’s going to be okay.

A DSLR camera is set up on a tripod for recording, a small "x" in painter’s tape on the ground indicating where Izuku should be standing. A few studio lights are in the background, with a black curtain serving as a backdrop over the wall.

The man reaches out his hand and Izuku takes it.

“I just want to apologize again,” he says, voice pleasantly polite if not strained. “Please, don’t take this as us disregarding your skills, you did everything right. This is completely unprofessional, and I assure you it won’t happen again. I’m the casting director for the show, my name is Tsukauchi Naomasa, and this here is one of the lead producers on the show, as well as my assistant casting director.”

Izuku follows through, shaking both of their hands, still keeping up his smile. “My name is Midoriya Izuku.” Tsukauchi directs him to the tape, and then sits down. The assistant casting director and representative sigh, but then sit up straight in their seats.

“Do you have your resume and headshot?” he asks, getting to business.

“I do!” Izuku takes off his bookbag, and has to force his expression to stay still when he realizes that he’s crushed it under his apron. Inhaling deeply, he slowly pulls out the apron, followed by the now wrinkled papers. The representative visibly rolls his eyes, but takes the forms. A knot forms in his throat, and so he focuses on Tsukauchi’s friendly smile. 

“I apologize for their state; I had to rush here after work, and in the excitement I left in my apron.”

“True... Can you go through some of your past experience for us?”

“Of course,” Izuku answers. Stay calm! You know your life! “I double-majored in Theatre and Literature. I performed in multiple productions while in school, ranging from Shakespeare, to musicals, and the classics.”

“Always with the Shakespeare,” the assistant casting director replies, resentfully looking at his crinkly resume. “What role were you? Hamlet? Romeo? Please don’t be another Romeo, I’ll be sick.” 

Trying to ignore her condescending tone, he calmly replies “Mercutio and Mark Antony, actually. Frankly, I agree with you- any character that gets Leonardo DiCaprio to play them and is still overrated? Yuck. Mercutio was always my favorite, much more fun and interesting to analyze and portray.” 

He can’t help his ears from warming in the indignance and irritation he pushed down, but his pounding heart slows in relief when the assistant casting director purses her lips in amusement, impressed by his nerve. Tsukauchi lets his first real smile slip, before fixing his face. They ask him a few more introductory questions and Izuku easily answers them all. Finally, they move onto to describing the show, as well as Izuku’s potential role. Their short description of the show pretty much matches the one on the audition notice and that’s being theorized about in the media: “A mainly action based TV series about a world full of people with powers, known as ‘quirks’; ambitious young adults train in a three year, high-intensity program to use those powers to become ‘pro-heroes’. However, anti-hero sentiment is rising amongst a society straining to maintain the status quo, and a rising villain opposition is ready to take advantage of the disquiet.”

The role put out for the cattle call was simple. ‘Deku- a sweet, hopeful kid, though society looks down on him; presumed quirkless his entire life; one day arrives on the scene with an all powerful quirk, allowing him the chance to reach for his dreams and show the world that doubted him just how capable he truly is.” Many a person questioned the name choice in online forums, given the negative connotations, with theories bouncing back and forth on the choice.

“Why do you want this role, Midoriya?” Tsukauchi folds his hands, seeming genuinely interested. “I’ve asked this question many times today. I’ll be honest, while your resume is nothing to scoff at, it is fairly short. People with much more experience have come to us in the past week, boasting more to offer. Why should this role be yours?”

Silence lingers while Izuku takes a deep breath. He knows the answer to this question- Mr. Y pressed him on it. Conviction, my boy! Fame is fine, but it is also fleeting. If you don’t have a strong conviction now, he warned, you’ll flounder in the face of the entertainment world when things get hard. He can only hope that he doesn’t come off desperately in his honesty.

“Deku’s story is similar to my story,” he begins, voice low. “You mentioned my resume, and its briefness. The reason it’s so short is because I was in school off and on, helping at home while my mom was sick. She’s been sick off and on my entire childhood, and she’s done so much for me, raising me on her own, and I wasn’t going to leave her when she needed me most. However, that meant putting my goals on the backburner, becoming a part-time barista and a part-time music and arts teacher. I’m not angry at life, I’ve worked hard, and my mom has always supported my dreams. And I’ve always dreamt of more, knew that even though I don’t have as much experience as others and that I am starting late, I know I can be great. If I, some nobody with no money, that smells like old coffee and fingerpaint, was given that chance, I can do it. When I saw that cattle call for this role, read the description, and saw that it was the last day, the last spot open- I knew. I knew that this was my shot. I don’t know who any of those other people are or their stories, but if you gave me that role, I’ll play it honestly and truly, because it won’t be that much different than real life. I want my customers, my 1^st-3^rd graders, everyone to see me, and I want to be their hero, their ‘wow’, the same way some of my icons were for me.”

The words leave him breathless, and when he stops it’s completely silent. Then, quiet huffs. The assistant casting director has started to tear up, sniffling.

“God, it really is the perfect underdog story. I can’t believe you hit me with emotions.”

The representative seems disconcerted, turning in his seat. “Did… was there a leak of- that was almost word for word- but there’s no way-” He continues to mumble to himself, the most human and real he’s been the entire time.

“That was truly a marvelous answer, Midoriya. One of the best, if not the most memorable answer, I’ve heard throughout this cattle call. Anyway I think we’ve heard enough of your background and can attest to your character. On to the audition. This role came with two scenes.” Izuku nods in understanding. The first- ‘Quirkless’.

“We’ll be recording you for both,” Tsukauchi comments as the assistant casting director moves to the camera. “When she holds her thumb up, it means she’s recording. Read until the end of the script.” 

Izuku nods again, shifting into position. “Actually- may I sit in the chair?”

They allow it, readjusting the camera. When she holds up her thumb, he sighs as if he’s releasing a long held secret.

“It was an old clip that I watched all the time of this big disaster from a while back,” he begins, voice and posture small and meek, stiffening as he grasps his hands together. “But in the aftermath, a certain hero made his debut. ‘He’s so cool!’ I thought. ‘When I get my quirk, I wanna be just like him!’” Izuku waves his hands in excitement, eyes watering as he smiles painfully. “And then, at age four… I found out I was quirkless. The doctor ruthlessly shut down any of my hopes, cruelly pointing out my second joint and my lack of manifestation.” Defeats sinks heavy into his voice, tears falling into his lap as he tries to wipe them away. “That night, I went home and I re-watched that video over and over. ‘No matter what kind of trouble you’re in, he’ll save you with a smile,’ I told my mom, trying to keep the smile on my face. ‘A super-cool hero like that. That’s… what I wanna be.’ And my mom…she began to sob, apologizing profusely. But no…” His voice is high, pain sharp as he leans forward. “What I needed…what I wanted her to say was…”

The lines drift off there, and Izuku wipes his face, relaxing. He sees both men nodding in thought as they take notes. He overhears Tsukauchi comment ‘-that would be worth seeing in a screen test, his body language isn’t completely conveyed with this camera but with a few side cuts-’

“All right, onto the second scene.” The second scene: ‘Deku confronts Celsius about overcoming his past and inhibitions during a hard fought battle, leading Celsius to self actualization’.

“I’ll let you in on a secret- while the first scene is more interview like, in the background, this scene- it’s going to be grand in scope. One of the first things filmed, in a real football stadium. This ought to let you know just how important it is. You’re competing, surrounded by thousands of people, but you’re only focused on your counterpart. I’ll give you a couple moments to re-read the lines, to take a breath.”

Tsukauchi moves to the camera, making sure that it’s properly focused on Izuku’s face. The assistant casting director moves Izuku’s chair to in front of the folding table, sitting with the script in her hand. An expression of excitement is on her face, waiting to see else what Izuku can do.

An entire football stadium. When he practiced, he’d imagined that they were in the field somewhere, rather than in front of an eager audience- still, if he was only focused on his counterpart, whoever ‘Celsius’ was, then the energy should be the same. It was too late to change it or worry about it now.

“Okay. I’m ready.” Trepidation shakes his voice, and Izuku clears his throat. This is it. This is the moment he came all the way here for. He knows these lines, he memorized them, practiced them in the mirror for days. It’s such a short monologue; it’s as if they knew they’d be culling the herd easily. If he botches this- no, don’t think that way!

When Tsukauchi raises his thumb, the assistant casting director slips into a lower voice.

“Why’re you going this far?” she rasps, mid-battle. Izuku lowers his gaze and crouches, face jagged with Deku’s determination against this unknown person, determination to stand with this person.

“Just trying to meet expectations! A smiling, dependable, cool hero- that’s what I wanna be! That’s why I’m giving it everything! For everyone! Your experiences… your determination… I can’t even begin to imagine what all that’s like…” When he lifts his eyes, they’re razor-sharp, and there’s a palpable power shift as all three judges fall back in rapture. “But, if you become number one without giving it your all, then I don’t really think you’re serious about denying him everything! That’s why I have to win! I have to surpass you!”

The assistant only barely remembers she supposed to respond, shaking as she looks down at the paper. “I’ll show my father-”

“Your power is your own!”

The assistant casting director gapes, eyes wide as saucers.

“Yes, quirks are naturally passed from parent to child, however… that’s not the only thing that matters. It’s not just blood ties. Instead, one must recognize and appreciate oneself! That’s what I mean when I say it! When I say, “I am here!””

Tsukauchi holds up a hand, and Izuku shifts back into a standing position, sheepish.

“I hope I did all right,” he comments, smiling. The three judges only stare at him.

“Well if we were tired, I think we’re all awake now,” the representative murmurs, a small smile on his face.

“I’d even go so far to suggest that we’ve seen enough today to preemptively invite you back for a screen test, Midoriya.” Tsukauchi’s voice is exultant, as if he’s seen the light. “What do you both think?”

They both nod, still shaken by the energy shift of the room.

“You might actually knock ‘Celsius’ off his ass with this enthusiasm,” the assistant casting director comments, grinning. “Oh I can’t wait to see that!”

She speaks as if the role is already his, and Izuku is almost light-headed with the developments. Tsukauchi frowns at her, and she waves him off. “Oh it’s not like he knows who the other actor will be. Calm down.”

The grin spreading on Izuku’s face might break his jaw as he shakes their hands, much more vigorously this time around. They make sure he has a card for contact purposes, and tell him to look out for a call in the next month.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Midoriya. You’ve really impressed us today with your passion and conviction. Bring that back again, and you might find yourself the face of a TV show.”

“Yes. Thank you all so much!” Izuku waits until he’s outside of the community center, and looks around. 5:20pm- the longest twenty minutes of his life are over. When it seems that the streets are unusually empty, he lets a jubilant cheer tear from his throat, sending the nearby birds scattering.

“Yes!” His phone buzzes; his mom is calling to promptly check in. “Mom! Mom! You’ll never believe it! Actually no, I’ll pick up some food, we have to talk about this!”

A month later, he is one of five people called back for a screen test. Out of hundreds of people, he made the cut- it’s almost overwhelming to think about. The location is in the neighboring city, so he takes the day off to travel out. He wears a freshly washed black button up, with pressed khakis and his cleanest gym shoes. When he reaches the black box theatre, another person is storming out, red-faced. When they see him, they push past him. Not the best way to start this day, and any other time Izuku would try to help, but it doesn’t feel right to do so when he’s trying to take that person’s place. When it’s his turn, he knocks on the door- the same knock as before, and this time Tsukauchi seems alert and happy to see him.

“Hello, Midoriya! It’s good to see you! I hope your travels were pleasant.”

“It’s good to see you as well! The drive was a little backed up, but luckily I left early so I didn’t get caught in the large traffic. Oh- here!”

Izuku reaches into his backpack, pulls out a folder, and hands Tsukauchi two papers. He chuckles when he sees that he’s holding a resume, on cream paper, and a well-printed headshot.

“Last time wasn’t ideal, so I wanted to make sure you had something better.”

“Thank you very much.”

Multiple cameras and lights are set up, a little more complicated than before. There’s only a small desk for Tsukauchi to sit at, with all the other crew members working with the equipment and talking in the background.

“So today it’s just me, but I have the ability to focus much more. I’m sure you’re familiar with the purpose of a screen test?” he asks, prompting an answer from Izuku. “Something that we agreed on with your particular audition- which was stellar, truly- is that you have quite the power in your expressions and body language. However, that was difficult to catch on the lone camera that we brought before. We sent ahead the frames that we’ll be attempting to catch today; luckily they are the same lines as before so you shouldn’t have too much of a problem keeping up.”

Under the polite directions, it’s clear that there is an expectation of Izuku to keep up with the motions today, and it’s understandable. No matter how good he looks in person, if he can’t perform behind the screen, then he won’t get a TV show role. Indicating that he understands, Izuku goes to place his bookbag in the bin next to the small desk, pulling out a headband to push his hair out of his eyes.

One of the cameramen points out where he should stand, and for the next twenty minutes they go through different camera angles, having him turn left and right, pointing his face this way and that, shifting the lights. It’s easy enough to follow the directions, though Izuku has to readjust to the heat of the lights- it’s been a long time since he’s been under a proper spotlight.

“Would it be okay for me to take this off?” he asks. “It’s a little hot.”

Tsukauchi waves his hand, returning to his silent, hawk-sharp observation. Izuku takes his top layer off, tying it around his waist.

“You work out?” Tsukauchi asks, noting the curve of Izuku’s arms as he ties the shirt.

“Yeah. It helps me relax, and was advantageous when I found out that this is an action show.”

“That is convenient. Nothing too ridiculous, but you would be joining a rigorous training schedule along with the rest of your co-stars, so it helps that you have some sort of self-discipline in it already. You’re a bit too muscular already to play ‘Deku’ as he is in the beginning, but that’s not on you- it would be unhealthy to have you lose the weight and then gain it back.”

Izuku smiles. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course. It’s one of my requirements as a casting director for projects I work on. I have ethics, too, you know. Anyway, now that it seems that they’ve got all of your angles the way they want them, I think we’re okay to start. I’ve got a water bottle over here for you if you need it, as well as an extra script just in case.” The unspoken but surely you won’t need it? is clear. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

Izuku has never done any of this before, so his outward confidence is purely superficial. He tried to supplement this by doing research on screen tests, what certain casting directors may be looking for, certain etiquettes that he should follow.

“Where do you want me to speak? I read that it’s not good to speak straight into the camera.” Wait, damnit! “Oh, but I’ve also heard that some people don’t like to be asked, so I don’t mean to impose or-”

“Breathe, Midoriya. I would rather you ask so that expectations are clear, rather than waste time. For the exercise we are about to do, yes, I want you to look into the camera as much as possible. For the frames, I ask that you look toward the speaker- that is, me- or toward wherever you think ‘the action’ is.”

O-okay. He thinks he gets it. “Understood.”

For the next ten minutes, Tsukauchi runs him through a series of expressions and emotions. Happiness, sadness, confusion, fury, desperation are the simple ones. The more complex ones come with scenarios. If you just won the lottery? If you found out a loved one passed away, but you had to go on air? If you had to convince others that you were there, but you’re a ghost? If you found out your significant other betrayed you? 

Afterwards, they go through the two pieces from the first audition, taking pauses in between to shift position or to look at a different camera, and soon Izuku is visibly fatigued. When it’s all finished, Tsukauchi gives him a discerning look when he yawns.

“Midoriya- your reason for auditioning- is it still the same?”

Izuku slightly quails at the tone. “Yes, sir, it is.”

“I ask because I can see your exhaustion.” Folding his hands in front of his mouth, his gaze is cutting. “Let me be brutally honest- it is only going to get harder from here. Exponentially more so. The world of entertainment is not the college theatre experience, as grueling as I am sure it felt at the time. In TV and film, it’s this. Constantly. Energy is a necessity. It’s overwhelming even for some veterans of the field, and you’re walking into this relatively blind. I need to trust that you can make it through, Midoriya, or I’m not going to feel as confident as I want to in potentially offering you this role. Can I trust you to dedicate? Are you as worthy as I have heard?”

Momentarily swallowing his exhaustion, Izuku straightens his tired back, returning the gaze with as much fire as he can. “Yes, sir. I am worthy. You’ll see.”

For a moment there is silence, both men locked in a tense stare off, before a camera clicks and Tsukauchi smiles.

“Very well. You’ll hear from me in a couple weeks to see if you’ve got the part or not. If this is the last time we see each other in person, just know- I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Feeling dismissed, an emotionally and physically exhausted Izuku returns the regards, grabs his things and quickly leaves before anyone can remember to ask him anything else.

Tsukauchi goes to the camera and checks the last still- a picture of his newly casted hero glares back firmly in determination. Nodding in triumph, he pulls out his phone and clicks one of the last contacts.

“Naomasa! How are you? How was he?”

There are so many ways he could reply. You know I’m not supposed to tell you? How do you even know this kid? Where’d you find him? Did you train him? Why do you care about how he, of all the people who’ve ever wanted to train under you, does? You crazy bastard, of course you knew he’d do it!

He settles on “he’s the one, Toshinori. I didn’t believe you at first when you told us to take a chance on him… but damn if he’s not the one. I don’t know how you do it.”

Boisterous laughter booms over the phone, followed by hacking coughs. When Tsukauchi is finally concerned enough to question it, he’s blown off.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything, I understand how this all goes.” He sounds proud. “I just knew that the boy was ready. He reminds me of me when I was young, hoofing it from football practice to flipping burgers to auditions. How could I turn away?”

Tsukauchi huffs a laugh. “Of course you couldn’t. Take care of yourself, Toshi. And make sure to check in on him- he’s got a storm coming his way.”

A month after the screen test, Izuku slumps face down onto the couch and screams into the cushions. His morning was full of rambunctious, energetic children, followed by an afternoon and evening of persistent, energetic, aggravating coffee fiends. His knees and feet hurt, and if a few tears of frustration slip loose, it’s not news to the old, tear-soaked couch.

“Izuku, dear, we’ve talked about laying on the couch like this.” Midoriya Inko chastises. “You have a bed for this.”

“I can’t make it to the bed, Mom. My knees give out here every time.”

Inko ruffles his hair. “Silly boy. I’ve made dinner; go wash up, please.”

Groaning, Izuku flops over onto the floor. He groans again when his phone vibrates; no more people today, please, I can’t take it! Still, he answers the phone politely as he can force it.

“Hello?”

“Midoriya! I hope this isn’t a bad time; this will only take a couple minutes.”

Shooting off of the ground, Izuku’s exhaustion immediately converts to anxiety.

“Tsukauchi! No, it’s a good time. It’s a great time!”

“Wonderful. Are you sitting?”

Both time and his heart stop, and he sinks back onto the couch. “I am now.”

“Very good. I am calling to let you know that after much consideration, and both your audition and screen test, we are more than pleased to offer you the role of ‘Deku’ in Heroes Rising. Are you still interested?”

Silence lingers as Izuku is stunned speechless.

“…Heroes Rising?”

“Yes.”

“…Is that the name of the show?”

“Indeed.”

“…You’re asking me if I want to accept…accept the role in the show?”

“Yes… Midoriya?”

“…yes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you-”

Tears bubble around the receiver and on the glass of the phone.

“Yes,” he sniffles, whispering, as if speaking louder will jinx it. “Yes, I am still interested.” The words are dry, unfitting of the excitement he feels, but he can’t bring anything else to mind to reply.

“Excellent! I still have your contact information, so my secretary will get you set up with a date and time to come to our offices to get all the paperwork done. There will be a lot, so plan accordingly. Do you have any questions for me at this moment?”

“…no.”

Soft chuckles come from the phone. “I understand that this is a bit overwhelming, but it will be okay. Congratulations! I expect great things from you, Midoriya Izuku- you’re being trusted and invested in much more than you know. Have a good night.”

“You as well. I mean- you have a good night!”

For a couple minutes, Izuku sits catatonically on the couch, staring at nothing.

“Izuku? Izuku, honey? Is everything okay?”

Inko frowns in concern when her son finally turns his head, eyes full of tears and his mouth quivering into a smile.

“Mom…Mommy… I did it…”

“What?”

“I got the role. For the show. Deku. I did it. I did it! I did it!!”

Inko looks just as stunned as her son, before shrieking in excitement. She charges forward, wrapping Izuku in a hug as they cheer, swaying back and forth. When she finally pulls away, wiping her face and sniffing, she grins.

“I’ll put the food for tonight up for your lunch tomorrow. We’re going out!”

“Oh, Mom, that’s not necessary, you already cooked-”

“No, no, my baby just found out that he worked really hard and he’s going to be a star! This is an out-to-dinner night if there is one! I’m so proud of you, Izuku! Let me go start now, I know just the place we should go-”

Falling into the same mumbling pattern he himself had, Inko returns to the kitchen. Izuku rushes back to his phone, speedily finding the contact “Mr. Y” and calling it. He runs into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Hel-”

“Mr .Y! Guess what?!”

Tsukauchi’s phrasing of ‘overwhelming’ in the beginning would be putting it lightly. For the next couple of months Izuku found himself in a whirlwind of paperwork, phone calls, buying new wardrobe, tying up loose ends at home (full of promises to his kids and coffee team that he’d be back), crying boatloads of tears with his mother, and then suddenly one day he just… embarked on a plane, not looking back. When he arrived at the airport, a kind lady greeted him and summarized his lodging situation.

The hotel that most of the cast was staying in was completely paid for, individual rooms on multiple floors, along with communal sitting areas and even access to a small kitchen to use at their leisure. The amount of money that went into it all was beyond comprehension as he was led past the marble fountain surrounded by palm trees swaying in the fall breeze, stopping at the gilded front desk, and up to his room. The bed was soft, covered in the softest duvet he’d ever felt, and after all his traveling, he gratefully fell right into it. A six-hour mini coma later, and he was energized enough to check out his surroundings.

A small sitting chair, a desk, a nightstand, a dresser, and firm rug-like carpet were run of the mill for a hotel- dark-wood, vaguely patterned and modern. He tosses open the curtains for the beautiful view, pleased that it overlooks the front of the hotel. Even late at night, the horseshoe driveway is illuminated, the fountain glowing many colors as cars pull around. The bathroom was lit warmly, with a simple tub and shower, more than enough counter-space for one person to set up. After unpacking his small number of belongings, Izuku spends thirty minutes in the shower trying to let it all sink in. This is his life now- this is real, and it is his!

Just as he puts on some shorts and a t-shirt for sleep, he hears a series of sharp knocks on his door. Heart pounding, he checks the clock- 1:02am. Is he in trouble? Did he make too much noise? Are they coming to say, ‘never mind, we cast the wrong person’?! It’s silly, but he’s shaking as he opens the door.

“Hi!”

Large brown eyes gleam up at him, followed by a pair of hazel eyes squeezed close in.

“Um-”

“You got here earlier, and then we didn’t see you, but we figured you had time to settle in and so we’re here now!”

Despite holding his hands up in a plea, the girl with the hazel eyes, cocoa skin, and bubblegum pink curls presses in closer.

“Well, aren’t you gonna ask who we are? I’m Ashido Mina, but you can go ahead and call me Mina! This is Uraraka Ochaco! Welcome to the ‘Class 1A’ floor!”

The brown-haired girl holds the door wide open, and Izuku thanks all fates that his room isn’t dirty yet.

“You’re Midoriya Izuku, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Mina! Ochaco! He is clearly pressed in the presence of women- please stop being rude!”

Mildly indignant, Izuku turns to the stern voice in the doorway; a large man in glasses and full pajama-wear is folding his arms at the door.

“Oh, Iida, don’t be a buzzkill,” Ochaco pouts, lip jutting out dramatically. “We were about to invite him to the hangout! We had it; you didn’t have to come up!” 

“Hmph. Once again, you used intimidation rather than invitation. Therefore, I’m here.” Iida fixes his glasses and turns back to Izuku. “My name is Iida Tenya. It is nice to meet you. This is indeed the ‘Class 1A floor’, though I am sure you were told that on your original tour.”

Izuku chuckles. “Yes, they did tell me that. I’m Midoriya Izuku. I appreciate the, uh, warm welcome. And sure, I’d love to come down, let me just grab my shoes-”

“Already got it!” Izuku flushes as Mina rushes inside, grabs his house shoes, and places them next to his feet. He’s barely in them when Ochaco and Mina clamp onto each arm. “Got your room key?”

“It’s in my pocket-”

“Great!”

They march him out of the room, with Iida following behind with a small smile. Izuku turns to him and he nods affirmatively.

“They did this with everyone- I assure you, it’s all with friendly intentions.”

He doesn’t know what to expect, but when he enters the sitting area, the resounding friendly greetings leave him tearing up.

“Oh, Mina, we made him cry!” Ochaco wavers, frowning. “Midoriya, you don’t have to be scared! Everyone here, except maybe Bakugou, is pretty cool!”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Round Face? If he wants to cry like a baby, send him back ho-” A pillow is quickly shoved into the blond man’s face by a spiky red head, who is beaming as he rushes over to shake hands.

“Nice to meet you- Midoriya, right? I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I’m going to be ‘Red Riot’, and this is going to be so awesome!” Following his lead, everyone introduces themselves, as well as their character. Ochaco tells him she’s ‘Uravity’, and Mina is ‘Alien Queen’.

“I’m Asui Tsuyu, just call me Tsuyu, and I’m ‘Froppy’.”

“Kaminari Denki, and I’m ‘Chargebolt’!”

Bakugou, ‘DynaMight’, gives Midoriya a disdainful look.

“They made you Deku? They really chose a complete amateur- it’s so easy to see. Tuh, we’ll see how this goes,” he comments, turning back to his drink, and Midoriya narrows his eyes in concern but decides to let it roll off. Instead, he turns to Ochaco and smiles.

“If I’m counting correctly, that means we’re missing two people. ‘Creati’ and ‘Celsius’ are still not here yet- are they going to be okay?”

“We checked the floor plans; they’re not there at all,” Sero, who will play ‘Cellophane’, replies. “They may be staying somewhere completely different, which would be interesting.” 

“They must have some reason for being late,” Iida comments. “I’m sure we’ll see them on the tour tomorrow.”

As he sits with a drink and joins in the conversation, Izuku finds himself a little disappointed- he was curious to see who he would be filming that scene with. He could only hope that whoever it was, they would be as wonderful as the ‘Class 1A’ actors seemed to be. 

8am the next morning was the tour around the studios and on the set and based on the low energy everyone had spent entirely too long awake. Izuku’s yawning wide as Ochaco nudges him in the side, Iida handing him a coffee on the other.

“I should not have let everyone stay up so late,” he grumbles.

A short laugh comes from their right; Jirou, ‘Earphone Jack’, is grinning as she stretches. “Listen, Team Dad, we have to learn things on our own, okay?”

Before Iida can retort, the golf carts are arriving, and a man in the front is directing them. The wind is thankfully pleasant, making up for the lack of shade other than from the looming stages. They learn where their stage is; where makeup, special effects, and costuming are located; lights, director’s office, human resources, and so forth. The first person they meet officially when they walk around is Takagi Ken, known around as “Rock Lock”, and he’s the director of photography. His greeting is brusque but professional, and he moves along quickly barking orders over a phone.

“He’s a little stuffy, but his work behind the cameras is excellent. You’ll see it later.”

They all turn to the commenter, an attractive blond man wearing yellow sunglasses and holding a large drone and controller in his hand. Their guide introduces the grinning man as Takami Keigo, and more than a couple gasps go around the group.

“Oh my gosh!” Hagakure, ‘Prism’, tosses her chestnut hair and sighs happily. “The man ranked sexiest in the country is speaking to us and I cannot deal!”

“I knew I recognized you! You’re the supermodel! Hawks!” Mina cries, shaking with excitement. “You were just modeling in Milan a couple months ago! What are you doing here?”

“‘Ah, I don’t thirst to be known, not when that recognition is truly not of myself’,” Takami quotes breathily, nonplussed when everyone looks at him in confusion. He only smiles mysteriously. “My recent favorite, a poet, goes by Dabi. I’m sure you’ve seen his Insta. Anyway, this is what I do in my spare time. I help operate the aerial cameras and the drones- that’s why I’ve got this lovely thing here.”

