Chapter 1: You Embarrass Yourself In Front of Your Crush (& Millions of Other People)
Summary:
Blessed/cursed with a highly volatile quirk, you’ve always had a knack for stumbling into trouble.
You just didn’t expect it to happen live on television.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The echo of your footsteps bounced off of the concrete walls as you made your way through the dimly lit passage, hands balled into shaky fists. The ruckus of the crowd grew louder with each step, just like the jittery thrumming in your chest.
As you approached the end of the tunnel, you let out a slow breath and braced yourself for the overwhelming odds stacked against you. After all, you had the great misfortune of being matched against one of the strongest competitors in your class (who, worst of all, also happened to be the subject of your every daydream and late night fantasy).
Shut up. Focus, focus, you reminded yourself.
You wiped your palms against your pants one last time and curled them back into tight fists. Pushing away at the jittery nervousness in your chest, you settled into a mask of faux confidence.
Let’s get this thing over with.
Keeping your stride even and smooth, you took that final step out of the tunnel and into the sudden, blinding brilliance of the arena. You squinted but resisted the urge to shield your eyes with your hand—you knew your quirk would adjust your vision in a couple of seconds anyway.
Despite trying to block out the audience in your periphery, it was impossible to ignore how massive and imposing the stadium now seemed. The attention of its thousands of scrutinizing spectators was no longer split amongst dozens of competitors like it had been in the previous two events. Instead, the eyes of the world were concentrated on this singular stage, salivating at the mouth for the fight that was about to take place. Yet another perk to your opponent being a minor celebrity.
Present Mic’s voice boomed throughout the arena, vaguely distorted as it echoed over the crowd. “Welcome to the ring, our first one-on-one match of the day!”
Right on cue, the audience erupted into cheers, the messy roar of their thousands of voices blurred together, threatening to knock you over like a tidal wave. Another spike of adrenaline coursed its way through your body. Thousands of eyes watching you here. Millions more watching at home.
“He’s the son of the #2 hero and way too strong for his own good. Equipped with flames and ice, from the hero course, it’s Shouto Todoroki!”
Across the way, Todoroki strode toward the center stage with his signature icy glare.
“Versus the girl built to adapt to anything you throw at her!”
I don’t know about that.
You steadied yourself anyway, head held high and mimicking your opponent’s confidence.
“The rules to win are simple: Immobilize your opponent, force them outta the ring, or get them to yield,” Present Mind explained.
“I’m not going to hold back,” Todoroki warned.
“I’d be offended if you did.”
Present Mic’s enthusiastic voice cut through your exchange. “Ready? Begin!”
Before you could move to attack, the temperature plummeted. You were shoved back, realizing half a second too late what was happening. All at once, you were covered in ice, limbs frozen into place, with only your head peeking above the surface of the glacier.
Teeth chattering so hard you felt you might break them, your exhale unfurled like smoke.
Too cold. Make it stop.
Unable to focus on anything other than Todoroki’s brutal frozen hold, there was nothing you wanted more than to break free. Luckily, he had unleashed a similar move when he had tried to freeze everyone at the beginning of the obstacle course. You had broken free then which meant your body knew how to do it again now.
Roughly two seconds later, your cheeks grew warmer as a mild fever started to take hold of your body.
“Can you move at all?” Midnight asked from the judging platform.
“Yes,” you said, as the ice closest to you started to melt, allowing you some wiggle room. You broke one of your hands free to prove your point.
But unlike last time, Todoroki was here, watching your every move, intercepting any attempts at progress. So, in response to your freed hand, Todoroki sent another wave of ice in your direction, refreezing the ice block you were stuck in. Steam began to rise from your extremities, as your temperature continued to climb, allowing you to free both of your arms faster this time, only for Todoroki refreeze you again in an instant. And so your temperature kept climbing as your body adapted to his persistence, to the never-ending cold he had to offer.
But the heat was becoming far hotter than you had ever dealt with before.
Stuck in an impossible loop, you knew your body wouldn’t stop trying to break free which meant Todoroki wouldn’t stop freezing and refreezing you. The dual pain of the fire and frostbite made it impossible to concentrate, panic beginning to take hold of you. You thrashed against your restraints as the rising heat in your chest started to suffocate you. Pushing back against your panic, you fought for control of your own body. But the heat intensified further, battling against your insides, desperate for an escape.
Forced into a coughing fit, some deep-rooted instinct took over, and you threw your head back just in time for the heat to rise through your throat, escape your lips, and singe the air, manifesting as a massive burst of steam. Heat collided with ice, and the glacier burst apart, sending debris and shattered ice all around you.
The thick, swirling clouds of dust and smoke obscured your vision, covering the arena like a dense early nightfall. Even though he had been just across from you moments ago, Todoroki was now lost amidst the shifting wall of gray. You could still hear the shuffle and murmurs of the crowd—bits and pieces of sentences, some theorizing what happened, some wishing you well, and some complaining about the obstructed view—but even as the smoke started to clear, their figures were far too distant to resemble anything more than muted, formless shadows.
You continued to cough, your breaths rasped and wheezed, as your body tried to rid itself of the lingering itch in your throat. Trying to regain your composure, you vaguely noted the sound of a pair of hurried footsteps pounding against the cement, each step growing closer, the blur of a silhouette cutting through the stillness.
Then a breeze sent a chill up your spine, and you stiffened, suddenly very aware of one terrifying new problem.
You glanced down, and your stomach plummeted.
This can’t be happening.
Your clothes, or rather, what was left of them, were barely clinging to your body. Some parts were more exposed than others, but all in all, there was very little left to the imagination. (And yes, that included the top part of your workout uniform, which was pretty much gone.)
Todoroki’s running figure grew clearer as more smoke faded and the dust continued to settle. Through the gaps in the gray haze, he caught a glimpse of your tattered clothing and came to an abrupt halt just a few feet short of you, his gaze lowering to your chest without thinking.
Eyes wide in horror at his actions, he whipped his head away in one sharp motion, blush dusting his cheeks, and a small flame suddenly alit in his hair. With one swift movement, he surrounded you with a tall, crescent-shaped ice wall.
The voices from the crowd grew louder.
“What’s going on?” someone called out from the audience.
“Is she okay?” someone else asked.
Next thing you knew, Todoroki was tugging off his shirt, revealing taut muscles that tensed with each footfall as he closed the distance between you. Your breath hitched at the sight: He was just so unfairly, so ridiculously beautiful. You gawked at him, your brain short-circuiting, as frozen in place and time as the day you first set your eyes on him.
“Ooh, she’s having a wardrobe malfunction,” someone in the crowd realized aloud, shaking you from your lust-induced trance.
“Here,” Todoroki said, finally reaching you. He kept his focus just off-center to avoid looking at you directly and turned away completely to give you privacy the moment you accepted his shirt.
You tried to thank him as you got dressed, but erupted into another coughing fit instead.
“Are you okay?” Todoroki asked over his shoulder, concern evident in his tone.
You tapped his arm to indicate he could look again, and shook your head when his eyes met yours. Pressing your other hand to your throat, you mouthed, “Hurts. ”
He furrowed his brow. “The match is over. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.”
You nodded, following him beyond the ice wall. With a wave of his hand, he formed a frozen tunnel that extended to the exit.
Your gaze darted up to the photographers stationed at the entrance to the arena, their cameras pointed at you two, and Todoroki followed your line of sight. You tugged down at his shirt, since it just barely covered your ass, and Todoroki stepped out in front of you, arms extended as he tried to take up as much space as possible with his body. “Stay close to me.”
“So did he win?” a loud voice called from the crowd as the two of you ran past the cameras and slipped out of view.
Present Mic’s voice pierced through the noise in the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will review the footage while the robots clean up the arena for the next match. Stay tuned!”
When the two of you turned the corner to the infirmary, Recovery Girl was waiting in the hall, a folded gym uniform in her arms.
“I saw the whole thing. You poor dear,” she said, sympathy clear in her gaze as she handed you the uniform. “Here, put this on. You can change in there.”
You stepped into the bathroom, the light turning on automatically, and clicked the door shut behind you. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror— shit, jumpscare —you grimaced at how disheveled you looked. It was no wonder Recovery Girl had looked at you with such pity in her eyes. Since extreme adaptations like this one tended to drain your energy, you were visibly tired with sunken eyebags, a slouched posture, and a dull overall complexion, paired with remnants of charred residue on your face and hands. You washed up as best you could in the cramped bathroom, scrubbing away at the memory of your embarrassing display with equal amounts of force and soap.
Finally clean, you were just about to tug off Todoroki’s shirt when the serendipitous flipside to this entire situation dawned on you: Your crush stripped off his shirt on live television just to shield you from prying eyes!
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
What were the odds he had an extra shirt lying around, readily available, and you could keep this one forever? Alternatively, you could also just pretend his shirt vanished somewhere between here and where he seated himself ten feet beyond the door (“Your shirt? It’s gone, poof, vanished. I don’t know what to tell you.”)
Momentarily resisting the urge to be a total creeper (you lost near-instantly, by the way), you held up his shirt to your nose, testing to see if it smelled like him. The smell of ash from your own incinerated clothing lingered thanks to that stupid quirk of yours, but it didn’t overpower his scent entirely—some sort of rich boy cologne with top notes of dreamy pretty boy and base notes of way out of your league.
Eventually, you reluctantly took off his shirt and put on the new one Recovery Girl had given you. While you finished getting changed, you recognized the sound of Present Mic’s voice on the TV through the door.
”Ladies and gentlemen, we reviewed the footage and verified with the eyewitnesses stationed at ground level. It was a close one! Despite the ice tunnel blocking our film cameras, the photographers stationed next to the arena captured the moment both contestants stepped out of bounds. If you see here, Todoroki crossed the threshold right before she did, and since our girl broke free of his ice prison and didn’t officially yield, the match wasn’t over! Todoroki loses on a technicality!”
Your heart sank. You never thought being declared the winner would feel this gutting.
Fully clothed again, you burst open the door with enough force for it to bang against the wall, causing the only other patient there—a sleeping General Studies student who had been injured during the obstacle race—to stir a few beds over. Recovery Girl arched an eyebrow at you in silent warning not to do that again, but you were too preoccupied with the current injustice to feel bad over almost waking someone up.
Todoroki’s usual stoic mask had slipped, the turmoil in his eyes revealing his surprise and devastation at the judges’ decision, and telling you all you needed to know: You had to do something to fix this.
Panicked, you gestured to Recovery Girl that you needed something to write with. She handed you a notepad and a pen, and you quickly scribbled out a note to show her: “The ice blocked the cameras. I did yield. I lost the match.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Dearie, if you can’t speak right now, how did you yield?”
Brows furrowed, Todoroki tilted his head upwards, scanning his memory for the moment you were referencing and not quite remembering it because it didn’t happen.
Another note: “I mouthed it.”
She read over your note, clearly not fully convinced, so you doubled down, scribbling yet another message: “Please. He won. They made a mistake. Can you let them know?”
That statement definitely wasn’t a lie. You knew he was the true winner.
She searched your eyes for a hint of deception. Finding none, she sighed, “Okay, dearie. I’ll tell them. Be right back. I need to make a call.”
After she stepped out, Todoroki looked up at you from where he was seated, a serious look on his face. “I don’t remember you yielding.”
You penned your response: “I didn’t. Not officially. But we both agreed the match was over.”
He glanced at the sleeping student and lowered his voice. “The judges decided you could have kept fighting.”
You suspected that having Midnight as one of the judges was a major contributor to this verdict. You remembered reading once that in the early days of her career, the R-rated hero’s original costume consisted of boots, a trench coat, a strategically placed utility belt and well, that was pretty much it. So if there was anyone who could fight in next to nothing, it was her. But, unfortunately, you did not share her unwavering confidence.
Pushing the thought out of your mind, you held up another note for Todoroki: “Naked on live television? No, thank you. I’d like to leave some things to the imagination.”
When he finished reading, his eyes flicked up to you, where he kept his gaze fixed while he mulled something over in his mind. “This isn’t just because we’re—” He paused when the Gen Ed student shifted in his sleep. “—friends, right?”
Picking the pen back up, you added: “Todoroki, we both know you won. I’m just righting a wrong.”
“Okay then.” His eyes met yours. “Thank you.”
You held up your reply: “No, thank you for your quick thinking and your ice walls and your shirt and everything. I owe you one.”
He shook his head, pushing on his knees to stand. “No, you don’t. Get some rest so Recovery Girl can heal you.” He took back his shirt (Devastating). “I need to prepare for my next match.”
That’s when the door swung open behind him. Without a second's hesitation, your closest friends crossed the room, filling it with chatter and concern. They gathered around, immediately fussing over you.
“What happened out there?” Tooru asked, the fabric of her uniform shifting as she examined the extent of your injuries.
Since the alternative would be to talk directly to her shirt, your gaze shifted to where Tooru’s face would be. Unfortunately, her invisibility made the match happening on the TV behind her difficult to ignore, especially since Sero had just barely dodged one of Iida’s quirk-fueled kicks but it was uncomfortably close.
Mina spoke before you had a chance to answer Tooru, pulling your attention back to the conversation. “That burst of steam was insane! For, like, half a second, we thought Todoroki actually used his fire and lost control." She glanced back at him. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he responded in that usual serious, quiet voice of his.
“We’d never seen your quirk react like that. Ribbit, ” Tsu added.
Ochako gently squeezed your hand, offering you a warm, reassuring smile. “That looked intense. How are you feeling?”
While you worked on penning a response in the midst of the frenzy, Todoroki quietly made his way to the exit. But right when he was about to leave, he stopped at the threshold of the door and turned back to call your last name.
Your name sounded so pretty coming from his lips.
“I’ll come back and check on you later,” Todoroki informed you, and then he was gone before you could reply.
“Oh, so he’s gonna check up on you, huh?” Mina’s eyebrows shot up with a knowing smirk. “How…interesting .”
You shook your head, quietly willing her to drop whatever crazed theory she was starting to form in her mind.
“So, what was it like to wear his shirt fresh off his back?” Tooru whisper-squealed now that Todoroki was hopefully out of earshot.
You combed your memory for the answer, squinting at the hazy replay of the events in your head. You held up your response: “Not sure. I think I blacked out a little.”
“You’re stronger than I am. I would have fainted if it had been me,” Tooru said, fanning herself.
That’s when Recovery Girl walked back into the room, cutting the conversation short. “Now girls, she’s tired. We should let her rest.”
“Okay,” Mina pouted.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Tsu said.
“We’ll see you soon, okay?” Ochako added and the others waved goodbye.
You mouthed “Thank you” to Recovery Girl and she responded with a smile and a knowing nod.
You laid down on one of the infirmary beds, determined to stay awake long enough to hear UA announce the official change for your match results.
Luckily for you, a minute or so later, Present Mic’s voice was on the TV again. “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s been a mistake. We were just informed that Todoroki stepped out of bounds because his opponent had already yielded. Goes to show you folks, you can have some of the best cameras in the world and they still won’t catch everything. Anyway, for our next match-up, we’ve got a guy who hasn’t really done anything impressive yet. From General Studies, it’s Hitoshi Shinsou! Versus the dynamic inventor bursting with ingenuity! From the support course, it’s Mei Hatsume! Third match, go ahead and—”
You clicked off the TV.
Fighting for Your Lives at the USJ: An Unexpected Meet-Cute feat. Todoroki’s Perspective
One Month Prior
USJ: The Landslide Zone
“Divide and conquer, huh?” Shouto asked.
The dark tendrils of the warp portal dissipated from view, leaving Shouto and you standing side by side, bodies tense as you faced down a cluster of villains standing just a few feet away. Their hands held a deadly assortment of weapons—sharpened blades and pitchforks, electric shock batons, thick ropes, and heavy chains—and a shiver of cold realization crept into Shouto’s mind: Not only did they have no intention of letting the two of you out of here alive, their weapons expressed a clear, brutal intent to make the journey there extraordinarily painful.
"Looks like we've got ourselves some fresh meat," sneered one of the villains brandishing an oversized knife, his voice dripping with malice. “Slicing you up will be fun.”
Another villain holding a set of chains looked past Shouto and directly at you with a sadistic grin, the metal links clinking as he repeatedly pulled the chains taut. “Leave the girl to me.”
Shouto stepped in front of you with a protective look in his heterochromatic eyes and put one arm out, wordlessly warning you to stand back.
Then, before any of the villains could make their move and make good on their threats, Shouto froze them all in an instant, quickly changing their malicious smiles to faces of utter horror.
“He’s not a hero!” a spikey-haired one said from his ice prison, lips shivering. “He’s a monster!”
“Funny,” you said, moving up to stand beside Shouto, your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Considering you're the ones who came here to hurt us.”
“You should be embarrassed that it took one student to defeat you all,” Shouto said, a sharp, angry edge to his voice.
Yet, off to the side, one of the villains started to break free, steam rising from him as the amber substance covering his body ate away at Shouto’s ice. The villain freed one of his arms and sprayed the liquid directly at the two of you. Shouto, quick to react, summoned an ice barrier to shield you both, but it was clear this defense wouldn't hold for long against the villain's quirk. As the ice wall started to succumb to the heat from the ongoing attack, some of the amber substance splattered nearby and Shouto immediately recognized the smell in the air.
Gasoline.
Shouto summoned another ice barrier to buy precious seconds while he grappled with how to handle the situation. Clearly, the villain was capable of heating the gasoline to a boiling point, which meant he could keep disintegrating Shouto’s ice. The gasoline itself was vaporizing rapidly as it came into contact with the ice, but that meant the vapors lingering in the air were creating a highly flammable environment. So, even if Shouto wanted to break his self-imposed rule and use his fire quirk in combat, it could result in a massive, potentially fatal explosion.
During Shouto’s moment of hesitation, you darted over to the small pool of gasoline that had landed nearby. You kneeled down and lightly pressed two fingers into the steaming substance, gritting your teeth against the searing pain as you counted, "One . . . two . . .”
Shouto watched with a mixture of stunned awe and concern. “What are you doing?”
“Three. . . four ." You pulled your injured hand away, clutching it to your chest with a shaky breath, eyes closed, and then a barely perceptible ripple cascaded along your body, signaling the completion of your quirk's adaptation to the heat, the tension in your shoulders dissipating with an exhale of relief once it did. Turning back to Shouto, you clenched your uninjured hand into a tight fist and said, “I’ve got this one.”
You charged headfirst at the villain, unflinching when he tried coating you with a layer of the boiling liquid. Taking advantage of his stunned reaction, you executed a perfect leg sweep, sending the villain crashing to the ground. Before he could even think to retaliate, you followed up with a devastating axe kick to his head, the impact reverberating through the air. The villain's eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the ground, threat neutralized.
As the adrenaline of the moment faded, Shouto's attention fell to the red and blistered skin of your injured hand, recognizing the tell-tale signs of a second-degree burn, something he was, unfortunately, intimately familiar with.
“You’re hurt,” Shouto said, his usual composed expression softening into something laced with concern, maybe even regret. Wishing he had something to tend to your wound and ease your pain, he made a quiet mental note to add first aid supplies to his hero costume. He wouldn’t be caught under-prepared again. Equal parts frustrated and disappointed, he added, “I should’ve been able to handle them all by myself.”
Surprise flickered across your face. “Hey, I’ll be okay, so don’t worry about me.” A beat passed while you processed the rest of what he had said. “You know you don’t have to fight alone, right? We’re in this together.”
For a moment, Shouto hesitated, as if weighing your words. Then, with a small, determined nod, he replied, “Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s figure out what they want with All Might.”
For a fraction of a second, the chaos of the ongoing USJ attack seemed to fade, becoming a distant, muffled afterthought as Shouto’s attention fixated on you. His eyes narrowed slightly, a tiny crease forming between his brows as he watched you, something shifting within him.
Given Shouto’s reserved nature, the two of you hadn’t exchanged more than a passing glance since the start of the semester, making this your first real interaction. But now, you were no longer just another classmate at the edge of his periphery. You were someone fighting alongside him, someone, he was now realizing, he felt inexplicably drawn toward. It wasn’t the fact that you were very pretty, nor a fascination with your quirk, though both had certainly caught his attention. No, there was something else. Something unspoken, difficult to articulate yet impossible to ignore, that tugged at the edges of his thoughts, sparking a quiet curiosity within him.
What surprised him most was how, despite having barely moved past being strangers, he felt a strange familiarity with you like a distant, hazy memory he couldn’t fully recall, or a song he somehow knew without ever hearing. There was a murmur of recognition deep in his chest, whispering that he knew you from somewhere, or, perhaps even more bizarre, had been waiting to meet you all along.
Whatever it was, it didn’t make sense, but this clearly wasn’t the time for any more distractions. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze, and refocused his attention on the immediate priority: Defeat the rest of the villains and make it out alive.
Deciphering the mystery of what these budding feelings were would have to wait, for now.
Present Day
You woke up a little later, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Across from you, the TV on the wall was back on, still tuned in to the Sports Festival, but muted with the subtitles on. From the look of it, they were on the last match of the second round: Midoriya vs. Mina.
The purple-haired boy you had teamed up with earlier for the cavalry battles (Shinsou, was it?) was laying on another bed in the infirmary, his tired eyes locked on the screen. You shifted your weight to sit up, and his eyes drifted over to you.
“Oh, you’re awake. The guy you fought dropped something off for you.” He gestured beyond you to a little to-go cup sitting at your bedside.
You reached for it, surprised to find it was still hot to the touch. Did that mean Todoroki had just been here? Rotating it, you found two little sticky notes pressed delicately to its sides—your name followed by “Drink after healing” on one side and “Get well soon. - Shouto” on the other—both written in handwriting so perfect it looked typed.
When you picked it up to smell the contents (some sort of tea, unclear which), Shinsou said, “You know, I can’t believe you broke free from the ice. It’s a bummer you still lost though.”
You started to open your mouth to respond, but remembered your injury. Shaking your head, you held up your hand to gesture for him to give you a minute. Glancing around, you looked for the pencil and writing pad you had been using. Recovery Girl must have moved them when you had fallen asleep.
“I’m not using my quirk right now. I promise if you talk, you won’t get brainwashed,” he said, and something in his tone sounded defensive? Hurt? You weren’t quite sure.
Truth be told, your quirk worked well for defense when it came to protecting you and only you, but lacked attack applications. So, you had understood why in the spirit of competition, your friends had prioritized teaming up with the strongest allies possible during the cavalry battles (Ochako had joined Midoriya, Tsu went with Shouji, Mina teamed up with Bakugou, Todoroki handpicked Iida, Kaminari, and, of course, Yaoyorozu, etc.)
So you had joined Shinsou’s team willingly during the frenzied free-for-all, your tone almost apologetic when you had explained the limited contribution your quirk could offer in that context. It wasn’t until Shouda publicly withdrew from the tournament that you realized the rest of your teammates had been brainwashed. However, since Shinsou hadn’t used his quirk on you, you felt no reason to be wary of him now.
You scribbled quickly in your notebook and raised it for him to see. “Quirk fried my vocal cords. Physically can’t talk.”
“Oh man, and I thought I was having a rough day. What kind of quirk backfires on their user like that?”
You scribbled your response, fully aware it was a rhetorical question, and showed him the notepad again. “A stupid one.”
He laughed, not expecting that answer from you. “Maybe all of you heroics kids aren’t quite so lucky,” he said like it was some surprising revelation.
“Me? Lucky? Never.” You shook your head, shuddering at the replay of your match in your head, before writing another note for him to read. “But why are you in the infirmary ?”
“The guy I beat set off an explosion in my face after our match. He didn’t handle the loss well. I’m just resting now until it’s time for my next fight.”
You lifted your notepad: “Bakugou?”
“Bakugou.”
Did you hear him right? Bakugou lost?
Another note: “How did you beat him?”
At that, Shinsou smirked. “He’s really easy to piss off.” Then he pushed himself off of the bed right as Midoriya defeated Mina on the TV, sending her flying out of bounds with a flick of his fingers. “That’s my cue. I’ve gotta go.”
You quickly wrote out the kanji for “Good luck” on your notepad and held it up for him to see.
“Thanks. Feel better,” he called over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold to leave.
The door clicked shut and you were alone again with nothing more than the background flicker of the TV and your own thoughts to keep you company.
You reached for the tea Todoroki had brought you, reexamining it all over again.
It was strange to think about the dizzying contradiction he could be. The day had started with him practically declaring war on Midoriya, his cold attitude making it clear he wasn’t there to make friends. And yet, a few hours later, Todoroki was leaving you handwritten notes, wishing you well, and bringing you tea to soothe your throat. His actions didn’t quite match up with the stoic exterior he usually displayed with most of the class, and somehow, despite all the time you had spent together, there were still parts of him you hadn’t quite been able to piece together. The reality was you had been trying to figure him out since the moment you met him, and even now, there was still so much unexplored territory, so much mystery left to uncover behind the enigma that was Shouto Todoroki.
Notes:
This is my first ever long fic so I hope you're enjoying the chaos so far!
Fair Warning:
I might yap sometimes in these end notes like I’m on a behind-the-scenes DVD commentary because I love talking about the decisions that went into writing.
. . .
On your quirk:
Your quirk might seem overpowered (& it definitely can be) but every adaptation is based on something the human body can already do, just taken to an extreme & occasionally pulled from its original context (which will be covered in the story soon). For instance, your body might raise your temperature if it’s fighting an infection. It’s the same idea in the opening scene, except here your body is fighting to free itself from being encased in ice (& just overcorrected, hurting you similar to how a high fever might hurt its host too). Or another example is from a future scene where (minor spoiler) you fall from a great height. Your body adapts by filling itself with so much air it eases the impact of your landing (inspired by the question “What if your body turned bloating into a good thing?”) Or even the USJ flashback scene where you adapt to withstand a boiling liquid—the human body can withstand high heat for a finite amount of time (like direct contact with the water in a hot tub or enduring the environment of a sauna or hot yoga), which means you can too! (just taken to a quirk-enhanced extreme).
On the Sports Festival Matchups:
Luck was a major factor in deciding the winner of the third Sports Festival event in canon. For example, it was extremely bad luck for Midoriya that Todoroki was his opponent in his second matchup, no matter who the victor ended up being. Not only is Todoroki one of two classmates against whom Midoriya would struggle immensely (the other being Bakugou), but even if Midoriya had won, the extent of his injuries (he literally needed surgery) meant that he would have been forced to forfeit the rest of the matches. That means, win or lose, the fact that he had to fight Todoroki early on would have cost him 1st place, regardless. That sucks.
Similarly, it was very bad luck Shinsou happened to get matched up against Midoriya, the one person who could break free of his brainwashing (because of quirk ghosts). With the exception of Todoroki (& I guess Aoyama, who already fell for it once), I would argue that Shinsou had a decent chance of tricking any of the other competitors into speaking to him & therefore win.
So what if we rewrote that series of events but allowed Midoriya & Shinsou to be a tad luckier? What if Midoriya still fought Todoroki, but it was the last matchup of the event, where they were both vying for 1st place? And what if Shinsou was lucky and got paired against Hatsume, the one person who didn’t care about advancing past the first round of the third event?
Speaking of Bakugou, he wouldn’t have seen the brainwashing quirk in action if Hatsume didn’t speak to Shinsou at all, nor would he have been warned by Aoyama about Shinsou’s quirk (because if Aoyama didn’t warn Izuku in canon, why would he warn Bakugou here?) or even you (because a) you weren’t hypnotized, b) you aren’t friends yet and c) you were too busy being unconscious).
A Small Detail About Todoroki:
You know how Todoroki’s original hero costume was very simple? But his later costume included little hanging metal capsules with first aid supplies? I don’t remember there being a moment in canon that explains his decision to carry first aid materials on him, so I thought it would be fun to create a reason that ties back to you!
Chapter 2: Help, Your Crush Is Drowning in Admirers
Summary:
Everybody wants him. Great.
Chapter Text
The following day, you stumbled upon a discovery that, in retrospect, shouldn’t have been all that surprising: The people loved Shouto Todoroki.
Or, at the very least, they loved watching, analyzing, and discussing him, his famous father, and his impressive quirk.
CHAMPIONSHIP HIGHLIGHTS Shouto Todoroki vs. Izuku Midoriya | UA Sports Festival
18,851,294 views 12 hours ago #1 on Trending
His match against Midoriya, where the two had vied for first place, had already become the most watched video from the tournament, overshadowing the second and third year championship fights by a landslide.
Elsewhere, hundreds of thousands of posts containing hashtags like #EndeavorsSonWinsTheSportsFestival and its variations discussed Todoroki’s victory. At the same time, quirk enthusiasts used #ShoutoTodorokiHasTwoQuirks and #ShoutoTodorokiOnlyHasOneQuirk to debate whether “Half-Cold Half-Hot” counted as one or two powers.
And then there were the articles from news outlets here and abroad who were capitalizing on his inherent fame as the son of a major hero:
Endeavor’s Son: The Unsurprising Champion at UA Sports Festival
Son of #2 Hero Secures Victory With Brutal Fire and Ice Combo
Son of Endeavor Shields Blushing Classmate From Wardrobe Malfunction
Wait a minute.
You clicked on that last link, your stomach already twisting.
You had had the bad luck of not only embarrassing yourself on live television during one of the most watched events of the year, but to make things worse, you had also done so while fighting the eventual media obsession.
The first photo had captured the full glory of Todoroki’s athletic figure—his taut, chiseled abs accentuated by faint shadows and his strong, sculpted arms spread wide as he shielded you with his body.
In the next photo, you were behind him, hunched in on yourself, trying to make yourself smaller and tugging his shirt down as far as possible. (Not exactly something you wanted captured on camera, let alone circulated across the internet. Next.)
The final picture was an action shot of Todoroki’s hand mid-freeze, his ice aimed straight for the camera, frost lining the edges of the lens. It was the simplest of the three photos and yet the sight of it made something inside you feel soft. He really had done everything in his power to help you, hadn’t he?
The article had the full official video hyperlinked at the bottom, and your thumb hovered over the link, equal parts curious and afraid.