“Spare time? They just…. let you stop modeling? And come do this when you want?” Ochaco asks. Anyone else would be let go, or replaced, and the implication isn’t missed.

“Ha! As if I could be replaced. As if they would want to. Besides, maybe I’m gaining an interest in acting, next. We’ll see. Anyway, if you ever get lost, or want to know something- I know all. Bye!”

He’s gone just as smoothly as he arrives, gliding away before the confused crowd can question him further.

“He’s- Takami Keigo is interesting,” their tour guide mentions graciously.

“Slicker than soap, you mean.” Their newest incomer is named Ishiyama Ken, affectionately known as ‘Cementoss’.  He explains that he’s a grip, in charge of the setup and breakdown of all equipment on set, specifically with cameras, dollies, lighting, and so forth.

The tour concludes when they are all herded into a small auditorium, and it isn’t long before a large, beaming man is hustling down the stairs to reach the podium. When he gets to the small mic, he pushes it to the side.

“Hello everybody! I’d ask if this thing is on, but I’m sure you can all hear me. My name is Toyomitsu Taishirou, but you can call me Fat Gum- if you call out my name, I’m probably not going to know who you’re talking to. I know how it can be intimidating to take all this in the first day, so I try to do this intro personally.”

Izuku smiles alongside everyone else in excitement. Fat Gum is a familiar name- action TV shows with his direction are notorious for aiming right for the heart of watchers, with predictable yet powerful outcomes every time. Director Fat Gum hands out folders containing important information including contacts, schedules, fittings, table-reads, rehearsals, locations, fight training, and more.

“If you weren’t aware, we’ll be spending the first few weeks training with fight choreo, and just in general to get you up to snuff, as we’re recording some scenes for the sports festival in the nearby stadium first.”

As he reviews the contacts list, Izuku sharply inhales, and quickly raises a hand.

“Yes, who are you, and who are you portraying?”

“Hi, I’m- I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’ll be ‘Deku’, sir.”

“Nice! You’ve got some cool stuff coming up! And no need for the sir!”

“I appreciate that…sir- I mean, Fat Gum- does this- does the fight choreographer and trainer here say Usagiyama Rumi? As in, world-renowned fitness trainer, award-winning fight choreographer, acclaimed martial artist, star of Miruko… Usagiyama Rumi?!”

Eyes widen and necks sharply turn back to the director, who nods with full respect.

“And you’d better not waste a single moment of her time. Rumi’s not playing, so I would take better care of yourselves when it’s time to train.”

Small screams echo around the room, not least of all Izuku’s own. After a knowing glance calms them all down, Fat Gum continues into the anticipated filming schedule- two weeks, with 2-3 days to refresh on anything, and 9-10 to focus on filming. The first episodes filmed will be the “DynaMight vs Uravity” and “Deku vs Celsius” scenes in the stadium, followed by the rest of the schedule which will more or less be filmed in order. Two hours have passed when he finally finishes up with everything that he thinks they’ll need to know, and when he sees that many of them are slumped in their seats, Fat Gum sighs.

“Make sure you all are getting rest. I am ecstatic that you all like each other so much, but you’re going to need your rest, especially when things pick up. It’ll be hard the first few weeks during table reads and all, but you’ll adjust to the schedule. Anyway! Now I want to hear about you all! Go around the room: names, character, some of your acting history. Go!”

Izuku learns more about his new friends as everyone wakes up and introduces themselves in more detail. Most of them have a small amount of background as extras in shows and movies, with mostly stage experience. Bakugou, who plays his rival “DynaMight” is still kind of a jerk but is from a well-known agency and has starred in TV shows before. He’s using this chance to break through to movies, specifically those produced with One for All studios.

“Me too!” Izuku mentions, smiling. Bakugou only sneers at him and his smile melts but sits down once he’s finished. Ochaco mentions that she too was found on a cattle call, with a similar background to Izuku. Iida proudly states that he’s from a Broadway family, though he’s branching out to the screen. When introductions are wrapping up, Fat Gum begins to pack up his papers. 

“And I think that’s about everyone- oh wait! Here you two are! We almost did introductions without you!”

Heads turn toward the opening doors as two newcomers arrive at the top of the stairs. The entire room seems to inhale in shock together as they take in who’s standing at the door.

“Oh my god, if I thought this place was heaven before-” Mina murmurs.

“Are they going to be-?” Ochaco gasps, pulling on Izuku’s arm.

Perfectly dressed, posture upright, and not a hair out of place, anyone would have known that they were a league of their own, but the smiling face on the lady and the bi-colored hair behind the glasses on the man were complete giveaways.

“Yaoyorozu Momo and Todoroki Shouto,” he breathes.

The two only walk a little down the stairs before sitting far away from the rest of the crowd.

“I apologize for our lateness,” Her voice rings clearly and pleasantly. “I asked Shouto for a ride here and he graciously accepted.”

“Oh my god, they’re already on a first name basis. We aren’t worthy.” Hagakure whispers from Mina’s side.

“Holy fuck, they’re just actors. Get your heads out of your asses,” Bakugou grumbles, facing forward.

“No worries, you both are pretty familiar with how things are here anyway,” Fat Gum capitulates. “Just introduce yourselves, and then we can get on with the rest of the day, okay?”

“Very well! My name is Yaoyorozu Momo, but please, call me Momo! I’ll be portraying ‘Creati’, and I look forward to working with all of you!”

“She’s so sweet! I love her already!” Ochaco beams.

When Todoroki Shouto goes to stand, Izuku’s heart pounds painfully in his chest. Him? Him? ‘Celsius’ was the famous heartthrob Todoroki Shouto? How was he supposed to compare? Nowhere in his stars did he think he would be working with someone on that level! Izuku is torn between trepidation, excitement, embarrassment at the flush spreading throughout his face, and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Todoroki Shouto. My role is ‘Celsius’. Thank you for having me.”

He didn’t even remove his sunglasses. If Momo’s greeting was the warm sun on a spring lawn, Todoroki’s greeting was the frost on a gray winter morning. The mood was immediately subdued, though Fat Gum quickly claps his hands together to re-center the attention.

Izuku felt like a stake had been driven through his heart.

Okay, no matter, maybe he had a rough night too. That would explain the glasses. Maybe it’ll get better later when I meet him one on one.

Meeting Todoroki one on one has been incredibly challenging. Izuku thought he’d have a chance during table-reads, as everyone sat around a circle of tables, but unfortunately, they were seated numerous cast members apart. The same as that first day, Todoroki sat quietly and still, the only signs of life coming from the fervent reading of his lines. When he removes his glasses to rub his eyes, Izuku is ashamed to admit to himself that he almost swooned. His eyes, cerulean blue and pewter grey, were just as pretty in real life.

“I’d say take a picture, but there’s already plenty,” Ochaco teased, and Izuku shuts his mouth. When Todoroki cuts those eyes at him, he turns a noticeably bright shade of red, and he turns to Ochaco, pretending that they’re deep in conversation.

Maybe he doesn’t need to talk to him just yet anyway, not until he gets the stars out of his eyes. Soon, it’s the end of the table-read, and the once peacefully quiet room is now suddenly buzzing with anticipation.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asks Ochaco, confused as everyone begins to hop from their seats.

“Costuming!” Mina squeals, coming from behind and wrapping an arm around them both. “Our hero suits are in today! Remember when they took all our measurements? Today’s the day! Oh, I’m so excited to see what my costume looks like!”

“You have to go through hours of makeup too, huh? For your pink skin, during the real thing?”

Mina makes a face. “Unfortunately, my glowing-brown skin will be glooped up with itchy paint all day, but no matter. It’s all glamorous anyway- I’ll rock the entire look; I just know it. Anyway! Let’s go, let’s go!”

It’s like kids entering a toy store when ‘Class 1A’ enters the grand costuming salon, each swept away into a different room to be styled, Izuku to the second floor. The building was designed to be superfluous on the outside, a sort of faux Hall of Mirrors, a large, round open arena where anyone could be seen over railings and mirrors on all the walls. The only privacy was afforded inside the individual rooms where each actor would be fitted. As they’d previously been measured, the first versions of their different hero uniforms were already available for sizing and modifications. The costuming team has truly outdone themselves, if the shouts of elation and blissed sighs and jubilation Izuku hears outside of his door are any indication of content.

“Mina!” Ochaco squeals. “You look so cute! That bodysuit!”

“Girl, yes! But I see you- your outfit is so cute! The face shield, I love it!”

“Mina! Ochaco! Look!” Hagakure squeals from down the hall. Mina screams.

“Tooru! Stop it! You’re so cute!”

“Hey ladies, what about us? We’re cute too, right?” Kaminari calls from further down.

“Adorable, hun!” Ochaco’s stifling a laugh, likely from something silly he’s doing.

“Midoriya. Midoriya!”

Izuku is drawn away from the door, turning sheepishly toward the stylist holding out his first suit on a hanger, patiently waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he laments, taking the suit. “I’ve just missed this energy, you know. When everybody’s working together, excited about the stage, or, at least like this. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to feel it.”

The stylist nods, turning back to organize the other pieces of the second suit while Izuku tries on the stretchy fabric. When he’s finished, he turns to the mirror and grimaces. It’s adorable, sure, but… it’s a little… cheap? 

“It’s a part of the storyline and you know that,” the stylist explains, trying to keep the laughter out of their voice. “Don’t worry- the other one is over here. I’m getting it together.”

Izuku feels guilty at the rush of relief he feels. “I understand!” The stylist smiles, before explaining how to get the different pieces of his ‘upgraded’ suit on. It’s a process, starting with the bodysuit, then getting on the shin guards and the boots (which are impressively lightweight, though serving the illusion of heavy metal), the mouthpiece, his pouches, and ending with the thick gloves. He stumbles occasionally, but he’s sure that with practice, he can get the whole thing on by himself. The assistant grasps his shoulders, straightening him out and pulling and prodding in different areas.

“It’s a perfect fit,” they comment, pleased with their work. “Damn, I’m good. Are you ready to see yourself, hero?”

When Izuku flushes down to his roots, fidgeting, they smack his hands away.

“Don’t be nervous. You look every inch the hero, even with that baby face of yours. My work is exceptional, stand proud in it.”

Swallowing, Izuku smiles timidly. “I understand.” Nodding, they turn him around to face the mirror, and for a moment, Izuku doesn’t recognize who he’s looking at. It’s a perfect fit, a professional and pristine upgrade from the first suit, though maintaining the essential elements. And one day, he’ll be standing in front of a camera with this on! His image, up in lights! As a hero!

“Oh, honey, don’t cry!” The stylist lifts long and perfectly manicured nails to wipe at Izuku’s eyes. “I know magnificence can bring one to tears, but you still must go show your costars, and my coworkers, how you look! Clear those eyes!”

The point is driven home with loud banging on the door. 

“Midoriya! Come on out! We’re waiting for the last of you to be done! We haven’t seen you yet!”

Taking a deep breath, Izuku opens the door and walks out, to the cooing and cheers of his co-stars.

“Look at you!” Ochaco beams. “Mr. Future Number One Hero!”

“And how do we know he’s going to be that?” a voice growls. Across the arena, Bakugou exits his room, grinning wickedly as he flexes onto his grenades. “Who knows, he could lose that spot.”

“Oh my god, Bakugou, it’s in the script.” Jirou rolls her eyes, leaning onto the third-floor railing. 

“No, no, he’s got a point!” Kaminari grins, leaning onto a scowling Bakugou. “Especially if we get a second season, with more background and future elements? Who knows- I could really be the next number one hero!”

The raucous laughter around the room comes to a hush when a bold Hagakure knocks and ditches the door in the middle of the second floor, right in between Izuku and Bakugou.

“Do you think he’ll come out? Join us ‘commoners’?” Sero stage-whispers down to Ochaco and Izuku, who turn toward the door. All breaths are held when, two minutes later, the door opens. Todoroki slowly enters the light, the costumer behind him standing firmly in the way of the door- it’s clear she wanted her moment in the spotlight as well. A stunned ‘ooh’ goes across the floor; the design itself is simple, a classic Gi, but in a navy blue, lined with red and white, with some sort of machinery strapped across the back. The white boots counter the snug black turtleneck underneath. Overall, it’s not the most original or gorgeous costume, but the regal way he wears it is enough to carry its purpose.

“At least it’s not the plumber’s suit that I saw was his first design! Did you think having Todoroki Shouto wear it would make it cute?”

The bold statement comes from Izuku’s stylist, who smiles challengingly at Todoroki’s stylist across the way. The other stylist scoffs, chest puffing up, and she comes out to say something when a quiet snort escapes Todoroki. With an expression of respect toward Izuku’s stylist, bordering a smile, he nods and goes back into the dressing room. The stylist follows, red-faced. When Izuku (and everyone else) turns to Izuku’s stylist in mortification, they shrug.

“You’re not the only person trying to move up in the world here.”

 The drama has everyone whispering, but Izuku is lost in his thoughts. That small expression of respect on Todoroki’s face- that almost smile! - he clearly wasn’t bothered by the challenge. In fact, it seemed to be satisfying to him. Why? He wants to know! He finds himself curious again, no longer distracted by the satisfaction of the costuming (even though he’s sad they won’t let him take any pictures). Still, there’s time.

Izuku doesn’t get to talk to Todoroki personally until a few weeks later when they are shooting the scenes for Ochaco’s battle. Though they’d trained together, blocked scenes together, and run lines together, there’s a professional yet frustratingly immovable barrier between the two. It almost makes him feel silly- it’s not like he hasn’t heard Todoroki’s soft, yet passionate voice before- the man’s been on TV and in movies since he was four, where hasn’t he been heard- but it feels false, like it’s still coming through the screen, and it’s disconcerting. He’s coolly efficient, cordial, but not real.

He accidentally comes across him in the break room where Todoroki is staring distastefully at the Keurig coffee he just made. As he goes to throw away the coffee, he jumps when he sees Izuku within a foot of him.

“Hey, Todoroki! Are you excited about today?”

There’s a pause, Todoroki shifts, disconcerted. “We’re just watching.”

“Well, I know, but we’ll get to ours soon enough. I think watching Ochaco and Bakugou act has been pretty awesome, and we can’t even see the special effects yet!”

“Sure.”

“Our fight choreo has been pretty good too- Coach seems happy enough with our progress!”

The fight choreo also blessed Izuku with a personal sight- Todoroki is very well-built. Izuku didn’t realize just how much he was into collarbones and sharp jawlines until he saw him practicing shirtless one day. Completely made him look away from Coach Usagiyama, who was also well-built and gorgeous, so that was truly saying something. The real thing was amazing, and short lived as he’d quickly pulled his shirt back on.

“As she should be.”

Okay… “I auditioned with part of the scene from our fight. I don’t know if you saw the audition tapes or not.”

“No.”

“Well, if you want, we could always get together and practice some more. I know we rehearse here, but there’s nothing like a more analytical read-through, and it would be a good way to-”

Todoroki holds up a hand, expression forcibly polite. “Look- Midoriya, right? I didn’t need to see your clips. I don’t need extra practice. I know what I’m doing. If you know your lines, and you should because you got this role, we’ll be fine.”

He leaves before Izuku can get anything else out of him, disdainfully dropping the coffee in the trash.

“Right. Okay.”

No worries. Teaching and working in food prepared him for this with endless patience. When he came across the occasional sullen child, he would allow them to become comfortable. They took a little longer to open up, but once they did, they were happy to work with him. As for grumbling customers, sometimes all it took was a little extra charm and they usually let off him or his team- he was always the one standing in to defend one of the baristas. So maybe he’s just approaching it from the wrong angle. Maybe Todoroki just needs some more time. They have months of shooting to get through, they must get along at some point, right?

A couple weeks later, after shooting the first episode in their battle, Izuku finds Todoroki back in the small break room. He can’t hear who he’s on the phone with, but his body language is extremely agitated, a scowl carving his expression as he whisper-shouts into the receiver. He’s so upset that he again misses Izuku approaching him, eyes red as he hangs up the phone and shouts nowhere in particular.

“Todoroki-” When Izuku places a comforting hand on his shoulder, Todoroki flinches with a hiss, grabbing his arm and twisting it away. Raw panic is in his eyes, body tense and ready to fight.

“Don’t touch me! No one gave you the right to touch me!”

Panicked, Izuku leaps back, raising his hands to show he’s not a threat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to see if you were okay!” What he meant to say was ‘I just wanted to help’, but the poor word choice only enrages Todoroki further.

“Do I fucking look okay?! No- don’t! I don’t care how you felt or what you wanted to do!” Todoroki’s voice is blade sharp. His eyes narrow as he takes a step forward, almost as if he’s recognizing who he’s speaking to for the first time. “You. Listen here. Don’t get this twisted. You and me? We might eventually be friends on this TV show, but we’re not friends in real life. I don’t need nor want your pity. Stay professional, rookie, shut up, and stay out of my goddamned way!"

“Shouto!” Momo is at the door, frowning at the scene. Todoroki only scowls and rushes out of the break room.

“I- I am so sorry Midoriya! I’ll get him to apologize!” She quickly leaves.

The tense energy in the room is suffocating, and Izuku falls into a chair, demoralized. The phrase ‘never meet your heroes’ never seemed completely fair, and there was clearly something that happened to upset Todoroki, but he can admit it to himself- it’s all been incredibly disappointing. The only part of this whole experience that’s been a let down. He leans back, holding his hands over his eyes to try to stop the tears from spilling over.

“I don’t even know why you keep wasting your time trying. ‘Stay professional’- ha! Anybody who pays attention can see that IcyHot’s a regular studio asshole.” Izuku leans forward, glaring at Bakugou who is currently hanging in the doorframe. The words ‘okay but so are you, and people like you’ are on the tip of his tongue, and it’s clear Bakugou can see that as he puffs up indignantly.

“What he’s trying to say here,” quickly inserts Kirishima, who arrived just in time to lean on Bakugou’s side, “is that Todoroki’s a bit… he’s cold, true. It’s a little rude at times. But if you ask me, I think he’s trying to protect himself. We all noticed that he’s been on edge today, which was great for his character, but maybe something happened at home. Maybe we can’t and shouldn’t bother him now, but I’m sure he’ll come around at some point. Just let him cool his head, and if he doesn’t apologize to you afterward, we’ll approach him together. No worries, Mido-bro! Take a couple breaths, we’ll see you when you’re ready.”

“That’s not what I meant at all. You said that shit. I didn’t say I’d help this nerd out, don’t put words in my mouth-” Bakugou’s voice trails off as he stalks away, shrugging off Kirishima’s hold.

Nodding gratefully as they leave, Izuku takes a couple deep breaths to calm down. The dichotomy of Todoroki is truly unnerving, as stark as his naturally red and white hair. How can someone be so passionate and capable of an actor, of breathing life into his roles, be so indifferent or even cruel in real life? Could it be the environment? All things considered; the production environment was very healthy. Everyone they’d worked with had been kind- to the point, efficient, and hardworking, but kind. The cast was wonderful, especially the ‘1A’ group, with all of them trying their best to work together and be on the same page. It was an ideal situation. Whatever it was, Izuku couldn’t fathom it being the workplace. It must be something private, given the true terror in his eyes when Izuku touched him.

Why did it even matter to him? Todoroki had made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with him. Sighing, he stands up and goes back to meet the rest of the cast. Something had to be salvageable of this day, and he wasn’t going to spend it worried. Much.

Okay, he was going to worry, maybe even sob in his pillow tonight, but no one else needed to know that.

The next day, while they were blocking, Izuku simply avoided Todoroki’s gaze as much as possible. He kept it as professional as he could manage, though they were now flinching every time they neared physical contact. There were times where he could almost see the other man attempt to approach him, and his heart would lift in anticipation, but then he’d back off, turning away. After a few hours of the emotional turmoil on top of the script, Izuku was simply ready to let it go and leave.

Rehearsal is over, and a dejected, dehydrated Izuku is leaving the stage when Todoroki blocks his exit, backing him away from the door into a quieter corner. It almost seems shady, and Izuku is only mildly confident that he can take him on in a real fight when Todoroki sighs, shoving a large bottle of blue Gatorade forward.

“Saw you were thirsty, this should help.”

Izuku gapes down at the bottle, appreciative but confused, and back up at Todoroki’s tense face. “Um-right. Thank you.”

Standing tensely becomes exhausting quickly, and Izuku sighs, dropping his arms to his side in defeat.

“What- what is this, Todoroki? I thought you didn’t like me. What-” Flushing, he prays thanks that he didn’t let ‘what are we’ slip from his mouth. “What’s going on?”

Brow furrowed, Todoroki locks eyes with Izuku, who freezes in the middle of trying to get around him after a few more awkward seconds.

“I’m sorry for being a dick to you yesterday. I was having a- rough time. I don’t dislike you.” The apology sounds like he’s swallowing sand, but it’s interesting to note that the frustration seems toward himself. “Not that what I was feeling matters- you didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way. You’re a good actor. I respect that. I look forward to working with you. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone-”

“Of course, it matters.”

Todoroki stutters, turning back toward Izuku in shock. Red to the tips of his ears, Izuku grips the Gatorade tight and gives him a tentative, forgiving smile.

“If you were having a bad day, I mean. Not to take it out on me, true, but you’re human- you get upset. I shouldn’t have scared you like that. You were panicking, and you clearly needed space. I do appreciate the apology. And…if I can be honest, I think that apology was the most honest you’ve been with me. I hope you can open up to me more often- without us fighting or anything, of course. I would like us to be friends, or at least to get along.”

Flabbergasted, Todoroki’s eyes dart back and forth in disbelief before he swallows, his own cheeks reddening. It’s incredibly cute, and Izuku’s eyes soften. This doesn’t seem to make it any better for Todoroki, who turns away.

“Oh…um… yeah. Sure. Okay. Friends. I can get along. Good. See you later, then.”

He’s already leaving as Izuku murmurs a “See ya.” Squeezing the bottle to his chest, Izuku beams.

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

‘I can get along.’ So fucking stupid!

Staring at himself disdainfully in the mirror, Shouto broods over the resolution to his outburst, and the baffling man that delivered his forgiveness.

When it had happened, Momo only caught him as he was trying to flee in his car, standing firmly in front of the hood.

“Shouto! That was so rude! Midoriya was just trying to help, he’s a really nice guy and-”

“I don’t care what he is, Momo! I just want him to leave me alone! I just want everyone to leave me alone!”

His heart jumps when Momo flinches, her eyes watering, before she sighs in disappointment as she moves out of the way.

“You don’t like the people who treated you that way when you were new.”

It’s a sharp truth, but he’s long hardened to barbs like this. There’d been plenty of disdain in the beginning from people who thought that he was only famous because of his father.

“Well, I don’t like me either, so he’s in good company, huh?”

Before she can retort, he starts the car and peels out of the garage. It’s only hours later when he’s curled up in bed deleting notifications when he finally sees her texts.

Please apologize.

He doesn’t want to be in ‘good’ company, he wants to be in your company.

Have a better night.

He’d covered his eyes, in bed but not resting- how could he with this new, unforeseen guilt? The next day, when they were blocking positions, Midoriya pointedly avoided his gaze, so by the time he shoved that Gatorade bottle in his hand with his shitty apology, he was certain Midoriya would tell him to fuck off.

‘Of course it matters.’

There had been many responses he’d expected, but… caring about how he felt? That was a new one, at least not from people other than his siblings and his mother. The warmth and relief in his heart shocked him, especially when Midoriya gave him that little pleased smile that left it pounding. As Shouto made his awkward escape, he finally allowed himself to think the truth that he’d been hiding from.

Midoriya was more than good; he’s phenomenal. He’s full of hope, life, spirit, and everything else Shouto feels has been lost- taken- from him in his short life. Being around Midoriya originally made him feel bitter and irritated at this loss, but in that moment, he finally allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to be allied with that sort of energy.

It was one thing to witness this raw power in his acting, especially when they were both on screen. Heroes Rising was an action show, not based in any real romance, but everyone noted the clear chemistry between the two. It was shocking, that this nobody from a cattle call had gone beyond expectations, managing to make every scene seem genuine, from amateurs to seasoned vets. The editors in particular loved the pivotal ‘It’s Your Power’ scene between them, commenting to them that there wasn’t a single camera angle, a single clip, that didn’t perfectly capture the power between them. Fatgum was especially pleased, praising their expressions and dynamic body language.

When they’d run the lines at the table, Shouto hadn’t been all that concerned- they were just words. But actually being in the stadium, performing it, was a completely different energy. Shouto’s expression truly became one of stunned awe and revelation, no acting necessary, and it had only needed one take to capture it.

That Midoriya was capable of acting like this on screen, but was potentially as noble in real life? Could Shouto deal with something like that? Was it even possible for someone like that to be real?

‘I would like us to be friends, or at least to get along.’

A small crash from outside the door shakes him from his reverie, and he realizes he’s smiling at the mirror. The private smile quickly twists back into an annoyed scowl, and he pushes away from the mirror. No, it couldn’t be- despite Midoriya’s kind words, Shouto can’t have friends, because Todoroki Shouto™ doesn’t have friends without approval.

“Asshole,” he comments before turning away to leave the small, opulently golden bathroom. He’s currently in his father’s superfluous mansion, their family home before everyone escaped their separate ways, and walking through the blood red halls with the golden encrusted sconces only pushes home that no matter what, the gilded cage always waits.

‘Todoroki Shouto’ is child actor, grown into a young adult heartthrob with a decently sized credits list. A triple threat across medias, he can sing, dance (with proper choreography) and act, and has done so ever since he was four. Though he’s an award-winning actor, part of what makes him famous is his icy good looks, his scar, his rare chimerism, and his ‘aloof’ personality. The aloof nature hides a festering resentment; he can’t even recall living without the pressure of public scrutiny and the media’s ever-present eye.

With a snicker, he runs his hand through his new haircut. It was an undercut, with his hair swept over his left eye. The style served a double purpose- to prevent overzealous, touchy fans from clinging to his hair, and from pointing at his scar. It had been a choice born of desperation to reclaim something of his own.

Rushing into the bathroom in the hotel, Shouto slammed and locked the door, tears of fury and frustration pouring down his face. The reflection in the mirror despaired, long hair yanked and pulled in many directions. The faceless crowd and paparazzi had mercilessly grabbed at him despite his pleading for them to stop, to let him go. They were insistent, pulling at his clothes, tearing at his scalp as they screamed his name in ‘love’. Lights flashed in his eyes, and his security had to practically drag him through the sea of monsters to get him to safety. His head throbbed, his eyes blood red, his fingernails bleeding as he grasped the marble counter.

Shouto wants to quit, he doesn’t want to be himself anymore, they can’t have him, they can’t have it-

The idea is sudden, striking like lightning, and Shouto’s grin is manic as he begins shuffling through the drawers in the bathroom.

“Where is it, where did I put the fucking-”

With triumph, he holds the scissors and the razor above his head. Grabbing a fist full of hair, he took the scissors to them. His tears fall with each clump, his cackling raising in volume with each buzz of the razor.

There was only one part he had yet to cut. The awkward half bang over his left eye still loomed, the rest of his head as low as a military recruit’s. He didn’t want to give them this- decades later, years on screen, and it still felt too personal.

But then again- why shouldn’t they see the damage they’d done? As young as he was, Shouto had sacrificed his own safety and ended up with this scar, all so that they could have some TV. Why shouldn’t they have to look their own actions in the face? And if they didn’t like it, fuck them! With this new motivation, he shaved the rest of the hair off. The red and white locks lay strewn over the floor, and it didn’t seem good enough to simply throw them away. No, they needed to be eradicated. Gone. Sweeping the clumps into the sink, Shouto retrieves a pocket lighter, lights some toilet paper, and sets the entire pile ablaze.