A text from Mina to the entire 1-A group chat popped up.
Mina: Come downstairs NOW
You pushed yourself off the bed. Mina’s message sounded important, but you couldn’t find yourself pulling your gaze from your phone. You clicked on the video, eyes locked on the screen as you went through the motions of leaving your room and fumbling into the hall, your hand somehow finding the button to summon the elevator.
It started to play right as you stepped into the elevator, and everything was just as you had remembered it. Todoroki’s intensity and your own awkwardness felt just as palpable on the screen as it had just a day prior. Grimacing, you decided you weren’t feeling masochistic enough to relive the entire match. Instead, you scrolled to the bottom of the page to read what others had to say about the fight, curiosity getting the best of you.
The elevator doors opened with another ding when it settled on the first floor, and you stepped into the common room, where Mina’s voice briefly pulled your focus from the phone.
You glanced up, and Mina motioned you over to where she and some of your classmates were huddled around the TV in the common room, watching some sort of livestream. “They’re talking about our quirks!”
You found an empty seat next to Kaminari, who was more than happy to explain what they were all doing. “Midoriya was watching this on his laptop, but he didn’t realize his headphones weren’t connected. When we heard they were discussing hypothetical quirk marriages, we told him to cast it to the TV immediately .” He turned to face a red-faced Midoriya. “Oh! Do me and her next!” Kaminari said, gesturing between the two of you.
“Okay,” Midoriya said quietly, laptop in front of him and his hero analysis notebook at his side. He typed the request into the ongoing live chat, where it was quick to get lost among the sea of others.
Phone still in hand, you returned your focus to your video’s comment section.
There were already thousands of comments, so you sifted through the top ones:
not to be dramatic but i think im in love
Bidi Bidi Bing Bong 9 hours ago
going FERAL over his insanely toned body
Lots-o-orange-juice 7 hours ago
he could turn me into a popsicle and i would thank him
You Already Know 6 hours ago
Todoroki gIVE ME A CHANCE
Misty Twisty 4 hours ago
he is such a DADDY
Guessst 2 hours ago
You relaxed a little. Somehow, even though you were the one who had nearly flashed millions of viewers, people were a lot more interested in thirsting over him than discussing anything else. Not that you would blame them. He was as ridiculously gorgeous in the pictures as he was in person. It seemed Todoroki’s presence had saved you from the same embarrassment twice now.
You briefly looked up at the sound of Bakugou’s annoyed “Tch” followed by a “I don’t need her fucking quirk.” It seemed the livestreamer had chosen to talk about how some of the standout quirks in the tournament would blend with each other, earning an annoyed reaction from the constantly angry blond at the suggestion that his explosions could potentially work well with Tokage’s quirk, Lizard Tail Splitter, resulting in mini body grenades. Following this train of thought, the livestreamer took the opportunity to shift focus and center on the rest of 1-B’s quirks.
“Guess we don’t get to know what quirk our kids would have after all, Kaminari,” you said, still mostly focused on scrolling through the desert’s worth of thirst in the comment section.
It wasn’t until Kaminari stretched out his left arm, emboldened enough to rest it on the couch back behind you, that you stiffened at the realization your snarky response had been misread as flirting.
“You ever want to find out the old-fashioned way, babe, you let me know,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, um, I’m—” you stammered, trying to find the words to avoid a misunderstanding.
“She’s not interested,” an icy voice said from behind the two of you.
You turned around to see Todoroki staring daggers at Kaminari.
In response, the blond next to you opted to awkwardly retract his arm. “Hey man, I was just kidd—”
“I’m going to get a snack,” you said, interrupting, as you hopped to your feet, embracing the opportunity to remove yourself.
You hadn’t had a chance to speak to Todoroki after his win. Fortunately for you, he followed you to the privacy of the kitchen.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
You cupped your throat. “It’s still a little sore, but at least I can speak again. By the way,” you reached for your phone, not quite ready to move on from the topic of your match. “Have you seen what people are saying about the Sports Festival? You have fans.”
You handed him your phone, and his eyes scanned the text, his expression remaining unreadable. You glanced over to find most of your classmates enthralled in the discussion of a Mushroom and Vine quirk marriage, except for Mina, who was looking at you with an arched brow. Ignoring her, you turned your focus back on the pretty boy in front of you, just in time for him to look up at you, perfectly serious. “I assure you, I don’t have any children.”
Confused for a fraction of a second, the line “he is such a DADDY” repeated in your head.
You closed your eyes and laughed to yourself because Todoroki was funny, especially when he wasn’t trying to be. “That’s a relief. I didn’t feel like sharing you.” Shut up. You caught yourself before you said something even more incriminating to the one guy you actually did want to flirt with. You’re just friends, so act like it.
But Todoroki, nonchalant as ever, didn’t react to your slip-up, focused instead on the thermos he pulled out from the bag. “I brought you soup from home for your throat. It’s the kind my sister makes when I’m not feeling well.”
Your eyebrows flashed up for a second, caught off guard by his surprising tenderness. First his shirt, the tea, and now this—you couldn’t help but notice the beginning of a pattern. A couple of pieces of the puzzle that were Shouto Todoroki clicked into place: Todoroki was as thoughtful as he was kind. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
He handed you the thermos, and your fingers accidentally grazed his, your little heart jolting in response. You cleared your throat on instinct, just trying to act natural, only to wince immediately at the reminder of your injury.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, a touch of concern in his features.
You quickly shook your head. “No, just my throat, but this will definitely help.”
He relaxed, offering you a nod. “I can heat it up for you later if you aren’t hungry now. I apologize if the vegetables aren’t all cut symmetrically. I did my best.”
“Wait. You made this?”
“I followed my sister’s recipe, but yes, I did. Whatever it takes to make you feel better.”
Okay, how were you supposed to not be obsessed with this man when he casually did tender stuff like this?
You pressed your lips together, reminding yourself that sudden declarations of love and confessions of undying devotion would most likely strain your well-earned friendship with him.
So you searched for your brain for a normal response that didn’t involve some variation of “I adore you. Please marry me”, and settled on the first appropriate one that came to mind: “Thank you, Todoroki. I’m really grateful to have a friend like you.”
“Todoroki brought you soup? That’s really nice of him. Ribbit,” Tsu said while you skimmed through the options on the clothing rack.
“Yeah,” Mina started, the wheels in her head already turning. “Super nice, actually.”
You shrugged, doing your best to sound casual and unimpressed. “He’s just being a good friend.”
Tooru’s floating glove gestured toward the group. “We’re good friends and none of us brought you soup,” she added, before pausing to think. “Should we have brought you soup? We totally still can.”
“Maybe on some level, he feels guilty about how your match went?” Tsu suggested, sidestepping Tooru’s comment completely.
“She was practically naked, but that wasn’t his fault, so there’s no reason for him to feel guilty. Plus, he almost bit off Kaminari’s head earlier for flirting with her. That can’t be about guilt. It has to be something else,” Mina insisted.
“Maybe it’s because she’s one of the Todoroki-whisperers,” Tooru said, referencing the class’s ongoing joke that you and Yaoyorozu (and now maybe Midoriya?) were the only people an otherwise quiet and reserved Todoroki actually spoke to and were thus gifted with some special ability to get through to him.
Mina turned to you, a smirk on her lips. “So, like, hypothetically, what would you say if he was into you?”
“He isn’t,” you emphasized, not even entertaining her question. You kept your gaze down, pretending to be deeply invested in examining the texture of a random shirt you had pulled from the rack. “He probably just realized I was uncomfortable and stepped in. I would do the same if the roles were reversed because, like I said, we’re just friends.”
“Yeah, Mina, guys and girls are perfectly capable of just being friends,” Ochako said, and you had a feeling she was referencing something you hadn’t been present for.
“Oh, I know. But your eyes always light up when you talk about Midoriya.” Mina said, enunciating every syllable of his last name.
“I don’t do that, right?” Ochako asked the rest of you, looking for backup.
You offered her a small shrug. “I mean, I don’t think it’s obvious.”
Tsu then said, “Ochako, it’s pretty clear you’re fond of him.”
“Oh no,” Ochako said, ducking her head, her usual pink cheeks now a lot redder. She shuffled through the clothing rack, suddenly tremendously interested in a pair of jeans that were a little too big for her.
“Babe, if it makes you feel any better, he has no idea,” Mina offered. (It did not.)
The truth was that Mina had an uncanny ability to zero in on people’s crushes:
- She had spotted Ochako’s budding crush on Midoriya early on. (As did everyone, so maybe that one doesn’t count.)
- But she had clocked Tooru’s crush on Oijiro immediately (“You’re see-through in more ways than one.”)
- And she had even called out Yaoyorozu on her feelings for Todoroki during a larger hangout with the rest of the 1-A girls. (Face red with self-conscious embarrassment, Yaoyorozu had insisted, “I simply admire Todoroki for his skill and discipline! That’s all!” To which Mina had responded with “Yeah? Is his discipline the reason you like to stare at his ass?”)
As if sensing your line of thought, Mina refocused her attention on you. “So, do you like him?"
Avoid, avoid, avoid. “I mean Midoriya’s cute, but he’s not really my type.”
She arched an eyebrow at you, her smile unwavering. “No, smartass. I meant Todoroki.” Then she repeated. “Do you like him?”
There were two reasons you couldn’t afford to answer honestly:
The first: If your friends knew about your crush, they would feed it with reassurances that you totally stood a chance, and he totally could like you, and it totally wasn’t all in your head. And if there was something that was just as intoxicating as it was devastating, it was false hope.
The second: The reality was that someone like Todoroki would inevitably get a girlfriend (or boyfriend, who knows), most likely sooner rather than later. Maybe it would be someone from the hero track like Yaoyorozu. Or maybe it would be someone from a different area of study or a different school entirely. And when that inevitability did happen, you didn’t want to deal with the pity in your friends’ eyes as they tried to comfort you for losing someone who was never really yours to begin with.
So, it was better to deny, deny, deny, and keep your stupid little crush to yourself.
However, since Mina might as well have a lie detector quirk when it came to this subject, you decided to give her the truth in a way that still had some semblance of deniability.
You shrugged in a cool and hopefully noncommittal way. “I think he’s hot and mysterious. Who doesn’t?”
“Okay, fair,” Mina conceded. “At least we can all agree on that.”
So far, fortune had surprisingly smiled upon you, allowing you to (just barely) avoid Mina’s radar, mostly because the majority of your interactions with Todoroki happened when she simply wasn’t around. You and Todoroki happened to have signed up for the same elective course (every once in a while, things occasionally worked out in your favor), and that beautiful coincidence had gifted you with the excuse to linger after Foundational Hero Studies and walk to class together (along with a handful of other classmates).
He also tended to go to the gym around the same time you did. There are few things in life far more captivating and awe-inspiring than the sight of his flexing back muscles as he gets his reps in. (What a time to be alive.)
And you would casually make an effort to sit somewhat near him during group hangouts and dinner outings. (Not to mention the handful of times he took you by surprise and happened to sit next to you of his own accord! What an absolute high.)
Again, all tiny, easily deniable coincidences.
“So, that’s a no?” Tooru asked, suddenly very interested in your answer.
“Yup,” you said, hoping to finally drop the topic.
“Good to know,” Mina said, and you caught her eyes darting sideways, her brows raised in that telltale way she had when something juicy was brewing in her mind. Next to her, Tooru shifted slightly—there was no way to see her face, but from the way Mina bit back a grin, you were pretty sure they had just shared one of their silent, invisible exchanges.
Glancing between Mina and Tooru, your brow slightly furrowed, and a question formed in the forefront of your mind: What could these two possibly be up to?
In the days that followed, the public’s fascination with Todoroki continued to grow since he was (pun very much intended) the latest hot topic. Even when the mainstream news attention tapered off, the amount of Todoroki content across social media skyrocketed. Some of it he didn’t mind, like the analysis videos breaking down his strategy to win the tournament and offering insight for areas of improvement. Some of it, he simply just didn’t understand, like the influx of GIFs and fan edits, which your classmates were quick to tease him about. Even after you had explained what “thirst” meant in this context, for some reason, he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of people thirsting over him. (You almost found yourself asking if he happened to own a mirror).
But then came the problem that were fans who took it a step further and started to pursue Todoroki in real life.
You rounded the corner on your way to class and were met with an increasingly familiar sight: a cluster of starry-eyed girls trailing behind Todoroki like a flock of pigeons.
"You're so hot, Todoroki!" one of them with a literal bird quirk cooed.
Todoroki glanced down at his left side in confusion. "My quirk isn't active.”
Another girl thrust a slip of paper in his direction. "Here, Todoroki! Take my number. You can call me whenever you’d like!”
"No, take mine instead!" a third girl interjected, shoving her own number forward.
Todoroki, looking increasingly uncomfortable with each passing second, tried to quicken his pace. "Please, I really need to get to class," he said, his usually calm voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
As Todoroki approached, you held the classroom door wide open, allowing him to slip inside. The moment he was through, you slammed the door shut with a resounding bang, effectively cutting off his pursuit. You heard disappointed groans from the other side.
Inside the classroom, Todoroki leaned against the wall, letting out a slow, relieved breath.
"Thank you," he said with genuine gratitude.
You nodded, adjusting your backpack. “They’ve been following you everywhere, huh?”
"Yeah," Todoroki replied, his tone holding a trace of something resembling guilt. "Sorry about that."
Weird thing to apologize for? “Don’t worry about it. It’s something out of your control,” you said, as you both made your way to your assigned seats.
“You’re so understanding,” he replied and sat at the desk directly in front of yours.
But before you could ask him what he meant by that, Aizawa and his teaching assistant walked through the door, forcing the class to settle down.
“Morning.” He started in his usual flat monotone. “The first thing on the agenda is discussing internships and the number of offers some of you received.”
His TA clicked a button and a list of names and numbers materialized on the screen, which she had arranged in descending order.
The top of the list was Todoroki with an extraordinary 5,672 offers.
“Woah, Todoroki! Good for you, man!” Kirishima praised with a big thumbs up.
Next on the list was Yaoyorozu, with 1,001 offers, making her the only person to join Todoroki in pulling four digits worth of interest (which made a lot of sense, since she had made it to the top four of the tournament).
“Woo, Yaomomo! Way to represent!” Mina called, pumping a fist into the air.
You skimmed over the rest of the list. Iida had secured a respectable 503 offers.
“Iida, third most offers in the class!” Kaminari pointed out. “Not bad, big guy.”
Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Iida nodded. “Thank you. I hope to honor the legacy of the Iida family name.”
And Midoriya, despite placing second at the festival, had only received 97 offers.
“97 offers is still a good amount, Deku!” Ochako insisted, just in case Midoriya was feeling bad about the much smaller number.
“Thank you very much! Honestly, because of the injuries my quirk inflicted on my body, I’m surprised this many agencies want me at all! I can’t wait to start analyzing them for what they have to offer. I’ll start with location, specialty, then move on to—-” He started to ramble, so you (kindly) blocked him out.
You could not block out, however, the conversation taking place directly in front of you.
“Congrats on your offers, Todoroki,” Yaoyorozu leaned over to whisper.
“You too,” he whispered back. “You and your quirk are very impressive.”
She looked down, her cheeks rosy with blush at his praise.
After the awards ceremony, you had heard the girls gushing over how well Yaoyorozu had done in the final event, especially in the first two matches: she had created a sheet of insulation to wait out Kaminari’s electricity in the first round, and a smoke bomb to limit Kirishima’s vision followed by a cannon to send him flying out of bounds in the second round. You didn’t know what she used in the third round when she fought Midoriya (you hadn’t felt like sticking around to find out.)
As you continued to skim the list, a realization slowly dawned on you. It seemed that everyone who had made it to the one-on-one matches had received at least some offers.
Well, with one brutal exception.
You searched again for your name, once, twice, hoping to have somehow overlooked it. But you hadn’t. Because you were the girl whose body overheated and accidentally disintegrated all her clothes on live TV in the first minute of the first round. And that meant your name had not made it to the board because not one single agency was interested in you.
You closed your eyes and fought the wave of embarrassment coming over you, quietly hoping no one pieced together that your name was noticeably absent. As much as you would have preferred not to be humbled in class today, a small part of you was almost grateful for it. This served as a wake-up call, a much needed reminder about the reality of things. Because there were moments—precious, fleeting moments—when Todoroki, your kind, generous, and thoughtful friend , would go out of his way to help you, to take care of you, to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. And even though you knew, logically, that this was simply who he was—a reflection of his inherently caring nature—your stupid, incessant, traitorous heart couldn't help but yearn for more in those moments, clinging desperately to the delusion that his actions could mean something more.
But then there were moments like today, stark reminders of the gap between you. Todoroki was ranked at the pinnacle of the class, sought after by thousands of agencies and you hadn't even made it onto the list. Yes, you had managed to secure a spot at UA, and maybe that made you kind of impressive in some capacity, but people always slipped through the cracks, didn't they? So what if you were the kind of student who had passed the entrance exam more by luck than genuine skill? What if, in a school brimming with impressive students and their impressive quirks, you were the outlier—laughably, painfully unimpressive?
And why would he possibly be into you when a goddess like Yaoyorozu who was gorgeous and brilliant and accomplished not only existed, but sat right next to him during your core heroics classes?
No, it was far better to quash these unrealistic hopes, to smother this infatuation before it could grow into something even more painful. It was best to shove your delusion down, ignore it, and focus on improving yourself as a hero-in-training.
You had to face the facts: Todoroki clearly didn't— couldn't —feel the same way about you.
Why would he?
Miscommunications feat. Todoroki’s Perspective
One Month Ago
Following the USJ attack, UA had made the executive decision to cancel class and make it a long weekend, therefore granting Class 1-A the opportunity to go home to their worried families. Nearly every member of the class had jumped at the chance to leave campus after being forced to confront their mortalities just a few days into their hero training. Unlike most others, however, Shouto much preferred the comfort of dorm life over forcibly interacting with his father, so he had opted to stay on campus. As fate would have it, you were one of the few members of 1-A who stuck around, too.
Late that Friday afternoon, with no one else in the common room, you closed the nearly empty communal fridge with your unbandaged hand and casually asked Shouto, “Hey, have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
You perked up and said, “Alright then. Let’s go out!”
Shouto had a long history of misunderstanding people and he had only just learned the secondary romantic connotation for the term “go out” after Mineta had been crying to Kaminari following the USJ incident (“I was afraid I was gonna die without ever having had a girlfriend! I need to find a girl who will go out with me!”) So, he pushed past his surprise and verified, “You want us to go out?” emphasizing the lingo he had just learned.
“Yeah! There’s a cute little ramen place nearby that I’ve been meaning to try, and it would be more fun with company!”
“Oh, sure. Let me just grab my stuff then.”
Since it was Shouto’s first date ever, he didn’t know what to expect. You two had started with a conversation about the USJ attack, which included pointing out how similar Midoriya’s quirk was to All Might’s.
“Maybe he’s All Might’s secret love child or something,” you joked before sipping on your drink, but Shouto very quickly realized that would explain quite a few things about your green-haired classmate, actually.
And soon the conversation shifted beyond quirks and class to nearly everything and anything. Favorite foods. What types of heroes you two wanted to be. The inevitable passage of time and the eons-long struggle to find meaning in the face of inherent human mortality.
The basics.
Yet, despite the broad range of topics you discussed, Shouto was surprised because you never asked him about Endeavor. Granted, Shouto was used to people wanting to discuss his father, but it also made him wary that they were more interested in the pro hero than Shouto himself. But not this time. Both of you were keen to get to know the other, asking question after question, enough for Shouto to realize that, for the first time maybe ever, someone was going out of their way to learn about him, not as Shouto Todoroki, the son of the #2 hero and a pro hero prodigy, but just as Shouto, as he was. And that was…refreshing, to say the least. So, in the blink of an eye, what should have been a short thirty-minute meal had become a roughly two-hour conversation that the two of you continued when you got back to the dorms.
At the end of the night, when Shouto was lying in his bed, he thought about how he had never been good at talking to people, let alone making friends, and he had eventually gotten so used to his solitude that he stopped trying.
And then he met you.
He couldn’t quite explain it, but the moment you two started chatting on the way to dinner, it was like something had instantly clicked. To go from near-total social isolation because of his upbringing to meeting someone he had this sort of easy, effortless chemistry with was new and unexpected and wonderful.
So the next day, when he knocked on your door and asked you out for date #2 (“Would you like to go out again?”), he couldn’t quite ignore the warm, fluttery sort of feeling that formed in his chest the moment you smiled and said, “I’d love to!”
Present Day
Friday evening, you were sitting in the common room. Across from you, Kaminari and Mineta were working their way through the large cardboard box filled to the brim with edible gifts that Todoroki had received over the last few days. They were currently working on a variety pack of chocolates that a girl from General Studies had given Todoroki, and a box of mini strawberry cakes that another girl from the Management Department had dropped off for him. They had yet to crack open the mystery Furoshiki-wrapped snacks a girl from the Support course dropped off, but they were getting there.
Mineta picked up one of the many love letters addressed to Todoroki and complained, “He doesn’t even like the attention he’s getting. He doesn’t deserve any of it!” before dropping it back in the pile and shoving a matcha-flavored chocolate into his face.
Kaminari replied, mouth half-full, “At least he let us eat these. Focus on the good.”
The elevator door dinged, and Mina walked into the common room. She looked around, shrugging off her backpack carefully, the clink of a couple of glass bottles betraying its contents. “Soooo, it’s Friday and I have a little surprise for everyone.” She pulled out a large, sealed bottle of alcohol. “I got us some bottles of the strong stuff.”
Aoyama gasped. “Mon amie, what for? Any reason in particular?”
“Our upcoming internships! It’ll be our first chance in the field, you guys!” she said. “That’s so exciting, so let’s celebrate!”
The Class 1-A common room lit up with palpable excitement.
Aoyama clasped his hands together. “Sounds magnifique !”
Sero gave a thumbs up, and Kaminari pumped his fist in the air. "Party time, baby!"
Even Bakugou, from his seat by the corner, rolled his eyes but muttered, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Kirishima grinned widely, slapping his hands together. "Hell yeah, Mina! What’s the plan?”
Already pouring drinks behind the kitchen counter, Mina called out, “Great! You’ve seen beer pong in American movies, yeah? Let’s start with that!”
“You heard her!” Kirishima said, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s set it up!”
“I can help in the kitchen,” Satou offered.
“No need!” Mina insisted, before she tossed him a bag of clear plastic cups. “Here, you’ll need this for the game!”
With a bit of shuffling and a few muttered Excuse me’s, everyone began angling the tables into place, some giving a final push or tug to align the edges perfectly.
Mina exclaimed, almost bouncing. “Yaomomo, can you make us some ping pong balls, please? Jirou, set up some music! The rest of you spit up into pairs! Kirishima, you’re with me!” she winked.
Moments later, Mina emerged from the kitchen, walking carefully with a large bowl of punch filled to the brim. “I may have gone a little overboard with the juice,” she laughed. “I added a ton to help with the flavor.” She set it down on a nearby table.
Kaminari approached and ladled himself a cup. “This just tastes like juice.”
“Mission accomplished then!” Mina said, shaking the now-empty alcohol bottle. “Drink up!”
“Please, be careful!” Yaoyorozu reminded, acting as the voice of reason in Iida’s absence (who had left campus immediately after class because of a family emergency). “Alcoholic beverages that do not taste like alcohol can be very dangerous because they mask how much alcohol you are actually consuming. Drink responsibly, friends!”
Within minutes, the common room was filled with noise and energy, everyone holding a cup of Mina’s homemade jungle juice in their hands.
Tooru declared herself a lightweight, feeling the effects of the alcohol first, and stumbling a little into Ojiro’s side.
“Sorry about that,” she giggled. “It’s hitting a little harder than I expected.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ojiro smiled at her. “You can lean on me all you need.”
Mina felt it soon after, her usual bright and cheery demeanor heightened to a particularly loud degree when she chest-bumped Kirishima after the two of them beat Kaminari and Sero in the first round of beer pong.
“That was so manly, Ashido!” Kirishima praised.
She finished chugging her drink before crushing it against her head. “Hell yeah, it was!”
The rest of 1-A followed soon after, their actions more over the top and grand as the rounds of beer pong progressed.
When Todoroki eventually joined the party downstairs—he mentioned something about getting caught up writing a letter to his mom—and Mina immediately guided him to the beer pong table.
Coincidentally, Yaoyorozu jumped to her feet upon his arrival, taking a sudden interest in playing beer pong as well, and immediately volunteered to join him. “Todoroki, I can be your partner.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
Even though she had played one game prior, she was acting like a self-appointed expert, resting her hands on his shoulders as she adjusted his stance and briefly tutored him on how to play.
You reminded yourself that Mina had basically done the same with pretty much everyone, so technically, it wasn't a big deal if Yaoyorozu did the same. But something told you that it would have felt a lot more casual and innocuous if it had just been Mina.
Fast forward to several rounds later, when the class was on a tipsy high, yourself included.
Mina held the empty bottle of alcohol from earlier up in the air, a glint in her eye. “I have an idea for the next game we can play,” she announced, far too pleased with herself. “I saw it in an American movie.”
“Is it that same movie you got the first game idea from?” Jirou interrupted.
“Shh, doesn’t matter. Anyway, everyone gets a turn to spin this. Whoever it lands on accompanies you to this little closet for seven minutes of uninterrupted alone time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Todoroki tilted his head. “What are we supposed to do with this ‘alone time’?”
“Whatever you’d like.” She started to list the options in a sing-songy tone. “You can chat, hold hands, make out...”
“I see.”
Mina glanced around the room. “So, who’s in?”
“Me, obviously.” Kaminari responded with a thumbs-up.
“I’m game!” Kirishima added.
“I’ll join,” Midoriya said, already looking incredibly nervous.
“Me too!” Uraraka said a little too quickly after him.
Soon enough, most of the class had agreed to join, curious to see what could happen.
“What about you, Todoroki?” Mina asked, singling him out for some reason.
You could have sworn his eyes flickered to you for a fraction of a second, before he responded with “No, thank you. I’m not interested in this game.”
Was the thought of maybe kissing you if he agreed to play that bad?
Mina frowned a bit before settling her eyes on you. “What about you, babe? You in?”
If your crush wasn’t participating, nothing was encouraging you to.
You shook your head. “I think I’ll sit this one out, too.”
Mina shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
So, you lingered off to the side with some of the nonplayers, Tokoyami, Shouji, and Kouda, nursing your drink and ready to watch the chaos unfold in front of you.
Everyone who was playing settled into a circle with the bottle at the very center.
“Save me a seat! I’ll be right back!” Tooru said, before rushing off somewhere.
“Ochako, why don’t you start?” Mina said.
“Oh, uh, sure.” She reached for the bottle and spun it, holding her breath while she watched it lap clumsily between all our classmates. As it started to slow, it looked like it was about to land on Sero. But then the bottle spun just a tiny bit further than expected, landing exactly on Midoriya instead.
That was incredibly lucky, you thought, one eyebrow lifted.
Ochako’s eyes lit up in realization, a string of emotions flashing through her eyes—surprise, glee, and then unadulterated terror—but she quickly tried to compose herself. Then again, the sudden redness in her face betrayed her main emotion. “Come on, Deku. It’s part of the game.” She started to stand, trying way too hard to act casual.
Just as flustered and nervous as her, Midoriya stuttered out. “Y-y-yeah, sure.”
Minutes later, when they exited the closet, Mina immediately greeted them with an eager, “So how did it go?” to which a red-faced Midoriya responded with a vague “W-we had a good conversation!”
You searched Ochako’s face to see if he was telling the truth, but seeing as how she had calmed down and was back to her regular complexion, it seemed Midoriya’s statement was genuine.
Mina must have thought so too. “Boo. Who’s next?”
“I believe it’s my turn.” Yaoyorozu reached for the bottle next, since she was seated to the right of where Ochako had been. The perviest of the 1-A boys watched it spin with particular interest, holding their breath in eager anticipation as it slowed down around its fifth rotation, coming to an achingly slow halt, stopping, against all odds, at the exact middle point between Mineta and Kaminari, pointing without a shadow of a doubt to—what were the chances— the boy standing right behind them, Todoroki.
Yaoyorozu blushed.
Your stomach twisted.
You hadn’t had that much to drink. You could still walk straight and form coherent sentences. But the filter that usually kept you from saying what was on your mind? That was gone. So you needed to get out of there or you would declare your feelings for Todoroki right then and there in a desperate effort to keep him from making out with another girl.
“No, no, no!” Mineta jumped to his feet and yelled out like a toddler on the cusp of a meltdown. “Todoroki isn’t even playing! Yaoyorozu, it’s either me or Kaminari!”
Yaoyorozu, much to her credit, stayed composed and didn’t acknowledge Mineta’s tantrum, opting instead to simply wait for Todoroki’s response, with a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes as she did.
That was when Mina did her best to stir the pot. “It’s up to you, Todoroki. It did land on you sooo—”
But Todoroki remained unwavering. “Mineta’s right—I’m not playing. You should spin again, Yaoyorozu.”
A flash of sobering heartache crossed Yaoyorozu’s features, but she was quick to reel in her disappointment, reaching for the bottle again. The second spin reignited the palpable hope of the pair of perverts sitting across from her, only for their faces to fall when the bottle came to a smooth stop this time, pointing directly at Jirou.
“I get it if you want to spin again,” Jirou said, eyes on the floor and cheeks tinged with blush.
“Not at all.” Yaoyorozu responded, already starting to stand. “Care to join me?” she asked, a soft smile on her lips as she held out her hand to Jirou.
Somehow even redder now, Jirou forced out a choked “Okay” and grabbed Yaoyorozu’s hand, who then pulled her to her feet.
As the two girls headed for the closet, fingers still loosely intertwined with one another, Mineta bit his fist. “Leave the door open, please. I’m begging you.”
Jirou rolled her eyes and closed the door with a little extra force.