For a moment, he simply breathes and watches it burn, as if the power from the burning, stinking hair was siphoning into his veins. Even the smoke begins to spread, Shouto stays put arbitrarily until he takes a towel and snuffs the flames out. The half-hair half-ash mess is then shoved into the trash bag, which he ties and holds outside the door. When the guard asks him what the smoke is from, he replies offhand that he warmed up some food. By the time anyone can do anything, it’s too late.

When Shouto walks out of the hotel that next morning, the media is in an uproar. ‘Crazy’, they call him. ‘Mental breakdown’ and ‘candy cane’ they mock. But when he sits in that meeting room, ignoring his manager and his father’s fixers roaring at each other, it’s the happiest he’s felt in a long time.

‘We could have at least sold it for charity!’ they cry.

Sold. Because he’s nothing more than their property. ‘If they need dead hair to want to donate to dying children, that sounds like a them problem,’ he replied smugly. The resulting screech was worth every penny his hair might have been.

He’s never been allowed scissors or a razor in his rooms ever again, but the point has already been made. They can scrutinize as much as they want, but so long as Todoroki Shouto’s life is in his hands, they’ll never truly have the real him. They only thing they have is Shouto’s original source of escapism, his chance to be someone other than himself- his roles.

Pausing in front of the grand staircase, he glances up in disgust at the imposing portrait. Todoroki Enji’s large stature looms over the foyer, a firm hand grasped over his delicate mother’s shoulder. Todoroki Rei sits in the velvet chair with her hands in her lap, surrounded on either side by his older sister Fuyumi, and older brother Natsuo. In Enji’s other grasp is his eldest sibling, Touya, kept distant from the rest of the siblings. Shouto is laid in a small cradle, sat under his father, eyes closed.

It's always a joy to walk away from it, and so he does, turning his back and descending. Shouto isn’t sure who hates this gigantic dumpster fire of a portrait more- him or Touya- but it so blatantly puts their family dynamic in the open that he’s surprised no one has ever truly questioned it. Instead, whenever his father hosts his stupid parties, people marvel at how ‘opulent’ and ‘magnificent’ and ‘royal’ it is.

They all swore they knew who the people were behind the image- the star-studded, multi-talented Todoroki dynasty.

Todoroki Enji was the terrifying owner and head producer of Endeavor Media and Entertainment, who seemed to make it his life goal to treat his children like chess pawns. An acting titan in his own right, he’d moved to the silver screen after matriculating from Broadway soon after meeting his wife. After all the shady business practices he’d implemented in the past, it seemed like he was trying to go on the straight and narrow, and EM&E’s success seemed to reflect that. People complimented the healthier environment, the success of its productions, calling it only second to One for All productions.

Shouto scoffs at it all. Whatever his little ‘nice’ intentions were to rebuild his family, as if he could remedy that as easily as his business, were laughable. The only reason he even came back, the only reason Fuyumi and Natsuo ever came back, was for their mother.

Todoroki Rei was once a renowned Broadway actress, her career bright and sparkling. It was one of the most famous stories, how a once glamourous, talented woman ‘fell to madness’ after her eldest son was hurt in a studio fire. At least, that’s how his father’s fixers have framed his mother’s delicate constitution. In reality, their relationship had always been bad, his mother realizing that the kind man who brought her favorite flowers every day would become a monster the moment the ring was on her finger. She’d already been suffering, and the fire had only been the last straw. Afterwards, she’d been placed into an institution- gorgeous, well-funded, but an institution, nonetheless. She’d only been allowed to leave within the past couple of years, and despite her children’s best intentions, she’d still been forced back into the family home. 

Fuyumi was the saint who came home the most. As the only girl, her looks were immediately capitalized on; from a young age it was fashion shows, being an idol, and attempts at acting. However, in the middle of puberty, it was clear to Enji and his cronies that she would never be the wraith of a supermodel or idol that their society desired. To his credit, Enji didn’t force her to lose weight, but instead he became neglectful, simply discarding his daughter as a loss. With the same positive, superficially naïve attitude of hers, at age eighteen she simply asked him for funding to go to fashion school- it was to ‘learn costuming for the family businesses’. After spending years learning costuming in EM&E, she branched out to become a top fashion designer, making sure to include clothing for all sizes of all people. Shouto was so proud of her, and particularly gleeful that she showed their father what talent he’d foolishly chosen to discard (not that he hadn’t immediately taken credit regardless).

Natsuo had the harder time- he could never act the way his brothers could, nor could he sing like Fuyumi. Instead, Natsuo was into art and design, masterful in set design and effects. When they were children- when they were still allowed to be children- he liked to build props and design backgrounds out of cardboard and paper. However, where Fuyumi was meek and tactful, Natsuo was hot-headed and stubborn. When Enji demanded his skills be placed into that of the production company, ‘since it is clear you cannot contribute to this family in any more relevant ways’, Natsuo blew up and swore he’d never work for anything his father had a hand in. For years he worked with smaller indie film companies, and he’d never been happier, though every now and then he would call his siblings to bum connections or a fancy dinner off of them.

Finally… there was Touya. Todoroki Touya, the ‘missing, reclusive’ Todoroki child according to the tabloids, but their family knows better. He’s not missing, only blacklisted by their own father. Touya was the firstborn, the prodigy, the star teen crush, and the apple of his father’s eye until the incident that covered him in third degree burns, scarred Shouto’s eye, and crushed their mother. What had been pushed as an ‘accident’ was due to their father cutting corners, forcing him to perform his own stunts for ‘authenticity’. After spending grueling months unconscious, and even more in rehab, the teenager with the whole world in front of him was hit with a contract preventing him and anyone else speaking about what happened. He wouldn’t be required to do any more acting on the show, his needs would be forever paid for, but he also couldn’t work for anyone else for the foreseeable future. It was a bogus contract, designed and signed by his own father- who would advocate for him otherwise? 

The devastation of what happened culminated in a fury so righteous it burned until this day, with Touya being the only sibling that never returned to the family home, refusing to speak to their father despite taking his required funds. He was now living like a free spirit somewhere in the country, writing increasingly mainstream dark poetry under the mystery alias ‘Dabi’, amassing an entire cult following. The theory that ‘Dabi is Todoroki Touya’ abounds on the internet, ranging from the themes in his poems to his looks, especially when ‘Dabi’ uploads a series of pictures onto Instagram including: his profile in shadow, his collarbone, covered in scars and tattoos, one glowing blue eye, and finally, a picture zoomed in on the profile of his face and a little of his back, long white hair soaking wet and falling in between his shoulder blades. There was shadow covering his eyes, only revealing his smile.

The thirst trap of a picture won him enough votes to be ranked “10^th sexiest man in the country”. When Shouto (who got 12^th, held over his head by his obnoxious older brother) questioned how that was even possible, that he was forced into a grueling photo shoot while Touya had just posed seductively in front of a purple sheet, Touya had given him a secret smile.

“Surely, you’ve figured it out, Shouto. People don’t want truth, they want suggestion. They want shadows, to be tantalized. And I deliver.”

It must grate on Enji that Touya, ironically, is the child best suited for fame. In his constant battle with Enji, he has shown that he enjoys playing the games required, understands the long-term strategy, while Shouto could never really keep up.

As Shouto sits down at the long dinner table, next to his siblings and across from his mother’s chair, he finds that he still can’t keep up, only barely forcing a non-expression. They do these monthly family dinners for what Fuyumi called an attempt at ‘amity’, but frankly, it was just to discuss business. Everyone hates them. Natsuo tosses a bread roll at him, which Shouto deflects with a small smile.

“Natsuo, grow up!” Fuyumi hisses.

“I have grown up! If I were any younger, it would’ve been the entire salad bowl!”

When Shouto cheekily flicks a cherry tomato at Natsuo, Fuyumi stands from the table to chastise them both. However, at that moment, the large doors open, and their parents walk in. The mischievous energy ceases immediately, and Natsuo and Shouto also rise. When Rei sits in her seat, they all sit in response, offering a short thanks before eating.

The conversation is clipped, Fuyumi attempting to discuss small things here and there- weather, flowers, art. Shouto knows it’s only a matter of time, and soon enough, Enji is asking for a report on their careers. Only grimacing lightly, Fuyumi delivers, mentioning how her latest show is going to be in Rome in a couple of months. Nodding, Enji turns to Natsuo, who is glaring at the dinner course laid in front of him. After a nudge from Fuyumi, he bites out an answer about how the latest short film he’s worked on has been submitted for a famous film festival, and that it’s guaranteed to win at least one award.

“I’m proud of both of you and your hard work,” Enji attempts. Fuyumi smiles, but Natsuo scoffs, turning away. Stomach dropped, Shouto knows he’s up, but it never prevents the dread that comes along with it. It’s not like it matters to ask- Enji knows his entire schedule at all times.

“Shouto. We will be hosting the wrap up party for Heroes Rising here, in the spring. About eight months from now. Your schedule has been cleared, so naturally you will attend.”

“Right.” Why did he need to know that now?

“Early reviews from funders are already coming in for the first couple of episodes- they are good.”

“As they should be.” Bright green eyes flash in front of him, and he bows his head further.

“Shouto?” Rei’s soft voice makes him inhale sharply, lifting his head. She rarely ever speaks at these dinners, but right now she’s got him locked in her gaze. “You seem pleased with your work.”

“I am,” he spills. “I’ve got a good co-star.”

Enji breaks in. “You mean the boy- uh, Midoriya Izuku?”

Hearing Midoriya’s name out of his father’s mouth puts Shouto on edge, but he nods anyway.

“Indeed. He’s been quite the investment, though when I saw his resume, I was horrified by its briefness. Hopefully, he can measure up.”

“He will. He does.”

Rei gives Shouto a small smile before returning to her meal. Enji only grunts.

“He’s not your problem to worry about. Keep to yourself, Shouto. He’s an unknown; we have no idea what he may or may not do, and your reputation needs to remain as is.”

The sentiment is already callous, but the underlying warning is there- don’t get close.

After dessert is served, Enji leaves the table first, citing business to attend to. Rei is next to leave, but before she goes, she kisses all of her children good night. She lingers around Shouto, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Shouto- about your friend. If you believe in him, I am happy for you.”

Her words linger in Shouto’s mind as he tries to rest in his own home that night. He wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends right now, but he does believe in Midoriya. He’s also terrified to infect the man with his own existence. His mother was evidence of the effects of fame and Todoroki toxicity. Shouto already had enough issues of his own, he didn’t want to put them on someone else and call it friendship. Keeping Momo at an arm’s length was already hard enough, and she was an ‘approved’ friend by his father and managers. Shouto knows he can’t control the negative aspects of fame, but he’s still anxiously sad at the thought that Midoriya will have to face them, and he doesn’t want to be the reason why. At least not now, not while he was still in the early stages.

Don’t be selfish, he thinks. Let him have this time, let him enjoy it now.

If he can preserve that hopeful smile, that steadfast energy, in any way, he’s going to do so. Even if it meant disappointing him by refusing his offer of friendship.

The banquet held in Todoroki Enji’s massive banquet hall and gardens is a level of grandiosity unseen before by many of his co-stars but is nothing more than the same for Shouto. The party is a celebration of wrapping up the first season, and the announcement of the green light for a season two. While everyone gasps in awe, dances on the glittering dance floor, or consumes from the endless buffet table, Shouto sips his fifth glass of champagne in a dark corner of the room near the bathrooms. He stares furiously at his sibling group chat, trying to will them to show up and support him, but of course they bailed. Fuyumi cited fashion show prep, Natsuo simply replied ‘fuck no, helping T with his floating gardens’, and Touya purposely left his request on read. Thus, he’s hiding from his father and the other co-producers on his own.

His glaring is interrupted by short gasps and flirtatious whispers; he turns to see Hagakure and Ojirou flirting and necking near the bathrooms. When they see him looking, they turn tomato red.

“Um, Todoroki, we-”

“If you walk around that corner over there, there’s a secret staircase. It’ll take you to the second floor, full of guest rooms. Find an empty one and knock yourself out.”

Ojirou is still kiss-drunk, but Hagakure grips him by the collar to steady him.

“You’re the best, Todoroki!”

As they haul off, Shouto smiles briefly, before tipping back the fifth glass and standing. Thirty minutes and three more mixed drinks later, he’s wobbling dangerously at the glass garden doors leading out into the courtyard. For the entire night, reviews on the show and the actors have been read occasionally, and the ‘Origin Trio’ was up.

“Of course, we’ll start with our seasoned vet of EM&E, Todoroki Shouto!” the lady reads. “‘It’s almost as if the role of ‘Celsius’ was built for Todoroki Shouto! He delivers in every way, managing to portray both the classic aloof bad boy and yet behind it all a vulnerable sweetie with traumas that we can all relate to in some way. Anyone who didn’t sob at the backstory was heartless.’”

Oh, they can’t be serious.

They can not be serious.

“‘Todoroki perfectly conveys the long-held resentments and frustrations of the hero-in-training ‘Celsius’, and delicately handles how those protective layers are peeled back piece by piece as he learns to take more agency in his life and to trust those around him. The frustration, the anger, and the realization, perfectly come to a head in one of the best episodes on TV this year!’”

Sneering, Shouto can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the disgust at the reviews that makes him want to vomit. The lady steps down from the mic with fervent applause, making space for another man who states he’s to read Bakugou’s reviews.

“‘The raw talent in portraying ‘DynaMight’ seems a perfect steppingstone for Bakugou Katsuki to take his career to the next level. While the character himself has room to grow, Bakugou does a great job in showcasing the numerous faces of ‘DynaMight’- the bully, the insecure student, the intelligent tactician, the desperate rival- and we have much faith in Bakugou’s ability to portray the growth that is required to shift out of these things, giving the character the potential to be something greater.’”

He zones out during Bakugou’s second review, but when the next speaker announces that she’s going to read Midoriya’s review, he tunes back in.

“‘Midoriya Izuku- what is there not to say? The man delivers! I would focus most on his versatility- this actor, a newcomer, and unknown face- manages to seem like a sweet, innocent baby hero in some scenes, leading you to underestimate his character (what could this cute kid do to anybody? This- this is supposed to be the future number one hero?) But as soon as you get comfortable, you begin to witness a sharp intelligence, a fiery tenacity, and a raw, feral power, both from ‘Deku’ and from Midoriya! While this season shows just how much more his hero has to grow, they also showcase his potential. When ‘Deku’ reaches that, it’s evident he’ll be unstoppable- just like the young actor portraying him!’”

The applause is especially loud for Midoriya, and the noise throws Shouto’s drunken mind into disequilibrium. After offering feeble applause, Shouto manages to stumble into the gardens. He knows that there’s a little maze that leads to a sitting fountain, and after multiple attempts he finally makes his way to it.

When he steps out from the bushes, he hears a blurred voice. The shock causes him to be nauseous, and he grasps his mouth. He is not going to be sick; he is not-

“Todoroki?”

The little scare is too much, and he ends up upchucking onto whoever is standing in front of him. Despite the disgusting smell, and the superfluous amount of acidic vomit pouring from his mouth, the person only gently moves out of the way of the blast, patting his shoulders. Shouto hates being touched by strangers, who is this-

“Don’t touch me,” he defensively burbles, before throwing up again. The person doesn’t listen, moving him to lean against the fountain, sitting him down and pushing his head between his knees. A cool, wet handkerchief wipes his face down, and he unintentionally leans his head into the refreshing touch. When Shouto opens his eyes, ready to thank his savior, he’s ready to turn and drown himself in the fountain.

“Oh fuck. Fucking fantastic.”

Giving him a sheepish look was Midoriya, his suit jacket covered in yellow stains.

“I was out here to scream at my mom about the early reviews; I promise I didn’t follow you.”

“No shit, Midoriya, you were here first.” Humiliation sinks in deep, and he only lets his head hang.

“Todoroki-”

“Great. Just… great! When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in goddamn battalions!”

“Hamlet, Act IV, Scene V.” Midoriya gives a little grin when Todoroki can only gawk at him in disbelief, both at the response and at his own terrible luck. A couple rasps come from his chest, turning into laughter as he pushes Midoriya away.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, greenhorn? I’m- I’m sorry about all this. I’ll pay for the suit.”

“That’s fine, but, um… Let me give you a ride home first.”

Shouto wants to tell him to leave him there to die, but at this point he’ll do anything to avoid that party.

“Secret path through here. Follow it.”

“Yeah, Todoroki, it’s a maze. I can gather that.”

Rolling his eyes, Shouto sloughs off a chuckling Midoriya’s shoulder.

“No. There’s another one. Shorter one. Made so we couldn’t escape in here when we were little.”

Missing Midoriya’s resulting frown, Shouto leans onto him and begins doling out directions. It’s just as well that he lasted through the maze because the moment they leave the bushes, he passes out. 

Shouto wakes up in a cool room, laid cozily against a warm body. Blinking painfully, he realizes that it’s only 2am, and he’s in the painful stages of drunk- nauseous, without any of the unawareness. He has enough prescience to tell that he’s in his living room.

“Oh, you’re up?”

Turning, he sees Midoriya sit up and rub at his eyes. He’s presumably wearing Shouto’s t-shirt and shorts, which leaves Shouto a little warm. When Midoriya catches his glance, he flushes as well.

“Nothing happened! You were knockout drunk, but I was able to get you to your car, and you had your house location in the GPS. You randomly woke up when we got to your gate, told me the code, and even invited me in. I thought you were doing better, since you led me through, cleaned up, got us both new clothes and all. I promise I wasn’t watching your private moments, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t slip or something. You said you were going to go to bed, but when I sat on the couch, you followed me and… plopped down.”

“And you let me stay?”

Midoriya shrugs, twiddling his fingers. “You looked like you needed the cuddles.” He flinches, as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Now, if anyone else had told Todoroki Shouto he looked like he ‘needed cuddles’, implying he looked touch starved, he would start a fight, or at the very least kicked them out of his house. But Midoriya looked so adorably well-intentioned that Shouto just sighed.

“Well… thank you. For all your help. And for the…er, cuddles.”

“Oh,” Midoriya replies, shoulders relaxing. “You’re welcome.”

Shouto ruminates for a moment. He doesn’t know when something like this will happen again and decides to humor himself; give himself something to remember. “You tired?”

“A little, but not really.”

Shouto slowly but surely wobbles to the kitchen, grabbing a jug of orange juice and some crackers.

“Grab the blankets and come out here,” he commands, opening up his side door to the pool.

“Uh, okay!” Midoriya brings the blankets out to the lounge chairs that Shouto sets out and lays them down while Shouto pours the orange juice. The night temperature is a little chilly, but the late spring temperatures have been warmer than normal so with the blankets, it’s a cozy little affair. The night sky is bright, sparkling with stars. The space is so vast that they can see numerous constellations, and Midoriya looks up in awe. When he turns to Shouto, he sees Shouto staring longingly at the sky.

“Why’d you want to come out here?” he whispers. Shouto chuckles.

“Needed some air? Wanted to show you something impressive? I don’t know. Do you not like it?”

“That’s not it! I love it!”

A few minutes of silence go by before Shouto speaks up again, words directed to the sky.

“So, Midoriya. I have to be honest. Why are you so nice to me? I was an asshole when you met me, I rebuffed your attempt at friendship eight months ago, and I threw up on your suit on your big night. Why wouldn’t you leave me to choke on my vomit in front of the cameras?”

His voice carries an old exhaustion, something deeper than a simple night of over-excess. Midoriya only thinks for a moment before replying. “I wouldn’t do something like that. No one deserves something like that. I won’t say it didn’t hurt that you didn’t want to be my friend, but I wouldn’t leave you to suffer. Not when you seemed…”

“Seemed?”

“Sad. Lonely. You’ve always seemed that way.”

“Hm.” Shouto can only acquiesce to the observation. “Well, now I’m interested. You’ve got all my attention. I’d like to know more about Midoriya Izuku, the rising star of Heroes Rising.” His voice is wry as he says, ‘rising star’, and Midoriya giggles.

“What do you want to know?”

Everything. “Your start.”

He listens as Midoriya spins him a classic underdog tale: poor kid, single mom, dad ran out, that he went to undergrad off and on for about five years until he graduated, and that he worked as a part time teacher and part time barista until he got his break with Heroes Rising.

“I’m always reading plays, screenplays, watching movies, and studying cinematography,” Midoriya excitedly adds. “Even as a kid I took loads of notes, trying to implement whatever I learned into my own acting and film analysis. It’s crazy how much better you’ll do when you understand different styles!” He turns to look at Shouto and reddens- probably because of the burning look Shouto is giving him.

“It sounds like you’re really passionate about it. That makes me happy to hear.” Shouto’s reply is wistful. 

“Well, of course I’m passionate about it! It also helps that one of my favorite actors actually asked me to talk about this; no one else ever really was interested in my dreams like this, other than my mother and my mentor.”

“Other people were stupid.”

Midoriya’s jaw drops. “Todoroki!”

Shouto shrugs, sipping his orange juice.

“Well…what about you, then? My story isn’t nearly as detailed as yours, I bet!”

Rolling his eyes, Shouto looks into Midoriya’s determined eyes, seeing the undercurrent of worry in them.

“What is there to tell that the world doesn’t already know? I’m so tired of my own story I wish I could be someone else, which is why I act, but then I just end up trapped some more.”

“You want… to be someone else?”

Maybe it’s because he’s feeling existential, maybe the leftover alcohol is still affecting his mind, or maybe he’s just so desperate to get this raw, unacknowledged pain out, that Shouto lets everything slip.

“You know how I got my scar?”

Midoriya nods. “Accident on set, right?”

“Accident. Ha! It was the same fire that almost killed my brother. The only reason I didn’t get hurt worse is because he protected me. Shielded me from the flames. Imagine having to make that choice at fifteen. Fifteen years old and had to protect his toddler sibling because of the actions of our deranged bastard father.”

“I didn’t-”

“Know? No one does! At least not the full story. God, if the world knew what happened to Touya. But you want to know one of the worst parts? Other than being hurt, other than seeing my brother almost die right in front of me? It was how the fucking world handled it.”

Midoriya freezes, sifting through his memories of the event with a new mindset.

“We were both on that terrible show. After the accident, there was an entire arc where Touya’s character had died, and my character had to go through a ‘healing’ process along with my ‘parents’.” Shouto laughs bitterly. “Can you imagine? They gave my character healing, and not me! I went to faux therapy! My father said that acting it out would make it ‘easier for me to deal with’; he ignored literally every suggestion that maybe I could use some real help. But that didn’t matter, because it ‘endeared me to the public’, that I was ‘so strong despite my injuries and despite my brush with death’, my scar a ‘sign of determination in every role’. They damned near killed my brother and then used me to smooth it over. Can you believe that shit?”

The show mercifully ended soon afterwards, due to growing concern with the backlash from minority groups that were slowly building steam, questioning the choice to continue with the show. In order to avoid true investigation, Enji had made the executive decision to end it prematurely.

“Did you even hear that review from earlier? It read my entire life. They can see ‘Celsius’ as that multi-dimensional person worth explaining and understanding, worth sympathizing with, but me- no, I’m just a face. That pretty acting boy with the scar and the bad attitude, required to be easily accessible at all times for whatever everyone wants me to be. It makes no sense, Midoriya, and yet that’s what it’s always been. I’ve always been safer behind the characters because people love the characters. They don’t love me.”

When he’s finished, Shouto feels ten tons lighter, as if he’s tied all of his anger to large balloons and set them free into the night. The relief has him smiling to himself, before a small voice brings him back to Earth.

“What do you really want to do, Todoroki?”

Shouto smiles even wider with a small pleasure. He didn’t know how Midoriya would reply, and somewhere inside he was waiting for the same saccharine pity that everyone else that hid the affair offered.

“Well, first, I want to be released from EM&E. When this final contract ends, I am so ready to run to One for All. EM&E can have all those characters. They don’t even need to pay me royalties, that’s how much I want out. I want more multi-dimensional characters; they always type-cast me in these action and sci-fi flicks. Anyway, I enjoy them well enough, but I want to do horror, film noir, maybe fantasy. I’m sure I’d look pretty hot in elf ears, don’t you think?” he teases, giving a cat-like grin at Midoriya’s resulting blush.

“Anything else you enjoy?”

Pursing his lips, Shouto walks back into his home, searching. Midoriya is stunned when he walks out and flops onto his recliner, plopping an electric bass guitar onto his lap.

“I didn’t end up getting to do this bit in the movie it was meant for, but I learned to play, and I really like it. I’ve kept it up in secret all these years. So… maybe bass guitar, sing background in a little secret band. It used to soothe my siblings when I played it. Hell, even Touya calls them ‘vibe sessions’ and sometimes let me play over his poetry whenever I go over to his place.”

It’s childish, but Shouto is revealing more than he anticipated and it feels so good. The secretly stolen touches as he squeezes closer to Midoriya to lay out the guitar also make him giddy. He plays a couple notes, before looking at him. Midoriya seems star-struck, green eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“What do you want to do, Midoriya?”

“Call me Izuku.” The words are desperately exhaled.

“Huh?”

Midoriya licks his lips, and shakes his head, giving a shy smile. “You’ve thrown up on me, confessed many secrets, and after a night like this, I think we deserve a level up.”

“That’s fair. Shouto, then. What do you want to do, Izuku?”

Izuku’s shoulders squeeze to his face in a precious show of glee, and Shouto puts the guitar to the side to more closely look at him.

“I love acting for sure and it’s my goal to one day to also work on productions made with One for All studios. I think I would also like to write scripts on the side as well, once I’m into the swing of acting. And then, when I’m old and retired, I want to be a critic.”

“Seems straightforward enough,” Shouto comments, leaning back onto the recliner. “You’ll be wonderful at all of it. I can’t wait to see it.”

The silence of the night rests between them, before Izuku takes a deep breath.

“I actually like y… Celsius a lot. Everyone else might not know what they’re doing, but you can show them just how much you feel that character- how much you can really do.”

“It’s my character, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, Izuku lays next to Shouto. “Ha-ha. They really loved that scene, by the way.”

“I love that scene too. You did an excellent job, rookie.” Shouto yawns, closing his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much energy working with someone else…”

When he falls asleep with his head on Izuku’s shoulder, Shouto is not ashamed to admit to himself that it’s the safest he’s felt in a long time.

The late morning light reflects off of the pool, warming Izuku’s skin as he opens his eyes, and he lifts a hand to block the glare.

“I was just about to wake you up.”

Rubbing the sleep out his eyes, he turns to see Shouto placing a plate onto the small table in between them, the guitar and its case long gone.

“Ooh, sandwiches and ginger-ale? Fancy,” he teases, elated when it elicits a small chuckle out of Shouto.

“Figured you’d be hungry, and sandwiches are my only specialty, so…” Sheepish, Shouto runs a hand through his hair as he pointedly looks away from Izuku. “To be honest, it’s also because you likely won’t be leaving here for a bit. The paparazzi are swarming around my house, and while my guards can keep them out, the moment you leave, they’ll be all over you. It’s a joke sometimes, dealing with them. You might as well stay here, and if you’re going to stay, you should eat.”

Izuku hesitates and decides to be honest.

“You know, Shouto… I don’t mind staying. I’m sure you know best about crazy fans, so I appreciate it.”

Shouto flushes in turn before lifting the plate and plopping it into his lap.

“Eat. I’ll go find you something to wear.”

While Shouto makes an escape, Izuku begins to search through the blankets until he can find his phone. It’s on 20%, and it is blowing up with notifications from text messages, group chats, and all his social media. After a quick text to the group chat letting them know that he’s safe, and a message to Iida and Ochaco personally, he clicks to Do Not Disturb and gets to eating. The ham and Swiss sandwich is light, the bread soft, and the drink goes perfectly. He’s just finishing when Shouto returns.

“I put some clothes in the guest bathroom for you,” he comments, sitting down on the opposite chair. He leans back for a moment, before leaning forward again, eyes wide. “Actually… would you be interested in swimming? I can grab you some shorts; I’m sure Touya might have left some…”

“Swimming?”

“Yeah, I just thought about it. Other than my siblings, I’ve never actually had anyone else swim in this pool. It’s kind of useless, really.”