“There could be girl-on-girl action happening on the other side of that thing.” Mineta ran up and pressed his ear against the door. “I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Shouji stepped in from the sidelines to pick up Mineta by the back of his shirt. “They deserve their privacy.”
Taking advantage of the distraction Mineta’s crying provided, you gulped down the rest of your drink and quietly slipped out the front door.
More than anything, you just wanted to get away for a little while and get some fresh air. You started walking, no real destination in mind, mostly just taking in the atmosphere of the campus at night while you wandered by yourself. Crickets chirped nearby. The night air was crisp but not uncomfortably so. You followed the path alit with the soft glow of the street lamps. Had it been anywhere else, you might have been uneasy about walking alone at night, but this was UA. You knew you were safe.
So, you let your mind wander first to your nerves about your upcoming internship, then to more ideas about how to improve your hero costume (you should probably request a heat-resistant tank top and shorts version to wear under your PE uniform, just in case), and finally to the compilation of little things that had (unfortunately) fed your crush on Todoroki this week.
On Monday, a group of you were all looking into your internship options at the communal tables and Todoroki had decided to join, taking the only available spot left, which luckily happened to be next to you. At one point, your hands had accidentally touched when you both reached over to his backpack to adjust the little soba keychain (the one you had gifted him) at the same time and you had almost passed out from the thrill.
On Tuesday, after your elective together, you mentioned you were hungry and he suggested going together to a rotating sushi place his sister had recommended. Satou and Sero overheard and it quickly became a group hangout, but you couldn’t help but notice that when your legs had accidentally touched under the table, Todoroki hadn’t moved his away.
On Wednesday, when the rain had caught you and only you off guard between classes, Todoroki had quietly stepped into stride next to you, walking close enough to both shield you with his umbrella and warm you with the heat radiating from his left side. (He would have done the same for anyone else, obviously, but you were the only one who forgot to check the weather that morning.)
After a while—you weren’t really keeping track of the time—you made your way back to the 1-A Alliance. Recognizing the red-white hair of the person sitting alone on the bench in front of the dorms, you spoke up as you approached him. “Did you need some air, too?”
Todoroki shook his head. “You left in a rush, so I wanted to check if something was wrong.”
“Oh, that,” you said as you joined him on the bench. Of course, he’d noticed. Everyone else was caught up in the game, reveling in the drunken chaos of letting luck and a spinning bottle pick and choose your next makeout. But not Todoroki. That was a piece of the Shouto Todoroki puzzle you had noticed early on. He was so observant, picking up on little things—body language, discomfort, unease—just rarely ever commenting on it.
Maybe you were a little drunker than you had realized at this point, the alcohol finally hitting you, because the next words out of your mouth were ones you hadn’t intended on saying out loud.
“She wanted to kiss you, you know.”
Todoroki looked at you, confusion written all over his face. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“Yaoyorozu.” The words spilled out of you before you could try and stop them. “She has a crush on you. It’s obvious how much she admires you.” Was that a betrayal of girl code? Technically, she never admitted to the crush. Plus, it doesn’t count if you aren’t really friends though, right?
“Oh.” He furrowed his brow as he considered your words.
You closed your eyes, mentally chastising yourself for being way too honest. Friend or not, she didn’t deserve to have her crush exposed like that before she was ready to share it. Plus, what if he had somehow missed her cues but wasn’t opposed to the idea of being with someone like her? What if your drunk self had just turned herself into an impromptu matchmaker? What if you had just set up UA’s newest power couple, who you incidentally sat behind in your core heroics classes, guaranteeing your daily misery for the foreseeable future?
The overhead lamp above you flickered, but you were too caught up in your worry to care.
“I’m sure she’ll find someone who reciprocates her feelings,” he said, utterly shocking you.
You whipped your head to face him, incredulous. “Don’t you think she’s attractive?”
He shrugged. “I can see she’s pretty.”
“That’s an understatement. She’s literally the prettiest girl in class. Probably in the whole school.”
At this, Todoroki tilted his head, keeping his eyes on you. “No, she isn’t.”
But before you could ask him to clarify who he could possibly think the prettiest girl was instead (Was there another goddess roaming the halls of UA you weren’t aware of?), the front door swung open and a voice called out to the two of you from behind.
“There you are!” Kirishima said, quickly descending the stairs. “We started playing Truth or Dare while we waited for the closet timer to run out, and long story short, Kaminari caused a power outage. Now we’re trying to save the food in the fridge. Can you help us with some ice, Brodoroki?”
“Sure,” Todoroki said, standing to follow Kirishima back to the common area and leaving your unfinished conversation right when it was getting good.
Notes:
If there's anything that doesn't make sense or is kinda confusing, please let me know! I want to fix anything that might take you out of the story
Chapter 3: You Get A Fake Boyfriend (& He Deserves an Oscar)
Summary:
It turns out Todoroki is a much better actor than you expected.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Secret Lover Boy feat. Todoroki’s Perspective
One Month Ago (Still the Weekend After the USJ Attack)
Sunday afternoon, on the way back from your third date at a soba place Shouto really liked, you and Shouto came across an ad for the pro-hero gossip show Quirk Confidential. On the screen, the host was dressed in an over-the-top Sherlock Holmes-type getup, complete with a deerstalker hat, a trench coat, an oversized magnifying glass, and a smoking pipe hanging loosely from her lips. Holding up the magnifying glass to her eye, the host spoke directly to the camera as she speculated about Hawks' love life: "Hawks was spotted last night out with a new mystery girl. Who is she? What's she like? How long have they been together? Will this one stick around? We did our best detective work, so tune in tomorrow to get the scoop!"
Your mood shifted for a moment, which Shouto, perceptive as always, noticed instantly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in that gentle tone of his.
"I just feel bad for him. He can't just get to know someone without everyone having an opinion.”
Shouto tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
You plopped down onto a nearby bench to wait for the train. “The early stages of a relationship deserve privacy, don't you think? Things can get so messy if other people know too soon. People are so quick to judge, but if it doesn’t affect them and no one’s getting hurt, then why do they care?” You caught yourself and shook your head. “I don’t know, sorry. I almost went on a rant there.”
“Don’t apologize. I completely understand what you’re saying.” He paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, “I agree. Budding relationships deserve privacy.”
You smiled up at him. “You’re such a good listener.”
“I try.”
At the end of the night, Shouto walked you to your room, and you said, “I’m really glad you stuck around and we got to hang out this weekend!”
“I am, too.”
So, in the weeks that followed, Shouto was careful to be subtle about your budding relationship together. It had crossed his mind to ask his siblings for advice, but he had never been very close to Natsuo, and he knew Fuyumi would want to meet you immediately, which would directly contradict what you wanted. So he turned to the internet, and based on what he had found online, you two were now “dating” but that wasn’t the same as “being in a committed relationship.” Apparently, dating someone included finding small ways to woo them or express affection.
So he started by bringing you the same drink you had ordered on your first date, since you had commented it was your favorite, and he waited to give it to you until class had emptied out and you were the only two left. A couple of days later, you surprised him with a small soba keychain that you said had reminded you of him, since cold soba was his favorite, and he had immediately added it to his backpack so he could carry it with him everywhere.
Dating you, even if it was in secret, stirred up feelings in Shouto he had never felt before. There was a lot for Shouto to navigate and figure out, including so many firsts to explore, but he did know this: He would show you in little ways that he liked spending time with you very much to the best of his (subtle) ability.
Present Day
“Those of you who haven’t already, remember to turn in your internship decisions to me by the end of the week,” Aizawa reminded the class before waving you all away. “That’s it. You’re dismissed.”
Chairs scraped against the floor as students started to pack up, their chatter fading as they trickled out the door.
Iida crossed the room and approached Aizawa’s desk, handing him something. “My updated paperwork, sir.”
Aizawa nodded, a solemn look now on his features. “I’ll adjust my records. Thank you.”
“Yes, sir,” Iida said with a curt nod, before turning to the exit.
Even though most everyone else was always quick to leave, some to their next classes and some to lunch, depending on their schedule, you took the opposite approach. You had a gap between classes next, making this your lunch break, which gave you the freedom to put your stuff away at a snail’s pace, lingering long enough at your desk to steal away more time with Todoroki (per usual).
As Kaminari made his way to the exit, he poked his head back into the room and called out, “Todoroki, you hunk, there are some more girls out here waiting to see you.” Then, he winked before he left for good. Right behind him, Aizawa exited the classroom, looking tired and annoyed, per usual, followed by his teaching assistant. With the two of them gone, you and Todoroki truly had the classroom all to yourselves.
Todoroki groaned, head in his hands.
“Don’t love having adoring fans?” you asked as you tugged on your backpack.
“Yesterday, they tried to follow me back to my dorm.”
“Yikes. That’s excessive.” You picked up your water bottle. He should just lie and tell them he’s taken. "Honestly, if you just tell them you're already dating someone, they'll probably leave you alone."
Surprising you, he said. "I tried, but it wasn’t enough. They still had hope because I didn’t say it was official."
You drew your eyebrows into a confused frown. Just double down on the lie then? “Oh, yeah, that’s annoying. But you know what? You can just say it’s official. Tell them you have a girlfriend now."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Yeah, sure. I mean, why not, right? They have to understand that it was bound to happen."
Especially if he already planted the lie that he was seeing someone.
You raised the bottle to your lips to take a sip.
"Okay,” he said, the wheels in his mind turning before his eyes flicked up to meet yours. "Would you be okay with me telling them you're my girlfriend?"
You almost choked on your water, coughing for a few moments while Todoroki stared at you, waiting for your response.
“Would I what ?” you wheezed, your voice not quite recovered. Todoroki wanted you to be his fake girlfriend? Where was this coming from?
“If not, I understand.”
“Wait.” You coughed one last time, realization dawning on you. “All this attention is really bugging you, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but we don't have to say anything if you'd rather not.”
He needs my help. “I’m not saying no. Just—” You cleared your throat. “—do you think it would be believable? Us?”
At this, he was now the one who looked a little confused. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”
“I mean like what’s the story we’re going to tell people? What if they want to know when we first developed an interest in each other? From their perspective, this is coming out of nowhere.”
How do I explain this to the girls? They are going to have so many questions.
“I see. For my side, you can say I noticed you're very pretty on the first day of class, and my feelings for you progressed naturally as we got to know each other.”
Your heart skipped a little beat at the “You’re very pretty.” He had said it in such a matter-of-fact way like it was an indisputable truth. Did he really think—
A muffled “Is he still in there?” from the other side of the door refocused your attention.
Still on a dreamy, bubbly high at being called very pretty by the man you had been secretly pining after since you had first crossed paths, the words spilled out of you before the logical part of your brain could catch up.“Alright, you flatterer, I’m in.” You tried to hide how giddy saying this next part made you feel, even if this was all part of an impromptu hoax. “Go ahead and tell them I’m your girlfriend.”
After cutting through the crowd of girls because you both were “in a rush” and grabbing your lunches, you and Todoroki found a secluded spot under a tree to sit and discuss your expectations.
Pen in hand, you started to ask the first question.“Okay, so let’s establish some ground rules for our relationship.” You emphasized the last word because adding “fake” in front of it felt so weird. “I know you want to avoid attention from random girls. Does that mean you want us to display affection when we’re in public?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.
“Only if you’re comfortable with that.” He took a quick bite of his onigiri.
“Sure.” You said, trying to act nonchalant, and started to write down PDA is okay. “We can start with the basics like sitting close together and holding hands, just take things slow.” Ironically, your pulse quickened at the thought.
Todoroki tilted his head. “You want us to hold hands slowly?”
Oh, right, he doesn’t always understand slang. “No, um, when I say I want us to take things slow, I mean a slow escalation of affection, so like, we can’t, I don’t know, have a frenzied makeout session right this moment when we haven’t even held hands.” You felt your face get warmer at the thought of kissing him. “But that’s just an example!”
Then again, if he wanted to kiss you for the sake of believability, whatever! Let it happen!
You continued. “We can expand on displays of affection if it feels natural, but I would be more comfortable if you check with me first. I’m not always great at improvising.” You laughed nervously. Keep it together. Be cool. You’re just doing this to help out a friend.
He scrunched his forehead and took another bite, considering something quietly. “Okay, I understand. We will definitely take things slow ,” he repeated the new lingo back to you (You had noticed that was something he liked to do with terms he had just learned, as if to verify he was using them right). “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
“Great.” You wrote that down. “I’m assuming we’re going to tell everyone at school we’re a couple?”
“Yes, if we’re telling strangers, we should tell our class, too.”
True, the key to a good lie is consistency. “Makes sense.” You added that to the document, too. “I have to ask. How long do you think this will last?”
Todoroki took a moment to consider your question, before simply replying with “I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before.”
Most people have never faked a relationship, so fair enough. “Not super specific so I’m just going to write down ‘ until we decide to publicly break up.’”
He nodded before taking a sip of his drink. “That’s reasonable. Is there anything else you want to establish?”
“No, I think I’ll just follow your lead.” You finished writing the last item on the list. “We can adjust as we go along, Todoroki.”
“Call me Shouto,” he said in that gentle voice of his.
Why did that make your heart flutter? “Oh, alright. You should call me by my first name then, too, Shouto.”
He smiled softly. “I like the way my name sounds when you say it.”
Was this man…flirting? No, he couldn’t be.
Not knowing what to reply—Was this him getting into character as your fake boyfriend? Did you somehow unlock the level of friendship where you could casually flirt and it meant nothing?—you just smiled back at him and quickly signed the makeshift contract, handing him the notebook and pen to do the same.
He signed the line you had drawn for him with deliberate, elegant strokes, commenting, “A contract feels so formal,” as he handed your notebook back to you.
You tucked it away inside your backpack and shrugged. “I just want to avoid any misunderstandings.”
As he stood up, Todoroki, no, Shouto glanced at the same group of girls from before, who were walking down the path and searching for something, not quite spotting him just yet.
His eyes flicked back to you. “So I can hold your hand?”
Please do. You stood up to join him. “Yes, of course you can, Shouto,” you said, enjoying a little too much the implied intimacy that came with calling him by his first name.
Shouto. For today, your Shouto.
He reached for you, his movements bordering on shy, fingers brushing against yours, before finally interlacing them together.
With a small smile on his lips, he guided you out of the cover of shade, right into the line of sight of the fans he had been avoiding. Their faces fell from glee to disappointment the moment their eyes caught sight of your interlocked hands. In an instant, you were subjected to the same scrutiny Shouto had been less than fond of. You walked by, attempting to seem unfazed, but still acutely aware of their murmurs and whispers and stares. At least you had Shouto beside you to weather the storm together.
Once the girls were out of earshot, Shouto leaned close and whispered against your ear, “I’m glad we’re finally alone.” The sudden touch sent a jolt of electricity through you and you shuddered, betraying just how much of an effect this man had on you.
Trying to play it off, you casually glanced back at the girls all the while acutely aware of the feel of your hand in Shouto’s. Now that you had an audience (yes, they were still staring), it was too late to back out on the facade.
And that meant one thing: Your little lovestruck heart was screwed.
You were already holding your breath when you and Shouto turned the corner, just paces away from 1-A’s classroom. It was one thing to lie to strangers to keep them from harassing Shouto. It was entirely different to attempt this facade in front of your cohort and friends. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect. So, as Shouto opened the door and the two of you walked into the classroom, hand in hand, you braced yourself for your friends’ inevitable reactions, whatever they may be.
Mina was sitting on her desk by the door, swinging her legs while she chatted with Aoyama, which made her the first to see you two as you walked through the threshold. She glanced at you at first, before doing an immediate double take, gaze dipping down to see your intertwined hands. Then, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and face bright with a sudden burst of excitement, she yelled out, “HOLY SHIT! YOU TWO ARE DATING?!”
In an instant, the chatter skidded to a stop and everyone’s head swiveled in near-perfect synchronization to see what was happening.
Aoyama was the next to comment, uttering a simple, “Oh my,” with his hand now flared on his chest. This was followed immediately by Tooru slamming her hand against Oijiro’s desk a few rows over and yelling out, “I knew you liked him!”
Your next two friends, Ochako and Tsu, had slower reactions. Ochako's immediate response was a tiny gasp and Tsu mostly just stared in disbelief at first, her large eyes somehow even bigger than usual and her mouth pressed into a straight line. But after a second or two of stunned silence to process the news, both of your friends looked over at you with proud little smiles.
Even Yaoyorozu, who had been seated off to the side with Jirou, met the news with a warm reception. Maybe her upper class upbringing had equipped her with the ability to always seem calm and composed regardless of the circumstance, but her statement seemed oddly genuine when she uttered, “I’m happy for you two,” before shifting her gaze back to a pink-cheeked Jirou. (After Friday’s Spin the Bottle mishap, you could have sworn she was going to have a bigger reaction, but she seemed . . . indifferent now. Had something changed?)
There was a murmur of reactions from the rest of the class and the next most notable one featured Kirishima’s typical earnest enthusiasm. He approached the two of you, face lit up with a broad shark-toothed grin, and clapped a hand on Shouto’s shoulder. “Hey, congrats! You two look good together!”
Right behind him, Kaminari gave you a double thumbs up. “Alright! Scooped the class hottie all to yourself!” Then, he leaned down and said to Mineta in a lower voice, “That means Todoroki is officially off the market!”
But Mineta was far from happy.
“Oh, of course he gets a girlfriend before the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes as he started to list Shouto’s best traits, counting them off of his tiny fingers. “He’s already got the good looks, and the fancy quirk, and the built-in fame.” Mineta slumped to the ground and cried up to the sky with his usual lisp, “What about the rest of us? When is it going to be my turn?” He punched the floor once and regretted the choice instantly, tears rolling down his face. “Why him? Dammit! Why?!”
Shouto and Mineta had never really seen eye to eye, due in no small part to the grape boy’s perverted humor and obvious jealousy. So, when you glanced over at Shouto, you anticipated a flicker of annoyance at Mineta’s dramatic whining. But instead, Shouto was looking at you with such tenderness it had you doing a double take.
“I guess I’m just lucky,” he said softly, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Woah.
This man could act.
Because his look of admiration felt so open and unflinching and real. So much so that if you weren’t in on the lie, you would have wholeheartedly thought it was genuine. At least that meant the rest of the class would find him convincing.
But what about you?
As if on cue, your phone buzzed, stealing your attention away, and you glanced down to read the newest message from Mina addressed to you, Tsu, Tooru, and Ochako.
Mina: EVERYONE COME STRAIGHT TO MY ROOM AFTER CLASS!! CLEARLY SOMEONE HAS SOME EXPLAINING TO DO
You glanced up at Mina, her closed-mouth smirk saying all you needed to know. She would have at least half a dozen questions for you, probably more. All of the girls would. It was what you had warned Shouto about: From the outside this looked like it was coming out of nowhere. But in order for your fake relationship to last long enough to do some good and bring Shouto the break he needed from his fans, you needed to be extremely believable.
Soon, it would be time for your next trial: Convincing your closest friends of the biggest lie of your life.
You shoved your phone back into your pocket with a sigh.
What had you gotten yourself into?
Notes:
*wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat* CAMEOS! THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR READER CAMEOS!
If you would be interested in having a tiny cameo in the next chapter (your username will get paired with a thirsty comment of your choosing or reacting to the fact Todoroki has a girlfriend), can you let me know by commenting here or messaging me directly?
My tumblr username is the exact same one I have here: desiretdeni
See y'all next week for the next chapter!
Chapter 4: You Become a Reluctant Minor Celebrity
Summary:
People are a lot more invested in your “relationship” than you expected.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I can not believe you’re dating the most handsome guy in school! How did this happen? When did this start? Have you two been secretly dating this whole time? Tell me everything!” Mina said, cross-legged on her bed.
You fidgeted a little with your clothes, grasping for an excuse not to look Mina directly in the eyes. “We literally just started dating today. There isn’t much to tell.”
"Okay, but have you kissed yet? Made out? Tongue or no tongue? Is he a good kisser? I need details!” Mina leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity. Her relentless barrage of questions made you feel like you were already drowning, your cheeks heating up as your lies threatened to catch up with you.
Pulling your knees to your chest, you suddenly felt small under the weight of their expectant gazes. Maybe you had underestimated just how intense this interrogation would be, especially when it came to Mina.
“Not yet,” you managed to respond, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to maintain composure. Tell them as much of the truth as you can. “I told him I wanted to take things slow and he agreed to keep things at the pace I was comfortable with.”
“Of course, he did.” Ochako sighed, her face glowing with sincerity. “That sounds so sweet and romantic.” She and Tooru were both lounging on their stomachs, heads propped up on their hands, completely engrossed in your every word.
Tsu, from her seat in the desk chair, crossed her arms and leaned back slightly, her curiosity piqued. “So how did he ask you?”
You looked down to avoid her eyes. How were you supposed to get through this without them seeing right through you? How had they not seen through the charade already? But the answer was simple. They trusted you. You had their undivided attention right now because you were supposed to be their friends and friends did not lie to each other about stuff like this.
You bit your lip. But you did have to lie. Shouto had specifically requested that you both be consistent and tell your classmates the same lie you were feeding strangers. And it was obvious why. In order for this whole charade to hold up, your friends had to believe it was real. Because if they started to doubt, others might catch on or worse, even if they knew the truth, they might accidentally reveal it in a moment of carelessness.
The risk was too high.
“Oh, it was an unexpected, spur-of-the-moment sort of thing,” you began, forcing a smile that you hoped seemed convincing. "We were just chatting after class and it just…happened. He made it sound so natural, like it wasn’t a big deal. He said he thought I was very pretty and next thing I knew he was asking if he could tell everyone I was his girlfriend."
Your friends collectively sighed, dreamy smiles on their faces.
Then Tooru squealed, kicking her feet. “That is so cute! You two make such a good couple.”
“I still can’t believe you never told us you liked him, you sly little minx,” Mina said, winking at you. Then, her expression shifted as a realization dawned on her. “Wait, now I feel bad about trying to set him up with Yaoyorozu. We wouldn’t have rigged the game if we were sure you liked him, too.”
“Mina!” Tooru whispered, an unspoken You’ve said too much! lingering in the air.
“Wait. You rigged the game?!” Ochako asked, dumbstruck. “How was that even possible?”
Mina, the clever little mastermind that she is, admitted, “We convinced Yaomomo to help us. You’d have to ask her for the specifics but basically she, Tooru, and I planted tiny devices Yaomomo made on some of the boys and the bottle looked like an exact copy of an actual alcohol bottle, except it was rigged to react to the devices.”
“Yaomomo made us a remote so I could step away and subtly control which boy the bottle chose,” Tooru added.
“Wait, you what?” Ochako said, trying to process the information.
“So that’s why the bottle landed on Ojiro during your turn, Tooru,” Tsu realized out loud. “I thought the bottle came to too abrupt of a stop.”
“Yeah,” Tooru laughed nervously. “That one wasn’t very smooth, but at least it led to Ojiro asking me out on a date the next day!”
“See!” Mina started, “We made that happen. Sometimes people just need a little push in the right direction.”
At this, Ochako’s cheeks were burning a bright red. “Mina! You can’t meddle in people’s lives like that! It wasn’t the right time! What if things are weird with Deku now?!”
“Baby girl, things are only going to be awkward if you let them be. If you don’t want anything to change, then don’t change the way you’ve always acted around him. Simple as that!” Then Mina whipped her head to you, a smile back on her face, her signature enthusiasm back in full force. “But we’ve gotten sidetracked. You. Why didn’t you just tell us you liked Todoroki when we asked?”
You had heard once that good lies have a kernel of truth, so you allowed yourself to admit aloud, “It was just easier if I kept it to myself. I didn’t think he would ever see me like that.” Then a few more words slipped out that you hadn’t been planning to confess. “I didn’t want anyone’s pity when he inevitably dated someone else.”
Mina immediately waved you off. “Girl, please! It all makes so much sense now. Do you all remember how he reacted to her wardrobe malfunction? He gave you his shirt off his back.”
“To be fair, he probably would have done that for anyone in a similar situation,” you countered.
Mina pouted and folded her arms. “I guess, but he personally walked you to Recovery Girl. I don’t think he would’ve done that for any of us.”
He didn’t realize the judges were going to be so pedantic about what counted as immobilization.
“Plus there was the soup stuff!” Tooru added, drawing a chorus of agreement from the others.
“I bet the only reason he isn’t constantly just staring at you in class is because you sit behind him,” Mina winked.
You forced a smile, but it felt tight, strained. Luckily, they were so wrapped up in this that they didn’t notice the discomfort growing in you.
Or because he and I are actually just friends, you thought, a pang of guilt hitting you again.
The following evening, Mina plopped down onto the communal couch, giddy as ever. “This is the show I was telling you guys about.” She cast it onto the TV from her phone and started to scroll through their recent backlog of videos, pointing out specific ones. “They do this thing called ‘Quirk Corner’ where they do profiles on hero quirks. This is the one where they talked about Todoroki.”
“They dedicated an entire episode to him.” Tooru chimed in as she joined Mina on the couch with a bag of chips.
“And this is the one where they talked about Midoriya’s quirk followed by Shinsou and Yaoyorozu.” Mina continued. “They also covered Iida, Kirishima, and Kaminari.”
“We’re hoping they intend on covering all of Class A so we can see ourselves on TV again!” Tooru admitted.
“Oh, look! The new episode is up!” Mina said as she clicked on it.
But as the catchy theme music faded, the camera slowly zoomed in on the host, a woman who looked somewhat familiar, wearing all black and who, in stark contrast to the entire show’s vibe, had a very serious air about her for some reason.
When she spoke, she kept her eyes looking down as if avoiding the camera lens. “Devout viewers will recall that just last week, our first episode after UA’s iconic Sports Festival covered their hunkiest hero-hopefuls.” Images of some of the top contenders from the tournament flashed across the screen—Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, Iida, etc.
“Woah, that’s me!” Kirishima said as his picture also flashed across the screen for a fraction of a second.
The host continued with her melodramatic display. “We were so young back then, so hopeful.” She wiped away at a nonexistent tear with a tissue. “My loyal viewers, I have some news that will surely devastate most of you. Endeavor’s son, our beloved half ice, half fire wielder, Shouto Todoroki is…is…” Her lip trembled and she paused for dramatic effect.
“Hey, Todoroki, do they think you’re dead?” Kaminari asked, plopping onto a couch spot next to Kirishima.
“I hope not,” Shouto replied as he joined the rest of your curious classmates in hovering around the living room television.
The host then finished her sentence. “Taken.” The studio audience gasped at her big reveal. “I know, I know. I too was absolutely devastated when I found out. So what did I do?” Her lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “I decided to—say it with me now—” All at once, the chants of the crowd joined her in yelling out, “Dig! A Little! Deeper!”
The words “Dig A Little Deeper” and an animated magnifying glass momentarily took over the entire screen. When the host was back in view, she had shed the dark clothing and was now wearing her signature Sherlock Holmes get-up, once again holding her own magnifying glass up to her eye, an image you now realized you had seen before.
So, that’s where you knew her from, now vaguely remembering seeing an ad for her show. Had it been at the train station? Something like that. It felt so long ago now.
She plopped a manilla folder onto her desk. “Would you like to know what I found?” She started to push forward the folder with a perfectly manicured finger, but stopped herself and raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying playing coy. “Do you really want to know?”
The live studio audience reacted to her taunt, clapping and cheering to encourage her to share.
“Oh, alright, alright.” She said and flipped it open.
The camera zoomed in on a picture of you and your heart shot into your throat.
“After reviewing multiple tips from you, my lovely audience, we have learned that this is Todoroki’s girlfriend. Don’t believe me? Take a look for yourself.”
Pictures of you and Shouto flashed across the screen. The two of you holding hands around campus. Walking into class together. Eating lunch side by side. All taken from afar and from different angles. A shudder went down your spine at the thought of how often you were being watched and didn’t even know it.
“How did they get those?” Shouto asked, now standing at your side.
“Viewers can send in tips and images,” Mina started to explain, visibly regretting tuning in to today’s episode after all. “I can turn it off.”
“No, don’t,” you stopped her. “I want to know what they found out about me.”
You and Shouto had really underestimated the role his inherent fame as the son of the #2 hero would play into all of this. Based on what he had told you, growing up, he had dealt with randomly getting recognized in public from time to time, but that had been the extent of it.
However, it seemed being a hero-in-training at the top hero university in the nation AND winning the whole Sports Festival had cemented the public’s interest in Shouto and now, by association, in you.
“Maybe that’s all they have,” Tooru suggested, trying to be comforting. “Sometimes these segments are pretty superficial.”
But you soon realized, today’s segment was far from it. They covered your name, age, class ranking. Anything and everything that could potentially be interesting for the viewers.
“What’s her quirk?” someone else asked from the audience.
“Ah, yes. If you missed the Sports Festival or just weren’t paying enough attention, you might have missed the fact that Todoroki’s girlfriend has,” She paused, yet again for dramatic effect. “An adaptation quirk.”
The studio audience reacted with an “Ooooo” that was so clear and uniform they might as well be reading off of cue cards.
“I knew you’d like that, which is why we brought on our resident quirk analyst for more details.”
The audience cheered as a serious-looking man in a lab coat and glasses took a seat next to the host. They replayed snippets from the Sports Festival while he explained and pointed out and broke down the different adaptations that helped you navigate first the obstacle course and then the cavalry battle.
“You see, the range and power of an adaptation quirk varies from person to person, but they do all share one constant: the user’s body is constantly adapting at a cellular level, which means the changes aren't always obvious." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose."That said, based on my analysis of the changes we did see, her quirk can do practically everything a regular human body can do but taken to a quirk-enhanced extreme."
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Midoriya commented, flipping open his notebook to the page with a rudimentary drawing of you and clicking his pen. “You hadn’t mentioned it before.”
“I didn’t know either,” you added, now feeling very exposed.
“Turn it off,” Shouto commanded.
You placed your hand on his arm. “No, it’s fine, Shouto. It’s almost over.”