It’s an exciting idea, only dampened by the sad image of Shouto standing alone in front of the pool with no one else to share it with, when his siblings led such busy lives otherwise.

“Of course! I’ll go clean up!”

Rushing into the house and finding the guest bathroom (luckily the right one, as he’d been too excited to properly ask), he washes up. The steam from the short shower is enough to slow his heart, relaxing his muscles and allowing him to take in everything.

He’s inside one of Todoroki Shouto’s luxury bathrooms- walking on marbled floors, standing behind opaque glass and underneath multiple showerheads with perfect water pressure. He’s been wearing his clothes, even a pair of one of his famous (infamous?) sibling’s swim shorts. The Todoroki Shouto made him a meal, cuddled with him last night, told him secrets, has chosen him to be a friend-

It’s all Izuku can hope that Shouto doesn’t hear his ecstatic scream over the stream of water, his feet tip-tapping back and forth in a small dance before he slips, using the handrail to stop his fall.

“Dammit!” he cries, fire-engine red when the door opens a little.

“You all right in there?” Shouto calls.

“Uh… yeah?”

“Okay… I’m going to leave the shorts here. I also left my charger out in the living room, since mine is done.”

“Thank you!”

Izuku manages to get through the rest of the shower without looking like a fool, and once he’s dried off, teeth brushed and dressed, he clicks off DND one more time.

‘Spent the night? at Shouto’s? First name basis? Ooh la la!’ Ochaco texts, a horde of suggestive emojis afterward.

‘Stop! It’s not like that!’ he replies.

‘What is it like then, Midoriya?’ Iida asks, even dropping some eye emojis the way Mina taught him.

‘My phone is dying; I have to go.’ The deflection does nothing to stop Ochaco, who texts that she’s planning a lunch with just the three of them the next day, just to interrogate him. Making sure he’s not still a mess, he gathers himself and walks back out to the pool. Music is playing over the speakers; he raises a hand to call out to Shouto-

And stops in his tracks.

Laying back on the edge of the pool, already covered in water droplets, is a nonchalantly reclining Shouto. He’s leaning back on his shoulders, eyes closed as if to peacefully enjoy the sun as it caresses his skin. Izuku bites his lip, trying to bring himself to heel- yes, Shouto is pretty, he is resplendent, his skin is literally sparkling like it’s been blessed by the sun and water gods, but he is not going to do this.

The shame is sickening at first- Shouto told him about how he can’t stand all the fans treating him like he’s untouchable, unhuman, how dare he sit there and continue to do so? But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it isn’t just a superficial attraction the way it used to be.

He wants to hold Shouto’s hands, be skin to skin again, to be the only one that has this sort of intimacy with him.

Where is this coming from? Who does he think he is, feeling so possessive?

It’s shaken off just in time as Shouto finally turns, noticing him approach. His body language immediately shifts, instinctively wrapping his arms around himself. Grimacing, Izuku hates that he’s made him feel unsafe- so he changes tack, and cannonballs into the water.

“Hey!”

Shouto is scowling at him, the pout so adorable that Izuku begins to cackle. Biting his lip to stop from laughing, Shouto just splashes water continuously into his face. Facing from the water, Izuku reaches out until he feels Shouto’s ankle.

“Don’t you do it-” Yanking quickly, Izuku pulls Shouto under, laughter still rising in the bubbles as they come back up. Caught up in his blissful emotions, he inhales in shock when he realizes that, on the surface, there’s only a couple inches between them. Despite this, neither of them moves away, only occasionally flickering their eyes down at the other’s lips. When they’d gone under, Shouto had reached out to brace himself on Izuku’s arm, and his hand still lingered there before he pulls away, clearing his throat.

“You’re childish,” he comments casually, swimming back to the edge.

Izuku has to bite down on the knee-jerk response of ‘you love me’, grateful that he does because he knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off. Instead, he looks toward the speaker, lighting up when he hears the familiar tune.

“Hey! Shouto, it’s you!”

Listening, Shouto groans in discomfort before going to turn the channel.

“No! I love this song!”

“It’s awful, one of the cringiest phases of my life, and that was after the bowl cut.”

Shouto’s embarrassment is offset by Izuku’s indignance, his teenaged self rushing to his own defense.

“Cringy? This song was my life when I was fifteen! A teenage classic! I felt so cute listening to it! And… I just said that out loud, oh my god…”

“Cute?” Izuku is so mortified that he can’t hear Shouto’s bashful tone. Instead, he just turns away, swimming to the middle of the pool.

“Yeah, just…ignore me while I melt into this water…”

As Izuku tries to drown himself, a small sound makes him lift his face back out of the water in awe. Shouto’s eyes are closed as he hums, catching up with the song, and singing quietly.

“If I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you go, I’d keep you on my arm, girl, you’d never be alone,”

“And I could be a gentleman, anything you want, if I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you go, never let you go…”

A myriad of emotions swell in Izuku’s chest at the sight in front of him- shock, amazement, adoration, happiness- and a giant smile breaks out on his face. Forget how much fifteen-year-old stan Midoriya ‘Todoroki Shouto is second place to only All Might’ Izuku would have sacrificed for this one moment- twenty-three-year-old Izuku could die happy, right now. Without thinking, he joins in.

“If I was your man, I’d never leave you girl, I just wanna love and treat you right,”

Stunned, Shouto only pauses for a moment, surprised at both his singing and how well their voices blend. Ever the professional, he continues with an amused smile. By the end, they’re swaying back and forth across from each other, hyping the other as they harmonize, and Izuku has one stream of thought running through his head.

Oh.

Oh, this is it.

I don’t need anything else.

I’m in love.

I’m so in love.

A pterodactyl scream of panic rips through his head right afterwards. Love? Love??

When could it have become love? A little under a year ago, his heart had felt broken when Shouto began treating him cordially again after his apology, never allowing him any closer. True, he hadn’t missed that Shouto had always supported him in the background, providing tips, never raising his voice whenever he messed up during lines or scenes. Everything left him in a state of confused yearning- he seemed kinder, but never wanted to be friends, and their relationship never got any closer. When had love had a chance to build?

The night before, when he saw Shouto struggling drunkenly, he would have helped regardless. But hearing him mention, even in the depths of his inebriation, that he knew of an extra secret escape path? That Shouto was so desperate to escape from so much, and felt so trapped? He thought that the only thing he felt was protectiveness and pity, only compounded by Shouto’s vulnerability as he revealed secrets of the notoriously private Todoroki family. 

Now, after what seems like a dream, they’ve spent the night together, comforted each other, shared their dreams, allowed the other to call their first name, sang together- hell, now that he thinks about it, even before all of that, he’d almost let slip what had seemed like an amateur crush on the man just the night before!

How could he not like him?

The feelings feel like they’re going to boil over, but when he looks at a timidly happy and content Shouto, a different thought crosses his mind, pausing him in his tracks. Shouto has never really had a close friend before, and he just allowed Izuku in. All these sudden, intense feelings might scare him, push him away. Tempering his feelings for his own later review, he just offers a soft smile.

“Hey, Shouto?”

“Yeah?” Hearing the more serious tone in Izuku’s voice, Shouto frowns. “What’s up?”

“I’m happy to be your friend, Shouto. Thank you for letting me. If it’s okay with you… I’d like to support you more, and I think everyone else would want to as well.”

The adoration in his voice seems to disconcert Shouto, tips his chin upward.

“Everyone else? What do they matter?”

Izuku laughs, swimming over to Shouto’s side.

“I know it might be hard to think, but they all want you there. You deserve to be surrounded by friends, who could all be here to swim with you, to party, to do anything you might be interested in. I’ll be by your side if you’ll let me.” Feeling like he’s coming on too strongly, Izuku backpedals. “I mean, of course, you don’t have to do anything, I know we just sort of started to be friends and-”

“Okay.”

“…huh?”

“If you’re there… willing to stand by me… okay.” Running his hands through his hair or fidgeting with his fingers seems to be a nervous tic for Shouto, but instead he chooses to place a shy hand over Izuku’s, locking eyes. “I trust you.”

Heart thumping with new emotions, it’s one of many moments this morning that Izuku has floundered in the presence of the man, and it won’t be the last, because a ringtone snaps through it, causing Shouto to pull his hand away.

His eyes flash with recognition, darting to Izuku’s, and then he clicks the phone.

“Yumi-nee, Natsu-nii.”

A lady’s voice picks up. “We heard you didn’t make it home, Shoucchan! You can’t do that to us!”

“Fuyumi, he’s grown!”

“Natsuo, he could have been anywhere!”

Shouto laughs, his expression softening. “Neither of you wanted to come to the party, but now you’re worried about me?”

“Don’t be spiteful, Shouto!” they chorus.

Izuku splashes out of the water, sitting on the side, and Shouto’s small twitch must be noticeable because there’s a small pause before Fuyumi speaks up.

“… Shouto, do you have someone there with you?”

“Look at that blush, Fuyumi! He does! Who is it?”

“Stop it, both of you!” When Shouto gives Izuku an apologetic look, Izuku nods to affirm that he’s not bothered. Instead, Shouto flips the camera to him, causing him to freeze in horror in the frame.

“This is my co-star and new friend, Midoriya Izuku.”

His voice is so innocently and fiercely proud, unnoticing of Izuku’s terror. They both flinch when an ecstatic scream comes through the receiver.

“Friend!”

“Oh shit, Shouto really does have someone else there!”

“Natsuo! Please, be respectful- he has a guest there! A friend!”

Covering his eyes, Shouto scowls at the phone. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“No no no! We want to meet Midoriya! Please? Shoucchan…”

After some pleading, Shouto invites Izuku closer.

“Oh, he’s so handsome! Hello Midoriya Izuku! I’m Todoroki Fuyumi, and this is my brother Todoroki Natsuo!”

Izuku does a small bow toward the screen.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t make it to the party yesterday, it would have been amazing to meet you in person.”

While Shouto scoffs, Izuku giggles.

“It’s fine. I’m sure your show in Rome was much more important.” When Fuyumi raises her eyebrows, Izuku elaborates that he follows her professional page on Instagram and saw the latest looks she was debuting. He makes sure to mention he follows the studio that Natsuo’s working at, so that he doesn’t feel left out, bringing up the awards show where he’d been honored.

“The boy has taste!” Natsuo crows, immediately flattered. “Facetime Touya, this is an update! Shouto not only has a friend, but a friend with quality taste! What a guy!”

“Guys, it’s not-”

“I’ve got it!” Fuyumi exclaims, adding the call. Izuku visibly quails, suddenly nervous. It was already hard enough to meet two more of Shouto’s famous siblings, but the idea of meeting one of the most famous recluses in recent media is daunting.

He runs out of time to think about it when a dark screen shows up, a voice gravelly with sleep answering.

“Yumi. Why are you calling me like I don’t sleep until this time?”

As quickly as he was afraid, Izuku is suddenly drawn in. It’s so strange to hear a deep voice, as if he’s hearing a ghost of the teenager that once graced the screen. No one else seems bothered though, pushing on.

“Shoucchan’s introducing us to his new friend! Show him, Shouto!”

Shouto tilts the screen a little, and Izuku offers a shy smile in return. There’s a long pause, and he can practically hear Todoroki Touya is analyzing him.

“New friend, huh? Good shit.”

The siblings all begin to chat amongst themselves, and Izuku feels just a little bit too overwhelmed, as if there was some secret test and he’s passed it. Excusing himself, he gives an excuse about having to pee and heads toward the main house. From a distance, he hears Shouto’s voice pick up in anxiety, his face turning a bright red before he tosses the phone onto the chair.

“Sit down and spill the tea!” Ochaco crows, scooting over in the privately guarded booth so that Izuku can sit down, Iida passing him his pre-ordered green tea. He takes a few nervous sips to avoid both of their curious gazes, still coming down from the high of escaping the crowd outside. It was still brand new for him, maneuvering through screaming crowds and adoring fans to seek small moments of privacy. For Izuku, it’s also still kind of exhilarating, realizing that people want him to sign their notebooks and casts and pictures, and he makes sure to make time whenever he goes out.

“The drink is gone, Midoriya,” Iida states drily, the slurped air quickly becoming obnoxious. “If you don’t want to tell us, that’s okay.”

Ochaco groans, before swiping the empty plastic cup out of Izuku’s grasp.

“You can’t just disappear and then text the next day saying you spent the night with Japan’s biggest heartthrob and the imperial Ice King Todoroki Shouto and expect us to say nothing! You know who else did that? Hagakure, and I can tell you what she did when she vanished.”

Izuku flushes to his roots, waving his hands. “No! It was nothing like that! I just took him home because he had too much to drink at the party.”

“And then?”

“Well… when he felt better, we sat outside and talked under the stars.” His voice lowers, soft with remembrance. “I ended up falling asleep there, and the next morning we just spent the day together hanging out next to the pool. It was easier than sneaking out through all the paparazzi, and I left that afternoon when they cleared out somewhat.” Sighing happily, he leans back in the booth. “He’s really so awkwardly sweet, kind, and so passionate. When he’s not being pressured by everything in his life, when he can just breathe, he’s even more amazing than I could have ever thought.”

Ochaco stares at him, enraptured. She shares a knowing glance with Iida, and they turn back to him. She scoots over next to him, nudging him in the stomach.

“You are so whipped. Might as well go write ‘Todoroki Izuku’ on all your scripts now.”

“Midoriya Shouto,” he murmurs sheepishly. “I already handled that in high school.”

When Ochaco tosses her head back in laughter, Izuku can’t help but join in, before placing his head in his hands.

“What am I going to do, guys? It’s one thing for you two to know, but what if starts to show at work?”

“Forgive me my honesty, Midoriya, but your feelings have been obvious for a while now to everyone other than Todoroki.”

Gasping, Izuku blushes, and Iida sips calmly from his tea.

“Really?”

Ochaco nods. “Like a shining beacon.”

“You mumble quite frequently,” Iida explains, “and yet whenever he’s around you, you go quite silent.”

“Mina and I call it the ‘brain ded, only Todo’ effect. Hagakure and Tsuyu can confirm.”

“You’re lying!” Izuku wails.

“I’m not! In fact, I’m pretty sure Mina snuck a secret snap that I saved. Let me look.” After a couple minutes of scrolling through her phone, she turns the screen to Izuku. Sure enough, he’s noticeably mumbling over his script, Ochaco next to him looking mischievously into the camera. When Mina turns the camera towards Shouto, who begins to comment on the next scene, it quickly flips back to a silent, wide eyed Izuku and Ochaco muffling her laughter.

Iida has clearly seen the video and can tell when it’s finished by the look on Izuku’s face.

“If it makes you feel better, it makes it look like you’re listening intently to him. It is very professional.”

Mortified, Izuku sinks under the booth. “I didn’t even know I liked him like this until yesterday.”

With a cackle, Ochaco lifts him back up. “Congrats, you’re the second last to know. Tell Shouto, and he’ll be the last.” A pained gurgle comes from Izuku’s throat, and she pats him as the food arrives at the table.

“When did you order the food?”

“You were late, so Iida treated us. You got your katsudon, relax.” Picking over her meal, Ochaco leans closer. “Anyway, we knew about the crush. What actually happened while you were over there? What did you talk about? Did you confess?”

“Obviously not, Uraraka. He wouldn’t be this nervous otherwise.”

“Well, it’s not like I can just confess to him!” The frustration in his voice causes both Ochaco and Iida to pause, and Ochaco’s voice is devoid of any teasing when she softly places a hand on his arm.

“Is everything okay? Do you think he would be mean about it?”

“I don’t think he’d be mean about it, of course not.” Eyebrows furrowed, he begins to dig into his food, trying to think about what he wants to say. His friends oblige, giving him the space to think while discussing other things from the party. Izuku is finished eating when he speaks, grateful for the time.

“Shouto is still healing from things. I won’t break his trust by speaking about things that are only his right to tell. But he was willing to be vulnerable to me, and I don’t want to push how I’m feeling onto someone who just began to open up to me, you know? He needs a friend, a larger support system, and I want to provide that for him, to help him feel safer.”

A sniffle brings him out of his thoughts, and he sees red-faced Ochaco wiping a tear away, Iida holding his head high to distract from his red nose.

“Oh, Izu. That’s so kind of you,” Ochaco affirms. “And of course, we’d all love to bring Todoroki into our fold.”

“I won’t ask what you talked about, as I respect your silence on the matter,” Iida adds, wiping his nose discreetly. “However, I can imagine that part of the problem is that Todoroki has been surrounded by onlookers his entire life, having been famous for most of it.”

“That’s fair. It was hard enough having to get in here today, getting past all the cameras. You couldn’t even leave his place without dodging the horde outside. It must be sickening for him.” Ochaco shivers with the unpleasant thought. “I remember the ‘Shaved Head’ incident, and how mean the media was about that. Or his ‘meltdown’ when we were teenagers; they were particularly awful. I wouldn’t want to be around anyone either.”

Grimacing, Izuku remembers his excitement at the crowd from before. He’s sure Shouto wouldn’t begrudge him his own happiness. However, by trying to bring Shouto along, by involving him more often, he would be exposing him- the same media that Izuku finds loving, Shouto finds cruel and invasive. The memory of Shouto’s hand over his, the trust in his eyes, fills Izuku with a sudden fear- he’d hate to disappoint him.

“You’re overthinking, Midoriya. Stop it,” Iida orders. “I’ll make sure everyone is on their best behavior. Todoroki should not have to feel unsafe in his workspace, and certainly not around people that want to consider themselves his friends.”

Ochaco pokes him in the head. “We’ll be welcoming, I promise. I’ll even muzzle Bakugou if I have to, if I can’t make him say nice things.”

Iida frowns as Izuku snickers. “There’s no need for all of that.” 

“Next season of filming is coming up; we can add him to the group chat and go from there! I think we were going to have a group outing when we got back together anyway.”

“Perhaps we could do something a little smaller first, like a group introduction.”

While Iida and Ochaco go back and forth, hashing out ideas, Izuku smiles lovingly at his friends.

“I appreciate the both of you for listening. Thanks.”

“Aw, Izu, you’re crying!”

Sniffling, Izuku wipes at his eyes. “I’m just so grateful! Out of everything, I’m so blessed to have met people like you both.” Smiling, he draws them both in for a hug, Iida having to walk over to slide into the booth.

“Oh! I can tell you one cool thing, though!”

“Oh?”

“I met his siblings over FaceTime.”

Squealing, Ochaco worms away from his hug. “All of them?!”

“Yes!”

“That is exciting!” Iida’s eyes are sparkling. “I recently looked into some of Todoroki Fuyumi’s men’s fashions. Very comfortable, well sized. I bought multiple shirts, for me and my brother.”

“She’s really nice- she seemed excited that Shouto had a friend over. Todoroki Natsuo was kind as well; he was very enthusiastic that I knew about his work in indie films.”

“Even though I’m not into the indie scene, I always thought it was so brave of him to branch out the way he did, taking nothing but the Todoroki name and making something on his own,” Ochaco comments, approving. “But- did you meet…him?”

Knowing who she means, Izuku nods, and she falls back into her seat, fanning herself.

“Wow. I would die to see Todoroki Touya in person. I remember having the hugest crush on him as a kid- there I was, broke, wearing string bracelets and light pink polos and khakis, and was absolutely convinced that he’d find me devastating and leave everyone for me.”

Iida does the math in his head, before pursing his lips. “You were six. What did you know about Todoroki Touya or love?” 

“The pre-teen magazines that my friend stole from her sister said we were supposed to be in love with him! It was all in pastel hearts and everything! I was impressionable!” Tossing her hair, a flustered Ochaco turns to Izuku for backup, who furiously bites his lip to avoid grinning.

“She’s got a point. The M.A.S.H. test I took told me he was my soulmate.”

Pleased, Ochaco sticks her tongue at Iida, who rolls his eyes. “Taste. Anyway, I’m sure you passed the test! Meeting all three of his siblings- he clearly trusts you enough to introduce you, and they must like you enough to have responded like that.”

This is my co-star and new friend, Midoriya Izuku.

“Aw, look at you!” Squealing, Ochaco squeezes Izuku’s warm cheeks. “Look at that big ol’ smile! Izuku!”

“I suppose the M.A.S.H. test isn’t so accurate after all,” Iida comments slyly, causing both of them to squawk as he grins in amusement.

“Shoucchan! You’re here! Oh- and you brought your bass!”

Fuyumi rushes to give him a hug, elated to see him. Shouto chuckles as he tentatively gives a one-armed hug back. His sister is the only person to be this closely affectionate with him anymore, and for a moment he wonders- what might it be like to receive a hug like this every day, but from someone special? Someone like-

A sharp cheek squeeze draws him out of his thoughts, with Fuyumi smirking knowingly as she lets go.

“You’re so spacy right now- you’re still thinking of your beau, aren’t you?”

“Beau?” Natsuo’s amused voice comes to the forum, and he ruffles Shouto’s hair. “Yumi-nee, he might be our little old man, but ‘beau’ makes him sound ancient.”

Pushing off Natsuo’s hand, Shouto takes in the savory scent in the air.

“Smells good. What’s for dinner?”

The siblings tended to meet at Fuyumi’s place when all gathering, but he knew how hard she’d been working lately, so Shouto had sent ahead one of his own personal chefs-on-call to cook dinner.

“Seafood ramen for the three of us, and a miso ramen for Touya,” Fuyumi replies, leading them into her sitting room. “Plenty of veggie dumplings as well. Natsuo brought two bottles of that really good plum sake.”

“The expensive one? He must be getting some good work,” Shouto teases, dodging an elbow from an indignant Natsuo.

“All right, watch yourself, starboy,” he growls, only playfully offended. “We aren’t all rolling in the dough.”

“He’s just jealous that he has to work for the evil man to get paid,” another sly voice comments. Shouto turns to see Touya lounging on one of the sitting room chairs; a red chaise lounge that Fuyumi bought specifically for him since it was practically family law that he’d never sit straight in a chair. His eyes are closed, his feet propped up on the head of the chair so that his freshly dyed black hair sprawls around him. Before Shouto can retort (or confirm), Natsuo lifts the guitar off of his shoulders.

“He brought the bass, Touya! Between the sake and the music, you might get some inspiration for your latest poetry tonight!”

Creaking open one eye, the pupil widens as Touya takes in the bass guitar.

“Love making you feel musical? That works for me, I do need some new vibes. Sit here.”

“Shut up,” Blushing, Shouto follows directions, sitting on the pillow on the floor that Touya tosses down.

“Whatever you say, baby brother.” Closing his eye, Touya goes back into his meditative state, and Shouto simply relaxes in the quiet companionship. He holds his relationship with his eldest brother as something precious, always feeling fragile ever since the accident that gave them their life-lasting injuries. It was something that might not have always come to pass- in the beginning, a young Touya was extremely bitter at his youngest sibling for continuing on in the field he loved while he was left behind. More than once, in tantrums he accused the little boy of being ungrateful, selfish, and spoiled. ‘You don’t even love acting like I do’ he’d claim, leaving Shouto confused, alone, and bawling that the brother who once showered him in affection was now pushing him away in a hateful rage.

Someone- some unknown benefactor, a guardian angel, only deemed valid by the One for All Studio letterhead they left behind- managed to reach through to Touya and his caretakers, secretly suggesting long term therapy with a top therapist. By the time the help reached him, Touya was twenty, exhausted of being in pain, of being alone, and he accepted it (it didn’t hurt that it was secret aid from his father’s bitterest business rival). 

The help was lifechanging, and by the time he was twenty-five, both Touya’s mind and body had been rehabilitated to much better place, just in time for Fuyumi to beg him to talk to his estranged youngest- now sixteen, and ready to fall off the deep end. It hadn’t been effective in the beginning- ten years into their estrangement, Shouto didn’t trust anyone, certainly not the eldest brother who he only remembers treating him with stomach churning cruelty. Sharp words and cold dismissal had been his only reaction, (‘why did you even bother to save my life?’) and Touya managed to swallow it all. Seven years later, they were closer and stronger, if in a new way. There’s a sort of camaraderie in shared suffering and new growth - and Shouto honestly feels that that Touya would go to war to protect him, the same way he’d been willing to shield him from the flames so long ago.

It fills Shouto with warmth as he leans back against the lounge, Touya placing a warm hand on top of his head. Fuyumi and Natsuo begin bringing out the food, plopping the dumplings down in front of Shouto for him to try. If there was one thing he could be grateful about, it was that the wild life that came with being a part of the Todoroki dynasty hadn’t been able to tear them apart, despite the numerous hateful attempts. If the ‘family dinners’ at his father’s home were cold, stiff, and a botched attempt at looking put together, the meals the siblings shared were the opposite- warm, relaxed, the lounging around to eat the perfect image of family.

After dinner, they lay around and drink the plum sake, all of them getting pleasantly drunk. Natsuo’s head is bright red, Touya’s foot in the middle of his back as he hangs upside down off of the chaise lounge after having tried to wrestle Touya off of it.

“Why do you do this, Natsu? You know he’s particular about his chair,” Fuyumi complains, fretting over both of them. Scoffing gently, Touya shoos away Fuyumi’s hand.

“I’m not going to crumble, Yumi. Relax.” Grinning wickedly, he yanks on Natsuo’s arm some more, eliciting a pained ‘uncle’. “I don’t care how big he gets with that giant lump’s genes; he can’t just take his big brother’s toys!”

Sighing, Fuyumi goes to sit next to Shouto, squeezing right up next to him on the couch despite the large bass guitar he strummed, sometimes recognizable basslines, others random melodies.

“I missed hearing your music, Shoucchan,” she murmurs, smiling. “But,” she places a hand over the strings, causing him to look up. “I want to know more about your muse, now. Tell me about Midoriya.”

“Oh! Shouto’s crush, with the good taste?” Natsuo scrambles out of Touya’s hold, sprawling on the floor dramatically. “I want to know more too!”

“We don’t have to talk about that,” Shouto tries, but Fuyumi pouts, and Touya smacks his lips.

“Nice try. Tell us.”

After a couple awkward seconds, he groans, bending under the pressure.

“Um. He’s a good actor. It’s like he’s got this power that I’ve never felt before working with anyone else. It’s inspiring to work off of.”

“What else?” Fuyumi prods, eyes sparkling.

“He’s really smart, ambitious, and so, so sweet. He listened to everything I had to say, and I ended up talking to him about things I haven’t told anybody else other than all of you. He actually cared- he could have left me there at that party to rot, but he took me home and took care of me, and then stayed when I asked him to. I just- that meant so much, Yumi-nee. I can trust him.” He leaves out the bit where they sang together, he just knows his siblings will never let it go and it’s too precious for him to reveal right now.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yes,” Shouto murmurs, unaware that he was smiling gently until Fuyumi squeals, and Natsuo and Touya begin to make obnoxious kissing noises.

“So, are you dating him then?” Natsuo eagerly asks. Disappointment rounds the room when Shouto shakes his head. “Why not? He sounds like Prince Charming, and he’s adorable too.”

Shouto doesn’t say anything, trying to figure out how to put it into words. Astute, Touya observes him for a moment before guessing. “You’re scared.”

Relieved that he doesn’t have to say it himself, Shouto nods.

“Every time I see him, he’s glowing. He’s doing so well, his start in this field so much better than any of ours. I want him to keep on that trajectory, and I don’t want to get in his way. I see him, and I think of Mom. I think of how our father ruined her life, his name enough to infect any and everything she would ever do from that point forward. I don’t want that for him.”

Eyes watering, Fuyumi wraps him into a hug. “Oh, Shouto, no. Don’t do that. You’re not him.”

Angry at the thought of Enji, Natsuo brings his knees to his chest, scowling.

“There goes Enji, ruining something else.”

“Natsuo.”

At Fuyumi’s stern glare, he raises his hands.

“I’m just saying, I see where Shou’s coming from. I can see how that would be scary, given how the name ‘Todoroki’ can close as many doors as it opens.”