The segment lasted maybe a couple minutes at most before switching gears and moving on to other subjects, but it had felt excruciatingly long to you.
Given the media frenzy from the past few days, it had quickly become obvious that Shouto had the holy trifecta of virality: name recognition, impressive abilities, and a hot face/body (pun intended). So, it wasn’t remotely surprising why people were obsessed with him but now you had to wrap your head around the idea that fame might include you, too.
And you were nowhere near ready for it.
Soon after, you retreated into the sanctuary of your own room to doom scroll in peace.
Last week’s media frenzy had focused on Shouto and the other of the standouts from the festival, mentioning you only once or maybe twice. You hadn’t gotten the true experience of having so much exposure which made this
So.
Much.
Worse.
The newly minted hashtag #ShoutoTodorokiSecretGirlfriend and other variations were beginning to trend, featuring tagged pictures of you, not only from the Sports Festival but pulled from your other social media and from the aftermath of the USJ. Flattering pictures. Unflattering pictures. And everything in between.
Then there was the ongoing barrage of comments that threatened to give you whiplash.
@nodustollens: I knew it. He was too pretty to be single
@minidmeont: heartbreaking 💔😭 … but at least she’s gorgeous !
@gettingbi: Todoroki baby I’m not a jealous woman I don’t mind sharing
@brobrotherbruh: wait they were dating the whole time? oh shit no wonder
@clubswiffer: Um idk why my man is dating someone else. Rude but okay
@wonderstruuck: Theyre lowkey kinda cute ngl 🥺
@siiiiiiick: Did i hear this right? he’s dating Naked Girl? WHEN IM RIGHT HERE?
@murphyyy: I dont care if something good happened to her, it should’ve happened to me instead
@urfavemacguffin: fiiiiiiine if he’s taken, i GUESS i’ll just settle for Hawks
@maxthemaxiest: I dont see a ring on her finger. LADIES THE WAR ISN’T OVER YET
Thirsty Shouto comments you could handle. What you weren’t used to was so many people having something to say about you.
You, who had been mostly overlooked in the first media frenzy, who had faded to the background of your own story, who had been dubbed Naked Girl because your crowning achievement had been disintegrating your clothes live on TV.
But now they knew your name, settling their eyes on you to scrutinize and judge and pick everything about you apart—your choices, your quirk, your interactions with Shouto.
You closed out the app before any of their critiques wormed their way into your brain, opting instead to skim through video titles on a different app.
Taking advantage of the public’s current interest, the same analysis accounts that had examined Shouto’s quirk were now breaking down yours: The intricacies of your quirk, your obvious and potential limitations, your true range.
Some blew your abilities way out of proportion.
Survival: Is it a GOD TIER quirk?
330k views · 2 hours ago
Some satiated the public’s thirst for more.
ADAPTATION QUIRKS EXPLAINED
182k views · 4 hour ago
And some had you picturing hypothetical quirk babies with Shouto.
What if…Survival combined with Half-Hot, Half-Cold? | Quirky Marriages
553k views · 3 hours ago
And then there were the reaction videos, the most popular of which featured a couple of girlies who were your age or maybe a little bit younger, revisiting your now infamously scandalous match against Shouto.
SHOUTO TODOROKI VS. HIS SECRET GIRLFRIEND | REACTION
Dy and Ash React · 8.13M subscribers
6 hours ago · 10:19 · 1,096,015 views
The first girl, Dy, the one with short magenta-colored hair turned to her friend and said, “So do you think they were already together when they fought?”
The second girl, Ash, the one with sleek blonde hair, paused the video. “I mean, check out the way he’s looking at her. He’s obsessed with her. They had to have been dating before.”
“See, that’s what I thought, but hold on, keep watching.” The video continued for a bit more. The explosion, smoke and ash, then a flicker of fire coming from Shouto’s left side before he whipped his gaze away. “There! He looked away while she got dressed. They had to have started dating after.” She wiggled her eyebrows, suggestively. “Maybe he liked what he saw and decided to lock it down.”
Their banter continued. One of them argued you could have been a couple without having been physically intimate. To which the other responded with a snarky, “Have you seen him? If it were me, the moment he agreed to date me, I would climb him like a tree,” before the second one agreed and the two broke out into a fit of laughter.
Eventually, you closed out that app too and tossed your phone to the side. The remaining daylight hours had slipped away, leaving you sitting in the darkness of your room, which your eyes quickly adjusted to, thanks to your quirk.
You rubbed your temples, trying to process the media frenzy in all of its dizzying and suffocating grandeur. You fell back onto your bed, overwhelmed to the point of paralysis. This was what Shouto had dealt with? Plus constant in-person harassment? It was no wonder he had asked you to pretend to date him. Dealing with any of this was A LOT, but at least you didn’t have to do it alone.
You sat up with a jolt. One line from the video you had just watched resurfacing in your mind: “Maybe he liked what he saw.”
Next thing you knew, your fist was knocking on his door before you could stop yourself, and it swung open half a second later.
"Yes?" Shouto had a towel draped on one shoulder and a shower caddy with toiletries in his other hand, making you think you had caught him right on his way out.
The words spilled out of you before you lost your nerve.“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to answer honestly.”
“Of course,” he responded, looking perfectly serious as he set the shower caddy down.
“Did you see anything at the end of our match?” Please say no.
Todoroki tilted his head and looked up, as if trying to remember the exact play by play. “Just smoke and debris.”
You exhaled in relief, your shoulders finally relaxing. “Okay, so you didn’t see me naked.”
“Oh, that I did see.”
Mouth agape, you blinked at him once, twice.
Your mind buffered for a fraction of a second more and then, “I’m going to transfer schools. It was nice knowing you.”
“Wait.” He grabbed your hand before you could leave, a slight panic in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to look, but—” His eyes met yours for a moment to convey his sincerity. “How can I make it up to you?”
You shook your head, mildly endeared by his genuine concern. “I know you didn’t mean to look, it’s just…embarrassing,” you responded, very aware of how warm your entire face felt. “How much did you see? Actually, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” You covered your face with your hands, only to look at Todoroki again through the slits between your fingers. “No, tell me. How bad was it?”
Shouto was quiet for a moment, pensive, as if trying to figure out what the right thing to say would be. “Do you want the truth?”
“Go ahead,” you grimaced, unsure what to brace yourself for.
Then Shouto, your dear, honest, and terribly blunt friend, looked you in the eye and said, without any hesitation or doubt, three words that almost sent you spiraling: “You looked hot.”
You blinked up at him, mind buffering for a second time. This was a dream. It had to be. Clearly, you were still passed out in the infirmary in the midst of a vivid hallucination. Any moment now, the scene would shift to something even more bizarre, like Midoriya with three heads or Bakugou being nice.
You swatted away at the thought. Maybe this was another moment of Todoroki not understanding slang? Was he trying to comment on how sweaty you must have been? Was that it?
“Excuse me?” you responded. “Hot?”
“Oh, was that the wrong term? But I looked it up.” His voice trailed off, considering something, before returning his attention to you. “How else would I say you looked attractive?”
“No, in that case, ‘Hot’ is the right word, but—“ Now processing the full extent of what he was saying, you asked, almost incredulous, “You…think I’m hot?”
He tilted his head. “Of course.”
All at once, your heart started doing somersaults in your chest at the realization that he knew exactly what he was saying. Four words rushed through your mind on repeat, bright and giddy and almost disbelieving. He thinks I’m hot. He thinks I’m hot. He thinks I’m hot.
You reached for the wall, steadying yourself. “You, uh, never mentioned it.”
He shrugged. “I thought it was obvious.” Your crush is not confessing anything. He’s just being honest in his matter-of-fact way. BEHAVE. "Was that all?" Shouto asked, picking up his shower caddy again. "I was about to get ready for bed."
"Yeah, that was all! Good night!" you said, beaming with poorly hidden enthusiasm.
You turned on your heel and rushed back to the girls' side of the same floor, slipping into your room moments later. Mind swimming and heart racing, you shut your door, keeping your back pressed against the hardwood.
Holy fucking shit.
You had accidentally stumbled upon a piece of the puzzle you had been too self-conscious to question directly: Why Shouto had chosen you of all people to be his fake girlfriend.
Yes, you were friends, and yes, you had even proven after your match that you were willing to lie to help him.
But that third, beautiful, wondrous reason was because Shouto Todoroki, the most handsome man at your school, thought you were hot.
The implications!
He thought you were attractive, so did that mean there was potential for something more? Did that mean there was, at the very least, the possibility this could become something real?
Because if so, then, yet again: Holy fucking shit.
Notes:
Getting to include username cameos was so fun!
Since it was an idea that occurred to me a couple days AFTER uploading the first three chapters, that means some of you didn't get the chance to participate BUT FRET NOT!
If you want to be retroactively added in a cameo (the edit button exists for a reason babyyyyy), then you can reach out here or on my tumblr ( desiretdeni ) and we'll make it happen!
This goes out to everyone but ESPECIALLY to the wonderful souls who have left kudos, bookmarked this, and/or subscribed to the story, me, or both (which like omg thank you so much!!)
Chapter 5: Following Your Heart Gets You Stabbed
Summary:
Internship chaos in Hosu. What could go wrong?
Notes:
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains the mention of a stab wound.
I avoid gore as a reader which means I don’t tend to include it in my stories as a writer. I don’t believe the moment in question is graphic. However, if you want to avoid the description regardless, stop reading after “His smile had dropped, the color drained from his face”.
Then start reading again at the paragraph that begins with “Shouto was at your side the next instant”—which is one paragraph below.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You didn’t know how to explain the sudden pang of dread in your chest, but you knew with absolute, unjustified certainty that something, somewhere else, was deeply wrong.
Around you, the chaos in the heart of Hosu raged on: fires spreading—wild and out of control—screams of terror piercing the air as civilians attempted to flee for their lives, and pro heroes desperately trying to hold back this newest batch of Nomus.
You wanted to help, to put your limited schooling to good use. You were a hero in training, weren’t you? Here was your chance to do some good.
Yet the dread clawing at your chest was pulling your focus. Somehow, you knew it had nothing to do with the ongoing attacks. Something else—something worse potentially?—was unfolding nearby and for some reason, this feeling was calling on you like a beacon for help.
And for yet another reason you really didn’t understand, this feeling in your chest reminded you of Shouto, which scared you all the more.
But you didn’t have the luxury of chasing after enigmatic gut feelings because at this moment in time, your internship mentor, a rescue hero known simply by the hero name Safe Haven, was facing a light-colored Nomu one-on-one in a good old-fashioned match of pure strength, buying precious time for everyone to escape.
“Trainees!” he called out to you and your fellow interns. Glancing over, he searched the area, stopping when he locked eyes with you. He punched the Nomu and sent it back a few feet. Then, taking advantage of the brief reprieve in the fight, he dug into his pocket and grabbed a piece of chalk, making it glow before he tossed it over to you. “Here! Guide the civilians to safety!” He grunted when the Nomu landed a punch in his abdomen, before taking another swing at the beast. “You know what to do!”
“Got it!” you called back, sprinting over to a nearby building.
One of the first things you and your fellow interns had learned at Safe Haven’s agency—one of the particularly kind agencies that extended open invites for any heroics student who hadn’t received a formal internship offer—was what to do in the unlikely event of an emergency with civilians in need of rescuing. Safe Haven’s quirk, known as “Homebody”, allowed him to create portals to one particular place: His first home, a small apartment nestled miles away from the center of the city. Despite originally being seen as a pointless destination, his childhood home (and the surrounding apartment complex it resided in) had long since been purchased and retrofitted by his agency, adding multiple medical floors, along with all the supplies necessary to house the maximum number of people possible in the event of a disaster. Needless to say, his quirk was far from useless at a time like this.
Finally reaching the base of a blank wall, you quickly drew the outline of a large rectangle with the glowing piece of chalk like you had been instructed to, and a moment later, a new door had manifested, leading directly to the entrance of Safe Haven’s titular safe haven.
“Interns!” he groaned when the Nomu pushed him back. “Get the civilians to the shelter!”
The other half a dozen interns in the area started to usher the panicked crowd to the portal you had drawn, reassuring them it was the way to safety.
A woman at the tail end of the group screamed as one of the grotesque creatures slipped past the frontline of pro heroes, getting dangerously close to the entrance to the portal. Its massive claw swiped toward her, and without a second thought, you moved. Your body collided with the Nomu, shoving it aside and buying the woman just enough time to slip into the portal.
Unappreciative of you foiling its attack, the Nomu hurled you into a nearby wall. Pain erupted through your side as you hit the cement, and your phonescreen shattered into useless pieces beside you. You groaned, trying to push yourself upright. Today’s adrenaline wouldn’t spare you from the promise of bruises tomorrow.
“Get inside the portal!” your mentor shouted, voice sharp and commanding as he forced the Nomu back. His gaze briefly flickered to you, eyes locking with yours. “You don’t have your license yet! Go!”
You nodded, forcing yourself to your feet and running to catch up with the lingering interns as they disappeared into the portal, seeking shelter.
But that feeling from before wouldn’t leave. That horrible, clawing sense of urgency tightened in your chest, demanding your attention. It wasn’t fear. It was something deeper. Urgency. Desperation. Something was wrong—someone needed you. Your mind snapped back to Shouto again. Why did it keep bringing him up at a time like this? You pressed your hand into your chest—the sense of dread had grown stronger, now bordering on painful—and you knew that standing here, waiting in safety, wasn’t an option.
“Hold on,” you grabbed the arm of one of your fellow interns before shoving the glowing piece of chalk into their hand. “You’ll need this to close the portal.”
Your legs moved before your brain fully registered the decision. You broke into a sprint, ignoring the voices calling after you.
Someone, another trainee, shouted, “Where are you going?” but you didn’t have an answer.
How were you supposed to explain that you were running into the unknown, with nothing but an inexplicable gut feeling pulling you there?
The city blurred around you as you ran, the pull in your chest growing stronger with every pounding step. You sprinted past each block until you came across a scene ahead that made you skid to a halt.
You stood at the entrance to a shadowed alleyway, panting, breathless. Three figures came into focus, their backs to you: Midoriya, Iida, and—your breath hitched—Shouto. Blood splattered their clothes, small drops pooling on the cracked pavement beneath them. Beyond them stood a villain, his crazed, unhinged eyes gleaming in the faint glow of the flickering street lights along with his collection of bloodstained swords.
The Hero Killer.
Your mind raced, recalling the countless news reports about his methods, his targets, his trail of terror. And now, he was here, facing off against your classmates, your friends. A cold, sharp fear surged through you—whatever dread had led you to this moment had been right.
And, unfortunately for you, the Hero Killer noticed you before your friends did.
His deranged eyes locked onto yours and his lips twisted into a sneer at the sight of your costume. “Another hero.” His voice held an unsettling blend of animosity and amusement. “All so eager to die for nothing.”
The moment the words left his mouth, all three of your friends spun around. A flash of surprise lit Midoriya’s eyes, followed immediately by a glimmer of hope now that one more person was here to help. By contrast, Iida’s expression darkened, something akin to guilt flickering behind his glasses although you weren’t quite sure why.
And then there was Shouto.
His heterochromatic eyes locked onto yours, filled with tense, unspoken fear. He took a half step forward, as if torn between reaching for you and keeping his focus on the danger in front of them.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low but firm, laced with an undercurrent of worry.
But before you could answer, the Hero Killer laughed, the sound low and guttural, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Fools! So eager to throw your lives away.” He raised one of his bloodstained blades and his lips curled back into a snarl. “But I’m happy to oblige.”
“Get out of here!” Iida snapped at you while keeping his focus sharply locked on the Hero Killer. His voice cracked slightly, just enough to reveal his panic. “It’s not safe!”
But you knew it was too late to leave. Something had shifted and whether they liked it or not, you were now a part of this fight, too.
“Don’t let Stain taste your blood! He’ll paralyze you!” Shouto warned seconds before the Hero Killer flung a knife in your direction.
Somehow, by some miracle, you reacted in time, just barely dodging the flying knife aimed straight for your face.
Then you did something that could be described as either stupid or brilliant, depending on whether or not it worked. While the guys held Stain’s attacks back, you picked up his knife from the ground and slid the dull side against your palm, applying enough pressure to nearly break the skin. Normally, you would have pricked a finger to trigger an adaptation, but if blood was what the Hero Killer needed, you couldn’t afford to lose a single drop. So you hoped you could trick your body into adapting while skirting around the usual prerequisite that was getting injured.
Some sort of barrier. Anything.
Luck smiled upon you because two painfully long seconds later, a ripple cascaded over your body, covering you in something akin to thick, calloused skin. Testing out your body’s own resilience, you slid the knife across your palm again, sharpened side this time, to find your desperate gambit had actually worked.
You weren’t invulnerable, but at least now you had a fighting chance.
“Where do you need me?” you yelled to Midoriya, the only one who had been remotely relieved you were there.
He gestured to the hunched figure on the ground, located a bit further into the alley. “Save Native!”
“Got it!” You dashed for the badly injured pro hero.
“No! The False Hero must die!” the Hero Killer yelled before he threw a flurry of knives at you and Native.
Shouto sent a wall of ice to protect the two of you, but a couple of knives still made it past. The first knife slid against your hero costume, which fortunately had some slash protection. The second knife, however, did manage to make contact with the bare skin of your hands. Its sharpened edge grazed you, leaving a faint, chalky line in its path, but against the odds, your skin did not break.
Calluses and all, you suspected your skin wouldn’t be as impenetrable in the event of a direct stabbing attempt. A moment or so later, another ripple coursed over your body, adding another layer of the thickened skin atop the first one.
The fight continued on the other side of the ice wall as your friends distracted Stain long enough for you to get Native to safety.
You turned to Native. “Can you move at all?”
“No,” he said, voice strained, his body still tense and frozen in place. “His quirk’s effect hasn’t faded yet.”
“Okay.” You scanned him for injuries, trying to decide what carry method would aggravate them the least. “I’m going to get you out of here.” You lowered yourself into a squat and pulled one of his arms across your shoulders, using your other hand to grab his leg. When you pushed up, you were careful to use your legs and not your back, and steadied yourself with a couple of careful steps. Once Native was securely draped over your shoulders, you started to make your way out of the alley.
Shouto must have been keeping an eye on you because the moment you started to emerge from behind the ice wall, he summoned an ice tunnel that led directly to the street.
“More pros will be here soon,” he yelled as he continued to blast ice toward Stain. “We’ve got you covered! Both of you get out of here!”
You nodded and started to run to the entrance, doing your best to keep Native balanced on your shoulders and grateful for the adrenaline coursing through your body, making you stronger than you normally would be.
Even inside the tunnel of ice, you felt a sudden rise in heat as Shouto’s flames roared to life behind you. With your back to them, you didn’t know exactly what was happening, going off only what you could hear. Grunts. The clash of blades. The muffled sound of punches and yells.
Then, the terrifyingly clear sound of ice breaking.
You couldn’t help but glance back, reacting to the noise and regretting the choice instantly. Stain had broken into the ice tunnel and was now sprinting after you like a rabid dog, his movements feral and eyes wild with unhinged outrage, a sort of frantic, desperation coming over him, as if the idea of you two getting away was utterly maddening.
Panic surged through your body and you broke out in a full force sprint, begging your legs for more speed, for more strength, to go beyond, plus ultra and all that.
Blades clattered against the ground behind you as his boots continued their unrelenting pursuit. The Hero Killer was dropping unnecessary weight while you were still hauling the dead weight of a grown man on your shoulders. And that meant one sickening thing: You simply weren’t going to be fast enough.
Even without looking back again, you could feel the distance between you shrinking as you continued your desperate flee, each of his ragged steps encroaching on the inevitable.
And because you were not looking, you did not know to dodge the jagged blade he threw in your direction.
Native let out a yelp as the knife sliced through his skin, adding to his mess of gashes, and another surge of adrenaline flooded your veins. Fortunately for you, the Hero Killer had only thrown one knife.
Shouto summoned another layer of ice, freezing Stain’s legs into place and buying you a couple of precious seconds to sprint towards help.
But broken ice spilled onto the ground behind you barely any seconds later, feral footsteps nauseatingly close to catching up. Mind screaming and legs burning, you summoned a final push of strength and speed, sprinting past the blurs of green and blue standing at the edge of the tunnel. Midoriya and Iida both charged up their quirks and as the Hero Killer emerged from the tunnel behind you, the two heroes-in-training landed a hit, Midoriya punching high and Iida kicking low. With those two simultaneous decisive blows, the villain fell backwards, his remaining swords clattering against the ice.
Other than the sound of your collective heavy, rasping breaths, the four of you stood in tense, wordless silence, chests heaving but eyes locked on Stain, watching for so much as a flicker of movement.
After a few seconds, Midoriya spoke, “He’s got to be knocked out after all of that.”
Shouto was the first to move. “Then let’s restrain him and take away his weapons.”
Midoriya and Iida both responded with curt nods, and the three of them went to work.
While your friends tied Stain’s arms and legs, you moved to set Native against a nearby wall.
“I think I can walk,” Native informed you as he flexed and unflexed his fingers, movement finally returning to his body.
You lowered him to his feet. His steps were stiff and vaguely uncoordinated as the last remnants of Stain’s quirk persisted. Still, Native seemed more relieved than anything, despite the plethora of cuts marking his body.
“How are your injuries?” you asked, afraid you had worsened them in the escape.
But Native simply smiled at you and spoke with a tiredness in his voice. “I’ll live. Thanks to you, all of you.”
“I’m glad they found you in time,” you said, turning to look at the tied-up Hero Killer who had terrorized the hero community for so long.
Now that the dust was settling, it dawned on you the significance of what you and the guys had done. Between the four of you, you had overwhelmed and apprehended one of Japan’s most dangerous villains—a villain known for mauling and killing full-fledged pros—and the four of you had done it all while still being first years! You could already picture your class’s reactions as you recounted the details. Stumbling upon the scene. Scooping up Native. Just barely avoiding the Hero Killer’s attacks. It still felt surreal to think about, despite having just lived it.
But then a gasp pulled your focus, and you whipped your head back to Native. “What’s wrong?” You took a step toward him, ready to storm back into action.
His smile had dropped, the color drained from his face, and he raised a finger to point to something. “He got you.”
“What?” You followed his line of sight, reaching over with your hand. Something warm had spread across the back of your leg, and you pulled your hand back to see your fingers stained red. You reached again, half-convinced it wasn’t actually your blood, until your fingers found the spot where Stain’s steel blade was wedged into your thigh. “Oh.” All at once, a sharp shock of pain struck you like a bolt of lightning, and you stumbled back a few steps, now feeling nauseous and unstable.
Shouto was at your side the next instant. He reached for you, delicate fingers wrapping around you in a moment of unexpected familiarity. “Here, lean on me,” he said, guiding you first to his chest and then slowly, to the nearby wall so you could rest against it.
“How bad is it?” you asked.
He looked down to survey the damage, keeping his face unreadable. “We can get you to a hospital soon.”
So, it’s bad, you thought.
He pulled bandages from his belt, something you noted was a new addition to his hero costume. “I’m going to apply pressure on the wound now. Try not to move.”
You responded with a quick nod and braced yourself, now acutely aware of the throbbing, growing pain coming from your leg.
You clenched your eyes shut. Make it stop.
Deeply disappointed your initial calloused adaptation hadn’t worked, a part of you just wanted to get the knife out now, wishing Shouto could just yank it free, knowing full well you should leave that to the medical professionals.
And yet somehow Shouto forgot that key detail from your basic hero first aid training, because the knife clattered to the ground moments later.
“What happened?” you asked over your shoulder, eyes still pressed shut. “Did you mean to do that?”
“I didn’t touch it.” He responded, sounding vaguely surprised. “It…fell out on its own.” He pressed on the wound, applying enough pressure to keep you from bleeding out. Moments later, as you were hit by an abrupt wave of exhaustion, probably because of the adrenaline crash, Shouto spoke again. “That’s strange.”
You opened one eye, worried. “What is it?”
He raised the bandage and showed you its white, nearly unblemished surface, save for the sprinkle of crimson dots at its center. “You stopped bleeding.” He wiped the smear of blood from the back of your leg and his eyebrows shot up. “It’s gone.”
You twisted as far back as possible to see for yourself. In stark contrast to the blood stains along the surrounding fabric, the skin at the center was intact and unharmed. You dragged your fingers over the smooth surface of your newly repaired skin, surprised you hadn’t felt the change as it was happening. It was like Shouto had said: The wound was gone.
For the first time ever, your body had healed itself in a matter of seconds, and, noting the growing weight of your eyelids, you realized it had come at a major cost to your energy. And unlike your other adaptations which usually involved quick head-to-toe transformations, this one was a lot more concentrated, focusing exclusively on the affected area and nothing else. No wonder you hadn’t felt it.
But you would think more about the implications of this later. For now, since you were no longer wounded, you thanked Shouto for his help and rushed to your other classmates, remembering Midoriya’s shaking, potentially broken leg and Iida’s still-bleeding arms.
As if reading your mind, Shouto handed you bandages for Iida.
Iida shook his head as you approached him, starting to say “I don’t deserve—”
But you cut him off with a firm, “Let me help you.”
“Fine.” Another flash of guilt in his eyes. You made a mental note to ask Shouto about it later.
While you focused on Iida, Shouto helped Midoriya lower himself to the ground, careful not to put too much weight on his hurt leg. “Thank you,” Midoriya said, “Both of you, for responding to my text.”
You stopped what you were doing for a moment. “What text?”
Confusion flickered across his face.“The one I sent to the class group chat?”
“I didn’t see it.” You reached into your pocket and held up your broken phone as proof. “It broke during the Nomu attack.”
Midoriya’s forehead creased in concern. “Then how did you find us?”
Your lips parted, but no words came out. The feeling that had brought you here didn’t even make sense to you, so why would anyone else understand it? Still, you decided to tell them the truth, as strange as it was. “I don’t know how to explain it…but I just had this sudden gut feeling that something bad was happening here and I needed to do something about it, so I followed it here.”
Did that make sense? Did they believe you? You had experienced it firsthand and you still hardly believed it.
The three of them stared at you slightly dumbfounded, no one quite sure what to say. Disbelief and confusion were etched on Iida’s face while Midoriya seemed utterly fascinated with your explanation.
Shouto’s gaze lingered on you the longest, his expression unreadable. “That was reckless,” he finally said quietly, though his tone lacked any real firmness. “But Stain got desperate when it became four against one and that made him sloppy. We’re lucky you got here so soon.”
“Not soon enough,” you said, your eyes glancing down at the gashes along Shouto’s forearm and the one Stain had carved into his face. He had been the luckiest of the group, his wounds weren’t as deep or extensive. Still, the fact that he had been hurt at all made your heart clench. “Do you have any bandages left?” you asked him in a soft voice.
Shouto reached into one of the compartments in his belt. “Here,” he said, his fingers grazing yours this time as he handed over the bandages. You worked on wrapping Shouto’s forearm, careful not to hurt him, and suddenly very aware of the lingering heat emitting from his left side.
Next, you reached for his face carefully and placed a large bandaid on the cut on his face. Taking you a little by surprise, Shouto pushed his cheek gently against your hand, probably to make sure the bandage was secure. Another instinct in you suddenly wanted to kiss it better, hold him, and maybe play with his hair. You ignored it.
Not quite listening to your conversation with Shouto, Midoriya asked, “Do you think the gut feeling has something to do with your quirk? It’s constantly adapting. Do you think this has something to do with that?” You glanced over at your green-haired classmate. He had his fingers along his chin, mostly thinking out loud than talking to you. Somehow you knew he would be flipping open his notebook right about now if he had it on him. “Then again, if your quirk is called ‘Survival’, I would expect it to lead you away from danger, not toward it. But how would your quirk know there’s danger? Does it have a sort of radar you hadn’t mentioned? Do either of your parents have a quirk like that? Maybe you actually have two quirks like Todoroki! Or, maybe this is proof of the ominous quirk singularity theory and your quirk has this entirely new component simply because quirks really do get stronger with each generation. Or maybe—”
“I thought I told you to stay behind.” A short old man clad in a white and yellow costume flew into view, looking both irritated and disappointed.
Before Midoriya could respond, a female voice called, “Is this the alley Endeavor mentioned?”
You glanced over to see a group of heroes rushing over and let out a sigh of relief. Several pros were finally here. Everything was going to be okay.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay with the civilians?” the familiar figure of your internship mentor stepped forward from the group, arms crossed in front of his chest like a disapproving dad.
Well, mostly.
There was something to be said about how terrifying Endeavor was in person.
His bulky frame took up the entirety of the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. He stepped into Shouto’s shared hospital room with anger etched all over his features, and when he spoke, his words held an edge of irritation.“I just spoke to the Chief of Police. I would like to speak to my son. Alone.”
Quick to acquiesce, Midoriya wobbled to his feet with Iida’s help and the two boys stepped out, the first taking the opportunity to make some calls in the waiting area and the second to visit his brother on a different floor.
You glanced back at Shouto to see if he wanted you to stay, but he was preoccupied with scowling up at his father, so you decided you might as well embrace this opportunity to hunt for some snacks downstairs.
Having taken the long way back, you stopped just short of Shouto’s hospital room when you heard the tailend of their argument inside. You tried not to listen in, but it was hard to miss Endeavor’s accusation that Shouto was being stupid and reckless when the pro’s yelling vibrated through the walls.
The nearby nurses and hospital staff tried to pretend not to hear anything, everyone slightly tense as they went about their work, heads down and hands busy. It was no secret Endeavor had a temper. He definitely hadn’t made it to the #2 spot because of his easygoing charisma, but up until now, you had only ever seen his fury targeted at villains, never his own son. The sound of his anger had you grimacing. You couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of that.
But Shouto was many things and spineless was not one of them. Quick to fight back, Shouto had responded with a sarcastic, “Was I supposed to let my friends die?”
Clearly not a fan of Shouto’s attitude, Endeavor yelled some more about Shouto risking both expulsion and his future career as a hero.