“Still.” Fuyumi returns to soothing Shouto. “You shouldn’t let Dad’s mistakes stop you from pursuing what makes you happy, and it’s clear that Midoriya makes you happy. I haven’t seen you this genuinely flustered in a long time.”

Eyes quivering, Shouto allows Fuyumi to calm him down.

“I think you should go for it, but at your own pace,” Touya suggests. “This guy, he seems like a good person, for you to say all of that. And you deserve to be with someone good. None of my siblings deserve some slouch that’ll crumble under the bastard’s pressure so easily, and unfortunately, that is what comes with this damned name. I don’t know how, but if it’s meant to be between you two, you’ll make each other stronger. Somebody strong would be good by your side in this line of work.” 

Fuyumi coos as Shouto sniffles. “Aw, Touya! That was so sweet!”

“You talk like you’ve been in love,” Natsuo hints, waggling his eyebrows, and Touya shrugs dismissively.

“Nah. I’m just good at stating facts.”

Smiling softly, Shouto looks from under his eyelashes at all of them. “Thank you, Touya-nii. Thank you, all of you, for being here for me.”

“Aw, we love you too!” Natsuo crows, barreling into Shouto. “Group hug!”

“That’s not nec-”

Fuyumi squishes in, smashing her cheek into Shouto’s. “We used to do this when we were little! Yay!”

Touya lingers awkwardly to the side, grimace matching his youngest sibling’s. Before he can scoot away, Natsuo grabs the cuff of his shirt, yanking him in. After a couple seconds, he sighs in defeat, relaxing into the hug.

By the time early read throughs start for the second season of Heroes Rising, everyone on the set notices the difference in Izuku and Shouto’s relationship. They still address each other professionally, never allowing anything to interfere with their work. However, where there was only a cool politeness before, there is now a warm intimacy. They purposefully seek the other out, sit closely as they work through the script and take notes, take coffee breaks together, even meeting for lunch on occasion. Gossip flies around the set, wondering what could possibly be between them that made Todoroki Shouto- notorious for performing his work and then vanishing from set- suddenly a fixture in the studios.

The actors specifically watch them, delighting in their new relationship. Whenever they enter a room, groups of people will immediately smile at them, inviting them to join their conversations. Usually, this is where Shouto will bow out, going to sit on his own or perhaps take a phone call from his agent. Today, however, when the Ochaco invites them to sit, Izuku gently pulls on Shouto’s sleeve.

“Hear them out, Sh- Todoroki.”

The red-faced slip doesn’t go unnoticed, Ochaco nudging Mina and Tsuyu excitedly. Shouto languidly sits next to Izuku on the couch, the only sign of his discomfort the way his eyes flitter toward the floor. At first, it’s just Kirishima and Bakugou who begin to stand near them, followed by a talkative Sero and Kaminari. Next follows Aoyama (who keeps darting glances his way) and Tokoyami, followed by Hagakure and Ojirou. They flash back up in suspicion when more and more people begin to “subtly” surround them, and he has his hand defensively perched on the couch to stand when Iida approaches and clears his throat.

“Todoroki, we have brought you here to cordially invite you to one of our ‘Class 1-A’ hangouts this weekend.” 

Stumped, Shouto looks through what is now the entirety of the group giving him excited faces (with the exception of Bakugou). He turns to look at Izuku in shock, and Izuku groans as his hands slam into his face.

“I knew you all would find a way to scare him! It was supposed to be no pressure!”

“Is there really pressure?” Mina teasingly tries, and Izuku gawks through his hands.

“You      surrounded us like sharks!”

“We were just excited!” Hagakure squeals, eyes glowing at Shouto.

“It’s just going to be pizza, and then to a cool dance club before rehearsals really kick off!” Kaminari adds, leaning on Bakugou. “If we can get angry boom man here to go, that’s proof we’re fun to be around!”

While Kirishima lightly removes Bakugou’s fist from Kaminari’s collar, Sero rolls his eyes and takes his space.

“It’s like team building. We’d love to have you, man!”

When Shouto gives Izuku another plaintive look, he receives a gentle smile. “It’s something simple, but a way to show off the unity on our team and for us to have fun together.”

It’s hard, at first, to find the idea tempting. Shouto rarely goes out unless it’s for events, knowing that all the lights and cameras will be in his face and preventing him from having any real fun. Still, with acquaintances there, the focus won’t be only on him… and Izuku will be there…

“They’ve wanted you to go for a while, Shouto.” He turns towards Momo’s calm voice, and she smiles while waving her phone. “I’m in the group chat. They’ve discussed it for a while, as well as making sure you felt comfortable. While the implementation was… extra… we have good intentions.”

“Momo…” he murmurs, touched. Finally, he turns to the group, shy. “Um, I’m not sure… Are you sure you really want me there?”

“Of course!” Kirishima calls enthusiastically, holding Bakugou in a firm headlock while Kaminari goofily grins on the floor.

“We wouldn’t ask if we didn’t want you,” Jirou comments bluntly.

“Come on,” Hagakure pleads, sitting on the couch next to him. “You’re so cool! Me and Ojirou owe you one!” Shouto blushes at her wink.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Izuku explains quietly. “But we would love to have you.”

Love to have you. While the onlookers coo at Izuku’s choice of words, Shouto’s brain almost fizzles out.

“Okay,” he mumbles, startling when a cheer goes up around the room, people high fiving and clapping.

“We got him!”

“Welcome to the group!”

“Add him to the group chat, Momo!”

“Got it!”

“How exciting! Todoroki wants to be friends with us!”

“The class is all together now!”

It’s more genuine excitement about his presence than he’s ever experienced before. Normally people wanted to see him as the idol, only cheering for who he appears to be… but this group genuinely seems to want his company. Once more, he turns to Izuku in disbelief, and Izuku gives him a bright, inviting smile. A comforting warmth spreads in his chest, culminating in a small quirk of his lips into a timid smile of his own.

Going to the nightclub results in a social media frenzy, comments and pictures of the well-dressed crew arriving immediately going viral. Of course, Shouto is front and center as the new face in the group; the rest have already been noted in other public outings already, their adventures always top trending. The obsequious club owner meets them at the door, his expression avaricious as he leads them to a more private VIP section upstairs. From this section, they can peer down onto the dancing crowds below as they move ceaselessly to the throbbing bass and the flashing lights. When the DJ excitedly announces that the stars of Heroes Rising are in the building, deafening screams rise from the crowd. Some of their group go to wave; Izuku receiving especially loud applause when he beams at the crowd, trying to yell back compliments to those who offer them. He’s stunning in the spotlight, Shouto thinks, somewhat melancholy.

Once the murmuring of the crowd settles back in the background, Izuku sits down next to Shouto on one of the plush couches.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, calling as quietly as he can given the music.

“I’m okay,” Shouto replies. It’s still a little nerve-wracking, eyes of the other lucky (and wealthy) VIP guests seeming to leer at him from all directions. Frowning, Izuku moves closer, brushing their arms together. His warmth is immediately comforting to Shouto, who subtly leans into the touch.

“If you need to ground yourself, I’m right here,” Izuku kindly offers. “And if it’s too much, we can totally head back out. No worries.”

We. It’s generous of him, and Shouto knows this. But he also remembers the look of utter happiness and completeness in Izuku’s eyes as he greeted the crowd- he loves this energy, loves to be among his friends, to reap the rewards      of all of his long, hard work. Shouto wants this for him; to feel the adoration, to feel surrounded in a space that he loves- he doesn’t want to take that from him by being a buzzkill.

The silence between them stretches a little too awkwardly, and Izuku goes to speak when the  changes. The poignant snaps in the beginning beats have Izuku ecstatic, and he jumps up, holding out his hand.

“I love this song!” It’s only after Shouto looks at his hand in confusion that Izuku sheepishly pulls it away. “Sorry, I got excited. I’ll be on the dance floor, if- if you’d-”

He’s stammering, face flushed, and Shouto can’t help a soft laugh in response. He takes a deep breath and stands, walking to the floor. Izuku follows, face split in a happy grin, and Shouto immediately knows he’s made the right choice. The amount of swaying bodies is enough to force them closer together, only a hand’s reach away. Between the couple of drinks beforehand, flashing lights and pulsing music, Shouto relaxes as he begins to dance, a simple two step and smooth swing of the hips. The chorus drops, and Izuku closes his eyes and loudly sings, only familiar with some of the Korean that the boy band croons.

As GOT7 tempts with calls for him to ‘come on’, someone bumps into Izuku, hurtling him into his embrace. Before things become awkward, Shouto decides to play it off the same way he did when they sang in the pool. He grips Izuku’s hands and swings      their arms to the beat. He closes his own eyes, falling into the spell of the song, and plays it casual despite how Izuku’s eyes had widened, his lips falling open. When he opens them once more, he sees Izuku bashfully smiling at the floor. The song ends, transitioning into ‘Blinding Lights’, but they remain still, tightly holding each other’s hands.

“Izuku.”

He can see the telltale signs of Izuku’s muttering, an adorable trait he shared with his character, but it seems confusing to do something like that in this moment…

“Izuku.”

Snapping out of whatever trance he was in, Izuku’s head jolts up, and he yanks his hands away from Shouto’s.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was thinking, and-”

“Are you okay?” It isn’t until their hands are apart that Shouto realizes just how well they fit, but he squashes the discontent he feels at their separation.

“I’m fine, I really am, just, reeling a little, that’s all. A little starstruck, and-” he continues to mutter unintelligibly. Finally, he offers a shallow bow, saying something about a bathroom, before rushing away. Bemused, Shouto returns to the small couches where Momo and Jirou are now cozied up next to each other. He thinks that this means they won’t pay him any mind, but the moment he sits, their eyes flash to him knowingly. Jirou grins, pulling out her phone and quickly typing something in while Momo leans forward.

“Shouto, Kyouka and I are both fluent in Korean- isn’t that interesting?”

“Um…sure.” He’s not sure what this has to do with him.

“Well,” Jirou explains, grinning evilly. “I just thought it was interesting that Midoriya wanted to dance to that song, given the lyrics.” She holds over her phone and Shouto reads it, blushing as he goes through them. He shoves the phone back at Jirou, folding his arms.

“It’s just a song that he likes,” he grumbles, trying to force down the hope and sheer happiness at the idea that Izuku would feel this way about him specifically.

Jirou rolls her eyes, accepting the fond head pats that Momo gives her.

“He’s hopeless, Momo.”

“I know, dear.”

Shouto scowls. “I’m right here!”

Momo nods, leaning over to pat him on the head. “I know, dear.”

Still red, he storms away from the couches, leaving behind a wickedly cackling Jirou.

The ice seems to break completely after their dance at the nightclub- late night rehearsals, movie nights, game nights, dinners- Shouto attends all of them over the course of filming. While he is happy to build friendships and camaraderie with his costars, he would be lying if he said he didn’t ardently yearn for a moment of intimacy with Izuku on that level as that dance. He makes it a point to squeeze next to Izuku’s side at every outing, to the point that no one bothers to stand at Izuku’s left side when Shouto is in the building. Sweetly, Izuku always entertains him, offering him a comforting touch or a topic of discussion, and it’s addicting. 

One morning, Shouto stands at the coffee machine on his own. Izuku had a re-fitting after he tore the back of one of his suits (and wasn’t that a sight for a thirsty Shouto).

“You’re pouting, Todoroki. Do you miss Midoriya?”

The apples of his cheeks redden, but he keeps his chin high as he turns toward Tsuyu’s lightly asked question.

“I’m fine, Tsuyu.”

“Hm,” she responds, nodding into her tea. The silence is suspicious, and Shouto narrows his eyes as Tsuyu pointedly does not look at him. He quickly finishes his lukewarm cup of coffee, and is ready to leave when she asks, “So are you ever going to ask him out officially?”

At that moment Sero happens to be walking past, but makes an exaggerated U-turn into the break room, kicking the door shut and plopping himself at the small table. Shouto had built a strong enough relationship with Sero for them to play basketball at the gym, and for one-on-one video games. He was not close enough to be this excited about Shouto’s personal emotions.

“Be professional, both of you,” he replies, pointedly glaring at a grinning Sero.

“Is all of our hard work finally coming together?” Sero replies, undeterred by the intimidation. “Oh, cool it, Todoroki. I beat your ass on the court the other day, we’re practically best friends now.”

The humiliation was not something Shouto wanted to discuss; it wasn’t his fault that Sero was unusually light on his feet. “No.”

Tsuyu tries to stifle her giggles, giving Shouto a pitying look. Sero barrels on, unconcerned.

“If you really want to get him, he’s really, really into the All Might movies.”

“I know that.” Shouto rolls his eyes, practically scoffing. As if he wouldn’t know Izuku’s favorite movies.

“Maybe take him those as a gift?” Tsuyu suggests. “Have a movie night, with All Might movies?”

Shouto remains tight-lipped; he can’t say ‘we’ve already done that’ without digging an even deeper hole with the two. 

“They’ve already done it, I bet,” Sero astutely comments, and Shouto sighs angrily as Tsuyu laughs in earnest. “Let me text Ochaco, I bet-”

“Leave it alone!”

Sero lifts his hands in surrender, but the cheeky grin is still on his face. Composing herself, Tsuyu clears her throat.

“Leave it be, Sero. I bet Todoroki will ask when it’s time.”

“We’re just friends.” It frustrates Shouto that the phrase doesn’t feel like enough. They’re just friends. It’s okay that they’re friends; in fact, Izuku is the closest friend he’s ever had. He values their relationship just as it is and wouldn’t want to risk it by forcing his messy feelings into things. Besides, Touya had told him to take things at his own pace- there was no rush, nothing pushing him to make things more serious right now.

A month and a half into filming, an impetus Shouto never saw coming arrives in the form of a new costar. As they all meet in the small auditorium, Director Fatgum walks out the new person who calmly returns all of the curious looks he receives. It’s especially suspicious when Izuku gasps with delight, smiling widely.

“Good morning team! I wanted to officially introduce- or re-introduce, in Midoriya’s case- you to Shinsou Hitoshi. While he originally starred in a guest role during season one, it was recorded without all of you present, so you didn’t get the chance to properly meet him. However, as a series favorite, he now has a recurring role as ‘The Operator’ in Class 1-A. Remember the mystery character in your scripts? Here he is! Welcome him into your fold!”

An unfamiliar, sickening feeling crawls up Shouto’s chest when Izuku jumps up from his chair to greet the other man. It suffocates him when Shinsou returns his smile with an affectionate eye roll, squeezing tight when he ruffles Izuku’s hair.

“Shouto, you’re scowling,” Momo quietly warns him, giving him a pointed smile before walking down to join the rest of their team greeting Shinsou.

Right. There’s no reason to feel this way. Izuku is kind to all of his friends.

Izuku has plenty of friends and considering his own behavior during that filming first season, it’s not like he has any right to be upset that there’s someone in Izuku’s life during that time that he didn’t know about. The rest of the group has dispersed by the time he approaches, making sure he is perfectly composed when he greets Shinsou.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he offers coolly.

Shinsou offers a short bow back, returning the energy. “So I’m aware.” It seems to be enough of an interaction for him because he immediately turns to Izuku and continues their conversation. They both walk away as Izuku tells him about the past year experience.

Shinsou walks to his left.

Shinsou is standing in his spot.

His emotions broil under the surface, tempestuous and hard to control.

“You look a little green, IcyHot.”

Shouto cuts his eyes at Bakugou, who’s giving him an evil, knowing grin.

“Kirishima and Kaminari just stuck a fork in a socket,” he hisses, watching as Bakugou twitches toward the red-head and scowls when he realizes he’s been played. Shouto walks away, refusing to acknowledge any further conversation.

As he leaves the auditorium, he narrows his eyes- Izuku is still excitedly speaking to Shinsou, who occasionally asks a question to keep the conversation going.

Jealousy.

As much as he hates to admit Bakugou was right, it’s the truth- jealousy sears through his veins as hot as his character’s quirk. In a moment of vindictiveness, he wants nothing more than to walk right up to them, pull Izuku away, and prove to Shinsou just who Izuku belongs to. The possessive kiss would be deeper and hotter than anything he’s ever done on screen, making sure to work his tongue just right so that Izuku wouldn’t be able to help his resulting moans, and Shouto would watch spitefully as Shinsou realized-

Wait-

What the fuck?

Where did that come from?!

The rush of emotions is entirely too much for him to handle, made even worse when Izuku finally turns and sees him awkwardly staring. He rushes out of the doors, ignoring the sound of his name called from inside.

For weeks after, Shouto pointedly shoves down whatever emotions he held on to that day- they were entirely too dangerous to approach. Every day is a constant battle, seeing as wherever Izuku is, Shinsou is never far behind. Outside of their performances, and other professional interactions, Shouto doesn’t bother to exchange pleasantries with Shinsou, to Izuku’s confused dismay.

Things come to a head one day when the guys make a trip to the studio gym and walk in on the girls working on a dance routine on one of the indoor courts. Water bottles, towels and mats lay all around the space, and pop blasts over the speakers.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asks Ochaco, who makes her way over to talk.

“Coach Rumi told us that dance is an excellent form of working out,” she explains, “and put Mina in charge of our team dance workouts while she’s out of town filming for the next two weeks.”

“Why’d she only tell you all,” Kirishima asks, pouting. Mina struts up, poking him in the nose.

“We went to her as a group, mainly because I wanted her autograph on my national’s trophy and take a picture,” she explains, glowing. “Coach and I graduated from the same college, and we were both captains of the dance team. When she was going to school, she took the team to an international dance competition and won. I could never. I can die happy now that she’s signed my lowly trophy.”

“It’s not lowly!” Izuku cries, but Mina only gives him a teasing shrug. “I’m excited to train with you! Dance is a really great workout!”

“You would be learning from a master,” she concedes, smiling.

“Can you even dance, nerd?” Bakugou demands, looking Izuku up and down. Izuku actually does have dance experience with musicals and can learn a routine very quickly, but the tone leaves him a little hurt, and Ochaco pats his arm.

“Don’t worry. We can catch you up,” she replies softly, pinching Bakugou so sharply he jumps away.

“You can do it, man! I can help you out,” Kirishima offers, nudging Izuku’s side. “We can both learn, and you can too, Katsuki!”

“I’m not doing shit!” Bakugou growls, turning away.

Before anyone can convince him, Kaminari sidles up slyly. “I got this, everyone.” His voice becomes nonchalant. “Oh? Shame. I was going to ask if you were interested in a dance battle to spice things up, but if you’re scared-”

Bakugou swivels around, emitting a competitive aura as he arrogantly glares.  

“A battle?” he challenges. “Scared? You think I’d lose?”

“Only one way to find out,” Shinsou comments, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Fine!” He turns to Mina, who isn’t bothering to hold back a triumphant smile at his invigorated energy. “I’ll kick everyone’s ass here!”

“Riiiiight. So!” Mina turns to their group. “Who’s interested in the battle? I can make sure everyone who isn’t interested learns some basic routines for exercise, but for everyone that is, we need to decide teams!”

After a few minutes, it is determined that the non-participants are Sero, Ojirou, Kouda, Satou, Shinsou, Jirou, and Tokoyami. The judges will be Iida, Aoyama, and Momo. Mina claps her hands together, turning to the remaining people who decided to participate. The only reason Shouto is a part of this group is because Izuku was ardent about joining, and Shinsou was ardent about not joining. 

“Okay!” Mina calls, clapping her hands together. “Team captains- flip a coin, ladies?” The leaders are decided- Mina and Hagakure, versus Ochaco and Tsuyu.

“Question- can we run Fergalicious?” Ochaco asks. “It’s one we already know, since you taught it to us at our last ladies’ night, and that leaves us more time to teach to our teammates. Come on, be fair!” She whines the last part into Mina’s arm, tugging on it until Mina concedes.

“Fine, fine. I can think of something on the fly, we’ve got two weeks.”

“You are sure it won’t be too much work?” Izuku asks, concerned. Mina nods, offering him a thumbs up.

“I balanced college life, drill team and dance team. I got this. Teams now!”

Ochaco’s team ends up being herself, Tsuyu, Izuku, Kirishima, and Shouji. Shouji performing is a surprise at first, until the usually quiet man reveals that he is a practiced dancer as well. Mina confirms this, mentioning that they’ve been in competitions before. Mina’s team is herself, Hagakure, Bakugou, Kaminari and Shouto. Shouto is ready to quit when he learns he’s not going to be on Izuku’s team, but then Izuku scoots up next to him with a determined look.

“Do your best, Shouto! I look forward to competing with you!”

It’s so cute, and Shouto can’t bring himself to disappoint him, instead just sighing and accepting his new fate. Meanwhile, Mina turns to Ochaco, hands on her hips.

“You’ve got a head start, but I’ve got an All-Star team. I love you, but it’s already over, Queens- you’re finished!”

Mina’s early boasting is well founded when Shouto watches her turn into a drill sergeant overnight. It only takes her one night to come up with a routine to London Bridge, sticking to the Fergie theme, and when she comes in the next night, half of their practice is spent stretching and running laps before she shows them the dance. It’s fierce, aggressive, and suggestive, full of body rolls, hip wiggling, claws, and sex appeal. She and Hagakure certainly make it look much easier than it turns out to be.

“You think you can do it in some low heels? That would really make this pop,” she asks them suddenly, two days in. Shouto and Kaminari immediately shake their heads no, but Bakugou immediately hops on the challenge. After that, at least one run-through per night was run in one-inch heels, and Shouto wants to cry almost every night when he slides the shoes off. The workouts are hard, but Mina is an excellent coach, and after a week their routine is fluid.

Two nights before competition time, the boys sweat miserably as they hold themselves off of the ground with one hand for a minute at a time. It’s practice for the breakdown of the song, and the motion will only work if they are strong enough to do it. Hagakure and Mina usually duckwalk for a minute in turn, but at the moment Mina is reviewing their form.

“Come on, guys! I want ‘everyone at the grocery store wants to fuck me’ energy! T- Todoroki don’t you give me that look, I don’t wanna hear it!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Mina,” Shouto whispers, voice hoarse as they enter the sixth of ten one armed holds.

“I’m pretty sure the quote is-”

“Hey Kaminari, I see you have energy! Do you want to do five more?”

Kaminari squeaks out a fervent no, shutting his lips.

“That’s what I thought. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but see how Bakugou does it? Perfect form.”

That doesn’t inspire me at all, Shouto thinks, rolling his eyes. Noticing this, Mina sits in front of him with a thoughtful face.

“Todoroki, I promise you- you do this move right, and look straight into his eyes, Midoriya won’t be able to look anywhere else.”

Bakugou groans in disgust to his side, and Mina moves on to whisper something in Kaminari’s ear. The advice is enough to spur Shouto into a second wind, finishing the holds.

Finally, after two weeks, everyone gathers in the shared gym to perform. Shouto would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was feeling much healthier, his body more toned than it was prior to Mina’s training. Ochaco’s team looks as if they too have been working hard, and Izuku is jumping back and forth with boundless energy.

“A competition, I see?” a loud, booming voice comes from the door, and they gasp as they turn to see Usagiyama Rumi standing proudly in the doorframe. Despite her short stature, she seems to take up the entire space as she struts in, her white lace front flowing dramatically as she plops onto the bleachers. “Excellent! I love the energy! Let’s see what you’ve got! Mina, I hope you taught them well.”

Mina’s eyes sparkle at her idol. “I hope you think so, Coach!” A coin flip determines that Ochaco’s team is going first, and they all run out to their positions in the middle of the floor as Jirou prepares the music. They excitedly move into position, and when the beat begins, they sway their hips in tandem.

It’s a very fluid routine, the dancers smoothly moving amongst each other so that no one person is ever more visible than anyone else for too long. The entire routine is highly aerobic and kinesthetic, making up for the fact that the majority of the dancers are amateurs (Shouji is by far the ideal performance). Constantly maintaining a four-count beat by bouncing on their toes, they all watch in awe at all the rolled hips, waist twitches, arm, and foot work; it’s truly a stunning performance of body control from head to toe.

Mina seems very proud of her routine design, whispering every now and then to Hagakure about how the dance was meant to be a full body workout. Shouto flushes when the dancers drop into a low pop, utilizing their quads, hamstrings, core, and butts to essentially hop in place while popping. It’s impressive, it makes his own legs hurt just to watch, and Izuku is very good at it (he is trying to look respectfully, and he is failing).

Due to the complexity of the routine, they only perform half of the song, but everyone fervently applauds and congratulates them, nonetheless. All of the dancers are dripping with sweat and laughing with delight, bowing their thanks. The judges are quickly taking notes, discussing quietly during the break while the floor is wiped up. Izuku looks up at Shouto, giving him a bright smile, and Shouto can’t help but give a small one back.

Then he turns and slaps hands with Shinsou, and Shouto sees a violent green. He slips on the heels, leading the charge out onto the floor.

“Ooh, heels? This is going to be good,” Usagiyama murmurs, nodding in appreciation. Shouto hardly hears this, deep in thought.

Just from watching, it’s clear that Mina’s Fergalicious routine far surpasses London Bridge in physicality. Therefore, it’s clear that their performance is going to have to make up for that in raw energy and confidence. Just for added effect, he takes on his glamour as Todoroki Shouto, the energy around him changing dramatically as everyone seems to lean in automatically. He’s practiced this for years, this ability to ‘turn the superstar on’, and right now it feels so good.

Mina nudges Shouto out of his reverie, mischievously looking him up and down.

“Did you purposely wear the tight, dark blue boob-window shirt today?” she teases. “I know your boy over there purposely wore his crop top.” She nods her head toward Bakugou, who grins wickedly in his red top.

Shouto hadn’t, but if it contributed to the performance, so be it. He’s feeling competitive today.

Jirou turns on the song, and the loud “oh shit” echoes across the gym. Bright smiles and laughter light up the audience, and Sero and Usagiyama enthusiastically join in with the chorus, bouncing to the beat. They take the buildup to sway, waiting for the beat to drop.

Suddenly, it’s all just too easy. 

The team sashay into the catwalk in an M formation, fiercely and sinuously working in every motion. Mina had always intended for the performance to be suggestive, and Shouto makes it a point to move his body as seductively as he can. It’s almost unfair, really- he’s had this sort of training before, during his ‘music idol’ phase. How to entice and tantalize a viewer, how to dart one’s eyes back and forth demurely yet alluringly, how to lean in and move his arm across Mina when they share a short duet just enough to inspire desire in the viewer at what might be happening behind the scenes.

(Absolutely nothing, besides Mina’s firm encouragement and consent.)

As it turned out, Mina’s prediction about an ‘All Star’ team had been correct. Even Kaminari danced lithely and seemingly effortlessly, an easy, distinctive confidence about every single one of them forcing everyone watching to realize that they were untouchable. Perhaps there were secret motivations behind everyone’s performance; if they were anything like Shouto’s, they were going to achieve them.

The buildup to the vocalized breakdown begins, and just before, Mina and Hagakure slip into slow hip rolls while Bakugou, Kaminari and Shouto drop into one armed slow grinds onto the floor, slamming a hand to the ground to emphasize the beat drop. They all make sure to exaggerate the ‘lalala’, with even this having a sort of destructive power. Everyone in the room begins to scream at this point, going absolutely wild at what they’re witnessing. However, Shouto couldn’t care less- as he falls to the ground, he locks eyes directly with Izuku. He watches with a searing satisfaction as a slow, delectable deep red blush spreads over the other man’s face, his pupils dilating and his breath visibly catching. With a grin, Shouto jumps out of the formation and back to the routine- untouchable once more. His job is complete.

The screaming continues well after the song ends, Sero jumping up to Shouto and Kaminari into a celebratory hug. Ochaco and Tsuyu squeal over the routine with Mina and Hagakure, Mina preening in the praise for yet another stellar routine. It only quiets down when Iida clears his throat, and they all turn to him in anticipation for the winner.

“Both teams performed extremely well! However, as it surprisingly turns out,” he says sheepishly, “we seem to have a tie. Therefore, we were hoping to defer to Coach Usagiyama’s opinion.”