Some more yelling back and forth and some choice deeply scathing words from Endeavor to describe his son. A few painful minutes later, having said everyone he wanted, Endeavor swung the door open and said over his shoulder, “I’ll send Fuyumi to pick you up when you’re discharged.”
With that, Endeavor stalked out of the room, his anger coming off his body in waves of heat. He looked at you for half a second with a sneer as your paths were about to cross, and you instinctively stepped aside to let him pass. Why anyone would try villainy when this man’s mere presence was deeply unsettling was beyond you.
You knocked on the door before stepping back into Shouto’s room. “Mission accomplished,” you said with forced levity, raising the snacks for him to see. But Shouto was too busy pacing, quite literally fuming from his conversation with his father. You had never seen him this angry before.
“You’re smoking,” you commented in a soft voice, unsure how to approach him.
Shouto looked up and caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. “Oh, right.” Shouto stopped pacing to let out an extended exhale. Slowly, the smoke coming off his left side started to fade. He opened his eyes, disappointed to see the smoke wasn’t entirely gone and tried again, his efforts to calm down continuing to work.
Just then, a young nurse you hadn’t seen before rushed into the room. “Is Endeavor still here? I wanted his autograph.”
Shouto’s eyebrow ticked and suddenly his left arm caught fire.
She shrieked and, already turning on her heel, yelled out, “Nevermind!”
You shoved open the window and searched your mind for ideas on what to do, all the while fanning out the lingering burning smell with a medical pamphlet. You opened your mouth and said the first thing that came to mind, taking both of you and Shouto by surprise. “Get on the bed.”
Shouto froze. “But it’ll catch fire.”
You hopped onto his hospital bed and patted the space beside you. “Trust me, okay? It’ll help.”
Shouto approached you with caution, the smoke thinning out and practically gone. “What…did you have in mind?”
You grabbed one of the pillows. “Put your head on my lap.”
Shouto climbed into the bed with lingering hesitation, the thin hospital mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and for some reason, the blush on his cheeks had grown darker. “You’re sure?”
You smiled at him, endeared by his sudden shyness. It was another first for today, witnessing Shouto like that. “Yes, Shouto. Come here.”
A moment later, he slowly lowered his head to rest it on the pillow you had provided.
His left side was still hot to the touch, not enough to burn you, but still enough for your quirk to adapt anyway. Within a couple of seconds, the usual ripple cascaded over your body, and you could play with Shouto’s hair without issue. You smoothed over the red and white strands, running your fingers along his scalp.
“This feels…nice,” he said, and he settled further into your lap, getting more comfortable as he rested one of his hands on your leg. His voice was calm, casual, but something about the way he said it sent a flutter through you, one that you quickly tried to suppress.
The smell of smoke was long since gone, but the contented little sigh Shouto let out was enough to tell you not to stop. So, you continued to play with his hair, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence.
A few seconds passed, and then Shouto whispered, “Thank you for being here.” He paused, pensive. “I should’ve said that earlier. Who knows how bad it could’ve gotten if you hadn’t shown up.”
Shouto had confronted his mortality yet again in having to face off against the Hero Killer. Not to discredit Shouto’s or any of your classmates’ skills, but you had all genuinely gotten very lucky. Based on how they recounted their side of the events, Iida was lucky Midoriya found him when he did. The two of them were lucky Shouto happened to see Midoriya’s message in time. Add to that, you were lucky you had somehow made it out mostly unharmed despite Stain chasing after you like a madman. If the Hero Killer had gotten any of you alone, things could have really—
You shook the thought out of your mind, not wanting to entertain any darker ‘what if’s. So, instead, you tried to keep your tone light as your fingers flitted through his hair, “When we met, I told you that you don’t have to fight alone, remember? I meant it, Shouto. We’re in this together.”
“I know,” he said, his eyelids falling closed, and before you knew it, Shouto was sleeping.
You hadn’t intended on staying there for long, but you weren’t going to be the one to wake him. So, you stayed in place, fingers still running through his hair.
Eventually, Iida and Midoriya came back, smiling at the tender sight of Shouto asleep in your lap. You smiled back, basking in the utter simplicity of how easy it was to pretend to be Shouto’s girlfriend.
You smoothed over his hair. The idea of getting to do this even two weeks ago would have felt like an insane, far-fetched daydream. And yet here you were. The gap between what you and Shouto were and what you could be wasn’t quite so big anymore.
You had learned early on at the USJ that you and Shouto undoubtedly had each other’s backs. But you had also since learned that Shouto trusted you enough to be his one and only confidant in this ruse. That he thought you were very pretty. And also hot. And now that he felt comfortable enough around you to let his guard completely down. All glimmers of potential. All glimmers of hope.
Now it didn’t feel quite so crazy to see this all as possible proof that Shouto could truly see you as more than a friend one day. After all, the distance between you kept getting smaller.
So, was it possible that elusive one day could actually be someday very soon?
Notes:
If you're feeling shy (or talkative), you can send me your reactions and questions and comments, etc. here: desiretdeni
Chapter 6: Turns Out Actions Have Consequences (Time to Meet the Family)
Summary:
Things start to get out of hand—his family wants to meet you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It turned out facing a serial killer wasn’t something you could easily sweep under the rug. Since news about the Hosu incident spread overnight, when you finally had class again, it was all your classmates wanted to talk about.
“You guys met the Hero Killer?!”
“Are you okay?”
“How did you make it out alive?”
“What’s he like? Is he as cool as he sounds?”
“Kaminari!”
“Oh, right. Sorry, Iida.”
Even classmates you didn’t speak to often were curious to know more, like when Aoyama approached you to ask how you had made it out unscathed.
“I was very lucky," you admitted. "Turns out, my quirk can speed up healing.”
“Oh my, that's quite the quirk, mademoiselle.”
The commotion died down at the first sight of Mr. Aizawa’s bright yellow sleeping bag. Right behind him, his teaching assistant walked in with a stack of papers in her hands. While she passed out blank self-evaluation forms at the beginning of each row, Aizawa explained that he wanted you all to detail what you had learned during your internships.
“Be thorough and honest,” he instructed. “Remember: This is for your benefit, not mine.” Then he proceeded to take a nap behind his desk while you all wrote in silence under the supervision of his TA.
You were allowed to include kernels of truth—like how you had deceived your own quirk into working—but officially, you had to say that you and the boys had been attacked by Stain before Endeavor stepped in and saved the day. You weren’t a huge fan of the cover up, but the police chief had made it abundantly clear that if the truth were to get out, the boys would get in trouble for having broken the law. (You hadn’t used your quirk for combat so technically you were in a more gray area than them, not that that had spared you from the stern “I’m not mad. I’m disappointed” talk from your mentor). So, you and your three classmates now had a quiet pact not to bring up the true events against the Hero Killer in the presence of anyone who wasn’t involved. Yet another Shouto-related secret for you to guard (but who’s counting?).
Mina opened her locker and pulled out her PE uniform. “Okay, the boys were being super evasive every time we tried to ask about the Hero Killer. You were there, too. So, spill, babe. What happened out there?”
You averted your gaze, thankful to have the task of grabbing your own set of clothes as a buffer. “He was already attacking the guys when I got there. They can tell you more than I can.”
“Okay, but how did you find them?”
Mystical gut feelings. “Shouto and I share our locations with each other.” Not true then, but true now.
She leaned forward, eyes wide. “So did you actually get to fight the Hero Killer?”
Be consistent. “No, Endeavor got there pretty quickly.”
“And?” She asked, eager, pressing for more.
“We’re really lucky that he did?”
She deflated, finally accepting that you weren’t going to say more on the subject than the boys had. “Boo, this is the most interesting thing to happen in a while and no one’s talking.”
“Speaking of interesting,” Jirou started to say as she pulled on her workout shirt. “I didn't get to tell you guys about the craziest part from my internship. You know how we helped rescue some hostages? Well, the reason we even knew where they were was because the police got a tip from someone telling us she could literally see that her best friend was being held at gunpoint. The police transferred the call to us since it was happening in a nearby district, and we asked how she was getting her information.”
“Did she have some sort of stealth quirk?” Tooru asked, tying her invisible hair into a ponytail.
“That’s the thing. We asked her that or if she was watching on hidden cameras or something, and that’s when she mentioned the weirdest part: Not only is she quirkless, she’s blind, so it couldn’t have been either of those. Then she explained that somehow she basically started seeing a livestream of her friend’s perspective in her mind out of nowhere, which had apparently happened before during another life or death situation, and that’s when she knew she had to contact the authorities. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t the friend’s quirk either because, get this, apparently she’s quirkless, too.”
“Woah.” The girls all said in unison.
Mina’s jaw dropped. “Holy fucking shit! I’d heard rumors of stuff like that, but I didn’t think it was actually possible.”
“There are probably plenty of reasonable explanations…even if we can’t think of any right now,” Tsu said.
“They’re soulmates! It’s the only explanation!” Mina countered.
“Do you guys really believe in soulmates?” Ochako asked, genuinely.
Yaoyorozu paused to think, standing in a sports bra and her PE pants. “I’m still undecided, but it is a fascinating possibility to entertain. I remember reading that reports of soulmate pairings started around the same time quirks first emerged.” Yaoyorozu recited the information from memory like she was reading it straight from an encyclopedia. “There have been numerous documented findings of people inexplicably developing the same marks as close friends, or their partner’s initials, or other varied results. The problem is that the ‘symptoms’, so to speak, weren’t consistent from person to person, and some, like gut feelings that their loved ones were in danger, were near impossible to prove.”
Jirou shrugged. “Well, whatever it was, it helped us rescue the hostages and gave me a cool story to share with you guys.”
You closed your locker, brow slightly furrowed. Soulmates, huh?
Long after training had ended, your muscles aching from the day’s quirkless combat drills, the idea of soulmates still lingered in the back of your mind. You had talked about it with Tsu during one of the breaks and it turned out she had also been thinking about it. She suggested that the most logical explanation for Jirou’s story was that one of the two friends involved, probably the caller, did have a quirk and simply wasn’t aware because it only activated under very specific circumstances. She was probably right, but still.
Soulmates.
The idea that two souls could be made for each other, offering a connection unlike any other.
It sounded so mystical, so otherworldly, and yet also…comforting? Was that the right word? The thought of someone who was destined to love and be loved by you unconditionally—be it platonic or romantic—because the universe decided you belonged together sounded like it was right out of a fairytale. And maybe it was.
But ever since Yaoyorozu had mentioned something about gut feelings related to danger, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was what had happened in Hosu, what had led you to Shouto and your other two friends. You lived in a world where people were born with what basically amounted to superpowers—were soulmates that crazy of a possibility to consider? Then again, maybe Midoriya’s theory was right and this was just some weird (your words, not his) manifestation of your already unpredictable quirk.
You took a sip of your drink, still mulling over these possibilities, when Shouto’s soft, beautiful voice stirred you from your thoughts.
"My sister wants to meet you," Shouto said as he looked up from his phone, speaking with all the easy nonchalance of someone commenting on the weather and acting like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bombshell.
You promptly choked on your drink. Coughing and blinking furiously, you pounded your chest, trying to catch your breath. You really needed to stop drinking anything in his presence. This was starting to become a pattern.
“You told her about us?” you managed to rasp out.
Shouto nodded, as if this whole situation was entirely normal. He sipped his own drink before replying, “She asked if there were any new developments at school, so I told her about our relationship.”
Your eyes flicked nervously toward the general direction of Iida, Tsu, Ochako, and Midoriya, who were eating lunch with you and clearly half-listening to your conversation, eyes darting between you and Shouto.
Suddenly hyper-aware of your audience, you tried to phrase your question in a way that wasn’t too revealing. “Was she…surprised?”
“She was,” Shouto replied, his calm expression never wavering, perfectly unreadable. “But she’s still very supportive.”
Okay, that didn’t help at all.
Supportive because she understands why the two of you are faking a relationship? Or supportive because she also thinks this is real? With the rest of your friends listening in, there was no way you could ask for clarification now.
Shouto glanced at his phone again and then looked up at you with those beautiful, mismatched eyes. “She wants to know if you’re free next weekend. She said she can’t wait to meet my girlfriend.”
Ah, the second one it is then.
It felt odd to bring family into this facade, but maybe it was easier to stay consistent this way. If the two of you told everyone the same lie, it was much easier to keep track of your story.
“Yeah, uh, that weekend works.”
Shouto typed a response into his phone and smiled a little when it pinged a moment later. “She wants to know what your favorite food is, so she can make it when you come over.”
The first group of girls who recognized Shouto at the train station were surprisingly shy. The bravest of their group stepped forward, visibly nervous.
“You’re Shouto Todoroki, right?” she asked, softly. “We, um, we watched the UA Sports Festival on TV. You were amazing!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide in admiration. “Would, uh, would you mind if we took a group picture together? When you’re a big pro, it’ll be cool to look back and say we met you while you were still a student.”
Shouto glanced at you, and you shrugged, offering him an unspoken Why not?
“Sure,” he replied, his tone polite.
Interacting with fans was occasionally part of the field of heroics, so you both had to start getting used to it. Feeling generous, you even offered to take the photo for them. As they all squeezed together, Shouto’s stoic demeanor contrasted with the girls’ giggles and smiles.
“Thank you very much!” they chirped in unison as one of them collected her phone back from you. Then they waved at both of you before they dashed off to catch their train.
You and Shouto hadn’t made it another 15 feet when another trio approached him, excitement lighting up their faces. This time, however, the dynamic was different. The clear leader of the group basically shoved her phone into your hands before stepping forward, far too comfortable getting far too close to your fake boyfriend during their photo.
“You’re even cuter in person,” she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
You took one singular, potentially blurry photo, before handing the phone back to one of her friends.
“My girlfriend and I have to get to our train,” Shouto replied, moving past her and slipping his hand into yours.
The girl’s expression faltered slightly, surprised by his statement, but she quickly recovered, managing a nervous laugh. “Oh. Right.”
With that, you and Shouto turned to leave, the moment lingering in the air. As you walked away, you could feel the girl’s gaze lingering on Shouto, and a part of you felt a strange mix of possessiveness and satisfaction at the way he had claimed you so easily.
You shot him a sidelong glance, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Nice save.”
He merely shrugged and glanced at the time. “It’s the truth. We don’t want to miss our train.”
During the entire train ride to his house, Shouto maintained some point of contact with you, probably still on guard for any lingering fans, mostly keeping your thighs touching, even though your cabin was far from full (meaning you didn’t need to sit that close to each other—not that you were complaining). Another pair of girls had glanced over at him a couple of times in the cabin, but they had gotten off a few stops later.
When he loosely intertwined his fingers with yours on your lap, your eyes drifted around the train car, since you hadn’t picked up on anyone watching either of you. Truth be told, now that the people roughly your age had left, everyone who remained seemed to be too absorbed in their own heads to give either of you a second thought. You understood keeping up the facade around campus and in the dorms, but surrounded by strangers who clearly couldn’t care less? You wouldn’t have taken Todoroki for a method actor, but if your crush wanted you to be his (pretend) girlfriend at all times, even off campus, then so be it.
Funnily enough, at one point, Shouto shifted to stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. When you glanced up at him, he seemed lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the blur of images outside the train window, not really thinking about what he was doing with his hands.
And you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just that good at staying in character.
“So Shouto brought home a girl,” Shouto’s older brother, Natsuo said coolly, looking a mixture of impressed and proud.
“Yeah, I can’t believe I’m meeting his girlfriend before I meet yours,” his older sister, Fuyumi responded as she finished up dinner.
You still had mixed feelings about bringing his family into the lie, but when you had gotten Shouto alone and commented on it (“I’m surprised you didn’t just tell your sister I’m a friend.”), he had confirmed that he just wanted to keep your story consistent (“We already told everyone else we’re together, so we should tell my siblings, too.”)
All at once, Natsuo’s face turned a bright red. “I never said I had a girlfriend.”
“Then who’s the girl you’ve been texting nonstop since you got here?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “She’s, um, someone you’ll meet eventually.”
Fuyumi wiped away at an invisible tear. “My little brothers are growing up so fast.”
“Let me help you with that,” you offered, when Fuyumi tried to balance carrying multiple dishes at once.
“Pretty and thoughtful. She seems like a keeper to me, Shouto.”
“I know,” he said, a small smile on his lips, as he grabbed a side dish to bring to the table.
Dinner was surprisingly lighthearted. You weren’t sure what to expect since Shouto didn’t mention his siblings much, but they were friendly and warm, embracing you into the family with open arms, which is more than you could have hoped for.
At one point, Natsuo had even made a point to “discreetly” pull Shouto aside and warn him not to break your heart or he would have hell to pay.
Not fully getting the joke, Shouto had simply stared straight ahead and very seriously responded with “I would never hurt her on purpose.”
“Good man,” Natsuo had smiled, clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
While Natsuo distracted Shouto with more of his antics, Fuyumi moved to rest her cheek on her palm, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “I’m really glad Shouto met you. Mom said he’d included stories about his friends in his letters, but you were the friend he’d always mention the most. Guess now we know why.” She smiled at you with such sincere enthusiasm it made your stomach coil.
The more people you dragged into this lie, the guiltier you felt.
At least this was something you could comment on honestly. “He mentioned me? To his mom?”
“Yeah, has he told you about—” she paused, trying to read your expression. “Probably not then. He’ll tell you more about her when he’s ready.”
Then Natsuo plopped back down at the table before she could elaborate. “So what’s for dessert?”
.
.
.
As the evening came to an end, the sound of the front door caused the mood in the room to shift instantly.
Natsuo groaned. “You said he wouldn’t be here.”
“He’s never home this early. I’m so sorry,” Fuyumi said, apologizing for something out of her control. Something told you she did that often.
The door to the dining room slid open and there towering over the table, glaring down in his full heroic facade—ever-present scowl, furrowed brows, and fiery facial hair—was Endeavor. He was taller than you remembered, the full size of his figure really hitting you especially since you were seated on the floor and therefore forced to look up at him.
Endeavor narrowed his eyes when Shouto took your hand in his. “You. Remind me: What’s your quirk?”
Stay calm. “Uh, it’s called ‘Survival’, sir. It’s a transformation-type that allows my body to adapt to different stressors.”
“Like what?” he asked, still unimpressed.
You thought back to a couple of recent sparring sessions with Mina and Mineta. “I’ve developed a counter to acid and can detach sticky restraints easily.”
“What else?” he pressed, impatient.
“Well, um, I’ve also increased my baseline resistances to extreme heat and cold thanks to Shouto’s help.”
He arched a brow. “Baseline?”
“Yeah, uh, my body will adapt to high heat or cold and that becomes my new baseline, like a tolerance that’s always ‘on’, I guess.”
“Hmm. That could be useful.” He said it with an air of disinterest, like offering anything remotely resembling praise was out of the question. “What’s your limitation?”
Why don’t I just start spilling all my secrets?
Still, you opened your mouth, about to admit your greatest weakness, the fact that you didn’t actually get to decide how or when your body adapted, but were interrupted before you could form the words.
“You don’t get to do that,” Natsuo said, irritation clear in his voice.
“Hmm?” Endeavor said, still scowling.
“We were having a perfectly nice dinner and then you show up and you just start grilling her. What does it matter what her quirk is? Shouto likes her. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
“Hmph,” Endeavor replied, arms crossed in front of his chest. “If he intends to continue a heroic lineage, then the quirks my future grandchildren could inherit matter.”
Your eye twitched. Sir, we just barely broached hand holding and you’re talking about children. That was NOT in the agreement.
“However,” Endeavor turned his attention back to you. “A quirk like yours could pair nicely with Shouto’s. But I would have to see more of its range in action before giving my approval.”
At this, Shouto stood up and responded with a bitter, “We don’t need your approval.” He turned to his brother and sister. “It was nice seeing you two, but we’ll be leaving now.”
“Thank you for dinner,” you said as Shouto basically pulled you out of the room.
“I’m leaving now, too, sis.” Natsuo added before shooting another glare at Endeavor.
“Oh, okay. We’ll talk soon!” Fuyumi called after them, a hint of sadness in her voice, despite her attempt at sounding cheerful.
As you both turned the corner to leave, Endeavor grumbled something about Shouto and an immature rebellious phase.
Keeping their hospital interaction in mind, something told you there had to be more to it.
Alone together in the last train cabin, Shouto was quiet for most of the ride back. You were too since you had no clue how to approach this conversation with tact.
Eventually you caved, deciding a basic question was better than letting his anger simmer in silence, especially since he was literally starting to steam. You cleared your throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Shouto shifted in his seat. A moment, then “I hate my father.”
Oh. You searched for the right words. “He seems…intense.”
“I shouldn’t have been surprised he immediately asked you about your quirk, but it still angered me.” Shouto shook his head in disgust. “It’s all in the name of his stupid obsession.”
“What do you mean?”
Shouto kept his gaze fixed ahead of him. “He’s always been obsessed with being the #1 hero, but since he couldn’t beat All Might, his new obsession became creating someone who could.” You started to process what Shouto was telling you, sensing the sinister implication behind the story. Shouto continued, “That’s why he married my mother, for her ice quirk. He wanted to have a child who did not have the same limitations he did.”
A quirk marriage. The practice seemed unethical and outdated. You didn’t expect it to still be relevant now. “Shouto…”
He kept going and you had a feeling this was something he had long since needed to get off his chest. “My father kept trying to have kids until one of us was born with the combination he was after. The moment my quirk manifested, he started to train me until I would get sick. Then he’d yell at me for being weak. And if my mother tried to defend me, he’d hit her.”
Your heart clenched at this revelation. “That’s awful.”
More and more of his history poured out of him, like a dam spilling over after being filled to the brim for too long. “After years of abuse, she snapped one day and poured boiling water on my face, calling it unbearable because it reminded her of him. When she realized what she had done, she used her ice quirk to try to soothe the burning.” He let out a tiny sigh. “Ironically, my left side can naturally withstand scorching temperatures, so the doctor later concluded that her ice is what aggravated the wound. That’s why my scar is circular—it roughly reflects the shape of her hand.”
You wanted to cradle him in your arms and never let go. “I’m so sorry.”
“That was years ago.” He shrugged. “I’ve accepted this is what I look like now. Plus, keeping my hair this length covers up most of the scar.” He squeezed your hand while quietly deciding something. After a moment, he spoke. “But to be honest, before I came to UA, I didn’t think anyone could find me attractive because of it.”
You squeezed his hand back even harder. “Shouto, I need you to know your scar doesn’t take away from how handsome you are.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say that to make me feel better,” he said, his tone a little softer than normal as he offered you half a smile. “I now know that someone can like me for my other attributes.”
So he really thought the legion of women thirsting over him was in no way related to how handsome he was? What?
A piece you hadn’t expected suddenly clicked into place in the mental puzzle you were still trying to solve: Shouto wasn’t the effortlessly confident, unshakable figure you had built up in your head. Unlike that untouchable ideal you had been crushing on from the moment you saw him, this Shouto, the real Shouto, was achingly human, with delicate cracks settled just beneath his composed exterior. They manifested in all the little ways his confidence sometimes faltered—in the way his words came out a little stiff when he wasn’t sure what to say, the uncertainty in unfamiliar social situations, and even now, in his hesitation to believe he was actually handsome. He was quiet and complex—both competitive and kind, observant and tone-deaf, thoughtful and clueless—still learning how to navigate his emotions, his vulnerabilities, his place in this world, and still trying to believe he could be more than the sum of his father’s expectations or his own tragic scars.
You were also now realizing, Shouto was also the man you were stupidly and perhaps inevitably falling in love with.
And he was in pain.
So, desperate for him to understand you meant every word when you said he was handsome, some impulsive, overly familiar instinct took over you because next thing you knew, you were cupping his face with both of your hands just to have him look you right in the eye.
“Shouto, I’m serious. I can’t speak on behalf of what other girls see, but you’re—” Quite possibly the love of my life “—very important to me so I want you to know this: My first impression of you on the first day of class was that you’re incredibly handsome. In fact, if we hadn’t been forced to fight together at the USJ, it probably would’ve taken me half the semester to even speak to you, let alone befriend you, because of how attractive you are.”
Okay, maybe that last part was a little too honest. You hoped that semi-confession didn’t make things weird between you two. But if you were good enough friends to pretend to date and hold hands and cuddle together in hospital beds that meant you could totally just casually say stuff like that to each other, right? Right?
He blinked twice, considering your words, and blushed after a moment. “You really think I’m handsome?”
Warmth rushed to your cheeks in an instant and you fought the urge to avert your gaze. “Very.”
His half-smile shifted into a genuine one and the pit in your stomach dissolved.
He finally believed you.
“At least something good came from that attack then,” he said as he cupped the hand that was still touching his face. “It brought us here.”
“Yeah, it did.” You glanced down at his lips without thinking, your gaze lingering for a second too long. A quiet urge beckoned you forward, like a siren’s song, blurring logic and restraint, leaving only that incessant ache to bridge the gap, to find out what it would feel like to have his lips meet yours, and to risk whatever would follow.
But you pulled back, somehow finding the resolve to fight that urge almost as quickly as it had arisen, and squeezed his other hand once more, offering him a small smile.
You sank back into your seat, a wave of guilt hitting you. He had just shared something deeply personal, something raw with you, one of his closest friends, and the last thing he needed was to blur the lines between friendship and something more at a time like this. You were many things, sure, but someone who would take advantage of another person’s emotional vulnerability? Never.
It hit you then: Shouto’s complicated family history explained not only his overall behavior, but also why he would rather pretend to be in a relationship than actually entertain one of the hundreds of romantic offers he had received from interested girls.
There was a reason he was only fake dating you. Shouto was a very honest and blunt person. So, if he wanted more from you, he would have said so. Simple as that. He simply did not have the emotional capacity for a romantic relationship at this time.
And you were no exception.
So, without saying another word, you casually pulled your hand back, pretending you needed to do something on your phone.
But after a while of fidgeting on some meaningless app, you stole a glance at Shouto who was reading a new text from his sister (where she praised you of all people), and you decided that you wouldn’t allow yourself to ruin the close friendship Shouto and you had built by acknowledging your true feelings for him.
You were going to keep your mouth shut.
You had to.
Notes:
I really wish we got to see more Todoroki sibling interactions in canon. Fuyumi calling out Natsuo is so funny to me.
. . .
My Tumblr: desiretdeni
Chapter 7: Your Hot (Fake) Boyfriend Tests Your Restraint
Summary:
The will is strong but the flesh is weak.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You had almost kissed Shouto twice more since then.
Struggling against logic and reason, your feelings for him were getting stronger and more difficult to ignore with each passing day. And on today of all days, Kirishima and Sero had overheard you and the girls talk about going to the campus pool. So, before you knew it, what had originally been intended as a casual pool day with a few friends had evolved into a full-on pool party featuring everyone in the Heroics major (and yes, that meant a shirtless Shouto would soon be testing your dwindling restraint).
The sun hung high, its rays shimmering on the ripples of water lapping against the side of the pool. At the deep end, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were locked in a cannonball contest, each trying to outdo the other in creating the biggest splash. With each jump, they sent cascades of water flying, threatening to soak more of their classmates nearby. (Mineta, who had been ogling at the 1-B girls and making them uncomfortable, had been the first and only person to get drenched by the sudden surge of water. Needless to say, you didn't exactly feel bad for him.)
At the opposite end of the pool, Bakugou floated lazily on an inflatable chair, sunglasses on and a drink resting casually in his hand. He tried to ignore his classmates’ antics, but the tick of annoyance on his face betrayed his true feelings. Tokoyami was sitting off to the side, arms crossed over his chest and sheltering under the cover of a large umbrella. Meanwhile, taking on an entirely different approach, Aoyama was sunbathing on another one of the pool chairs, working on what he had called "The perfect tan, mon amie."
One of the poolside chairs shifted beside you and Shouto took a seat, sliding off his messenger bag and setting it on the ground. His hand dipped inside the bag's main compartment and he pulled out a sealed envelope addressed to him. When he opened it, you couldn't help but notice that the kanji was careful and elegant, much like Shouto’s own, but then, careful not to pry, you let your eyes drift back to the pool party. Just because he felt comfortable reading his mother’s letters next to you didn’t mean he wanted you to read their contents.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Shouto commented, “I told her in my last letter that you met Fuyumi and Natsuo and now she wants to meet you, too.” He lifted his gaze from the page. “Should I tell her we’ll stop by after we get back from camp?”
Lying to his sick mother? That felt like a new low. So, instead of responding directly, you redirecting the conversation, asking, “How’s she doing?”
Shouto smiled. “Much better. She’s finally decided to divorce my father.”
Your eyebrows flashed upwards. “Oh wow. I guess I wasn't expecting that.”
Shouto just shrugged as he tucked the letter back into his bag. “I’m glad she’s finally found the strength to leave him. It couldn't have been easy.” Then, changing the subject and deciding to indulge in utterly sadistic behavior, he decided that was the right moment to stand up and tug his shirt off. “I forgot my sunscreen. Do you have any?”
Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in the gorgeous view. Oh, how you had missed his perfect chiseled abs. Now this was a cruel test of self-control.
Sunscreen.
Shouto was asking for sunscreen.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.”
Trying not to give away just how awestruck you were, you forced your gaze away and reached for the sunscreen in your bag. For some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched, so you glanced over your shoulder as you continued to feel blindly for the bottle.
Across the way, some of the 1-B girls—Kodai, Komori, and Yanagi—were staring at Shouto, probably just as enamored with the sight of his unearthly beauty as you were. You tried to study their expressions. Kodai looked serious as ever, impossible to read, so you tried Komori next. But her eyes were covered by her bangs, which meant you couldn’t see what or who specifically she was looking at. But then your eyes settled on Yanagi right when her gaze happened to flick back to you, making accidental eye contact, and she whipped her head away with such sudden panic that it totally confirmed that they were all, in fact, staring.
Were they some of the girls who had been vying for Shouto's attention at the beginning of the semester? He had never mentioned any of them by name, but clearly on some level they were into him, right? Why else would they be staring?
Kendo, the fourth member of their group, but the only one with her back to you, glanced over her shoulder to see, much like you, what everyone else was staring at. Unlike the rest, however, when you and Kendo made eye contact, she smiled and waved.
Kendo aside, the other three girls staring made you feel slightly territorial. Granted, Shouto wasn’t actually your boyfriend, but they didn’t know that. Possessiveness getting the best of you, the words “I can put the sunscreen on you if you’d like” slipped out of you as you finally found the bottle. Your brain finally catching up to your mouth, and, your face now on fire, you quickly added, “For places you can’t reach easily, that is.”
“Sure,” Shouto said without any hesitation.
You poured some of the sunscreen into your palm and stood up to start with his back. You focused first on his shoulders, feigning nonchalance and pretending like this was commonplace, boring even. But internally, you were screaming. You had already learned that his left and right sides leaned toward warmth and cold, respectively, even when he wasn’t using his quirk, but it was still so odd to have both your hands touching his smooth skin and finding entirely different temperatures.
You moved down to his shoulder blades, kneading the sunscreen into his skin under the guise of being thorough, and while you worked on his back, he picked up the bottle and started to apply sunscreen to his front half, which was probably a good thing. If he let you touch his abs directly, you would probably just faint and completely expose this relationship for the lie that it is. You watched as the muscles on his arms flexed a little with each of his movements.
“Do you want me to do your arms?” you asked, half-expecting him to say no because he could easily reach both of those.
But instead, he nodded, so you poured more of the sunscreen into your palms. Your fingers traced the curves of his biceps (again, just being thorough) and you worked your way down his arms, to his triceps, his forearms, and then his hands. It was hardly necessary to lather his hands in sunscreen since he had just applied some himself, but still you found yourself coating each individual finger with delicate precision. Shouto took this moment to intertwine his fingers with yours, stumbling upon a slightly messy way to hold your hand for show. But still, fake or not, it was endearing.
Someone beside you cleared their throat and you looked up to find Kendo standing there with an apologetic smile. “Hey, um, sorry if the girls and I were staring just now. We just wanted to say you two look really cute together!”
“Thank you,” Shouto said, looking up at her with an unreadable expression.
“Yeah, thanks,” you added, now feeling silly for getting territorial over nothing.
“Mhmm!” Kendo said, quickly turning on her heel.
As she walked off, Shouto surprised you by asking, “Would you like for me to put sunscreen on you?”
“Oh, um, sure,” you responded, slightly surprised by his commitment to the bit.
Just like you had, he started with your back, his longer delicate fingers smoothening the sunscreen over every inch of exposed skin. He then worked his way up your neck, his fingers touching all the places you wished his lips would.
Shouto stirred you from your thirst-induced reverie with two words: “Turn around.”
You did as he asked and his fingers found your neck again, except this time you watched his expression as he lathered you with sunscreen. He worked his way down your collarbones, fingertips trailing down, just barely grazing the top of your breasts. The air now simmering with a heat that had nothing to do with the weather, his fingers stopped, hands hovering just above the skin, not yet touching but close enough to make your heart race. His eyes flicked up to yours and he raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking for your permission to keep going.
“I can put sunscreen there,” you responded, like the absolute coward that you were.
“Okay,” Shouto said as he withdrew his hands. But before you could finish chastising yourself for ruining the moment, he asked, “Should I do your legs?”
“Yes,” you replied without thinking, quick to jump at the renewed chance to have his hands all over you.
You raised one leg onto the seat and Shouto covered his hands in sunscreen yet again. He started at the bottom, working his way up with slow, lingering touches, first your ankle, then your shin, your calf, and your knee. Yet again, he stopped right when he was on the cusp of crossing a boundary and taking it too far.
“Should I keep going?” He asked, reigniting the space between you with an electric buzz.
“Y-yes,” you choked out.
You noticed a small smile on his lips as he reached to grab more sunscreen.
He adjusted your leg a little, probably to give himself a better angle, and then his hands were back on your skin, this time climbing far higher than he ever had before. The chaos of the pool party around you two was no longer registering, having faded to nothing. Nothing else mattered. No one else existed. There was just you and Shouto and the way he was rubbing sunscreen into the soft skin of your upper thigh. Every ounce of your attention was fixed entirely on him, on this new wondrous, all-consuming heat. It was dizzying. Intoxicating. You imagined him throwing you over his shoulder and rushing back to the dorms to have his way with you. Or straddling him here by the poolside. Or the two of you could even—
The sound of a whistle ripped you away from your fantasies. “Alright, you two! Get a room!” Kaminari teased as he walked by in his swim trunks.
And just like that, the spell was broken.
With a quick intake of air, you stood up with a jolt and said, “Thanks for the help,” to Shouto, ignoring the recommended sunscreen waiting period or the fact you didn’t have any sun protection on your other leg.
Instead, dizzy with lust and unrequited pining, you did the most logical thing you could think of. You rushed over to the edge of the pool, pressed your eyes shut, and jumped, plunging into the deepest part and letting the shock of cold water attempt to wash away the glorious memory of Shouto’s hands all over your skin.
Needless to say, it didn’t work.
In the weeks that followed, Shouto’s casual displays of affection continued and you were driving yourself mad trying to distance yourself when every part of you, from the most romantic to the most depraved, yearned for his touch.
Back at the beginning of the semester, before your fake relationship had begun, you had mentally accused Shouto of being a dizzying contradiction, but nowadays you barely made sense of your own actions. When he suggested the two of you should study together, you would insist on it being in public spaces like the dorm common area (because you were afraid that if you got him alone with you in your room, there was no telling how quickly your restraint would dissolve). But then you would show up to study with Shouto in whatever loungewear happened to show the most skin, since you had also discovered that, just like he had on the train ride to his house, Shouto liked to touch you while he was lost in thought.
Now the two of you were in the library, what should have been another very public space with little to no privacy. After all, with final exams fast approaching, there were a lot more people around than there normally would be. Plus, with their large windows and glass doors, most of the study rooms were well within view of the other students reading on the couches or studying at the tables or simply passing by.
But Shouto had had the foresight to book a study room well in advance, and the one the library ended up giving him happened to be the study room at the furthest end of the hall, which translated to a complete lack of foot traffic and a perfect view of the forgotten book stacks no one ever visited.
Currently, Shouto was on a different floor, searching for a book he needed for his research paper. Meanwhile, you were supposed to be reading up on human anatomy to gather ideas for an essay on different ways to apply your quirk. The problem was that, most of the time, you had no idea what your quirk was actually capable of until after it adapted. And since your quirk was the one calling the shots anyway, what good did it do to fill your head with theoretical applications if you couldn't actually deliberately, you know, apply them? Worst of all, there was only so much interest you could muster for a book as dry and dense as this one when the Shouto-centered fantasies that had once been limited to nights alone in your dorm were now plaguing your mind at all hours of the day.
His hands on your hips. His tongue on your neck. His dick in your—
You slammed the anatomy textbook closed with a little too much force. You still had readings to do and assignments to complete and a mock test to take. You couldn’t afford to be so distracted.
Focus dammit, you instructed yourself, and with a long sigh, you flipped the book back open, forcing yourself to pick up right where you had left off: Different types of cell deaths.
Fascinating.
Soon after, the door slid open as Shouto joined you in the study room, successfully acquired book in hand, and sat down at the chair closest to yours. He reached for a headband to push his hair out of his eyes, baring his scar openly, something you had noticed he had started doing following your conversation on the train. (You had also noticed that he didn't wear the headband around any of your other classmates, which, in its own way, made you feel a tiny bit special.)
With his eyes fixed on the chapter he needed, Shouto took notes with one hand, before tugging your chair closer to him and setting his other hand on your leg. Ever since the pool party, he had graduated to tracing figures along the tops of your thighs. The two of you had come here straight from class, so you were still wearing your uniform, skirt and all. He played with the pleated fabric, rubbing it between his fingers, as he continued to take notes. He looked perfectly serious, effortlessly balancing being a top academic student and being a huge fucking (unintentional) tease. His fingers dipped under your skirt and he gripped the top of your upper thigh, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your leg.
Another distracting thought rushed through your mind: Now if only he'd dip that hand between your legs instead.
You let out a strangled whimper, clinging to the last flimsy bit of restraint you could muster.
Shouto looked up from his notes and turned to you, eyebrows up. “Is something wrong?”
If you didn’t get out now, you would finally crumble.
You shot up from your seat, your chair skidding back with a sharp screech, as you used that last iota of will power to force yourself to leave. “I just remembered I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now,” you said, lying through your teeth as you shoved your stuff into your backpack.
“Oh.” Someone who didn’t know Shouto would describe his reaction as unreadable, but you had spent enough time with him to pick up on the subtle sign of disappointment. Still, as committed to the fake boyfriend bit as ever, he asked, “Do you want me to walk you—”
“No need!” you said, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and shoving open the door. “I’ll see you around!”
As you widened the distance between you two, speed-walking back to the dorms, you replayed your interaction with Shouto in your head and cringed. This wasn’t remotely subtle. Or sustainable. Was it time to fake break up with him? Your heart twinged at the thought. You didn’t exactly want this to be over, but what other choice was there? Was there something you weren’t considering? Something you weren’t seeing?
The more you thought about it, the more obvious it became that you needed to talk to someone level-headed and calm, someone who could make sense of your ramblings, someone you trusted completely.
The answer was clear.
And luckily, not only did you have her schedule memorized, but right now happened to coincide with a gap between her classes.
“Tsu,” you said, standing in the doorway of the dorm room next to yours. “Can we talk? I need your opinion on something.”
“Sure.” She stepped aside to let you in.
You walked into the room and plopped onto her bed like you had countless times before. Tsu was quick to join you. “Okay, I’m going to tell you a secret, but you can not tell anyone.”
“You know I wouldn’t,” she said, waiting for you to share what you were holding back.
“Okay so…” You lowered your voice and leaned toward her. “The truth is Shouto and I aren’t actually dating.”
“What?” She blinked at you with wide eyes.
“It's a long story, but basically he didn’t like the attention he was getting from other girls after the Sports Festival, so he asked me to be his fake girlfriend to keep them from bugging him.”
Tsu considered your words, one finger on her chin. “He’s very convincing.”
“Right? Who would’ve thought he was such a good actor!” It was cathartic to finally tell someone, to put into words the thoughts that had been running through your mind on a loop. You found yourself admitting more than you had expected to share. “I tell myself it’s fake, but he’s so committed to the bit that it feels real sometimes and I feel like I’m going crazy!”
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Listen, it gets worse.” The words rushed out of you in a ramble that would make Midoriya proud. “I used to have a small crush on him in the he’s-cute-and-mysterious-kind-of-way, but we’ve spent so much time together because of the fake relationship that I’ve actually developed real feelings for him, which is sooo messy of me, I know.”
She blinked again. “Then tell him that.”
You frowned. “But if I tell him how I feel about him now, he won’t want to fake date me anymore!”
Tsu stared at you with a neutral, unimpressed expression on her face. Then, “Isn’t that the point?”
“I mean yes, but agh, you know what I mean.”
“Look, the relationship may have started as a fake, but if your feelings for him aren’t, then how much longer are you willing to keep this to yourself?” She put her hand on your arm. “I don’t know what’s been going on in his mind, but based on how he acts around you, I really don’t think he’s faking anything. Ribbit. What if he’s started to like you, too?”
“You really think so?”
You had been afraid that you had just been seeing what you wanted to see, distorting the truth with your own delusion. But if someone else, a third party who had the benefit of distance and no real bias, could see it too, then maybe it was possible. Just like that, the cruel hope from before reemerged, stirring a fluttery sort of feeling in the center of your chest.
Tsu paused, something tender, a patient understanding maybe, flickering in her eyes. “Don’t you want to find out?”
Notes:
Wild to think we’re technically more halfway through the story! (It’s 13 chapters and an epilogue)
. . .
My tumblr: desiretdeni
Chapter 8: Summer Camp Fun (Your Instructor’s Trying To Kill You)
Summary:
First day of camp featuring Aizawa’s brutal workout regimen (topped with a little sprinkle of dumbassery and chaos)
Notes:
This chapter has multiple Todoroki interactions but it also focuses a lot on your quirk. Feel free to skim through the quirk stuff if it doesn’t interest you as much, but just know it’ll be relevant later 👀
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
That cruel and precious hope had convinced you to talk to Shouto.
However, as a precaution, you decided to wait until after exams were done to confess your feelings. That way if things didn’t work out, you didn’t have to see him after.
But then you thought about how awkward summer camp would be if Shouto didn’t react well, and you decided to push back the conversation date and wait until the end of camp instead, just as a bonus precaution. (Coward.)
And so the rest of the semester came and went in the blink of an eye. Mock tests became Final Exams. Final Exams became final semester grades. Soon enough, it was summer, which meant your self-imposed deadline was practically here.
The idea of bringing up the topic at all had kept you awake for most of the previous night, the byproduct of several nightmares, each one slightly different, culminating in some variation of the same finale: “Oh. I don’t feel the same way.”
Aizawa had told your class to meet at the bus before dawn, and unfortunately for you, you had just barely started to fall back asleep when your alarm went off.
You lugged your bag toward the bus, shoulders straining under its weight and your mind elsewhere as you continued your debate when and where to talk to Shouto. You let out a yawn, and as if summoned by your thoughts, Shouto swooped in with ease, his hand grazing yours as he took the strap. Before you could object, he swung it over his shoulder, like it weighed nothing at all.
“I can carry my own bag,” you protested, trying to reach for it again, though part of you was grateful for the reprieve. “You don’t have to.”
He glanced down at you, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I know.” His eyes dipped to the slight bags under your eyes. “You can sleep on my shoulder on the ride over.”
Your little heart fluttered because of course it did and you opened your mouth, some part of you wanting to confess your true feelings right there and rip off the bandaid. But instead, you said, “I already told Ochako I’d sit with her.”
“I don’t mind sitting in the extra aisle seat,” Shouto offered, referencing the tiny collapsible seating option that extended into the aisle, but had no real back support or cushioning. “She can have the window seat and you can sit between us.”
You didn’t want Shouto to be uncomfortable for what would probably be a long ride. Plus the last thing you needed was to blurt your confession while stuck in a vehicle with your entire class. So, you said the first lie that came to mind.
“I think she wanted to talk to me about something personal.” You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“Oh. Okay.”
But Shouto did not push or insist. Instead, he moved to load your bag into the bus’s luggage compartment, walking past Aizawa’s teaching assistant, who was double-checking the camp supplies.
Aizawa approached the bus with a familiar purple-haired boy. "Everyone, this is Hitoshi Shinsou. Since he ranked highly at the Sports Festival, UA has agreed to let him transfer into the Heroics course. He’ll be joining us for camp to ease the transition into the class."
Beside him, Shinsou offered a closed mouth smile to the group, looking serious, but mostly uncomfortable as he kept his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hi. It’s, uh, nice to be here.”
Despite the early hour, your class erupted into a chorus of warm welcomes:
“One of us! Hell yeah!”
“Welcome to Heroics, Shinsou-bro!”
“This is going to be so much fun!”
“You won’t regret it!”
Much to Shinsou’s relief, the attention faded from him quickly since people were mostly focused on loading their luggage.
Minutes later, nearly everyone had taken a seat, filling the inside of the bus with chatter and clamour and plenty of enthusiasm for the upcoming summer retreat.
As you made your way to an empty row, you caught snippets of unrelated conversations:
“Do you think they’ll have a pool?”
“Gimme some pocky.”
“I wonder what games we’ll play first!”
“Wait, so you’ve never had smores before?”
Finally there, you slid into the seat next to Ochako with Shouto moving to sit a couple rows back with Midoriya.
The bus engine roared to life and soon you were in motion, leaving UA’s campus behind for the time being.
. . .
Someone had said that summer camp was going to be a fun little break from the harsh realities of school and heroics. That someone must have forgotten to tell Aizawa.
Because roughly two hours later, he was standing outside the bus with the rest of you, overlooking a cliffside, and said “The training’s already begun.” Then, right on cue, the ground began to shake and your stomach sank.
Just like the rest of you.
One moment you were on solid ground. The next, the ground beneath you had caved, dissipating into nothing, and you and all of your classmates were free-falling. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the hard impact of landing.
Please don’t hurt too much.
But as you fell through the sky, your body began to self-inflate, pumping itself full of air and leaving you feeling like a car tire, no, scratch that, like the goddamn Michelin Man himself.
You bounced off the ground a few times like a ball, each impact sending a jolt through your body until you finally came to a stop, sprawled out on your back. The world above you spun for a second, your view turned upside down, like a turtle flipped onto its shell.
“So this is Heroics, huh?” Shinsou’s voice broke through the haze, and you glanced to see him standing a few feet away, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. While you disinflated—picture a balloon losing air—you wondered if Shinsou was already regretting being here. You definitely were.
“Welcome to the club,” you groaned, your muscles aching from the fall.
You glanced over to find Shouto had landed further away on the other side of you, and you wished the disinflation process could just speed up before he noticed how silly you looked.
But then something caught your eye—a low rustle in the treeline, just beyond where you had crashed. A shadowed figure shifted in the underbrush, unmistakably large and unmistakably a problem.
You pushed yourself up from the ground now that you had been freed from your own quirk’s absurdity, and wiped the dirt off your hands.
You glanced up to see Aizawa, his teaching assistant, and the Pussycats watching over you from the cliffside. The blue Pussycat (Pixie-Bob?) waved over with enthusiasm.
A moment later, the beast emerged from the thicket of trees, eyes glinting and movements deliberate, a predator encroaching in on its prey.
You put your fists up close to your face, shoulders squared, already mentally bracing yourself for whatever else the forest had in store. Then you sighed and muttered to no one in particular, “This is going to be a long week, isn’t it?”
A Few Hours Later
Aizawa plopped a box of cookies onto the table along with a first aid kit so massive it landed with a heavy thud.
He glanced at an evaluation on his clipboard, and you immediately recognized your own writing. “Remind me what you believe your quirk’s greatest weakness is.”
“I can’t control it,” you said, keeping your voice small.
“Correct.” Aizawa said, his stoic expression unwavering. “Since your quirk adapts to survive, I had a few ideas of how we could test your limitations,” he said and you tried to ignore the sadistic glint in his eyes. He lifted the page to read from underneath. “According to our records, when your quirk first manifested, it took roughly 30 seconds to complete adaptations. When you first came to UA, it was down to four seconds and since you’ve been in my class, we brought you down to two. It’s ambitious but by the end of camp, I want to get you down to a fraction of a second.”
Your eyebrows flashed upwards. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
“If it is, you could potentially get to a point where you can adapt without sustaining any injury.”
That sounded…great, actually. Maybe you were nervous over nothing—
“First up is Kamakiri.” Mr. Aizawa said, reading from his clipboard.
The boy from 1-B with the Razor Sharp quirk jogged over. “Yes?”
“You two will spar for one round.” That didn’t sound too bad. You took on a fighting stance as Aizawa set the timer. He turned to your opponent. “By the way, after the first slice, don’t hold back. Begin.”
Your stomach plummeted.
It was official.
Aizawa was actually trying to kill you.
. . .
A series of uncomfortably close calls later, Aizawa looked disappointed for some reason.
Kamakiri had obviously held back, but you hadn’t made it out unscathed. His blade quirk had inherently reminded you of the Hero Killer. Coincidentally, after his first slice made you bleed, your body’s immediate response was a thickened version of what basically amounted to calloused skin, just like it had during the fight with Stain, continuing to accumulate layers of calluses with each new slash.
However, midway through the fight, following a direct stabbing attempt, your quirk’s approach had shifted, responding instead with a rapid healing of the flurry of cuts you were receiving. And this particular sparring session made it glaringly obvious why your body had chosen this particular adaptation as a last resort.
It was exhausting.
While you were focused on dodging his blades, on a cellular level, your body was focusing the rest of your energy on healing your newest wounds. Over and over and over again. Hero training inherently involved lots of physical conditioning, which was why it felt so utterly ridiculous that in less than three minutes of your first fight, you felt like you were on the cusp of passing out.
Fortunately, the cookies Aizawa had brought served a relevant purpose: They had been made by a third year with a food healing quirk and included comforting thoughts and a minor energy boost. Aizawa had instructed you to eat the cookies instead of relying on your quirk to heal before you had reminded him you didn’t control what your quirk did.
He sighed and read from his list. “Next up, we’ve got Bondo.”
You bit into the cookie and felt a rush of energy as something inside your mind reminded you that you were a good fighter. So, you shook off the tension in your neck and shoulders and braced yourself for your next fight.
A particularly tall heroics student approached the fighting area, you searched your memory for any details on his quirk.
Cemedine. You remembered. His quirk is basically glue.
You knew he was capable of hardening the glue into a solid, which would be hard to break out of but not impossible, but you had also seen him keep the glue as a liquid to keep it as sticky as possible. In a way, that aspect of his quirk was similar to Mineta’s, relying on a sticky substance to trap their opponent.
During the fight with Bondo, he flung some of the glue toward your arm and fist, possibly hoping that if you punched him, you would get stuck and be forced to forfeit. But you had fought someone with a sticky quirk before, so you knew how to avoid that problem. Within a couple of seconds, your body recreated the same adaptation it had when you had gotten stuck with Pop Off, lots and lots of sweat (gross but efficient). After all, it would be pretty hard for an adhesive to stick if your body was coated in something too slick to adhere to. You had shaken off the lingering glue still semi-clinging to your skin and won the fight.
After your match was over, Aizawa still looked unimpressed and underwhelmed, much to your dismay. Granted, he usually looked like that, but somehow you felt like you were doing something wrong.
He set down his clipboard on a nearby table, reaching with his other hand for one of the closed water bottles that had been provided to fight the summer heat. “Ashido, get over here,” he said, opening the bottle, but not yet drinking from it.
Mina ran over, looking thankful for the change of pace.
Finally, someone from 1-A you had fought before.
“Put this on,” Aizawa said, holding out a blindfold he had pulled from nowhere.
“What for?” you asked as you took it.
“We’re working on your situational awareness,” he replied, like that answered anything at all.
“Okay?” You tied it around your eyes. Clearly he wasn’t in a talkative mood.
“Ashido, you are free to use your quirk like you normally would,” you heard him say as you tried to adjust to the sudden loss of one of your senses. “Okay, begin!”
Hands up and balled into fists, you listened closely, relying almost entirely now on your sense of hearing.
“Take this!” Mina grunted as she flung a glob of acid at you, and you blindly dodged to the right, hoping luck was on your side. You weren’t looking forward to the corrosive sting of her acid— Please don’t burn me —if you happened to guess wrong.
Something shifted uncomfortably in your stomach, stirring up a feeling akin to nausea. But, again, you had fought Mina before, which meant you knew exactly what your body was doing to fight back. Inside your abdomen, your body was duplicating and repurposing the mucus from your stomach lining so as to coat your entire body with it a second later.
Mina flung another glob of acid at you so you dodged yet again, only for a tiny splash of the acid to actually make contact this time. Fortunately, for you, however, your adaptation was complete at this point, protecting you from any burns.
You put your fists back up, wondering how you were supposed to take Mina in a hand to hand fight if you couldn’t see her.
“And time,” Aizawa announced.
You removed the blindfold and were about to comment on not hearing the alarm go off, only to be utterly dumbstruck at the sight of a smirking Aizawa standing alongside Mina, who, for some reason, was holding a now empty water bottle in her hand.
One exhaustive discussion about your quirk later, you had learned three things.
The first shocking revelation: The blindfold and water bottle had been a part of yet another one of Aizawa’s logical ruses, with this one meant to prove to you that your quirk wasn’t entirely reactive.
Apparently, the mention of you “tricking” your body into adapting back in Hosu had stirred up a new theory in Aizawa’s mind about your perceived limitations. So, to test it, his plan had been to pair you up against opponents with similar quirks to ones you had faced before. Up until now, you were operating under the assumption that you always needed to get hurt to trigger any defensive adaptation. But maybe if you believed you were in genuine danger—like when he told Kamakiri not to hold back—it would kickstart an adaptation before his blades actually made contact with your skin, hopefully circumventing any slashing damage altogether.
When the first two matches didn’t provide the desired results, Aizawa had turned to the backup plan—”deceiving” your quirk again. If your eyes were covered and you were made to believe Mina was attacking you with her acid—only for her to use splashes of water the entire time—this would reveal the true nature of your quirk: Was it entirely instinctive knee jerk reactions or was there a mental component as well? If your quirk had been entirely out of your control, relying only on touch and pain to adapt and modify itself, it would not have changed when the water made contact. But because you believed you were in danger of being burned by acid, you had initiated the adaptation with your thoughts alone, therefore proving Aizawa’s theory correct.
The second realization: You had the potential to control your quirk.
The implications of this revelation were staggering. This meant that with enough practice and concentration, you could summon adaptations at will! No needless injuries required! This entire time you had been under the impression you were at the mercy of what adaptation your body happened to pick, but that wasn’t true. Mind over body and all that jazz.
The third, the most brutal realization of all: This man was going to give you trust issues.
This was the THIRD logical ruse you had fallen for! First, he had lied to your class the day of the quirk apprehension test. Then, he had lied when he had said, “If you don’t pass the final exam, you don’t get to go to camp.” (Not to mention the HUGE lie of omission that was not disclosing what camp would actually be like!) As much as you liked his class, in times like these he made you want to scream .
While you wondered if Vlad King’s cohort were subjected to this kind of constant betrayal, Aizawa cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “I wasn’t kidding about speeding up your reaction time. The more you use your quirk, the faster it’ll get,” he said, picking up the clipboard again, looking down the long list of names. “But you can’t summon adaptations you don’t know you have.” He tapped his finger against the list—your upcoming sparring partners, you realized. “There’s plenty of quirks you aren’t prepared for yet.” The same sadistic glint in his eyes from earlier had returned. “We’re just getting started.”
. . .
You shoved another healing cookie into your mouth—they were starting to taste cloyingly saccharine at this point—and another reassuring thought surfaced in your head: You are constantly learning and growing—you’ll make it out fine .
You had already heard that one two cookies ago.
Still, feeling a little better, you braced yourself for a good old fist fight with Kendo, the last member of 1-B left to spar.
A little under three minutes later, you were simultaneously fighting off her fists and the heaviness of your eyelids.
Just hold on a little longer, you coached yourself as you felt your body sway.
Then, offering you a glorious reprieve, the alarm went off.
“Time,” Aizawa said.
Grasping at some level of consideration for others, you moved to the side, a few feet away from the first aid/snack table, before you allowed yourself to collapse to the ground, sprawled like a starfish on your back.
“Good match!” Kendo said with a smile and a BIG thumbs up.
“Back at ya,” you said, shoving your thumb up into the air, before dangling your arm across your eyes to block out the midday sun.
Aizawa cleared his throat and announced to the classes, “We’re taking a lunch break. If anyone else is injured, eat one of these.” You recognized the sound of him opening the box of cookies from earlier. “They were prepared with a quirk called Comfort Food so as an added bonus, they’ll leave you feeling better about yourselves too. You’re welcome.”
“I need one,” Sero said. “My elbows hurt.”
“Same here.” Mineta added. “My scalp is still bleeding and my morale is too.”
“But what if we aren’t injured? We want cookies too, Mr. Aizawa.” Kaminari protested.
Aizawa sighed, already turning to leave. “Go ahead. There’s enough at the camp to last the entire week.”
Footsteps approached you and Tsu’s voice cut through the chaos behind her. “We’re heading back for lunch. Ribbit. Are you coming?”
You groaned. “I’m too tired. Leave me here to die.”
“Okay. I’ll save you a seat.”
A few feet away, Mineta swallowed a bite of a cookie and then said with a tinge of realization, “Maybe I can be a good hero.”
As you covered your eyes again, another set of footsteps approached you, and you half-expected Tsu to say she had turned around to grab a cookie, but this time, another familiar voice spoke instead.
“If you’re too tired to move, I can carry you back,” your darling, sweet, adoring fake-boyfriend offered.
You shifted your arm, blinking against the brightness, and your breath caught at the sight of Shouto. Standing over you, he cast a shadow that blocked out most of the sun, and the remaining rays of light radiated around him, almost through him, framing his silhouette and giving him a soft, ethereal sort of glow. He was unreal. So mesmerizing it almost made you dizzy.
He said something else.
“Hmm?” you responded, still dazed.
“Here, take my hand.” Then, with a light tug, he pulled you to your feet.
“Thanks,” you started, only for your eyes to betray you as they traveled down the length of his torso, noting the way his still-damp undershirt was clinging to his perfectly toned stomach and frame.
Noticing, Shouto assured you, “I can take this off.”
Maybe it was a lack of blood getting to your brain or the cumulative exhaustion from today finally hitting you, but the thought of Shouto pressing his shirtless body against you, feeling those taut muscles up close and at your fingertips, had your knees buckling. You took a clumsy step forward, your hand instinctively grasping for something to steady you, and Shouto was quick to catch you, taking this as confirmation you did need to be carried.
"Give me a moment," he said, reaching to pull off his shirt with his free hand.
"I can walk!" You blurted, the words rushed and firm and maybe even a little jarring. But being alone with Shouto was dangerous. You were already running low on energy and morale, so any little push would inevitably snap the thinning thread of restraint you had left. And that impulsive mouth yours, always saying things before you had a proper chance to vet them, was going to get you in trouble if you weren’t careful. So you repeated with a softer tone, “I can walk."
“Are you sure?”
You responded with a quick nod and exhaled, grounding yourself.
The two of you walked together in companionable silence for most of the path back until Shouto asked, bluntly, “Are you upset with me?”
Surprised, you stopped in your tracks. “No…Why?”
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said in a matter of fact way, followed immediately by “Did I do something wrong?”
Your heart sank under yet another wave of guilt. Of course, Shouto, observant as ever, was bound to notice. It had been foolish to think elsewise.
“It’s not that I’m upset. It’s just that—” You searched for the right words. “I need to talk to you about something,” you said, cheeks burning.