Usagiyama grins, openly pleased with the honor. She debates it for a few moments, lavishing in the nervous energy.

“Well, in terms of routine design and effort, we all saw that Ochaco’s team had in hand. However, when I look at overall performance and confidence, Mina’s team sold it from the drop. I’m going to have to give it to crowd energy,” she says, winking wickedly at Izuku, “and therefore, Mina’s team has it!”

Mina crows in delight, tossing her arms up and falling backwards into Shouji and Kouda’s surprised arms. Everyone is a good sport about it, even Bakugou who “of course was never going to lose”. Shouto looks around, and when he finally makes eye contact with Izuku, Izuku flushes. Before he can approach, Izuku turns away and taps Shinsou’s arm, whispering something quickly before fleeing from the room.

When nearby people turn in concern, Shinsou shrugs. “He forgot that he needed to call home today. We ran over time. No worries.”

Shouto didn’t know anything about a call. Why didn’t he know? Why did Izuku tell Shinsou instead of him, why couldn’t they see each other afterwards, is he even ready to acknowledge his feelings?! Thoughts flash through his mind like a windstorm, and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, but he feels himself sizzling in jealousy and disappointment.

Those eyes.

Those damned, bewitching, summer storm eyes.

Izuku leans against his bathroom wall, gasping almost painfully as he takes himself in hand and begins to squeeze.

It’s all just so confusing! For the past few weeks, his relationship with Shouto has been like walking on eggshells. Though he has never verbally confessed to an issue, ever cordial and even sweet on occasion, Izuku can tell a façade when he sees one. It’s disappointing- no, terrifying. Shouto has been the topic of at least half of the conversations he’s had with Shinsou, talking about how much better their relationship has been since season 1 filming, but… has he been imagining things? Did he do something wrong? Was he too obvious? What happened?!

One particular flick of his wrist makes his hips jerk forward with pleasure, and Izuku jolts out of his reverie, eyes tearful. Today- today almost drew him over the edge. The way Shouto had looked at him, saw through him, dropping into a sensual grind on the floor, and Izuku swears he almost came right there.

It’s a look that he wants to see for himself, wants to keep for only himself.

He’s been trying his best to keep his romantic feelings to himself, to continue to be good friends. But its so hard. When they danced at the nightclub, the intimate moment became what he hoped to dream of every single night. Every time they’ve touched, every time Shouto has leaned on him, trusted him, confided in him, Izuku has shamefully felt more for those things, for Shouto, than he was supposed to.

And now, as he strokes himself, he imagines rolling his hips to thrust his dick inside of a warm, welcoming mouth, tongue sloppily flicking ‘lalala’ as its owner stared up at him lasciviously. He’ll have to take London Bridge off of his lifting playlist- he can’t pop a boner every time he’s in the gym. With that, he lets himself drown in the fantasy, pushing the doubtful thoughts away. He imagines himself leaning against the wall, slowly pushing inside, and watching himself vanish inside soft lips that gladly make space for only him. He’s back inside the nightclub bathroom, where in this fantasy, instead of forcing his emotions to cool down, he’d locked the door shut and gleefully allowed Shouto to continue taking him apart with dexterous fingers and now, a heated look that he doesn’t even have to make up.

Moaning a garbled version of his crush’s name through his fingers, Izuku shudders as he climaxes. His legs, already weakened from the dance routine, give out from underneath him and he slides onto the floor. He grabs one of the towels from the rack and thoroughly wipes his hand off, before slamming both hands into his face and sliding them down desperately.

What is he going to do?

After a week of Izuku avoiding him altogether, Shouto finally snaps when he sees Shinsou chatting it up with Izuku at this party the studio has demanded they all go to. Glaring, he storms up to both of them. Izuku, noticing his approach, chokes on whatever he’s saying, but to his surprise, it’s Shinsou that Shouto sizes up.

“We need to talk,” he states. His fury only grows when Shinsou remains unfazed, raising an eyebrow in challenge before shrugging.

“Hold my drink, Midoriya,” he requests, slipping his whiskey glass into Izuku’s shaking hand.

“Wait- I think- Shouto-”

He quails in fear when Shouto cuts him a dark glance before turning away, leading Shinsou to a quieter, back area where no one can bother them. He decides to get right to the point.

“What are your intentions with Iz- Midoriya?”

“Excuse me?”

Scowling more deeply, Shouto folds his arms. “What are your intentions? You’ve been clinging to him ever since you joined the main cast.”

Shinsou sneers at ‘main cast’. “Oh, the famed Todoroki arrogance. We’re just friends.”

The comment on his family leaves Shouto shivering with distaste, but the reply is enough to stop him from violence. “Friends? That’s it?”

His question is so violently earnest, and Shinsou makes a strange chortling noise, torn between shock, humor and scorn. He shakes his head, folding his arms in turn.

“Wow, you wanna fuck him so bad you look stupid.”

Whatever reply Shouto had been expecting, it wasn’t this, and he chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“First of all,” Shinsou continues, unbothered. “Unless his name is Kaminari Denki, I think you’ve got my intentions confused. And if you weren’t being a jealous asshole and hurting Midoriya’s feelings, you’d see that, because the only reason you’ve noticed me ‘clinging’ to Midoriya is because you’ve been hovering around Midoriya. Literally the entire time, until this past week.”

It…makes sense. Shouto hates how much it makes sense. Shinsou is ruthless, grinning triumphantly as he watches Shouto pale.

“Now, I’m going to let this little situation go because I know what it’s like to like someone, and I can see that you were going to ‘heroically’ sacrifice your feelings for him. But just know, I’m not going to stop being his friend just because you, oh ‘Todoroki Shouto who is used to getting everything who wants’, decided that you want him.”

This second remark digs at him a little deeper- Shinsou doesn’t know him like that- and a small threatening noise from Shouto lets him know that he’s gone a little too far.

“Watch it,” Shouto warns. 

Though he capitulates, raising his hands, Shinsou’s tone still manages to blow him off.

“Ooh, feisty. Finally, something other than that ice queen persona you put on all last season. Look- while the turns have tabled, and I have your attention- take care of him. Midoriya cares a lot about you, and he’s been really upset that you haven’t been talking to him. Crazy to find out it’s over some silly, misplaced jealousy. Don’t hurt his feelings anymore, or we’ll be talking again. Good talk? Good talk.”

Shouto is so stunned that he doesn’t react when Shinsou pats his shoulder and walks back into the party. Hearing that Izuku was upset, that he hasn’t been able to hide how he was feeling at all… it’s almost so embarrassing that it’s funny. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing up the style as he realizes how foolish he’s been the entire time. With a sigh, he goes to open the door, and jumps when a red-faced Izuku stands behind it.

Upon re-entering the club, Shinsou had given Izuku a smug look and mouthed four words:

Go get your man.

Izuku’s first reaction had been to flush with pleasure- Shouto? Being ‘his man’? His insides were churning for sure. His next reaction was to choke with horror- just what mischievous shit had Shinsou done? Because in the time he’s gotten to know his now-close friend, Izuku knows that Shinsou is shameless when it comes to telling people how he feels, and who knows what he just said to his recently revealed crush.

Panicking, he rushes to the back door, fumbling in place when it opens and a stunned Shouto stands there.

“Izuku?”

“Shouto! Hey, hi! Um, is everything okay?” He’s mortified, it’s in the squeak of his voice. Please tell me Toshi kept his mouth shut, I’m not ready-

“It- I-” Frustrated, Shouto tosses the door open wide so that Izuku can walk out and sweeps back out into the alleyway. “Is everything okay with you?”

Izuku gapes, blushing while gathering his thoughts. Maybe, because I don’t know what Toshi said to you yet? Maybe not, because you seem upset. Should I really tell you how I feel? Should I-

“Izuku.” He focuses on the intensity of Shouto’s voice. Shouto’s expression is penitent, the way he looks up from underneath his lashes kind of hot if it weren’t so sad. “Be honest. Have I- I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

Oh. That’s what this is about. “Well, Shouto… I…yes. Did I do something wrong? You- you haven’t treated me like… like this since the beginning.” Izuku brings a hand to his arm, shielding himself. “All distant and quiet. I- I thought we were doing better, Shou.”

He hates how pathetic his voice sounds. It’s especially difficult because Izuku hears the hitch in Shouto’s breathing, the way he flinches by the end. It’s clear that Izuku’s pain hurts him as well.

“Shouto… what’s up?”

It takes a couple moments of Shouto fighting with himself. He opens and closes his mouth, swings his arms, scowling furiously at whatever he can’t seem to say.

“This is going to sound stupid. No, don’t disagree with me! It’s stupid, but I need to say it. I-” Shouto bites his lip, squeezing his eyes close. “We’re friends. You’re my friend. You’re my friend! And it was like… it was like Shinsou showed up and you were suddenly just so caught up with him and I didn’t like that. It’s so fucking stupid!”

Oh.

“Shou…”

“And the worst part is, I didn’t know how to convey it because I didn’t want to come off pushy or obsessive. Like, how pathetic is that- I’m so used to being alone that I get one real friend and suddenly I can’t stand it when they have other friends? It’s sick. I felt sick. Instead, I just ended up hurting your feelings, and I’m sorry, Izuku. I understand if you don’t want to be around me anymore-”

The warmth that spreads through Izuku might possibly be the most pleasurable emotion he’s ever experienced, muting out the rest of Shouto’s apology. Sure, Shouto only feels this way as a friend, except for the fact that if Izuku gets a little delusional, he can hear this as a declaration of love. What he wouldn’t give for this to be a declaration of love…

“You’re giving me a weird look. It’s my fault. This is stupid and childish, and I’m just gonna go-”

Go?! Izuku kicks back into gear, grabbing Shouto’s arm as he flees for the door.

“You’re so adorable.”

Where that came from, neither of them knows, but both of them start in surprise. Ears flushing, Shouto turns away.

“What?”

“What I mean is,” Izuku hastily continues, “how you’re feeling isn’t stupid or childish. I’m sorry that you were feeling insecure around me. Yes, I can have more than one friend, but that doesn’t mean that you mean any less to me, okay? From now on, if you’re feeling that way, please tell me. I hate that we spent so much time apart because of a misunderstanding. So, you’re forgiven, and everything is okay. Okay?”

Shouto’s wobbling bottom lip might be the end of him. It’s so precious that Izuku honestly might die, even more so when Shouto vacillates between holding his arms out in an attempt at a hug and clenching his fists. Sparing him, Izuku rushes in, and in return Shouto relaxes into his warm embrace, laying his face in the crook of his neck.

“You’re still my favorite, you know,” Izuku whispers. “So, be nice to Toshi, okay?”

“…who the hell is ‘Toshi’?” He feels Shouto’s petulant pout, and they both start laughing softly. God, Izuku doesn’t want to let go, but he can feel that this hug is drawing long past ‘we’re friends making up’ and quickly making its way into fervent ‘I need you’ territory. I do need him, he thinks to himself, but he pulls away and grins widely.

“You ready to go back in?” Izuku offers. Smooth as silk, Shouto moves around him and opens the door, gesturing inside.

“After you,” he says, smile soft and genuine, and it takes everything in Izuku not to whimper. Friends, friends, friends, he repeats like a mantra. They make their way back into the flashing lights and booming music, and immediately it’s like their friends scope in on how close they are. Ochaco begins batting her eyes, Mina does a teasing shimmy, and Shinsou directs a thumbs up to Shouto. Shouto flips him off in return, before tapping Izuku’s elbow and grinning.

Izuku’s heart can’t take anymore, but damn if this is the way he goes…

Out of the whirlwind of things that have happened ever since he joined the cast of Heroes Rising, this searing, almost agonizing sexual tension was not the thing that Izuku thought affect his work like this. It was one thing for him to get a hard on at a game night, which he’s now become the master of hiding (except from Shinsou, that all-knowing, attentive bastard!) But it’s a completely different issue to forget lines or completely stop listening altogether.

It comes to a head one day at fight practice. Bakugou never pulls his punches when they record fight scenes, and Izuku has always taken him up on his challenges. Despite the losses his character faces, there has been many a day that he’s swept his coworker onto his ass with a couple bruises on his own. Normally this is exciting, a moment to compete with someone who doesn’t hold any sorts of qualms about properly challenging him (even if they aren’t supposed to go so hard). Bonding with Bakugou, even, in a weird way.

However, all he can think about today is how he spent last night at Shouto’s, and how he’d yearned while they’d slept in the same bed. About how soft Shouto’s face was as he’d listened to Izuku’s stories, about how gentle and vulnerable he looked when he fell asleep. He also kept thinking about how close they were, almost touching, and how he kept praying that Shouto would not look down under the sheet or get any closer because if he did, he would notice that Izuku was almost freakishly swollen. It wasn’t his proudest moment, jerking off silently in the guest bathroom.

He turns to the crowd that standing there- Ochaco, Kirishima, Kaminari, Momo, and Shouto. Shouto gives him a small, encouraging smile, that slowly morphs into a look of horror.

Izuku’s confusion at his expression is quickly vanquished when he feels the rock-hard fist landing square in between his eye and nose, blood spurting across the lifted mat as he slams into the ground.

“Oh, shit! Midoriya!”

“Fucking hell, Katsuki!”

“Bakugou!”

Izuku’s head swims, his vision near black as he tries to focus on literally anything around him. Urgent hands lift his head off of the ground, and ice on his swollen eye eliciting a hiss.

“Midoriya, Midoriya are you okay? Can you hear me? Don’t go to sleep, we’re getting you some help, okay?”

Ochaco? Is what he thinks he’s saying, but instead all that comes out is a pained gurgle.

The on-set nurse appears in his skewed vision, gently prodding. After asking Izuku a couple questions, some of which he answers, some not so much, she concludes. “Luckily nothing seems to be broken, but he has a mild concussion, some harsh bruising, and he’s going to have one hell of a shiner for a few days.”

There seems to be a scuffle going on in the background.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Todoroki, Todoroki calm down bro-”

“I thought the nerd would block like he was supposed to! Who the fuck are you coming at?”

“You! The asshole with no body control!”

“Oh? You wanna test that?!”

“Come on guys, there’s no need to- Kaminari, help me separate them! Katsuki, stop antagonizing him!”

“You just passed that test with flying fucking colors, you-”

“Todo-bro, let go of his shirt, it was just an accident-”

“Shouto! Stop it!” Momo commands, standing. “Midoriya needs help getting back to his hotel room. Can you get him there?”

A few moments pass, and then Izuku feels himself being lifted onto a firm back and shoulders, hands tightly protective around his legs.

“Hold on tight, Zu,” Shouto murmurs. “I’ll get you home.”

If Izuku had been in his right mind he would have noticed that getting to Shouto’s car required him walking far across the property; a walk that Shouto was determined to make as quickly as possible without jostling Izuku at all.

“Huuhhhhhh,” is all a limp Izuku can groan as he feels himself placed onto a reclined car seat.

“I need you to hold this ice pack on your eye, Zu. Can you do that?”

“Huuh.”

“She said your concussion was mild, but now I’m concerned. Here. Hold. Like this. I’ll tell you when to take it off.”

He might have fallen asleep, or simply just lost account of time, but suddenly Shouto is telling him to take off the ice pack, and they’re getting out of the car.

“This… not the hotel…”

“I know. I brought you back here because I’m worried you might get worse.”

“Mkay.” The swelling in his eye is starting to pang with every heartbeat.

“Okay, stay here, I’m going to get you a wet towel and some new ice. Please don’t move.”

From the little bit he can see, he recognizes a little bit of where Shouto has sat him down, and now flashes of what he was imagining in this bathroom just the night before are appearing in his mind. On the bright side, he’s so dizzy and can hardly see or think straight, so he’s just going to blame it on the situation. It hurts to think so much anyway, so Izuku simply decides to not, and closes his eyes.

(It’s too bad, in his moment to let it all go, that he forgets he’s in gym shorts.)

“Izuku I’m back-” Shouto chokes off, and concerned, Izuku turns. A wet cloth is quickly and firmly placed over his eyes, the bite of the cold on his eye making him whimper.

“Shou? You okay?” he whines, reaching out a blind hand. A warm hand grasps his, squeezing almost desperately.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” Shouto’s voice is a little strained. Was it roughened from his argument earlier? “How are you feeling, Izuku?”

“Mhm…dizzy. Tired. You sound stressed, Shouto. Am I making you sad?”

“No! No, no… no. I’m fine!”

“Mmm…mkay.” A random thought crosses his mind. “Is Kacchan okay?”

“Fuck Kac-” A deep breath. “He hit you. You are the injured party.”

“He didn’t mean to. I was supposed to block. We normally go that hard.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Mm…no.” Izuku gives a loopy grin. “It’s fun.”

“Izuku!”

“I wanna go to sleep now.” He reaches out, and feeling Shouto close, pulls him close with more power than anticipated. As such, Shouto ends up right between his legs when he hugs him tight. “Good night.”

The strangled sigh that Shouto lets out could almost be taken as a moan, and Izuku entertains the idea for a pleasurable moment as he fades into unconsciousness.

“Why is this happening to me? Izuku, you can’t stay here, let me at least move you to the bed. Izuku?”

The incident could be considered a long-lost memory at this point, the gigantic black eye that Izuku sported for a week completely vanished. It had put off a week of production, and the next day both Bakugou and Izuku had received the sternest lecture about how they needed to be professional and stop playing around (and Bakugou had been docked pay that week).

“Just be grateful that it wasn’t Todoroki Enji himself in this office,” they’d warned. “This could have been much worse. Your actions reflect upon EM&E, and upon its leadership and the quality of its production.”

Suffice it to say, their choreographed fights weren’t nearly as fun, but were completely safe that point past. He’d even received a begrudging apology from the man, who almost looked ashamed of Izuku’s lopsided, slightly painful beaming smile. The shameful look turned into a scowl when Shouto, equally furious, came to walk Izuku away. It was the most Shouto and Shinsou had gotten along ever, really- serving as unofficial guardsmen despite Izuku pleading with them to calm down, that it was just a playfight gone wrong.

“Stop daydreaming. Who knows when another fist could come your direction at this event?”

Ochaco’s teasing words bring him back to Earth, and Izuku scoffs. Currently he, Ochaco, Iida, Shouto, Tsuyu and Aoyama share a limo on the way to a glamorous charity gala to celebrate One for All Studios’ 40^th year. Everyone in the vehicle is bedecked in some sort of sparkle to fit the theme, as commanded by the head of EM&E himself. Therefore everyone, no matter if you were wearing a suit or a dress, is now wearing a midnight black or deep navy blue with a subtle glitter shimmer (Aoyama decided to bedazzle his suit more to be the ‘center of the universe’, feedback be damned). When they all stand together in front of the cameras, on the velvety red carpet, they look like they span the stars in the night sky. It’s a beautiful effect, sure to be discussed in the news and on social media for days to come.

Despite two seasons worth of fame, some of the newer cast mates are still adjusting, so they’ve been directed to walk in groups led by more experienced vets of the red carpet. Therefore Shouto, Momo, Iida and Bakugou have been placed ‘in charge’ making sure their peers don’t choke when they answer questions, or take pictures, or speak to fans.

“To think, you could have been talking to these people with a giant black eye,” Shinsou muses, gliding effortlessly to Izuku’s side. They’re in the middle of the walkway, subtly talking as they face away from the cameras.

Izuku grimaces. “Will none of you ever let this go?”

“Now that you’re safe, and enough time has passed for it to be funny? Absolutely not. You’re telling me you swooned over Candy Cane so badly that you got, to quote Ochaco, ‘knocked the fuck out’? Comedy.”

“And yet you keep evil eying Kacchan, and he said he was sorry.”

“I was already evil eying the guy. Just like to see him squirm, since you won’t let me do it to your man.”

“Stop it.”  

“Iz- Midoriya, Shinsou. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, speak of the devil.”

Frowning in concern, Shouto walks in between them. “You both are holding up the line, and people are speculating. You have to make sure to keep going.”

“We know, we know. Just discussing our boy’s pristine face.”

Scowling, Shouto subconsciously moves Izuku out of the way by pulling on his arm.

“We’re past that. You’re doing great, Midoriya.”

Loud squealing catches their attention; some paparazzi and fangirls are screaming, flashing pictures at the hand that Shouto now has on Izuku. Shouto swiftly removes it, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry about that. Get ready for some ‘breaking news’ about our ‘love triangle’ tomorrow.”

“Titillating,” Shinsou replies, waggling his eyebrows. Shouto smirks, and Izuku flushes to his roots.

Is he play-flirting with Toshi?? I thought they- no! “Okay, okay, let’s get walking!”

Many times that night he or Shouto would linger close to one another, and though they were only sharing encouragement and commentary, everyone around them could see that there was a chemistry that transcended the screen. It’s beautiful, marvelous, wondrous…. and stifling. Not that Izuku himself hadn’t dreamt of this moment where the love of his life stood before his eyes stunning like the galaxy he’d once gifted Izuku in the privacy in his own home. But to have the paparazzi shouting, journalists asking probing, uncomfortable questions about their relationship, it’s kind of sickening. Leave me alone, he wants to say. Let me figure out my feelings by myself! Let me have this!

Whatever he’s facing, he knows that Shouto is going through worse. The once “reclusive, ice-cold Todoroki Shouto” has been going through a personality shift, according to the papers. What girl could have done it? Who does he spend the most time with? Is it a guy? Is it Midoriya Izuku? See how their relationship is real in 50,000 TikToks, blogs, YouTube conspiracies-

It’s exhausting, but Shouto handles every question with grace; that is, he either answers directly or he blithely ignores it altogether. Izuku perfectly mirrors this behavior, so much so that when they’re finally out of the limelight, Shouto pulls him into a hallway and to a dark, private corner to slip him a proud smile.

“Excellent job,” he teases. “You pick things up quickly, rookie.”

“I learned well from my master,” Izuku replies. The sharp inhale makes him realize what he’s just said. Either his crushing feelings are pressing in on him, or it’s this small space that Shouto now has him cornered in. Either way, his eyes flash down to Shouto’s soft lips and a voice growing louder and louder demands him to move forward and bite down on them, to completely erase the space between them-

“Ahem. You’ve stolen the hiding corner, and some of us like to use it to breathe.”

Momo strikes quite the elegant figure, the only sign of her discomfort the light blush on her cheeks. It’s clear that she was aware of where they were hiding, having sought it out herself.

“Join in, there’s plenty of space,” Shouto says, moving away from Izuku (how does he do it so easily, Izuku laments). When Momo raises an eyebrow, Shouto capitulates, walking out of the corner so that Momo can take the spot.

“When we were younger and had to come to events in this place, we learned the spaces where there weren’t any cameras,” he explains to Izuku as they get closer to the light. “This is one of them. We used to both fit, but as you can see…”

Shouto continues to explain, but Izuku is hardly listening. He’s not sure if it’s the glass of champagne and the two shots of Hennessy that Ochaco slipped him earlier, the shadows surreptitiously hiding them from the light, or that demanding voice in his head that dares him to take for himself what everyone can only speculate. All he knows is that somewhere, the dam holding his needs broke, and he’s never going to have the bravery that is now burning through him. Before he can question his judgment, he reaches a hand around Shouto’s collar and pulls their lips together.

It's amateurly rough at first, two pairs of lips smashed into the other, one pair too surprised to move. That trepidation vanishes with a sultry groan and soon Izuku is gently cradling Shouto’s face, allowing his tongue to be gently suckled on as they explore each other.

“Thank you for teaching me, and for always taking care of me,” Izuku gasps, finally pulling away. He can only barely see Shouto’s wide, shining eyes, his chest heaving. He quickly straightens out his suit, wiping off his mouth. Stunned, Shouto follows, and other than the flush on their cheeks, they don’t look like they’ve been desperately making out in the dark. Thank God the suits aren’t tight. Still feeling bold, Izuku turns and flashes what he hopes is a sexy smile.

The nickelodeon of expressions in response that flashes over Shouto’s face is telling, but he finally settles on an unaffected expression. Izuku knows this means he’s overwhelmed but choosing to hide it. He stands triumphantly until Shouto strolls up past him and runs a soft finger from temple, to ear, to lips to under his chin and tilts his head up aggressively. His eyes are now full of a mischievous fire that melts Izuku to his core.

“Your master can’t wait to see what else you’ve learned,” he whispers, grinning into Izuku’s ear.

Izuku almost returns to the hiding corner.

The dominating way Shouto pushes him into the hotel room wall, the animalistic groan that it elicits from Izuku’s throat in response when he surges in to lock lips, it’s almost enough to have Izuku coming right then and there. The rest of the event had passed by in a blur because neither of them could focus on anything other than the blood slowly making its way from their brains and pooling lower.

“God, you have an amazing ass,” Shouto growls, hands tightly squeezed around Izuku’s backside. “Like, it’s so pathetic but every time there’s a freeze-frame with your ass in it, I can’t help looking. It’s so-” He lifts Izuku off the ground and grinds their bodies together, leaving Izuku torn between maniacal giggles and delirious sighs.

“Mina has confirmed I have ‘a peach’, that I’m ‘double cheeked up on a Tuesday afternoon’,” he teases, and Shouto, face hidden in his neck, nods fervently in agreement.

“I wanna bite.”

Izuku comes down from his dopamine high just enough to nod, though he’s jolted back to attention when Shouto drops his feet to the ground, smoothly falling to his knees and dropping his bottoms in one fell motion. The cool air leaves him shivering, Shouto soft lips on his thighs electrifying with every needy nip. It’s all so stimulating, and Izuku is afraid that if he looks down, he’s going to explode before Shouto even does anything.

“Open your eyes, Zu.”  

Shaking his head, Izuku can’t help the full body shudder at how provocative the command is- he didn’t know he was so into imperatives until it came from such a beautiful voice.

“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I won’t be able to take it.”

Firm hands grasp his. “Yes, you can.”

Well, he’s being played like a brand-new fiddle. He’ll have to explore that later on. Slowly, his eyes peel open, and the carnal view in front of him makes him regret ever wanting to look away. Shouto looks just like he had in his imagination when he’d touched himself- no, even better. His dick twitches, and Shouto is quick to wrap a hand around the base, squeezing just enough for control.

“Please. Please.”

Grinning, Shouto inches closer to the tip. “I thought you were supposed to be showing me what you were capable of, tonight.”

“What? I-” Their little roleplay from earlier in the night seems so far away. “I need more lessons. Teach me again? Please.” He could honestly not care less how bold he’d been that night; this was the real thing now and Izuku was not above begging.

The façade cracks as Shouto laughs, and before Izuku can plead again, the warm mouth that wraps around him almost makes him collapse. His body only slightly slides down the wall as he wails out, Shouto pinning his hips in place helping to keep him braced. It’s exquisite; Izuku has never given nor received head this good. The flickering tongue teases him, inviting him to thrust when it reaches near the base, but then pulling away whenever Izuku tries to move forward.

He isn’t sure how his head feels so hot, surely all the blood in his body is being sucked out by the man- by the demon- with his face in his lap? One particular suck makes the most erotic noise, and Izuku finally comes to his senses and grasps Shouto’s face, forcing him not to move as they stare at each other. A forest-fire burns in his eyes, and for this moment, Izuku knows he’s holding all the power.

“How do you want me, Izuku?” Shouto’s voice is raspy, well used and satisfied.

Summoning some power in his legs, Izuku shifts their positions, Shouto’s back now against the wall. They haven’t looked away from each other once in this short dance, not even when Izuku leans a heavy forearm against the wall.

“Let me,” Izuku whispers. For a moment, Shouto looks like he’s going to challenge him again- say it out loud- and Izuku takes himself in hand and presses it against Shouto’s cheek. He wins; Shouto breaks eye contact first, staring at the warm, pulsating member on his face and opens his mouth, laying it heavily on his tongue. “Tap my leg if you want me to stop.”