“What is it?” he took a step toward you, trying to read the look in your eyes.
You looked away toward the sound of plates clinking and familiar chatter coming from right around the corner, a clear reminder of how close the rest of your classmates were.
“I can’t tell you now, but I will soon, okay? It’s nothing bad.” Except it might end our friendship.“No, it’s nothing bad,” you repeated, more to yourself than to him. “But it has nothing to do with me being upset with you, I promise.”
He searched your eyes. “Okay.”
“Let’s hurry before they eat everything,” you said, grabbing his hand to lean back into the fake girlfriend role. You did your best to commit the feel of his hand in yours to memory.
You might as well enjoy this while you still could.
The Hot Springs ft. Todoroki’s Perspective
Several Hours Later
Shouto and the rest of the guys had witnessed Mineta’s abhorrent behavior before, but this was a new low.
Mineta pressed his ear against the wall separating the boys’ and girls’ sections of the hot springs, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. “I can’t believe they didn’t stagger the bathing times for the girls and the boys today! Clearly a mistake on their end, but I’m not complaining.” He caressed the wooden panels. “Bathe, my angels. We’ll see each other soon.”
Iida shot to his feet, a look of utter indignation on his face as he chopped the air. “Mineta, that behavior is absolutely unacceptable and utterly disrespectful to our female classmates! Stop that at once!”
“Yeah, don’t you think you’re taking it too far?” Sero chimed in, glancing at the others for support. A chorus of agreement followed from Ojiro, Shoji, and Satou, each of them staring at Mineta with growing disgust.
Kirishima furrowed his brows.“Harassing the girls isn’t very manly, Mineta.”
Meanwhile, Bakugou sat in tense silence, jaw clenched and eyes blazing with irritation as he glared daggers at the little pervert. “Step away from that wall, you idiot, or I’ll blast your damn head off.”
Mineta, either oblivious or indifferent to the simmering fury around him, shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, men. All that stands between me and paradise is this wall. Now I know why I have this quirk…because walls are meant to be climbed!”
With that, he sprung into action, using a couple of his sticky balls to scramble up the barrier.
“Mineta, don’t!” Midoriya called out, his body suddenly aglow with his quirk.
“DON’T IGNORE ME!” Bakugou yelled, also now standing, hands tense and ready to make good on his threat.
But before either of them could make a move, Shouto raised his hand and, with a calm flick of his wrist, froze Mineta in place. (Off to the side, Bakugou huffed, plopping back down into the water with an annoyed grunt.)
“T-T-T-Todoroki, w-w-why?” Mineta stammered, his teeth chattering as he hung in suspended animation, icicles clinging to his body.
Tokoyami, who had remained silent until now, crossed his arms and scoffed. “Todoroki’s beloved is just beyond that wall. Did you truly think he would sit idly by in the face of such vile behavior?”
Shouto stood up, not sparing Mineta a glance as he began to walk away.
“W-w-wasn’t gonna l-l-look at her, j-j-just the others!” Mineta said, desperate and lying through his clattering teeth. “Un-f-f-freeze me! I p-p-promise I’ll behave!”
Shouto paused, giving him a dismissive side glance. “We’re in a hot spring,” he replied in an icy tone before turning away completely. “You’ll thaw out eventually.”
Jirou listened for a moment more before rescinding her ear jack. “We’re in the clear. The little creep is now frozen to the wall and won't be moving anytime soon.”
"Good riddance!" Yaoyorozu said with a pout.
“Oh thank goodness,” Ochako agreed, reemerging from where she had been crouching in the water.
With the exception of Mina, who had been perched on a rock, the rest of you had submerged yourselves from the neck down the moment Jirou picked up on movement coming from the boys’ side.
“Frozen you say,” Mina said, already smirking at you from atop her boulder. “You sure have a protective boyfriend.”
“He’s a hero. Of course, he stepped in,” you said, looking down and biting back a smile.
“Mhmm. Sure.” Mina grinned. “You should give him a nice big kiss as a thank you.”
Tooru's silhouette shifted, setting off tiny ripples in the water. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you kiss Todoroki.”
(Tooru, on the other hand, had no issue kissing/making out with/sitting on top of her man all over campus.)
Mina tilted her head, realizing something. “Actually…you’re right, Tooru. She’s never mentioned kissing Todoroki.” Her eyes narrowed at you. “You two have kissed, right?”
“Of course, we have,” you said, trying to sound casual and not at all defensive.
“So what’s it like? Are his lips two different temperatures?” Tooru asked.
“It’s good. He’s good. His lips are…a regular temperature.” Were they? You certainly didn’t know.
“Sure, okay, but what else have you two done?” Mina pressed.
“A lot.” You regretted those words the moment they were out of your mouth.
Mina’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Like what?” She lowered her voice like you two weren’t having this discussion in front of most of the girls in your class. “Have you had sex already?”
Reel it in. “Not that…yet.”
“Well, have you seen his dick yet?”
As the only person who knew the truth, Tsu stepped in. “I don’t think she’s comfortable talking about it.”
“What? I’m not asking her to describe it. It’s a yes or no question,” Mina countered.
Instead of replying, you took that moment to climb out of the water, wanting to put as much time and distance between you and this conversation.
Mina called after you, “Where are you going?”
Half a second later, a hot flicker of a thought crossed your mind, and, instead of stopping to overthink, your usual specialty, you overcorrected and next thing you knew, that impulsive mouth of yours had already blurted out something you couldn’t take back.
“Don’t know what his dick looks like. But I’m gonna go find out.”
. . .
What were you saying? What were you doing?
Alone in the 1-A girls’ room, you found yourself pacing back and forth, replaying the hot springs interaction in your head. Mina and Tooru would want, no, expect details. (Probably explicit details since that was the bar Tooru set for her own stories.) Then again, you could just say that you didn’t want to share that much. Or that you had changed your mind. That the two of you hadn’t found a private place at camp.
But both the professors and the Wild Pussycats had already retired to their respective rooms, leaving you unsupervised and entrusting you all to act like the adults that you were. That meant, if you tried hard enough, you could find someplace to be alone with Shouto. If you really wanted to.
You obviously weren’t going to fuck Shouto. Not that you didn’t want to. You did. Just not now.
But how were you supposed to prove to the girls that you two did do something? You didn’t want your fake relationship to unravel just because you two hadn’t incorporated enough physicality into it. How silly for something that took multiple months of commitment and lies and commitment to remembering those lies to fall apart over something like this.
Then again, what if instead of describing it, you had some other obvious proof to show them instead?
An idea.
You sent Shouto a quick text, asking him to meet you.
About thirty seconds later, there was a soft knock on the door. When you opened it, Shouto started to ask, “What did you want to—” but you quickly pulled him into the room before he could finish.
You lowered your voice. “I messed up. Some of the girls were asking too many questions about us and I let it get to me and I just—” Use your words. Just say it. “I need you to kiss me.”
Shouto’s pupils widened. “Oh, um, okay.”
“Sorry, I—” You swept your hair to the side. “On my neck. If that’s okay. I just need you to leave a mark.”
His brows furrowed for a moment, some unspoken question running through his mind, but Shouto said nothing. Instead, he took half a step forward to close the distance between you, his hesitance still palpable. He started to lift one hand, fingers outstretched, but stopped himself to verify, “You’re sure?”
You nodded. “Yeah, just a mark.”
“Just a mark,” he repeated. Shouto reached forward with tentative caution, his warm fingers grazing yours as he pulled down the fabric of your collar, giving himself better access. He ran his thumb across the base of your neck. “Here?”
“Y-yeah,” you said, trying to play it cool.
“Okay.” Shouto leaned forward, and next thing you knew, his mouth was on your skin, pressing a soft kiss to the base of your neck. And somehow, that simple touch made you shudder.
But Shouto wasn’t done. He parted his lips, his hot breath now grazing over your skin, and he sucked at the tender flesh. All at once, a flush spread over your face and body, and you were wonderfully hot and dizzy and spellbound in a way you had never been before. It was equally mesmerizing and disarming, so you let out an embarrassing whimper, surprising both of you.
And that was when something shifted. With a sharp inhale, Shouto gripped the back of your neck with his other hand, holding you still and pressing himself closer to you. He sucked harder, and one of your hands went to his shoulder, the other to thread your fingers through his hair. Somehow, your back met the wall with a dull thud, making you gasp.
Shouto pulled back. “Was that too much?”
His mismatched eyes searched yours, and there was a look of concern in them, but there was something else too, something firmly nestled between want and longing. It couldn’t be. And yet there it was. Unmistakable. In that precious, fleeting, heat-filled moment, Shouto wanted… you.
“You should do the other side,” you said, breathless and brave. “Just in case.”
A hint of a smile on Shouto’s lips. Then, he dipped his head to the other side of your neck. But this time he nipped at the skin first, licked away the sting, and then nipped it again. With your hands back in his hair, you were pulling him closer with a sort of desperation as he lit up nerve endings everywhere he touched. He hummed against your skin, pulling even more embarrassing noises out of you, and now that his body was completely flush against yours, there was something else unmistakable you finally noticed—something very hard pressing up against you.
But before you could fully process it, there was another gasp. Except this one didn’t come from either of you.
Standing at the threshold of the room, Mina and Ochako and Tsu and even Tooru’s floating pajamas were staring at you two. Mina with a shit-eating grin. Ochako was blushing on your behalf. Tsu was mostly just wide-eyed.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tooru said, giggling.
“We can come back later,” Mina teased, hand still on the doorknob.
Shouto pushed off the wall. “I should go.” But before leaving, he turned back to you, his small smile back on his lips. He leaned forward, and it almost looked like he was going to press a kiss to your cheek, but instead, his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Let me know if you need any more marks.”
Notes:
Slightly off-topic but I’m drafting a reader-insert story focused on Bakugou, which is why he was irritated at Mineta’s antics—the girlie he has (reluctant) feelings for was on the other side of that wall too! Since the hot springs scene was written from Todoroki’s perspective, he wouldn’t have been around to hear what Kirishima said to Bakugou after but I’m picturing the interaction like this:
Kirishima (oblivious to Bakugou’s feelings): I didn’t expect you to have such a big reaction, Bakubro, but good for you! Doing your part to be a good ally!
Bakugou: Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair. *splashes water at him*
Chapter 9: Surviving The World’s Worst Game of Hide-and-Seek
Summary:
The villains attack the camp + befriending Yaoyorozu + a little Shouto angst = a very stressful version of hide-and-seek
Chapter Text
The hickeys were still there the following morning.
While the rest of the girls were getting ready in the communal bathroom, you studied your hickeys in the mirror, straining your neck from side to side to get a better look. Both reddish with a tiny bit of purple. The first just under an inch. The second just a little bit over.
Ochako walked up to the sink next to yours, her gloved hands trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Her attention drifted over to you, and she yawned, commenting, “Maybe you could hide them with a t-shirt?”
Tsu, who had just finished washing her face and was now patting it dry with a towel, shook her head. She gestured toward the hickey that was going to be a problem. “No, that one is too high up.”
She wasn’t wrong.
The second one was too far forward to cover with hair, too big to hide with jewelry, and overall, just too prominent to be anything short of obvious. It seemed both you and Shouto had gotten a little too caught up in the moment to consider the second hickey’s placement. Oops.
Toothbrush still in her mouth, Mina’s words were a little garbled, but you thought you heard her say something like, “At least they were worth it,” while she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at you.
Mina wasn’t wrong either.
You ran your fingers over the hickeys and pressed into the skin, noting it felt slightly tender to the touch. A hickey was technically an injury, which meant that if you ate one of the healing cookies, that would make both of them go away. Or, if you felt like applying what you had learned yesterday, you could technically even will your quirk to heal you if you concentrated hard enough.
The thing was—not that you would ever admit this outloud—a part of you didn’t actually want them gone just yet.
The marks on the sides of your neck were crucial evidence you hadn’t simply dreamt the events of last night. Your back against the wall. Shouto pressed up against you. His hot breath against your ear. His lips on your neck. You now knew what it felt like for Shouto to nip and suck on your skin. Just like he now knew what kind of embarrassing sounds he could easily pull out of you. Your face grew warm at the memory as you bit back a smile.
While you finished replaying last night’s events in your head, you vaguely heard Jirou say something about makeup and then mention you by name.
When you turned, Yaoyorozu was already watching you, her brows furrowed. Her eyes dipped to your neck and you could feel her judging you as she looked at the marks for an uncomfortably long amount of time.
Your first instinct was to cover up, but then you remembered you had nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, your (fake) boyfriend had given you a couple of hickeys. What about it?
You were about to open your mouth to say exactly that, but next thing you knew, Yaoyorozu had produced two different color correctors from her midsection, one after the other, followed by some type of powder, a concealer, and even a brush to set it with.
“This should help,” she said with a polite smile as she handed you the items.
“Oh. Thanks.” You accepted them with some reluctance and with a twinge of guilt for good measure.
Since most of your class had complained the day before about being tired, Aizawa had focused today’s training on conditioning and endurance. Lots of running. Lots of cardio. Lots of regretting your life choices. But at the very least, you hadn’t sustained any new injuries! (A small victory, but still.)
The day came and went and now it was time for your class’s “reward”: The Test of Courage.
Yay.
To be fair, it was the first genuinely fun thing on the agenda (and a welcome alternative to the remedial classes some of your classmates were forced to take instead.)
The only real problem was that your randomly assigned partner was Yaoyorozu, aka the only girl in your class you had never made it past awkward small talk with.
It could have been worse, you supposed. One unlucky person from your class—in this case, Jirou—would have to brave the Test of Courage completely alone. (And one even unluckier person—poor Tooru— had been paired up with Mineta, who had immediately taken the opportunity to offer to hold her if she got scared. Ew.)
Okay, confession time. Yes, you had spent most of the semester lying to everyone else, but at least you could be honest with yourself.
Maybe you could begrudgingly admit that your initial dislike of Yaoyorozu stemmed partially from your own insecurities. (The first step to fixing a problem was acknowledging it existed, okay?) And it definitely didn’t help that she had had an obvious crush on Shouto. However, any lingering animosity or sense of competition had begun to dissolve the moment Shouto turned down the chance to kiss her.
So, really, the only real obstacle keeping you from becoming actual friends with her was her tendency to sometimes be, well…a little condescending.
That was why you could have sworn she was judging you for your hickeys earlier. And yes, you had been wrong about that one, but in your defense, there was a clear history of her looking down on others!
Exhibit A:
On the first day of class, after Aizawa revealed that the threat of expulsion during the quirk apprehension test had been nothing more than a psychological ruse, she had commented with a smug, “C’mon guys, use your brains. Of course, it was just a ruse.”
For students like you whose quirks didn’t provide much of an edge in the physical tests, the fear of getting expelled had been genuine, so her dismissiveness hadn’t exactly made a great first impression.
Exhibit B:
On the first night of camp, when you had all had to cook dinner for yourselves, your group had called over Shouto to ask him to light a fire for your group, Yaoyorozu made another patronizing comment that had you mentally rolling your eyes (“If you always ask others for help, you’ll never learn to make fire for yourself.”)
You understood where she was coming from, but also, she could produce lighters from any lipid-heavy spot on her body, even her own tits if she wanted. Meanwhile, if you wanted to make fire by yourself, your only option was rubbing sticks together and praying you didn’t starve first. And frankly, after a long day of being stabbed with both blades and bull horns, shot at with scale bullets, and poisoned with mushroom types you couldn’t even pronounce, you had neither the energy nor the patience for trial-and-error survival tactics. If you could speed up the process by asking your fake fire-wielding boyfriend to light a fire, then by all means, that was exactly what you were going to do!
Okay, okay, the thing was she didn’t seem to do it with malice. She just sometimes lacked the self-awareness to recognize how her comments/behavior might come across. But since you didn’t know her well enough to balance out the annoying moments with her better qualities, it was hard to feel motivated to bridge that gap.
Still, you could handle a bit of polite small talk during your time together. It was just one night, after all.
What was the worst that could happen?
. . .
“I see the makeup worked,” Yaoyorozu said while you both waited for your collective turn to head into the dark forest together. Her eyes were on your neck, which, going off of her comment, must have still looked blemish-free.
“Yup. No obvious hickeys here,” you said. God, this was painful. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
You searched your mind for a conversation topic and went with the most obvious one. “So…do you get scared easily?”
“A little,” she said with a nervous smile, a bead of sweat already forming on her forehead. “What about you?”
“I guess it depends,” you responded.
She nodded, giving you a short hum in response.
You glanced at your phone—you couldn’t check anything other than the time since you had no service in the woods, but at least it gave you a chance to do something with your hands.
“Alright, you two. You’re up next!” Mandalay ushered you forward. “Good luck!”
“Time to find out,” Yaoyorozu said.
“Yup.”
Thirty seconds of awkward, silent walking later, accompanied only by the crunch of your footsteps and the distant screams of the duo that had gone ahead of you, you tried to break the ice to ease your own nerves.
Joking, you said, “If you make us a motorcycle, we can speed through the path and grab our names without getting scared.”
Yaoyorozu stopped, hand on her chin like she was actually considering it. “Technically, our only official objective is to retrieve our name cards. Therefore, speeding past the scarers directly to Ragdoll wouldn’t necessarily be cheating.”
“I was kidding,” you said.
“I know, but it isn’t a terrible idea. A motorcycle has so many individual pieces though.” She clicked on her watch, which doubled as a digitized collection of all the information she had once carried in her book. Swiping through the scans, she pulled up the image of a motorcycle. “I probably can’t make this without my lipid count getting too low. Sorry about that,” she said, sounding genuinely apologetic.
“I didn’t expect you to,” you responded before something else caught your attention. You stopped walking. “Hey,” you sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?”
A moment later, Mandalay’s voice pierced the night. “Attention, everyone! This is Mandalay speaking. We’re under attack by two villains! And there might be more out there! All those who can should get to camp at once! If you encounter an enemy, please do not engage! Just retreat! I repeat: Do not engage!”
“Villains? Again?” you said, unsure if you should be more scared or annoyed. Didn’t they have anything better to do?
“Let’s run back to—” Yaoyorozu cut herself off and stumbled back, hand on her temple and eyes wide, as if seeing something you couldn’t. She grasped at your arm to steady herself. “Something’s wrong.”
“What is it?” you asked, genuine panic starting to form.
She broke out of the trance-like state, gasping, hand now on her chest. “I can’t explain it.” Eyes on the ground as if trying to make sense of something, confused, panicked, unsure. Like she had been rocked to her core. “I just saw Kyouka. By herself. She was surrounded by purple smoke.” She looked past you, the fear in her eyes growing. “Like that.”
You turned around to find a hazy purple fog spreading, getting closer to the two of you by the second. You took a couple of steps back. “What do you think that is?”
But instead of answering, next thing you knew, Yaoyorozu was pushing a respirator mask into your hands.
“We need to rescue her,” she said as she secured her own respirator into place.
Eyes fixed on the encroaching purple smoke, you took in one last gulp of air and tugged on your mask.
You knew there was no convincing her otherwise, so you and Yaoyorozu agreed you would go find Jirou first and then the three of you would rush back to camp immediately after. It was the heroic thing to do, after all.
Which meant it was finally time to put your training to good use.
.
.
.
But nothing in your classes had prepared you for this.
The moment the two of you found Jirou, you stopped mid-step, jaw slack and a sudden pit of nausea in your stomach. When you glanced at Yaoyorozu, she too was frozen, panic and devastation etched on her features and tears pooling in her eyes.
Jirou was laying on the forest floor, motionless, and looking far paler than usual, her skin drained of all warmth and color. Normally, you might have said she looked like she was sleeping.
Except her eyes were still open—vacant and staring at nothing.
And that meant she looked…
The nausea in the pit of your stomach intensified. Yaoyorozu clutched at your arm, her whole body shaking as she stared at her friend. “Is she—” Yaoyorozu couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t want her to.
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to speak, to do something. “Jirou, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Kyouka,” Yaoyorozu said, voice breaking with anticipatory grief.
Forcing yourself not to panic, you reminded yourself there were multiple reasons Jirou could be unresponsive. Maybe she was just in shock or maybe she had fainted too quickly before her eyelids could close or maybe it was just a byproduct of the quirk that had caused this.
You crouched down, holding your breath, and reached to press two fingers against the side of Jirou’s neck, silently praying it wasn’t cold to the touch.
A pulse.
Faint, but still there.
You let out a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your shoulders. “She’s alive.”
“Oh thank goodness,” Yaoyorozu said, the words rushed out in one shaky exhale. She looked up, trying to blink away the tears settled on the corners of her eyes. With her respirator on, she couldn’t wipe them away even if she tried. “Sorry, I-I didn't expect to react like that.”
You shook your head. “It’s different when it’s someone close to you. I get it.”
She knelt down with a freshly-made respirator in her hands, cradling Jirou’s head as if it were something fragile and precious. Her movements were careful, almost reverent, as she secured the respirator in place. But then she froze, her breath hitching, as she drew her hand back to reveal a streak of blood smeared across her fingers. "She's bleeding.”
You noticed a bloodstained rock that had been pinned beneath Jirou’s head, noting the logical conclusion outloud. "She must have hit her head when she collapsed.”
“Help me wrap the wound,” Yaoyorozu said as she pulled a clean bandage from beneath her shirt.
You held Jirou’s head up while Yaoyorozu secured the bandage into place, careful not to aggravate Jirou’s injury further.
A pair of footsteps pounded against the forest floor and both of you tensed. A moment later, Awase emerged from a cluster of trees in a desperate sprint to outrun the effects of the fog, his hand covering his mouth and nose.
Until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how the 1-B cohort was doing. The rest of you had dealt with real crisis situations before, but this was their first time in a true life or death emergency.
Awase’s eyes widened at the sight of you two, first in surprise then relief as Yaoyorozu handed him a new respirator. He shoved on the mask and he took in a deep, desperate inhale, chest expanding.
Still coursing full of adrenaline and panic, he yelled, “Yaoyorozu! The rest of my class! And yours! They need respirators too!”
Not counting the students who had been doing the remedial lessons back at camp, the rest of 1-B was scattered in the forest because of the Test of Courage. Not to mention your 1-A classmates who had gone ahead of you and Yaoyorozu. Since both cohorts had 24 students each, that meant there were between two to three dozen of your classmates stuck in the fog and in dire need of help.
She glanced down to Jirou, a conflicted look crossing her features. “It’s just, she needs—”
You touched her arm before she could finish her sentence. “Hey, you go save the day. I’ll get her back to camp.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet your eyes. “You would do that?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and squeezed your hand—your first ever moment of connection with her—before turning back to Awase. “Give me one minute.”
A literal sixty seconds later, Yaoyorozu had produced a neck brace for Jirou to stabilize her head, all the individual pieces of a reclining wheelchair with additional neck support, and had quickly assembled the whole thing.
The three of you worked together to securely place Jirou in the wheelchair, careful not to jostle her head. Yaoyorozu leaned forward to whisper something to Jirou you didn’t quite hear and then pressed a kiss to her forehead, making you blink in mild surprise—Was there something more between them you hadn’t noticed before? For a moment, you thought back to all the times you’d seen them hanging out, just the two of them and how they seemed to be much closer to each other than to anyone else in the class. Hmm. Maybe there was something there. Not that now was the time to ask.
Yaoyorozu reached for your hand once more, pleading eyes meeting yours. “Please, be careful.”
Doing your best to sound reassuring, you said, “I will. We’ll see you back at camp.”
She nodded and a moment later, she disappeared with Awase into the densest part of the fog, off to be the hero she had been trained to be.
Now alone, you pushed Jirou’s wheelchair with the utmost caution, quietly grateful the path to camp was clear and straightforward. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.
What if one or more of the villains was waiting along the path now to ambush whoever was unlucky enough to stumble upon them first? Would it make more sense to try and navigate the woods then? It would be harder to do with a wheelchair, but it could also be the difference between making it back safely and having to fight alone for both your lives.
You continued along the path at a careful pace, continuing the debate in your mind. The clearly marked dirt roads meant potentially getting to help sooner, especially if Aizawa, Vlad, and/or their respective teaching assistants were guarding the entrance to camp, which meant more immediate medical attention for Jirou’s head wound. But if you were spotted out in the open, you were now at a huge disadvantage. If only you had had the foresight to ask Yaoyorozu to make you some kind of long range weapon. Then again, she had already looked a little skinnier after making the wheelchair. It might have been dangerous to ask more of her when she still needed to make 20+ masks for everyone caught in the fog.
You still hadn’t exited the purple haze when an increasingly familiar voice pierced the chambers of your mind yet again: “Everyone! On behalf of the pro hero Eraserhead, you have permission to fight back! I repeat! You now have permission to fight!”
Good to know, you thought, as you pressed forward with measured steps, the wheelchair’s handle grips trembling faintly with each jolt of motion.
Taking you by surprise, seconds later, a second transmission came in, immediately contradicting the first. “Except for three students! We just learned what the villains are after!” You came to an abrupt halt, trying to listen to the rest of her message with your undivided attention.“The following three students need to avoid battle at all costs and should not be alone under any circumstances!”
And then Mandalay listed the villain’s targets, mentioning three specific names.
The first was “Kacchan”. Being targeted at all was a terrifying thought. However, not only was Bakugou one of the strongest members of your class, but he had been paired up with Shouto for the Test of Courage and they had likely stuck together to survive the night. So, the odds were stacked in his favor.
The second was one of the girls from the 1-B cohort. Even if she happened to be unconscious because of the purple fog quirk like most of her class, Awase and Yaoyorozu could still work together to protect her. She had a fighting chance.
But then there was the third.
You thought you had misheard her, but Mandalay repeated all three names for the sake of clarity.
“I repeat: the following three students are being targeted by the villains and therefore need to avoid battle and should not be alone under any circumstances!”
Bakugou.
The girl from 1-B.
And you.
Missed Calls ft. Todoroki’s Perspective
Shouto kept his phone pressed to his ear, listening intently as it rang. He held his breath, his mouth pressed into a straight line, willing you to finally pick up. More than anything, he needed to hear your voice and make sure you were okay. How far were you from camp? Was Yaoyorozu still with you? Had you gotten lost? He knew he should focus on getting Bakugou to safety, but the villains wanted you too for some reason. Did you need help? Had you run into one of them already? His mind continued to spiral with questions as he waited for you to pick up.
But just like his previous two attempts, after a few more pointless rings, the call went to voicemail.
“She isn’t answering,” Shouto said aloud, trying to keep calm, even though his concern was getting harder to ignore, especially with this persistent tugging feeling in his chest.
It was an odd sensation. Something beyond dread and anxiety. It was almost like he knew he needed to get to you. Officially, he didn't know where you were. After all, when he had tried checking your location earlier, it had simply said: No location found. But that same something in his chest was insisting that Shouto turn back, almost like some part of him could sense you were just beyond the fog.
But since the trail behind him was completely covered in the same questionable purple mist that had rendered Tsuburaba unconscious, Shouto forced himself to entertain the list of harmless potential explanations why you weren’t available. Maybe your phone was on silent or you were still in an area with unreliable cell service or your phone battery had died.
Or maybe you were in the middle of fighting for your life.
“She’s probably just busy.” Bakugou grumbled, annoyance clear in his voice. “She’ll be fine.”
“What if she encounters a villain?” Shouto said, voicing his concern out loud.
“Then she’ll fight back like she was trained to do,” Bakugou shot back. “She’s not weak, you moron.”
“I’m aware. I’m just—”
“Worried. Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou’s hand grazed his own pocket, before changing his mind and curling his hand into a fist. He adjusted the weight of Tsuburaba’s unconscious body on his back. “Just shut up and take back this shitty extra already. I don’t want to carry him.”
“Fine,” Shouto said, reaching to take back the 1-B student.
As the duo continued their trek further into the woods, Shouto’s eyes trailed up to the ever-growing cloud of gray smoke in the sky. He told himself that you were okay.
You had to be.
In rescue training, you were taught that a fire needed three things to exist: fuel, oxygen, and heat. The idea was that if you figured out how to remove one of these necessary conditions, it would stop the fire.
But tonight, the acres upon acres of forest were akin to a near limitless fuel source, dancing embers jumping from one branch to another across the cluster of tightly packed trees. To add insult to injury, the open-air setting made removing the access to oxygen far from feasible. And finally, there was the problem of the heat. Setting aside the insanely high temperatures that blue flames could reach, the biggest problem was the individual at the center of the fire.
The black-haired villain had his back to you, not yet aware of your presence, blue flames coating his arms as he continued to feed the frenzy.
So, he’s the one to blame for the forest fire.
Taking shelter behind the cover of a nearby cluster of bushes, you couldn’t risk losing the element of surprise, not when it gave you a rare advantage. The glimpses that you caught of him as he moved around made you realize you hadn’t dealt with this villain before. Unlike most of the villains the League had brought to the USJ, this one was equal parts formidable and terrifying.
You had abandoned the wheelchair the moment you had spotted an unfamiliar person in the distance and resorted to carrying Jirou instead, one arm supporting her back and the other under her knees, with her head against your chest to prevent too much jostling.
You put her down, carefully, quietly, aware that too much movement might give away your location to the villain.
If you were alone, you could stay out of his periphery, and slip through the wall of fire. You would risk potentially charring some of your clothes, but thanks to your quirk, the rest of you would, theoretically, be fine.
But obviously, you weren’t alone.
You couldn’t run, not without risking Jirou’s head wound or getting caught. And with the way his flames were spreading, staying hidden also felt far from feasible. And so, fuck, that meant you would have to fight.
“I’m going to get us out of here,” you whispered to Jirou, knowing she couldn’t hear you and mostly to calm your own nerves.
You were so close to camp. Close enough that if you sprinted nonstop at full speed for maybe three or four minutes, you and Jirou would be safe. She could get proper medical help. Aizawa could look at this villain or any other one, cancel their quirk, and this would become a funny, slightly stressful story—the time you almost got kidnapped at camp—that you could share at parties to impress guests.