Shouto slowly nods his assent, and Izuku curls his hand into the soft hair and begins to thrust in earnest, ravishing Shouto’s throat with each motion. He only pauses momentarily when Shouto places his hands on Izuku’s backside, but a stuffed whine makes him wheeze a laugh.

“You like how I move my hips?”

Another sinfully delectable moan. Showing off a little, Izuku rolls his hips with a little more technique until the need to come overpowers any other thought he has. He can feel himself right at the edge when he feels a firm tap on his leg. Immediately pulling out, he checks Shouto for any sign of injury or upset.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” The only thing he can see is the tear-tracked face of a fully debauched superstar, an image painted in the darkest depths of his desires. Shaking his head, Shouto wipes his face off and crawls his way back up Izuku’s body. 

“You’re fine. You’re more than fine. I just want to hold this tie while you fuck me the way you fucked my mouth.”

“Hngh,” It takes everything in Izuku, once again, not to come. “Why is everything you do so erotic?” he whines. “It’s like you’re not even trying. You have no idea how much this has been on my mind-”

He’s cut off by how quickly Shouto grabs him, pushing him onto the chaise lounge in the room before pulling off his own clothes. Izuku is no slouch- he knows he’s got body; if looking in the mirror didn’t prove it, the internet sure did- but Shouto has always had this allure about him. Collarbones should never be so sexy, and yet the way Shouto’s strong jaw and sinewy neck curved into them, the firmness of his chest, the rock-hard abs from years of hard work, the lithe muscles that he confirmed could lift his dense body off of the ground- the man looked like marble carved from the finest and most blessed of the classical gay sculptors.

“First- you’re always on my mind. I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.”

Izuku’s eyes follow Shouto’s body in admiration as he bends over to find lube in the drawer next to his bed, then practically cat walks back to straddle Izuku. Even his dick is pretty; pink tip, unblemished white skin- it’s just not fair.

“You make me ache in ways I never thought possible. Even the day you got knocked out, big swollen eye and all, when I walked into that bathroom-” Shouto pauses, closing his eyes in memory. “I felt so terrible- here you were, incoherent, and I’m looking at your hard on like it’s there to personally torment me. I could have handled the swelling with how hard I wanted to suck your soul out.”

Enough! Izuku wails in his head. I’m already dead! Instead of responding, he goofily flops a hand around looking for the lube- he needs to be inside Shouto yesterday, he can’t take this teasing anymore. His pounding heart practically stops when Shouto grasps his hand and slowly guides it to the lube, keeping their eyes locked once more as he uncaps and squeezes plenty onto Izuku’s fingers.

It’s so much, and finally Izuku cracks. “How are you so confident?”

Shouto laughs softly, and leads one finger down, gasping when Izuku enters him.

“I’m not, Zu,” he moans. “Honestly. You just really underestimate yourself, and the effect you’ve always had on me. Just look at me.”

Scales of insecurity falling from his eyes, Izuku finally sees. A rosy flush lay on Shouto’s cheekbones, his body quivering as another finger, then a third, are added. He’s grinding against the stretching, writhing for more. The expression on his face is soft, vulnerable- similar to the first night they’d shared, except now it’s saturated with desire. 

“You’ve really wanted me? This whole time? Please tell me yes. Especially after the dance performance, please tell me-”

Shouto raises an eyebrow. “Who else would I be fucking the floor for?”  

The jubilant, triumphant grin Izuku gets feels so silly, and yet he can’t even help it. He’s about to childishly clap his hands when Shouto curls his fingers around the tie he’d purposely left on and bottoms out into Izuku’s lap. The motion leaves Izuku’s eyes bulging with surprise, followed by a wave of hot-blooded need.

Still holding onto the tie like a leash, Shouto grinds down, placing one hand on Izuku’s thigh. It makes for a powerful vision, and Izuku watches in awe as he watches himself vanish inside the other’s body, releasing punched out gasps and moans, his dick bouncing up and down as he speeds up.

“Touch me.”

On command, Izuku sits up, massaging his hands into Shouto’s lower back and waist, caressing everywhere he can before Shouto pulls the tie, forcing their lips together.

“I want to hold you, harder than this, I want to leave marks- can I?” Izuku gasps, eyes watering. Shouto lets go of the tie, both handedly shoving Izuku’s head into his chest, moaning loudly when Izuku licks a stripe across his chest before biting down. Izuku can feel it when Shouto’s spasms around him in response, and he looks at his handiwork when he leans back.

“You’re so, so pretty. I am so honored to be the one inside you right now.” It sounds so corny in theory, and yet the way Shouto flushes to the roots of his hair lets him know that maybe he’s not the only one with the potential praise kink.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? Zu, god, please, stop, it’s making me weak.” He raises a hand to cover Izuku’s eyes, and that just won’t do. Izuku is curious about something- using a little bit of strength, he grasps Shouto’s hand firmly and peels it off. He’s rewarded with another full body spasm, the whimper a confirmation of his suspicion.

“So, you like being in control, but you also like being manhandled,” Izuku notes smugly, keeping it in his head for later. “I’ve uncovered a dirty secret of yours, Shou.”

Rolling his eyes, Shouto rewards this find with an extra hard thrust. “Yeah, okay, smug bastard. Keep this newfound confidence when I’m the one fucking you.”

Grinning, Izuku uses his full body weight to roll them over, pinning Shouto to the chaise lounge with just enough pressure on his chest to keep him still.

“I’m going to roll my hips the way you like too, okay?”

“Yes.”

It’s downright filthy the way Izuku begins to fuck inside of him, but he’s feeling high on love right now and the way Shouto cries out with every thrust, they’re both insatiable for it. By now, Izuku is also crying out, muttering any and every thought that comes to him.

“Yes, god, fuck yes, Shou you feel amazing, so perfect-”

And then, finally, and unbidden- “I love you.”

It’s enough to give them both pause as all of Izuku’s confidence crashes into a brick wall. He just said that. He said that, in the middle of their first hookup. Not even on a date, not even in a romantic confession. How ungentlemanly- he’s sure Shouto is going to push him away, despite everything from before-

“Say it again.”

Biting his lip, Izuku nervously looks down at Shouto. The other man just looks both confused and enthralled, as if he can’t believe what he heard.

“Please. Say it again.”

“Say it back first,” Izuku retorts, almost petulantly. The only thing revealing his nerves is the renewed flush on Shouto’s face, but it’s quickly replaced with determination as he pulls him down, pushing away his curly hair.

“I love you, Izuku. Won’t you say it again?”

And suddenly, Izuku is near coming- he feels it. He continues to thrust wildly anyway, reaching a hand around Shouto to stroke in tandem. Now, all his muttering is replaced by a singular phrase.

“I love you. I love you. Iloveyouiloveyouilo-”

They scream as they come together.

“You look like a sculpture over there, reclining naked like that. Very godly.”

Izuku raises his eyebrows at Shouto’s comment, so reminiscent of his earlier thoughts. They’d gone for one more steamy round in the shower, this time with him taking while pressed against the shower tiles. Now an also naked Shouto lay stomach down on the bed while Izuku had lazily flopped back down on the recliner.

“You don’t believe me? Honest! Here, I’ll show you.” Shouto reaches for the first phone he can- it’s Izuku’s. Immediately typing in the password, he snaps a picture and tosses the phone to Izuku.

If he’s being honest, it is a resplendent photo. His arm is tossed behind his head, all of his muscles flexing in response to the position. His eyes are soft, full of love as they look at the person taking the picture. It’s a fairly NSFW; finger bruises, hickeys, and just enough of his pubic hair and penis showing for anyone to know that it’s a post-sex shot.

“It would look better if it was you, Shou,” Izuku comments. “But it is a pretty great picture.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “Flatterer. Whatever, come get in bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

A gloved hand lifts the phone off of the ground, dropped on the floor of the dry-cleaners.

Dear god, Is this Todoroki Shouto’s phone?

This could go for so much money! God only knew how many secrets could be sold to the tabloids.

It’s strange, Izuku thinks that morning as he comes back to the room to search. He swore his phone was back in his suit pocket- where is it now?

There were the ‘positive’ comments.

Okay but like, why is Midoriya so fucking built??

Who took the picture??? The jealousy I feel!

I knew there was something under that awkward suit!

Is this when we get dark Deku? I need this!

I always peeped the hips under the suit, but this is-

Immortalize his thicc-ness in marble because my god-

I’m looking disrespectfully…

But always, always they were interspersed with the negative.

My kid watches Heroes Rising! What am I going to do now?

This is disgusting behavior.

He looks like he’s into it, too. What a perv.

Midoriya, you were better than this. You didn’t have to show your body to get fame.

I’m disappointed.

They should cancel the show! Or replace the lead, since he wants to be a wh-

They try to frame the press’ response to him in ‘positive’ ways.

At least you’re grown, and the show is leaned toward young adults. Free press!

You’re very well built, and it didn’t show everything, so at least there’s that.

This happens all the time, unfortunately. At least you’re a guy; for women, this response is almost universally negative.

At least.

At least.

At least.

They also try to hide the whispers of the negative response, but they’re overwhelmingly loud.

He’s only a rookie. This could destroy his takeoff.

How will we continue the show?

What if EM&E fires him? Todoroki Enji no longer takes unnecessary risks.

Will he be able to maintain that offer from One for All? The movie?

It’s too much, too suddenly, and Izuku can’t take it. With his heartrate skyrocketing, he tosses on one of Shouto’s dark hoodies and runs blindly through hysteric tears.

I need to go-

I need to leave-

I need to get away-

Help me-

“Izuku! Wait!” Shouto’s desperate voice echoes in his head, footsteps in pursuit quickly catching up.

That voice makes him sick.

“Leave me alone, Todoroki! Go away!” It makes no sense; he’s the one running away, swiping keys to a car that isn’t his, all in an effort to just hide. He hops into the car just in time, locking it as Shouto slams into the door.

“Izuku, calm down. Please,” he begs. “I know, I know it’s overwhelming, but rushing out there into the masses isn’t going to help. Please-” Izuku doesn’t hear him over the rev of the vehicle, maniacally shifting into reverse and hitting the gas.

His inglorious escape is immediately cut off when Shouto sprints down to the middle of the driveway, the thick trees the last protective cover before getting to the brick gate where Shouto is praying the herd of paparazzi haven’t arrived yet.  

“Izuku! Listen to me!” his voice rasps, tears pouring down his face. “Please, I know this is devastating, but you can’t just rush out there! It’ll make things worse, trust me-”

The plea triggers a deep-seated rage in Izuku, and his terrifying eyes from behind the minutely rolled down window leaves the other man quailing in fear.

“Trust you? Trust you?! This is all your fault! You just had to take that stupid picture! How can you ask me to trust you ever again?!”

It’s not true. Izuku knows this, and yet the pure venom with which the accusation comes out hits Shouto square in his chest like a bullet. He crumples within himself, guilt weighing his eyes to the earth. Vindictively pleased, Izuku floors it on the gas, expecting Shouto to jump out of his way so he can make this damned escape.  

Horror douses his fury ice cold when he slams into a firm body.

“No, no, no-” Slamming the breaks, he tosses the keys to the other side of the car to sprint the prone body laying seven feet down the driveway. “Shouto, Shouto no, no wait, I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to-”

What have I done?

What have I done?!

He’s bleeding, I made him bleed, I hit him-

He’s going to hate me-

He’s going to kick me out and denounce me too-

I can’t take this, I can’t take it anymore-

All things considered, Shouto has had worse. Though his torso is in searing pain, he managed to get his arms up over his head just in time. Adrenaline is still pulsing through his body and it’s helping him focus. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’s remembering a similar moment, and his gremlin brain laughs at the irony. Gotta apologize to Momo again.

“I deserve this,” he mutters in response, only half awake. Izuku’s face twists into a devastating mix of guilt, sadness, and terror, tears falling like rain onto Shouto’s face as he wails in response.

“What- No, you don’t! I was wrong, it’s not your fault, I’ll- I’ll call the ambulance-” He fumbles in Shouto’s pockets for his phone, his hands shivering a mile a minute when a bloody hand calmly covers his.

“Izuku, listen to me. Can you do that?” His voice is low, weak, and yet it centers Izuku’s entire world down to a single point. “You don’t need to call an ambulance.”

“But you’re bleeding! Your arms and hands and nose are-”

“Zu-”

“I can’t just let you die out here!”

“Izuku. I’m not dying, but I need you to listen.” A wet cough. “I need you to get us both inside, and I need you to call my private doctor and tell them what happened. Can you do that for me?”

Get inside.

Call doctor.

Nodding fervently, Izuku gently lifts Shouto off the ground, cradling his head when he gasps in pain, and he runs back to the house. He’s focused his drive into these simple directions- he can do this, he can call a doctor, follow the doctor’s directions to elevate Shouto’s head, clean any wounds, and ice all of the bruises until they make it there in a half hour.

A half hour is too long, move faster he wanted to demand, but before he could force himself to speak, the line had gone dead. A pained hiss breaks him out of his thoughts, and he quickly replaces the towel under the ice that has slipped onto Shouto’s bare torso.

“Turns out I’m not actually half hot, half ice, Zu,” Shouto jokes, eyes closed. “Are you feeling any better?”

Izuku bawls. Sobs rack his entire body as he collapses on the floor in front of the couch, his forehead leaned against the soft fabric as if he’s begging for mercy from the figure on it. Perhaps he is.

“Why are you checking on me, after I hit you with a car… I’m so sorry, Shouto… I didn’t mean to hit you, I know what I said, but I would never hurt you like this on purpose, please forgive me…”

Gentle fingers run through his hair, shushing him quietly, and Izuku sinks even further into his despair.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You’re under a lot of stress, because some asshole decided to steal your phone and share a picture that I took. I’m sorry for that, Izuku. I’m sorry that you had to find out on TV today that your most private moment was being spread for shits and giggles. You don’t deserve this.”

Stop being so understanding! Izuku wants to scream. “But I took that out on you- I ran away, I was going to steal your car, I don’t even know where I was going, and then I hit you with it… I’m sorry…”

“It’s going to be okay. I know how heart-wrenching the anxiety is, being made vulnerable to the world, the way they’ll take from you, the way you feel like you’re so-”

“Alone.”

“You’re not alone though, Zu. I won’t let you be, okay? I’ll be here.”

Izuku feels so pathetic. Here he is, receiving comfort from someone who is half-conscious from Izuku’s own impulse. A flash of hatred burns in his heart at whoever did this to them- why would they do something like this? They were supposed to have a wonderful brunch, maybe continue where they’d left off in the bedroom. Instead, the world is collapsing around him, taking Shouto as collateral.

Crawling around Shouto, Izuku adjusts so that the other can cuddle into him without shifting too much. The satisfied, relieved purr he receives in response provides him with the first flash of happy warmth he’s had since the news dropped.

“I just feel so violated, Shou,” he whispers.

“I can imagine. No one deserves this. I’ll do whatever I can to fix it.”

Shouto’s voice is exhausted by this point, adrenaline draining out of him along with the will to keep his eyes open. The last thing he feels is a pair of warm lips pressed against his forehead.

“Aw, my hero, huh? I love you, too. You don’t have anything to fix, just get better, okay?”

How can you ask me to trust you ever again?!

Despite Izuku’s constant pleas for forgiveness, for Shouto to forget harsh words spoken in agony, Shouto can’t. The depth of the pain, the seething rage and desperation that flashed from forest fire eyes.

He can’t let go of this. It was stupid- it was Child Star Etiquette 101, to never take a picture that could be used against you, to never leave without your personal items, to check to make sure you have everything at all times. He got clumsy in love and acted foolishly. Now, Izuku was suffering the consequences of his actions.

For the past week, Izuku has stayed at his place, provided any and all comforts Shouto can provide. Only Iida and Ochaco have been allowed in to see him, and his mother is flying in today as well for support. All social media access has been removed, giving him a well needed break from the hurricane of questions and comments coming his way. Extra security reveals to the paparazzi Izuku’s location (why else would there suddenly be the equivalent of a SWAT team at Todoroki Shouto’s mansion?) but they are honorable people and Shouto couldn’t be more grateful.

They’d firmly asked him to stay in today as well, noticing his intense rush to get dressed and out of the house.

“Your ribs are still tender, and your hands and forearms are covered in scabs, you need rest,” Iida had demanded.

“The area under your eyes is still a little dark, Todoroki,” Ochaco concurred. “Is your head okay? Maybe you should sit.”

“Mom’s coming in, and I know she’s going to want to make you something. She’s concerned about you, too. Are you sure you want to go out?” Izuku’s concern feels the warmest, and also makes him feel the guiltiest for leaving, but he pries himself away with vague placations. He has things to make right, quickly.

Endeavor Media & Entertainment wants to fire Izuku to save face. It hasn’t been revealed to the public, but as being a Todoroki allows him inner access to this information, Shouto was one of the first to hear.

Shouto knows that the only person that can fix this latest update is him, and he isn’t going to let that happen. Even if he has to sell his soul, he’s not going to let them destroy Izuku like this.

And he knows exactly where to start. He’s already in the car, speeding on his way through the countryside when the Bluetooth finally picks up. Often by The Weeknd blasts in the background, followed by some vague murmuring.

“You can’t ignore me if you picked up the phone, Touya.” 

“What is it, Shouto? I’m a little busy right now?”

He does sound a little harried, but that’s not Shouto’s concern. “It’s an emergency.”

“…Call an ambulance? Now?”

“No, not like that. Family…no, not family, a me-emergency. Please, aniki, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it, and you know that.”

There is a small pause, as Shouto waits. He rarely asks for anything directly from Touya, even rarer so dropping the honorific when addressing him.

“Fine. Give me an hour and a half. I’ll be in the garden.”

Another voice pipes up, impatient, and annoyed. “Really, Touya? I have an impromptu shoot today and I came out-”

“Damn it, just- lay back down bird brain, I’ll get back to you-”

Shouto grimaces, smacking his lips as he finally catches on. “Fuck, really Touya? Him?”

“Hey, you called me when I was busy. Just make sure you meet me in the garden and like…nowhere else.”

“Ugh fine, bye.”

45 minutes later, Shouto pulls up to the small home in the countryside. The idyllic, almost fey house is surrounded by explosions of multi-colored flowers and small, rocky fountains. Shouto will never understand how such a glowing and happy house reflects the self-proclaimed vampire inside, but he fully supports Touya in all ways. He hopes the sentiment is returned.

He’s chilling next to the largest fountain in the main garden, admiring the set up with the orchids when the side door slides open to reveal Touya in grey sweats and a white tank. Rockstar by Post Malone is playing on speakers around the house and into the garden, that Touya turns down as he pulls his wet, white hair into a half pony. He continues to sway to the beat, unbothered, when Shouto sees Keigo in the background.

“I’m grabbing some lunch from your fridge, and I’m headed out.”

Touya only gives him a peace out sign, and Keigo rolls his eyes as he leaves.

“At least I caught you at the right time,” Shouto comments as Touya sits in a folding chair across from him. Touya mischievously waggles his eyebrow as he folds his legs under himself, and Shouto groans.

“So, even though I can hazard a guess, what brings you out to forbidden lands, Shoucchan?”

“I need your help.”

“Obviously.”

“I need to understand your experience under the conservatorship that Enji has you in.”

With a raised eyebrow, Touya unfurls from the chair. He opens his mouth, closes it. Stands up, goes to get some glasses, pink wine, and whiskey from inside.

“Didn’t know how deep we were getting, so,” he comments, pouring a glass of each. When Shouto takes the shot of whiskey, Touya grimaces.

“It’s that bad, huh? The situation with your boyfriend? I’m guessing the Asshole has decided to fire him after that picture.”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, Touya scowls. “He’s so fucking predictable. Don’t do it.”

“I don’t have anything else to offer him, Touya. Any good person would recognize that Izuku was wronged, and support him, but you know Enji. Always ready to cut off the collateral.”

“Always ready to avoid consequences, you mean.” Touya pours his own shot of whiskey, hissing as it goes down. “My life is an awful situation, Shouto. Just quit- trust me, it’s enough to make them nervous. Don’t sell yourself for this.”

“I can’t let him hurt Izuku. I can’t. Not when this is my fault.”

“‘Fault’. So, he took a fucking nude. Who cares? He’s grown. There wasn’t even full dick in it.” Touya whines, mildly smiling at Shouto’s snort. “Seriously, there’s got to be something you can offer him outside of your life. Would Midoriya want you to do this?”

Shouto runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Of course he wouldn’t. But if I had just-”

“No. It’s not your fault. Whoever decided to rob you both is the issue, and your father is also at fault for being a giant coward.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about any of that, then?!”

They dwell silently, the bubbling of the water over the rocky fountain and the quiet music playing in the background filling the space.  

“I just need something against him,” Shouto finally whispers, looking at Touya- his father’s biggest secret. Touya catches his eye, and realization sparks within the ice blue when he realizes what Shouto is implying.

“And his deepest shame is sitting right in front of you, huh.” A few moments pass, and Touya grins. “Okay. I’ll bite. Something good might come out of this.”

The weight of the world lifts off of Shouto’s heart, and he rises in his seat, eyes hopeful.

“Really?”

“Well, if you’d invoked my name without my permission, it would have been fucked up. I’d have had to end you and that jackass. So, I’m glad you asked me. Sure, little brother. Fuck it. See what happens when the old man tries anything.”

The weepy, snotty grin spreading across Shouto’s face has to be one of the ugliest expressions he’s ever made as an adult, and Touya snickers as he runs a playful hand across Shouto’s face.

“You look like a frog- since we’re taking pictures, maybe I ought to sell this fugly mug you’re making. Too soon? Well. This guy just better be worth it, especially after he hit my brother with a car.”

Shouto scoffs, fixing his face. “He didn’t mean to, he was panicking and I was in the way. I explained this multiple times.”

“Mm. Can’t say I don’t understand the need to escape. I just saw those bandages on your head and chest, and I just knew Natsuo and I were going to kill him. Yumi might have slipped him some poison.”

“Shovel talk him later, then, after you help me save his job.”

“Don’t think I’ll forget that. Now: when’s the next prison dinner? I want to be there when you drop all this on the old man.”

“Tonight.”

Touya flips through his notifications to get to their group chat.

T: Shit’s bout to be WILD tonight.

T : Guess who’s coming to dinner?

Yumi-nee: Oh dear.

Yumi-nee: Touya, dearest, while I’m happy that you’re coming, please try to be congenial

TheBiggestDummy: No no no no, shut up Fuyumi, I can already tell this is gonna be fucking awesome

TheBiggestDummy: Touya you asshole I know you changed my name

Yumi-nee: that was Shouto, actually

Natsuo: @Shoucchan SHOUTO

T: add some exclamations and you’ll sound just like the bastard

When Shouto and Touya walk through the doors, the room goes eerily silent. Touya- in full tank and sweatpants glory- strolls directly past everyone and takes the usually empty fourth seat next to Shouto.

“It’s almost like I’m not expected,” he jokes wryly. “Yet there are some jerks in the corner table over there that I’m pretty sure aren’t Todoroki’s. Anyway, could I get a place, please?” The imperial tone summons people from the kitchen, who in seconds have his plates and utensils placed perfectly. He slides incorrectly into the chair, still looking around nonchalantly as servers bring out the food.

“I see that horrible portrait is still up in the hall. I was hoping it would have burnt down by now.”

Natsuo snorts, Fuyumi sighs into her hands, and Enji slams his hands down on the table.

“Why are you here?” The demanding question is almost spoken as an order, and Touya finally deigns to turn to the furious icy gaze that Enji has pinned on him. They share the same eyes, and he’s not a scared teenager anymore, so Touya only gives him a Cheshire grin in response.

“What, I can’t come eat with my family after so many years? And Mother? Surely you’re happy to see me after so long.” Despite the nonchalance, a vulnerable nerve is exposed in the question.  

Rei, eyes filled with conflicted tears, nods. “You are always welcome in my home, Touya.”

“Is he?!” Enji booms, furious. “Showing such disrespect, the moment he steps in?!”

“Says the man that brings his lawyers to a family dinner.”

Everyone turns to Shouto, who’s now fixed a cool gaze on Enji.

“If people who aren’t family aren’t allowed to be here, then they should be dismissed.”

“Business carried over, Shouto. I won’t invite hard workers into my house and not feed them.”

“No, you’ll only fire them after something they can’t help happens.”

Realizing Shouto’s train of thought, Enji groans. “Shouto, we are not doing this right now.”

“I mean, they were here for a reason,” Touya surmises. ‘Business carried over’, as you said.”

“And there’s nothing else to do- we might as well discuss this. That’s what these stupid dinners are for anyway.”

“These dinners are for us to be together, as we rarely are,” Enji growls, before folding his hands. “But since you want to discuss this- yes, Midoriya Izuku will be removed from his role as soon as we have finished the paperwork.”

“Why?”

A nameless lawyer speaks up from across the room. “Surely we don’t have to explain why what occurred is unacceptable.”

“Surely you don’t have the nerve to speak over my little brother as if your opinion matters here,” Natsuo threatens, folding his arms.

“It’s not his fault!” Shouto cries. “How could he help that a picture- a picture that I took got stolen and slipped to the masses. It’s his entire career at stake right now!”

Enji’s eyebrows rise. “I should have figured you were involved in this somehow. Fine. It’s not his fault, it’s yours. The outcome is the same. Your image matters, this company’s image matters, and we cannot have things like this occur.”  

Shouto rises from the chair so quickly that it falls over. “Image! I’m so sick of it! If you’re so concerned about image, why don’t you admit that it matters more than your family ever has!”

“Shouto-”

“No! You let them toss me back onto a recording set fresh out of a traumatic experience so bad that it almost took my brother from me! You personally aided in blackballing Touya from ever acting again, after he was brutally injured on one of our own sets! You discarded Yumi-nee and Natsu-nii because they weren’t important enough for what you envisioned! What about us, Dad?! What about the people who are actually behind the shit you’re selling?!”

“I did not discard your sister-”

“It did hurt that your support felt conditional when you gave it, even if it has morphed into love over time.” Even Touya raises his eyes as Fuyumi whispers, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. “I do think I’d like to go to counseling so that we can address these problems.”

Enji flounders, looking between the range of pain and anger on his children’s faces. Finally, he sighs.

“I admit that I could have done better. I should have done better. And I agree with Fuyumi that we should start to talk about things. But Shouto, our family issues have nothing to do with that boy. My decision stands.”

If Shouto didn’t think he was capable of further rage, he was wrong.

“That boy?! How dare you? His name is Midoriya Izuku, he is the love of my life, and I swear if he is removed from the show, I will leave your company. I don’t care what you keep of my work, but I will not come back.”

From the resulting gasp from the Lawyers’ table, it’s a serious threat. The face of the image they coveted so much, the Todoroki Shouto brand, walking away from everything? They might be able to make money off of everything that he’d made, they think, so it might not be as financial a loss, but the amount of press it would generate? Unacceptable. But surely, he doesn’t have the nerve-

“If you’re thinking that he wouldn’t have any support, I would double-question that.” Touya’s quiet voice is sinister as he lifts the chair for a winded Shouto to sit in. “I’m sure that we all remember the Kamino Accords, yes? See, I’ve been doing some intense reading into the law lately- of course I can, I’ve got nothing else to do as the family bum, right? Anyway, I get the feeling that EM&E could have quite the case building against it. And isn’t it just wild that there’s an adult here, with no future ties to this company, that has access to this sort of information? That has a crazy brother with an even crazier story to tell? I’ve been waiting for a moment like this to make a re-entrance, I bet it would be incredibly juicy. Might eat up Midoriya’s scandal quite quickly.”

Enji’s shockingly silent, still analyzing his family. One of the paled lawyers finds it within himself to speak up, nasal tone condescending.

“And who do you think you are by now, anyway?”

A sharp, clear retort cuts him down. “Todoroki Touya, my eldest child, and a better man than any of you at that children’s table.” Rei sits regally, more invigorated than any of her children have seen her in a very long time. An expression of peace and fierce pride strengthens her features. “I agree with my children. Midoriya Izuku should stay, and we should support him in this difficult time.” Her gaze is only turned toward Enji, who shrinks under her gaze.

“Rei-”

“No, Enji. Look at your children. Look at us. I love them so much, and they received so little of what they actually needed from us. I can’t keep going like this, not saying anything. Not being involved in the decision-making, not when they are finally confronting us with the truth.” Rei pleadingly reaches out across the table for Touya, who immediately makes his way across the room to enter her embrace. “I have always let our lawyers make the decisions, to avoid the stress of this entire company for my own health, and I regret that. Decisions have been made on my behalf that I should have never allowed. But you remember that when we married that I became co-owner of EM&E as well. You remember this, yes?”

“Yes, I do, but-”

“So my decision stands.”

Another bolder lawyer moves forward. “This is a very nuanced situation, Madam. If I were you, I might stay out of this?”

Touya twitches, ready to fight, and Rei soothes him. “If you were me, Sir, I’m sure you would,” she retorts.  

“Mom,” Natsuo cries, proud. Fuyumi is attempting surreptitious pictures of Rei and Touya, tears falling down her face.

Shouto is in a deadlock stare with Enji.

“You wanted to be better, Dad. Be better then. Prove it. Support Izuku, please- out loud, use the platform you’ve built to do the right thing.” It’s a challenge and a plea.

When true shame dawns on Enji’s face, Shouto knows he’s won, and he slumps back in the chair with a triumphant exhale. Enji motions the three bold lawyers forward, and they simper as they come forward.

“All three of you are terminated henceforth. Pack your things; the rest of you, and get out of my home.”

Stunned, all of the lawyers hobble their way out of the dining room, and Enji turns to Touya.

“Touya… I-”

“Nah,” Touya cuts him off. “This is not forgiveness. Don’t even try. When you release me from this conservatorship, we can talk terms, but don’t expect much.”

Rei shrugs in acceptance at Enji, face indicating ‘we’ll talk later’, before continuing to murmur her conversation with Touya.

Enji turns to the rest of his children, helpless. Natsuo pointedly eats the cooling chicken on his plate, trying to hide his smug expression behind his chewing. Fuyumi returns an encouraging, ‘it is what it is’ smile, before eating as well. Shouto isn’t even looking at him, phone pulled out to return a slew of worried messages.

Are you okay?

We haven’t heard from you in hours

I’m scared Shou please come on you know I’ve got anxiety now

Iida is telling me to calm down

You’re at family dinner, right? Ochaco said pics for proof or she’s tracking you down

And she’ll happily fight the cameras

Shouto snaps a picture of all the concurrent scenes at the family table, captioning it “best family dinner ever” and sends it.

When a weary Shouto gets home that night, he’s immediately set upon by a tearful Izuku, followed by a concerned Iida and Ochaco, and even poked and prodded by Inko. They sit him down, get him some pain meds and some soup, and demand to know what happened that had him vanish off the face of the earth for a few hours.

By the end of his explanation, even Iida is dropping a few tears.

“I thought you all would be much happier than this,” Shouto wavers, confused.

Everyone else is quick to assuage him, clarifying that they’re delighted at the outcome, but Izuku only stares at the floor silently. Shouto’s heart pounds faster- was he too late? Has Izuku decided not to forgive him? Did something else happen?

Finally, Izuku stands. “If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to speak to Shouto alone please.”

Iida and Ochaco push back at first, but upon a short explanation that an anxious Shouto can’t hear, they nod, do their goodbyes, and head out. Stubborn Inko is a little harder to convince, but thirty minutes later, she’s putting on her shoes.

“Tell me if you both need anything, I’m just a call away,” she demands after a long, warm hug.

“I will, Mom. I promise. I just need some time alone to discuss things.”

The guard walks her to the driver they hired, and Izuku makes sure he sees it make it around the bend before locking the door and storming back into the room.

Shouto shrinks into the pillows. “Um, Izuku, I don’t know why you’re angry, but I promise I can-”

His words are swallowed by a pair of fervent lips, and Shouto is embarrassed by the squeak he releases when Izuku straddles his legs, wraps a firm hand around the back of his head and pushes in harder. They kiss until they can’t breathe, and even then, a panting Izuku continues to kiss everywhere he can on his face.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, thumbing gently at Shouto’s ribs.

“Ah, a little,” Shouto wheezes. “It’s been a long day; I don’t exactly have the strength to do much for you, though I am very interested.”

“I’ll do it all,” Izuku heatedly replies, kissing his fingers. “Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll take care of you, Shou. You wanna move somewhere more comfortable?”

“No, no, the couch is fine.” It startles Shouto when Izuku swiftly turns off their phones, running around the room to shut every single curtain before dashing into the back halls. “Can I ask what brought this on?” he calls. His position in the couch is such that he can’t turn his head without shifting up, and by then, Izuku has rushed back into the room with lube, extra blankets, and condoms. Shouto feels himself fully hardening as Izuku peels off his own clothes, before returning to slowly and gently remove his.

“What brought this on? I don’t know, maybe finding out that my knight in shining armor went to confront his entire family and save my job? That he’s the greatest guy ever, who’s cared for me during my deepest time of need, and that I need to do a lot to make up for hitting him with his own vehicle?”  

“Zu, let it go.”

“I will not ‘let it go’. Where was I?” By now, they’re both naked, and Izuku has gently made his way to a lave at a nipple. The moan he receives in response is delectable, and he wags his tongue teasingly as he pulls back. “Right, you went in there and threatened to give up everything for me. And I hate that you had to do that, because your brother is right- I wouldn’t want you to give everything up for me. But it’s still pretty fucking hot that you were bold enough to do so.”

By this time, he’s fully stroking Shouto, who has his head thrown back into the pillows. “I-”

“I’m just really grateful, Shou. It’s not often that I’ve had people other than my mother stand up for me in my life, try to protect me from things. And yet, you show up, and that’s all you ever do. You love me… you really love me.”

With one final jerk, Shouto gasps, coming all over Izuku’s hand. “No one has ever been so thankful for my presence,” he breathlessly laughs, still twitching, and Izuku chuckles.

“As bad as it sounds, I’m really happy to hear that, because I’m going to enjoy every second of overwhelming you with all that love you missed. Now, which would you prefer right now- me inside, or no?”

“I don’t think my body could take you inside me right now. Unfortunately,” Shouto finishes his sentence with a wave toward Izuku’s messy hand. At the gesture, Izuku gives him a mischievous look and draws his tongue through the spill in his hand.

“I don’t think that will be a problem for long, Shou,” he whispers lowly, watching the blood rush both to Shouto’s face and to his now half-hardened member. Shouto uses a free hand to yank him down for what might be their filthiest kiss yet, as Izuku is sure that Shouto can taste himself with all of the tonguing.

“If it’s going to be like this every time I save you, it’s a good thing that you’re so trouble-prone,” Shouto teases. “Now let me watch, Zu. I wanna see it all.”

As much as Shouto hated the thirsty comments being left behind in the wake of the exposure, he couldn’t help but marvel in both how true and yet how underestimating they were. The hips that undulated on top of him truly needed immortalizing in marble. The lascivious expression on Izuku’s face, the strength of the firm muscle that he was using to hold himself over Shouto so that he didn’t hurt him… It’s honestly insane how greedy he is for this man.

“You’re lost in your head,” Izuku pants, pausing with an arm over him, “and I don’t think it’s still from me fingering myself open for you.”

“That was amazing, truly worth daydreaming about. But no. I’m just thinking about how I want you to move in.” And how if we ever did choose to do a NSFW photo, it absolutely has to be of us fucking. Just for me, put right up in front of us to emulate every night.

His lecherous thoughts aside, he smiles softly when Izuku tears up.

“Like, officially?”

“Officially.”

“You don’t think it’ll cause any future issues on set?”

“I’m balls deep in you already; it’s too late to worry about that. Besides, imagine the dressing room sex.”

From the way Izuku’s dick twitches against his stomach, and the way he picks up his pace once more, Shouto can tell he’s already thought about it.

That night, they go three times before Shouto has to tap out, his couch fully soaked. They both manage to limp to the shower, giggling like schoolchildren before making it into the bed.

“We absolutely cannot invite everyone back over until I scrub that couch,” Izuku teases.

“I thought we got most of it on ourselves. Should be fine. Kinda kinky.”

Izuku playfully taps Shouto’s forehead. “Absolutely not.” He pauses nervously. “Actually, I was thinking about something while you were out…”

“Hm?”

“I think… I think that I’m ready to make a statement. I know I’m supposed to wait until my agent okays it! I just… I’ve mourned enough. I can’t keep hiding in here.  Not after everything you were willing to risk helping me. And I worked so hard to reach this point in my life… I can’t let some strangers take it from me without a fight.”

Nervously, he looks up under his lashes to see Shouto fiercely smiling.

“I respect that. A lot. I’ll help you with it if you want.”

Relieved, Izuku soldiers on. “I actually wrote it already if you want to read it. If it looks okay, I’m going to text it to the agent and tell them that I’m going to post it in the morning.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay inside tomorrow then, wait out the response? Or be bold, and go get lunch with me and my siblings?” Shouto raises an eyebrow. “They want to meet you, give the shovel talk to the infamous car thief.”

The phrase leaves Izuku beet red. “You said to let go of the car thing! Are they really angry? Of course they are, I hit their brother with a car, you have bandages and scrapes, you could have been so hurt-”

“Zu. Zu! I’m just joking! They understood what happened, it’s okay. They were very supportive of you, Touya even came out to help. You saw him in the picture.” He snuggles Izuku in even closer. “We could announce us as well. Double whammy. Not that we have to, if you don’t want to, but I mean… if they see the infamous naked picture, they ought to know who took it, right?”

“And that won’t bother you?”

“If Touya comes to this lunch, I get the feeling that us dating is going to be one of many media storms happening. The Todoroki’s know how to wield presence. If my father does what he said he was going to do, you’re going to be fine. Now, let me read this statement.”

“I want to start this apology by saying- it’s not really an apology. I’m not sorry. I’m not going to apologize for having a private moment, for feeling happy and vulnerable, with someone I love and trust. I’m going to be honest. I feel violated. My privacy and my trust were violated, and the worst part is- I don’t even know by who. Someone, some specter out there cared so little about me as a person that they felt the need to steal a moment that was not meant for the world’s eyes and to forcibly share it. Whether it was for humiliation, or simply for clout, I don’t care- I did not deserve that. No one deserves to be disrespected like that, no matter who they are. No one gets to make that kind of choice for anyone else.

To all of you who love Heroes Rising, who love everything that actors, singers, artists, creators produce for you, keep this in mind- we are human beings too. On screen, we might be your favorite characters, go through your most iconic romances, take down your scariest villains- and then we step off the set, and we go home, and we live lives and have feelings and relationships and boundaries, and those are to be respected. We’re real. Respect that. Respect us. And we should give that back to you.

I want to thank my costars- they’ve been the most amazing, supportive friends. I want to thank my mom for flying in to comfort me- I do everything I do for her. And I want to thank my boyfriend, @TodorokiShouto, and his family for showing me that it’s possible to have strength in the darkest moments, that even then, those that care will help you make it through.”

Izuku happily sips from the raspberry mimosa that Fuyumi suggested, scrolling through the responses that his friends wrote for him after sharing his message. Bakugou had dared anyone who
“had any shit to say about it to pull up”, a message jovially shared by Ochaco with a video of her kicking a prop dummy’s head off, and Kirishima crushing said head between his hands. Iida shared the message alongside a bunch of helplines for those who’d been victimized in the same sort of way, and the entire cast shared it. Most of them shared it alongside messages of thanks, willing to share their own moments in which they’d felt as if they hadn’t been respected. EM&E had made its own statement, cosigned by Todoroki Enji himself (the Todoroki Siblings had simply laughed when they read it, saying that it ‘was a start’). Public opinion had been overwhelmingly positive, though there were still many naysayers accounts that Shouto, Jirou, Tokoyami, Aoyama and Shinsou have been vigilant in watching out for with a strong block and report button.

The best response by far was that of One for All production.

“We at One for All support Midoriya Izuku. Plain and simple. His message was clear, and the reality of it poignant. We recognize that modern day social media has made it easier for those to behave maliciously at potential minimal cost, but we assure our viewers that we will be aiding in any support necessary to find whoever decided to victimize him in this way. We cannot make you, the viewers, agree with us in this, but we only welcome the support of those who do. Thank you.”

“Fuck yeah! Look at the power behind this response!” Natsuo had crowed, nudging Izuku when he started to cry.

“It’s even being shared by some of the big names,” Fuyumi noted, pointing out that the Big 3, as well as Aizawa and Present Mic’s accounts had liked and shared the message.

“They know that they’re a powerhouse,” Touya notes, nudging his mask aside to sip his drink. “When you’re One for All, you can make moves like this.” As predicted, the media was in a shitstorm after all four Todoroki siblings were seen walking into a private restaurant with Midoriya Izuku. Touya had been in a hoodie, hat, and mask, but when the cameras started to get too close, he’d lingered back as camera bait, posing slightly with finger hearts. The onlooking fans had gone crazy- the glowing blue eyes still had showstopping effect.

Suffice it to say, Touya’s spirits had been massively uplifted, and he’d forgotten his shovel talk.

“I wonder if All Might himself had something to do with it,” Izuku murmurs, still awestruck.

“He must have,” Shouto says, hugging him close. “They have to run things past the top, don’t they?”

Izuku is still looking at the post when he receives an email and almost faints. Alarmed, Shouto vacillates over smacking him and throwing his water glass in his face.

“Hey! Izuku, what’s wrong?”

“I just got an email from the representative from One for All. All Might wants to meet me in an hour. If I’m interested, they’ll send a car to pick me up, they just need my location.”

Natsuo raises an eyebrow. “You know, you just went over this, he has a real na-”

“ALL MIGHT WANTS TO MEET ME!!!!” 

Shouto tilts the phone to read the email, impressed. “Yeah, Yagi Toshinori. Wow. I’m a little jealous.”

Gasping, Izuku swivels to Shouto. “Oh- I can ask if you want to go?”

“No. He’s asking for you, I won’t push it. For now. You’ll just have to tell me what he’s like.”

At this point, Izuku is vibrating with so much excitement he might break his own reality. One of his biggest dreams is coming true in an hour.

As it turns out, Yagi Toshinori’s mansion is on the opposite side of town, and if you weren’t looking for it, you’d never find it. It’s nestled amongst large maple and oak trees, the home’s design not nearly as ostentatious as the gilded homes surrounding it. He led to the back of the home, seated next to a giant pool that shines as cerulean as a sea opal. Someone walks out to place glasses out, followed by a gigantic decanter of orange juice. A teacup is placed down, smelling familiar… licorice? That’s a smell he hasn’t had in his mind for a long time, and Mr. Y comes to his mind. He needs to call his old friend, let him know that everything has been okay.

“Ah, I see my tea has been brought out. Hard as they try, it’s never as good as when you brewed them, Midoriya my boy.”

No.

No.

He launches up from the chair as Mr. Y walks up to him. He’s no longer wearing the long duster, instead opting for shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He’s still wearing his mask as he sits down comfortably.

“Mr. Y… are you here visiting All- Yagi Toshinori too? Is- is that what this is?”

Mr. Y huffs a quiet laugh. “Is that what you think is happening? Who do you think I am?”

“A really nice old man who was lucky to grow up of the age of social media?”

When Mr. Y removes his mask, he laughs again. This time, it’s a true belly laugh, a laugh that Izuku can immediately place. He pales, collapsing into his seat.

Mr. Y- Yagi Toshinori- beams at him, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Truly my boy, I never thought you could be so unobservant about this!”

Izuku is frozen in place with what has to be the dumbest look on the planet on his face, but he can’t honestly move. To be in the presence of his idol and to never notice it?! He’s been serving All Might tea, been fanboying about the man TO the man!

“It’s fine though,” Toshinori continues, pulling an old coffee cup out of his pocket. “It was a mystery.”

Izuku peers at the cup. ‘Mr. Y’ ‘Mister Y’ “Mystery-”

The smarmy look on Toshinori’s face is enough to convince Izuku that Toshinori had been waiting a long time for this incredibly bad Dad joke, and his face finally cracks into a groan, his hands fisting his hair.

“God, that’s the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard, and I can’t believe I missed it! A real-life Easter Egg!”

He’s still spiraling as Toshinori cackles some more, enjoying his long sought-after conclusion.

“Mr. Y-”

“Toshinori. I think you’ve earned the right at this point.”

“T-T-Toshinori,” Izuku stutters. First name basis, oh god, okay I can do this- “Why-”

“Because I respect you, boy! I’ve always respected you, even when you thought I was just some strange old man asking for disgusting tea. I haven’t had such intriguing conversation from a peer in a long time. I knew that you were the right fit for Deku, which is why I called Tsukauchi about you.”

The name rings a bell; it seems so long ago. “You…called Tsukauchi? You were the one who got me the audition?”

“I didn’t necessarily get you the audition, I just pulled a couple strings so that the time would be available for you. You had to earn the role completely on your own.”

Gigantic tears pool up in Izuku’s eyes- he owed this man so much. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Toshinori hands him a napkin. “You can thank me by continuing to be the good man you are, young Midoriya. Keep working hard, keep close the good friends you have around you, continue to be brave and smart in the face of the adversity you will face. Do that, and I will always stand by you.”

Izuku thinks back to the statement. “I appreciate the statement that your company made. I really do, thank you so much for being willing to keep me on. I felt like I’d lost everything when it happened, when I was so close to reaching my dreams.” He pauses, thinking of how best to word his next question. “Have you…ever had to face something like this?”

Toshinori leans back into his chair, eyes gazing far back into the past. “Not a nude, no. But when I got in that severe accident, they exposed pictures of my recovery process. A picture of me, sitting on the bed, scars completely exposed. I’m sure you’ve seen it.” Izuku has seen it. “Looking at it now, I’m sure you and many others think of it as nothing more than film history. But back then… they printed tabloids and articles claiming I was at death’s door for weeks, surrounding me with the energy that I might as well just go ahead and die, leaving an ‘All Mighty legacy’. I felt like the world was so disappointed with the idea that I was human, that it would be better for me to die than break the illusion.”

It’s a horrifying thought that makes Izuku sick to his stomach. “I can’t imagine how lonely you must have felt.”

With a small smile, Toshinori nods. “I didn’t have the support system you did. It was easier to retreat and run things from the background. I didn’t want to give up on all the hard work, and I truly loved what I was doing- it made a difference. If I hadn’t loved it all, I would have either vanished altogether, or maybe even died like they said. It took fortitude that I could have never predicted I had. So, seeing you now, someone who needed that support, I felt honored to be able to pass on the torch in that way.”

Before he can help himself, Izuku surges in for a hug. He’s hugging his personal hero and knowing more about him only makes it even more special. It only stuns Toshinori for a second, before he chuckles, returning the hug.

“I’m so honored to know Yagi Toshinori,” Izuku whispers. “All Might’s heroism doesn’t even compare to the real man behind him.”

A couple stifled sniffles lets Izuku know he’s struck a nerve, and Toshinori pulls him from the hug. “I have more good news if you’re ready to hear it. Tell me what you know about the movie you’re being cast in.”

Izuku sits down, explaining that the movie is in the Heroes Rising universe, with flashbacks to Deku’s mystery mentor and how he’d gained his powers from being a quirkless child to being on the way to the number one hero. Toshinori nods along approvingly.

“Good, good. As nice as the premise of the show was, I felt as though it needed to have that backstory. I’d heard from my sources that they were going to just have it in pieces throughout the show, and I didn’t like that. It wasn’t going to strike the way it could have unless it was either a movie, or an entire season. As a result, we made a deal with EM&E that we would work together on a movie, expand our resources. They needed him to have a mentor, of course. Someone wise in the ways.”

“Okay.” Izuku is not catching his purpose.

“So, I thought that perhaps it was time to bring All Might out of retirement.”

…

….

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

For what must be the umpteenth time today, Izuku shoots out of his seat. “YOU’RE LYING! NO WAY! A NEW ALL MIGHT MOVIE?! ALL MIGHT AND DEKU? ME AND YOU?”

“You’re shouting, young Midoriya. I’m right here.”

“… do you have a cushion?” He doesn’t wait for a response; he finds a couch cushion nearby and screams so loudly into it that he’s almost hoarse by the time he’s done hopping up and down.

It’s going to be the first All Might movie since Kamino. He will be starring in it. He’s carrying on All Might’s legacy. His character is being incorporated into the official All Might canon. It’s like all of his daydreams as a child when he pretended to be All Might’s sidekick, and then his peer, coming true.

“Are you still crying?”

A jovially tearful Izuku pulls away from the soaked pillow. “Yes!”

“You’re going to rain me out of house and home then, with all of the news I have. Sit, sit, there’s more.”

Shouto is almost nervous with how long it’s taking for Izuku to get home (he supposes this is what it felt like) but all his fears melt away when Izuku rushes in the house so happy that he jumps into his arms.

“Hey, Zu, ow, I love you too, please let go, I’m still a little in pain-”

Sheepish, Izuku drops down. “Oh! Right, right, I’m sorry. Shou! You’ll never believe what it was like!” He pulls Shouto by both arms to the couch, plopping them down.

“Okay, tell me how it went today.”

Shouto listens in awe as Izuku explains how it turned out that he actually knew Yagi Toshinori beforehand, that he was already on a first name basis with the man. He knew exactly what photo Izuku was talking about, and nods in understanding. He’d remembered that picture often when he’d been institutionalized, taken power from it even. When he mentions it to Izuku, Izuku pauses, frowning.

“I’m going to come back to that,” he warns Shouto, before continuing on.

When he reveals (after receiving permission!) what the premise of the movie is, Shouto nods along. He knew for sure that he and Bakugou had received calls as well for roles in the movie, and this time, he has a bombshell for Izuku.

“Part of the movie is also going to introduce a new major villain, a man that somehow knows all about Celsius’ harsh past.”

Izuku stares into his eyes, before it clicks, and he lights up. “No way! For Touya? Your dad let him go?”

Shouto nods. “He’s trying to play it off all cool, but Touya-nii is ecstatic right now. He said that re-entering the spotlight while stretching his limbs as a villain is the biggest challenge he’s had in years. He wants to delve into some personal emotions while doing it. You remember Shimura Tenko, right? The actor playing the main villain in Heroes Rising. Turns out, they’re old acting buddies, so it’s been kicking off really well.”

“That’s amazing, Shou! He’s going to do so well! And you get to act with your brother again!”

Shouto’s eyes shine. “It’s going to be so fun. You’ll get to see Touya act live in the studio- I swear, there’s nothing like it. He’s amazing. And I’m going to protect Touya this time, too- we’re going to protect each other. I think we’re all going to do so much better.”

“I’m so happy for you both, Shou.” Izuku knows that it’s an awkward cut, but he’d mentioned that he was going to come back to it, so- “I’ve noticed you toed around your institutionalization whenever we bring it up. I only remember the media harping on about it, but whenever it happens to come up, you get this glossy eyed stare. You don’t have to tell me now, of course! But… I just want you to know that you can talk to me about it if you need to.”

With that, Izuku finishes gushing about his day. This gushing lasts through dinner, into the shower, and then finally ends when they’re chilling in the bed watching TV.

Shouto isn’t sure if it’s because it’s nighttime, because everything feels so right, or just because he’s tired, but he starts to talk.

“I… was a teenager. Fifteen or sixteen. Every teenager goes through angsty phases, but I was just… it was not good. I don’t feel like delving into all of it, but suffice it to say, there was a lot of self-harm, lots of sneaking alcohol, and it all came to a head one day when I drunkenly tried to jump off the side of a stage.”

He expects the sharp gasp from beside him, but unlike the pity he’s grown to hate, it somehow encourages him to keep going.

“I was just so tired, so alone, and so fucking angry. I always had to dance the dance everyone else wanted me to, smile upon command, and when I couldn’t get it right, it was like I was the most terrible child. Mom was still in her own institution at this point, so I couldn’t go to her for help, and Dad managed to be both a high standard I couldn’t reach and trash at the same time. I was still estranged from my siblings at this point, plus carrying the guilt of what happened to me and Touya. There was no one to reach out to.”

He takes a sip from his now lukewarm tea. “My dad ordered me dragged out at once, and drag me they did, kicking and screaming from the premises. It’s kind of embarrassing now, but at the time it felt amazing. I went absolutely feral with the way I wrecked shop. Thousands of dollars in damage. Multiple people had to hold me down, and when I say I screamed my soul out… I wanted everyone to know just how terribly I was feeling.”

“That’s not embarrassing, Shouto,” Izuku cradles Shouto’s face in one hand, shivering. “That’s actually really traumatic. I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah… yeah. It was a hard transition inside, too. It was a really nice place, considering it could have been awful. Least he had enough respect for me to provide quality care. But it was still a cage. I was blessed when Fuyumi showed up for a visit. It was the first time in a long time that I’d seen her. One day she showed up with Touya, and I cursed that man out. It was bad. I demanded to know why he’d even bothered saving my life if I was going to suffer, that he should have let me burn alive in that fire. Luckily, Touya had been going to therapy, taking care of himself, so by the time he got to me, he was able to handle it. He was only 25, you know? Same age we are now, having to deal with something like that. He could have told me to fuck off and rot. Instead, he convinced me to go to the counseling sessions, to take care of myself so that my siblings could take care of me when I got out. They promised me that, while they couldn’t get me away from EM&E, they’d make sure I was never alone again. Now we’re all grown, and just now dealing with a bunch of shit from our childhoods.”

Izuku is almost regretting asking about it at this point- he thought he’d cried out all his tears at Toshinori’s, but this was too much. He shoves his face into Shouto’s neck, cuddling in.

“You don’t have to cry, Zu. I’m so happy that we’re here. Happy that I’m still here, and that I met you. Thanks to you, I’ve rediscovered my love for acting, and I’m closer to my family than ever…”

“I love you, too, Shou. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

“… and freaking All Might is going to be my father-in-law one day.”

Scoffing, Izuku leans away. “Damn it, way to ruin the- you know all he said was that he met my mom at my old coffee shop one day.”

“And they’ve met multiple times for tea and to discuss ‘what a wonderful boy you were’. For a year. Get used to her title being ‘Yagi Inko’ because that’s what she’ll be. You’re going to be All Might Jr. What if that’s what you’ve always been? You’re actually All Might’s illegitimate child-”

By the end, Izuku has tackled Shouto onto the bed. “Enough!”

“You can’t say it doesn’t sound awesome.”

“Good night, Shou!”

“So, you’re not going to hear out my theory?”

“I’ll hear out your theory tomorrow!”

Izuku doesn’t hear out the theory tomorrow. They end up discussing it that moment, before slipping into a conversation about All Might canon so long that the sun is almost back in the sky when they’re finally falling asleep in each other’s arms.

When the alarm goes off three hours later, it takes everything in Shouto not to punt kick it across the room. Izuku is the one to lean over him and turn it off.

“Was All Might worth the loss of sleep?” Shouto croaks, eyes still covered by his arm.

“I don’t know, Mr. Conspiracy Theorist, but they expect us by 9am. It’s 7:45am.”

Heaving a large sigh, Izuku sits up, bedhead massive. Peeking from under his eyes, Shouto grins.

“I think I could get used to seeing this every morning, even if you do look like a lopsided tomato.”

Cackling, Izuku shakes his hair out. “You couldn’t just be nice, huh? It’s your fault we have to face the day looking like zombies.”

Shouto sits up, kissing Izuku on the cheek. “Yes, but I’m a professional. Let’s see how long you last, rookie, especially since I’m going to shower and get coffee before you.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Shouto is dashing to the bathroom, and Izuku gawks.

“Hey!” There are two more showers in this house, but Izuku refuses to lose like this. He knocks on the bathroom door and leans against the frame as sexily as he can. Shouto opens it, raising an eyebrow.

“Room for one more?”

Both of them grinning, Shouto grabs Izuku by his shirt and yanks him inside. “Always.”