So how did you defeat the fire guy? They’d ask.
Great question, you’d respond.
Crouching down, you eyed the villain from a distance—his fire was coming directly from his hands—as you searched for weak points and tried to come up with a plan.
Remember what Aizawa taught you , you reminded yourself. You can summon your adaptations.
You thought of your sparring sessions with Shouto, how you were the only person in class with whom he could practice his fire techniques. Even though you had a baseline heat resistance, Shouto always insisted on hovering increasingly hotter flames over your skin to trigger an adaptation before each match, essentially piling on new layers of protection and expanding on what you could handle.
That was it.
If you had to fight someone with blue flames, then you needed to raise your temperature resistance at least a notch higher, just in case.
You clenched your eyes shut for a second, forcing yourself to concentrate. Think of Shouto. Think of fire. Think of burning heat.
After one agonizingly long moment, a beautiful thing happened. For the first time ever, without any outside stimulus or trickery, a ripple cascaded over your body, simply because you had willed it!
You thought back to your imaginary cocktail party where your make-believe guests were dying to know your next move. You would take a sip of your drink for dramatic effect, and then, with a small smile tugging at your lips, you’d say, I went for his legs.
All at once, you broke out into a sprint. The villain spun around at the sound of your footsteps, but before he could react further, you were already diving for his legs and tackling him to the floor. He landed on his back with a heavy thud and a groan.
Next thing you knew, you were throwing punches in a desperate frenzy. He couldn’t fight back if he couldn’t think. Maybe you could stall him long enough or even render him unconscious. Using your weight to keep him pinned beneath you, you threw punch after punch. Left jab, right cross. Left, right, left, right. Again and again.
His arms were ablaze as he tried to shield his face, but you had been expecting that.
What you hadn’t expected, however, was the distant sound of an engine revving. A motorcycle emerged from the trees, swerving to a stop.
Yaoyorozu called out to you. “Hop on!” Her eyes searched for something. “Where’s Kyouka?”
“Behind those bushes!” You pointed to the exact spot where you had hidden her.
Taking advantage of your temporary distraction, the villain wrapped his fingers around your wrist, igniting a fire against your skin. If you had been anybody else, that would have sent you reeling. But one of the perks of having a hot fake boyfriend (pun intended) was that if there was something you were used to, it was a little heat. (Not to mention that thanks to Aizawa's brutal training, all it took was one quick second for a new ripple to cascade over your body, adding yet another layer of protection against the villain's flames.)
Meanwhile, across the way, Yaoyorozu drove her motorcycle over as close as possible to the bushes and climbed off, her gait unstable as she leaned on neighboring trees for support.
Now that she was closer, you got your first good look at her and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was way, way past her limit.
Hollowed cheeks. Abnormally thin limbs. Next-to-completely flat chest. A far cry from her usual figure with curves in all the right places.
Your eyes flicked back to the motorcycle. Making it plus roughly 20-something respirators for your peers had plummeted her lipid count. She wouldn’t last much longer. It was extraordinary she was still conscious.
Yet, determined as ever, she dragged Jirou onto the motorcycle with obvious difficulty, leaning Jirou’s unconscious body against her own as she climbed back on.
The fire villain had shoved you off and directed a ball of fire at your two classmates, which Yaoyorozu barely avoided in time.
“Your fight is with me, not them!” you said to him, standing your ground and trying to protect them in any way you could.
His lip curled with amusement. “Don’t like sharing, huh?” His blue flames crackled to life around him in a much bigger display than before. “Alright. You have my attention.”
He hurled a giant fireball in your direction. You tried to dodge it but the smoldering heat ignited your respirator, the wild flames already starting to melt the edges. You tugged it off and tossed it aside without a second thought.
“Yaoyorozu! Drive away! I’ll be fine!” You lied.
His flames had to be burning at quadruple-digit temperatures. Hot enough to reduce a body to ash. Meaning hot enough to overpower your quirk. After all, despite your months of training with grueling exercises, your quirk allowed you to develop a resistance to heat, not an immunity.
The overbearing wave of heat pressed down on you, heavy and thick and suffocating, forcing you to take a few steps back just to breathe. Your skin was now slick with sweat, muscles rigid with fear. You weren’t sure you could make it out alive, but Yaoyorozu and Jirou could both survive if they drove away now. Better two survivors than none at all.
Yaoyorozu activated the holograms on her watch again, searching for something she didn’t quite have memorized yet. Which meant it was something complicated. Which meant it would take even more of her to make.
“I can handle him!” you lied again, not wanting her to waste an ounce of the dwindling reserves she had left. “You two get out of here!”
“I’m not leaving you!” Yaoyorozu called back before she clicked on a specific hologram and skimmed over it.
You turned back to the fire villain, whose smile had grown even larger, eyes wide in recognition. “It’s you.”
It seemed the respirator had unintentionally doubled as a disguise.
Shit.
“Do you need help, Dabi?” a female voice asked from behind you, making your blood run cold.
Now you understood why Yaoyorozu was so adamant in helping you. She had seen someone you hadn’t.
A blonde villain with a sharp unsettling grin emerged, playing with a knife in her hands.
With his cold, unblinking gaze locked on you, he said, “Focus on the other one. This one’s mine.”
“Okay!” she responded in a sing-song tone, skipping over to Yaoyorozu, who could barely stand, let alone fight.
Yet, out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Yaoyorozu raised her newest creation with shaky hands. You recognized it even out of your periphery.
A gun.
The blonde villain threw a knife at Yaoyorozu, who made no attempt to dodge—if she had, it would have struck Jirou. She yelped at the sudden pain, the knife now sticking out of her arm, but raised the weapon again anyway, trying to align its long snout with the blonde villain. Hands even shakier now thanks to exhaustion, adrenaline, or a cruel combination of both, she fired but missed, something syringe-like now stabbing the forest floor. The villain, uninjured and deeply amused, skipped about, treating their face-off almost like a game.
You tried to think about what you could do to help, but the fire villain raised his hand to unleash another brutal wave of fire. But instead of feeling another torrent of merciless heat come over you, a sudden rushing wind took you by surprise.
A cluster of screams. You just barely moved out of the way when three of your classmates fell out of the sky along with a masked villain you hadn’t seen before.
You weren’t out of the woods and yet a sudden sense of comfort came over your body the moment you recognized Shouto’s dual-toned hair.
Shouto clenched his jaw, both fire and icy mist dancing along the surface of his skin as he took in his surroundings, eyes shifting from one villain to the next. But when his gaze landed on you, first there was a flicker of surprise, then an instance of relief as some of the tension in his body eased.
Something inside you told you to run to him, partially because he had a long range quirk that was better suited for this standoff, and partially because you were tired and roughed up and it was Shouto.
He reached for you, an unspoken promise of I’ll protect you now hovering in the air, and you reached back, longing to be held, to be safe.
And so you listened to your instinct and ran to him, your legs carrying you as fast as possible to the safety of his presence. A gunshot rang out behind you as Yaoyorozu finally landed a hit on the now distracted blonde villain and you glanced back. A tranquilizer dart protruded from the villain’s arm as she slumped to the ground.
The other villain who had been a particular pain to deal with, Dabi, pointed at you and yelled “It’s her! Grab her!” to his remaining ally.
What followed felt like it unfolded in slow motion. First, the new masked villain cut off your pursuit and announced, “Time to end our performance with a flourish!” as his hand grazed your arm.
Then, before you could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the surroundings in your periphery twisted then blurred. In an instant, Shouto, Midoriya, Shouji, and Yaoyorozu were gone and your entire world became a pale shade of blue emptiness.
And just like that, it was over.
The League of Villains had won.
Notes:
Thank you so much for all of your wonderful comments in the previous chapters! I will respond to them individually later today when I get the chance!
. . .
Come say hi: desiretdeni
Chapter 10: A Villain Gives You Bad Dating Advice
Summary:
Turns out getting kidnapped was only the second worst part of your day
Notes:
Surprise! I started writing this story exactly one year ago today so to celebrate, you get two chapters this week! One today and another on Sunday!
Enjoy 💕
Chapter Text
An outsider might have said you were in over your head. Totally and completely screwed. Without a chance in hell at making it out unscathed.
And to that, you would have simply looked them right in the eye and said, “Yeah, probably.”
You were trying to maintain a level head and assess the situation. What did you know? You were running low on energy, still roughed up and bruised from earlier’s fight, laughably outnumbered, and bound to a chair in enemy territory. They knew your quirk, but they didn't know you, which could work in your favor. That might have settled it. You might have made yourself act small, leaning into acting weak and timid. It was better for them to underestimate you and potentially lower their guards.
Of course, that would have been a fine plan if Bakugou wasn’t tied up next to you, spouting every single curse word under the sun. “WHEN I BREAK FREE, YOU’RE ALL FUCKING DEAD! YOU DAMN SHITSTAINS!”
You still hadn’t covered how to deal with hostage situations in your classes, but threatening your captors hardly seemed like the right move.
New plan: Do the opposite of whatever Bakugou was doing.
“—WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU’RE ALL SO—”
Friendly and cooperative it is!
Shigaraki looked at him with mild amusement. “You’re so angry, Bakugou. Just like when you attacked your peer after your match was over in the Sports Festival. Not very heroic of you.”
“WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?” He yelled, anger growing.
“The rules of hero society don’t work for you. It’s all so fake. Don’t you think you’d be better suited as a villain?”
“I HAVE NO FUCKING INTEREST IN JOINING YOUR BAND OF FREAKS,” he said as he jutted forward, struggling against his restraints.
Recruitment? That’s what this was about? Might as well humor them. You cleared your throat. “No, no. I want to hear their pitch. Go ahead, guys.”
Bakugou’s gaze shot over to you. “Huh?”
Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed at you. “You’re oddly compliant.”
“The way I see it, there’s two of us and one, two…” you trailed off and finished counting in your head. “Eight of you. I don’t know how you feel about math, but those odds make me think we should shut up and listen.”
You watched Bakugou out of your periphery. Emphasis on shut up, Bakugou.
He rolled his eyes and slumped backward, getting the message. “Tch. Whatever.”
Then Shigaraki went into some spiel about the corruption of society and heroes aiding in that corruption and blah, blah, blah. Since Bakugou was being a lot more obvious about his disdain—rolling his eyes, scoffing, and just being his usual rude self—Shigaraki was more focused on him than he was on you.
Not that that was an issue, you were more than happy to use the time to come up with an escape plan.
“Stop doing that, you damn nerd. I don’t need your help,” Bakugou hissed.
Once you had regained enough energy, you had squeezed out of your restraints by using the same part of your quirk that had freed you from Mineta and Bondo’s holds: plenty of sweat.
Since Bakugou’s quirk also relied heavily on sweat, your original plan was to encourage him to “Think sweaty thoughts” to slip out of the restraints too, but he had responded with “I’ll kill you” and stared you down like you were a freak of nature. So instead, you were enacting plan B, which involved kneeling behind Bakugou’s chair and trying your best to pick the lock for his restraints with a bobby pin. But you didn’t know what you were doing and he was far from helpful. The alternative would be to make a run for it and try to find help, but leaving Bakugou and his bratty attitude to fend for himself felt far from heroic.
Your eyes drifted over to the lizard villain sleeping in the corner booth, arms crossed over his chest, and drool running down the side of his mouth. He was either a very heavy sleeper or the fight at camp had exhausted him. Maybe both. Either way, it was lucky the villain assigned to keep watch had so quickly fallen asleep, but you had to be as quiet as possible to keep it that way. You didn’t want to push your luck.
“Ew, why the fuck are your hands wet?”
Now if only you hadn’t been kidnapped with the most uncooperative loudmouth in the world.
You stopped struggling with the bobby pin for a moment to wipe your palms again. “Hush, I’m trying to think,” you said in a low voice.
“Don’t tell me to shut up. I’ll murder you!” he said in what barely counted as a whisper.
The lizard villain shifted slightly, and you held your breath, now frozen in place, every muscle tense, afraid even the tiniest movement would be the difference between getting caught or not. After a few more nerve-wracking seconds, the villain did not wake up. He had simply been adjusting his sleeping position.
Starting to lose patience with Bakugou, you whispered back, “You sure you aren’t already working with the villains?” You tried jiggling the pin at a different angle before giving up altogether with a huff. “At least pretend you want to be rescued.”
Rescued.
That gave you an idea.
It was risky, but you were running out of options. As quietly as possible, you made your way, step by careful step, past the sleeping villain to the wastebasket in the corner where your and Bakugou’s phones had been unceremoniously discarded. With destructive quirks like fire and decay readily available, you wondered why the villains didn’t bother to destroy your phones altogether. Then again, they probably didn’t foresee that one of you would slip out of the restraints and manage to retrieve them.
The wastebasket was mostly filled with crumpled papers and plastic. Still, after you pulled your phone out, you gave it a quick wipe with the hem of your shirt, hoping to clean it off. When you checked it, it was the same result from camp: No signal. Because of course there wasn’t. You glanced back at the sleeping villain before tucking your phone into the side of your bra. If you kept your arm down, it would stay hidden from sight.
You reached for Bakugou’s phone next, hoping his cell provider had better coverage. Standing on the tips of your toes, you held the device as high as possible. A couple of seconds passed and then there it was.
A singular bar.
Hope.
“Bakugou, what’s your passcode?”
“Like I’d fucking tell you.”
You tried to hold it up to his face, but he kept resisting, moving before the scanner could identify his features. “For once in your life, can you just cooperate, please?”
He rolled his eyes and deepened his scowl. “Whatever.” He held still long enough for his phone to finally unlock with a little ding.
You glanced over at the lizard villain. No reaction this time, but you still had to hurry.
Deciding to take a page from Midoriya’s handbook, you opened the class group chat (that Bakugou had apparently muted) and immediately shared your location.
Me: We’re inside some kind of bar
Me: in case the location isn’t specific enough
You glanced up at Bakugou. “Our class has our location now.”
“What are those extras going to do about it?”
Someone who was saved on Bakogou’s phone under “Dunce Face”—Kaminari?—replied first.
Dunce Face: WOAH
Dunce Face: BAKUGOU
Dunce Face : ARE YOU GUYS OKAY
Dunce Face: HOW ARE YOU TEXTING US
Maybe the rest of your classmates were near him because seconds later, a flurry of messages came in, also with nicknames you had heard Bakugou use before.
Shitty Hair: BAKUBRO
Raccoon Eyes: HOW IS MY BABY GIRL
Dunce Face: Bakugou is your baby girl??
A small smile played on your lips, but you had to stay focused. Share what little information you had first. Anything else that would contribute to your rescue.
Me: Bakugou can’t talk right now. It’s me. I got out of my restraints.
Me: Both currently unharmed
Me: They're trying to recruit us so I don’t think we’re in immediate danger
Me: Then again Bakugou's temper might get us decayed first
You reread the message after you had sent it. It had originally been intended as a joke, but the more you thought about Shigaraki’s unpredictable behavior, the more you realized, it really wasn’t.
Four Eyes: I have forwarded your location to the proper authorities. The heroes will get there as soon as possible. Try to remain calm in the meantime.
At least they now knew where you were. All you had to do now was stay out of trouble long enough to be rescued. You glanced over at Bakugou. Easier said than done.
Another message—finally one from Shouto.
Icy Hot Bastard: Don’t worry, my love. I won’t rest until you’re safe.
“My love.”
Your heart did a tiny little flutter, the way it usually did whenever Shouto did anything remotely endearing.
Dunce Face: Really glad to hear you’re both okay and help is on the way
Dunce Face: Because that means we can laugh about the fact it looks like Todoroki just professed his love to Bakugou
Raccoon Eyes: No offense baby girl but I’m a slut for a good rivals to lovers
Raccoon Eyes: #TodoBaku
Raccoon Eyes: #ItsAlwaysTheQuietOnes
You let out a small laugh as you plopped back down into your chair. Their attempts at keeping the mood light while you awaited rescue made you miss home and your friends even more. You were so ready for this to be over.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
You held up the phone for him to read. “The class now thinks my boyfriend is in love with you.”
Just when you did, another text from Shouto came in, completely ignoring the rest of the group chat.
Icy Hot Bastard: We’ll find you. I promise.
Bakugou rolled his eyes. "That Icy Hot bastard is just as annoying as you are. You deserve each other."
You started to tuck his phone into your back pocket to hide it from view. “First of all, mean. Secondly, Shouto isn’t—”
"Shouto, huh? That's awfully familiar,” a raspy voice said, interrupting your conversation.
You froze.
Since you were seated again, coincidentally with your hands behind your back, there was a chance that maybe he hadn’t seen you walking around freely just moments prior.
Leaning against the hallway wall with his arms crossed over his chest, there was a sense of intrigue in Dabi’s gaze. He pushed himself off the wall and walked in.
He smacked the sleeping villain in the back of the head. “Go to bed, Lizard. I’ll take it from here.”
The groggy lizard villain rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, protesting with, “Don’t call me that,” not that Dabi seemed to care.
He was too focused on you.
“So you’re dating Endeavor's son,” he said like he was verifying something he already knew and you could sense the gears shifting in his mind.
You said nothing, not wanting to give away any information they could use against you. Still, he took your silence as confirmation, piecing the unspoken truth together.
“Seems the rumors are true.” Thinking out loud, he added, “That would explain why he looked devastated when we took you.” He gave you a quick once-over, his gaze trailing down your body and then back up again. “He could have worse taste, though you looked better on the T—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyebrows flashing upwards, and a sudden amusement in his eyes when they landed on your neck. “Huh. Didn’t think he had it in him.”
He sounded almost…proud?
“Excuse me?”
He flipped a nearby chair around in one smooth motion and straddled the seat, one arm draped lazily over the top of the backrest, the other rested on his thigh. “You heard me. Little Shouto Todoroki seems way too serious, just like his father. All work and no play.” His eyes dipped down to your neck again and he grinned. “Well, maybe some play.”
Your face burned at the realization that your makeup must have worn off, but you made an effort to keep your expression blank, not wanting to give away how vulnerable it felt to be having this conversation with a stranger.
So, instead, you commented on something else he had said, forcing yourself to look the villain in the eye. “Shouto is nothing like Endeavor.”
Flashbacks of your conversation with Shouto in the train came to mind. How much he hated his father. He would especially hate being compared to him. Even if it was by some random villain.
“Oh yeah?” Dabi laughed, his cold, calculating eyes a shade of blue that almost looked familiar. “You can’t see it yet, can you?” He stood up. “He’s always going to be his father’s son. That means ambition comes first, and nothing else—no one else—will ever mean more to him than proving he’s the best. So, let me give you a piece of free advice: Leave before you get left.”
There was something about him acting like he somehow knew Shouto that really bugged you.
“You don’t know anything,” you said.
“Oh?” The villain’s smirk widened, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in, his hand now on the top rail of your chair. “You think you’re special?” He got closer, the smell of ash getting stronger. “You think he cares about you? The moment you stop being useful or he finds someone better, he’ll replace you like that!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face, making you flinch. He smiled with cruel satisfaction and pushed off your chair. “That’s what people like him do. No matter who gets left behind.”
His words hung in the air, too heavy and pained to be anything other than genuine—not that you knew what to make of that—and somehow you found yourself feeling bad for one of your kidnappers.
“Dabi, don’t be rude.” The girl in the school uniform skipped through the doorway past him, her eyes now glued on you. “Oh, I remember you! I saw you on TV! Tell me all about your boyfriend. Do you love him?” She leaned in way too close to you and sniffed you. “You do! I can smell it on you.”
“What’s with all the commotion?” Another villain asked, the one in a mask with the flair for the dramatic.
Dabi started to turn and, for a moment, you were grateful he was about to leave. Only for him to reach behind you and pull Bakugou’s phone out of your hands.
“Can’t have you texting Lover Boy, now can we?” he said before incinerating the device in front of you.
Busted.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE. THAT WASN’T EVEN HERS,” Bakugou said as he struggled against his restraints, looking like he would murder Dabi at the first chance he got.
Completely ignoring Bakugou, the masked villain said, “My, my, do we have an escape artist on our hands?”
Play it off. Friendly and cooperative. Friendly and cooperative, you repeated the words like a mantra in your head.
Since the element of surprise had now been ruined, you leaned into it. You might as well mess with them if that’s what it took to buy both you and Bakugou time.
Iida said the heroes are on their way. Just stall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said before you reached up to scratch your nose.
“There! Her hand is free!” the lizard villain (who had apparently not gone to sleep yet) pointed out.
“What about the boy? Is he—”
“No, it’s just me,” you said, doing your best to sound casual and almost bored. You held up your open restraints. “I got out because of my quirk, but he doesn’t have as much range as I do.”
You glanced over at him, trying to communicate with your eyes: Play along.
At this, Bakugou looked like he wanted to throttle you. “My quirk is way better than yours!” he said, lunging toward you, but still held back his restraints. Obviously.
“See, if he was capable of breaking free, he would’ve by now. He’s not a flight risk and neither am I.”
“Tie her up again before she escapes,” the lizard villain said to the others, looking at them like they were morons for just standing there.
You gestured toward Bakugou with your thumb. “Listen, I think it’s obvious I won’t leave without him. That’s non-negotiable. So, if he’s stuck here, then so am I.”
“Shut up, you stupid extra. I already told you I don’t need your help,” Bakugou snarled and something in his tone sounded like he genuinely meant it.
You stared at him with a blank expression, incredulous at the size of his ego. “You know what? Maybe it’s a little negotiable.” The masked villain approached you with another set of restraints and you sighed, holding your hands up for the cuffs. “Fine. Do what you must.”
The Rescue Party ft. Todoroki’s Perspective
Shouto had failed you.
The image of you turning back to reach out to him before being stolen away was burned in his mind, playing over and over. And when Shouto had tried checking your location on the off chance it might help, it had said the same thing it said back in the forest: No location found. So all Shouto could do was worry and wait.
Because as the son of the #2 hero, Shouto had immediately called Endeavor to demand his father keep him in the loop of the investigation. And much to Shouto’s surprise, his father acquiesced (probably because he wanted to win back Shouto’s favor). So Shouto had known something the rest of his classmates didn’t: The heroes had no idea where the League could have possibly taken you. That meant it would probably take multiple days following tips and scouting shady areas before you were found. If you were found.
But then Kaminari had jumped to his feet, disrupting the quiet stillness of the early morning hour, and announced loudly to the entire groggy hospital waiting room, “Holy shit! Guys! Bakugou just shared his location!”
The entire class, Shouto included, had rushed to check the chat to see if that was true. And when it had turned out that Bakugou wasn’t the reason the heroes now had your location—you were—it had given Shouto hope.
You, quick to think, quick to act, had played a pivotal role in your own rescue. Thanks to you, there was a chance Shouto might be able to hold you in his arms as soon as tonight.
When Shouto forwarded it to his father and Iida shared the location to the other heroes, the pros had thanked them for their contribution and attempted to assure them they could take it from there.
But Shouto was not assured.
So, there was immediate talk of a rescue party—just in case the pros needed back up or took too long because of bureaucratic nonsense—originally consisting of Midoriya, Kirishima, Iida, and Shouto himself.
Shortly after, Yaoyorozu had called Shouto and Midoriya to her hospital room.
Surrounded by both food and empty plates, Yaoyorozu was in the midst of chewing on some sort of roll like her life depended on it. When Shouto and Midoriya walked in, she held up one finger, telling them to give her a moment as she swallowed, and then said bluntly, “Whatever plan you two are inevitably forming, I would like to join.”
Yaoyorozu hadn’t recovered completely, that much was obvious to Shouto, but she did look significantly better than she had when paramedics had loaded her into the back of the ambulance at camp.
Still, Shouto and Midoriya exchanged a glance, neither certain this was a good idea.
Reading the room, Yaoyorozu broke the silence with a question. “Todoroki, your body is built to tolerate extreme temperatures, correct?”
“Yes,” Shouto responded with caution, unsure why she was asking. “Because of my quirk.”
“Well, because of my quirk, my body recovers from lipid loss much faster than a normal person would. Something similar happened when I first started experimenting with my creations. I was overeager and drained my lipid resources, but I recovered completely after not using my quirk for a few days.”
“We can’t wait a few days,” Shouto countered. “We don’t have time to waste.”
“I’m not asking you to wait. I’m telling you that you don’t have to worry about me. Let me join you. It’s the least I can do to help her.”
“You’re certain you are well enough now?” Shouto asked, not entirely convinced.
But Yaoyorozu nodded, her expression serious and her resolve unwavering. “I am.”
He considered this for a moment, and then said, “Alright. You can come.”
Shouto knew the top heroes were on the case, but he refused to stand idly by when the most important person in his life needed help.
Shouto had failed you once.
He refused to fail you again.
Now tied up with rope, you had been relegated to the closet on a time-out. The whole “I’m not a flight risk” argument hadn’t been convincing enough apparently.
You wiggled out of the rope around your midsection and were now trying to untie the uncomfortably tight knot tying your ankles together.
While you struggled, you could hear Shigaraki through the door, speaking to someone with a voice you didn’t recognize. By the sound of it, the other guy was explaining why you would be a good addition to the League.
“She has fought nearly every student in the Hero course, accumulating adaptations and resistances for almost all of their quirks. According to our source, she has built up quite an impressive range. Tomura, with a little practice, a quirk like that could be extraordinary.”
Not that you would actually be tempted to join the darkside or whatever, but when they put it like that, it sure was lucky for hero society as a whole that your lifelong dream was to be a hero. Imagine your quirk at the hands of a villain. Spooky.
Finally done undoing the knot, you rubbed at the raw skin that had been chafed underneath the rough rope, willing it to heal. Since it was a small injury, it meant only a minor dip in your energy levels.
You stood up and reached for the door knob—Locked. Unsurprising.
Picking the lock clearly wasn’t much of an option. Maybe you could kick down the door, but that would be far from subtle, especially with Shigaraki on the other side. Plus, Bakugou was still tied up and you doubted you could outrun all the bad guys in unfamiliar territory. Sure, they were trying to recruit you, but if Shigaraki decided you were more trouble than you were worth, all it would take was one foul touch and you would disintegrate. Somehow you doubted your quirk could adapt to something as brutal as his decay. Not that you ever wanted to test out that theory.
But before you could decide on your next move, the door opened to reveal Shigaraki and Kurogiri standing before you.
Friendly and cooperative, you reminded yourself for the umpteenth time as you forced a smile. “If I promise not to run, can we keep the restraints off this time?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Shigaraki said, motioning for you to step out of the closet. “Just follow me.”
You did as you were told, following him back to the main part of the bar where the entirety of the League was now hanging out. You made eye contact with Bakugou who was now tied up with even more rope and for a moment, and if you didn’t know better, you might have said he looked relieved Shigaraki had yet to reduce you to dust.
You gestured toward the empty chair you had been strapped to earlier. “So, um, do you want me to sit back down or…?”
Bakugou rolled his eyes and let out a gruff “Tch.”
That was when Kurogiri turned and commented, “Tomura Shigaraki, she is much more pleasant than the boy. A pity we can not recruit her, too.”
You blinked twice and spoke slowly, confusion evident in your tone. “You…don’t want to recruit me? Then why am I here?”
The villains around the bar exchanged a knowing glance and the one with the giant magnet even laughed.
“I hope you aren’t too attached to your quirk. Take mine instead,” said the villain in the full body black and white suit.
“Sensei will decide what to do with you. He’s very interested in your quirk.” Shigaraki said.
Wait.
What?
Chapter 11: Another Villain Ruins Your Life
Summary:
The rescue and the aftermath feat. a lot of Todoroki’s POV
Notes:
This chapter gets heavy but just know that it ends on a positive note.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Rescue feat. Todoroki’s Perspective
One moment Shouto was going over the plan with the rest of the rescue party in their store-bought disguises, and the next, he was collapsing to his knees with a stifled groan.
“Todoroki, what’s wrong?” Yaoyorozu asked, eyebrows pinched in worry as she stood just over him. “Do you need a doctor?”
Hand clutching at his chest, Shouto shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak, to barely even breathe. Some lucid part of him thought back to a similar sensation back at camp, when the villains were after you, except this time the feeling had been multiplied tenfold, demanding every ounce of his attention. Your name echoed through his mind and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he knew this pain was somehow inexplicably tied to you.
“We should go back,” Iida started to say, all too eager to abandon this mission.
“No.” Shouto finally said, his voice hard and unwavering. Just as quickly as it had started, the pain had stopped. Still, the core feeling—something Shouto could only describe as a call to him, an ache to be where you were—lingered, persistent as ever. So, Shouto stood up and brushed off the dust from his knees. “That has happened before. Don’t worry about it.” He opened the app to double check Bakugou’s location only to find it was gone.
“Do you have a medical condition we don’t know about?” Iida pressed. “I know you care about her, but you aren’t feeling well, we need to call this off.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto insisted, his irritation seeping into his tone, even though he knew that Iida meant well. Eyes back on his phone screen, Shouto was surprised to find your phone was finally picking up a signal, pointing him to an entirely different area. “They moved her,” he said, raising the phone to show the group of friends who had accompanied him.
“Todoroki, I really must insist,” Iida said, grabbing Shouto’s arm.
Shouto shook him off, extremely low on patience. “Help or leave. But I’m going to go find her.”
Iida searched Shouto’s eyes in a quiet standoff. Both stood, shoulders squared and gaze firm, neither wanting to give in. A few pensive seconds later, Iida relented with a sigh and pulled out his phone. “I’ll let the heroes know about the location change,” he said before he forwarded yet another crucial piece of information to the pros.
“Should we wait for them?” Kirishima asked.
“She’s running out of time,” Shouto insisted, one of his hands still on his chest.
Luckily, Midoriya, the only other person quite as stubborn as Shouto, was quick to support his friend. “In that case, Todoroki, lead the way.”
Some time later, the group crept up the alleyway, guard up and muscles tense. They had encountered a couple of drunk businessmen who had attempted to flirt with Yaoyorozu, only for Iida to shoo them away. Shouto hadn’t so much as glanced back, too focused on his single-minded objective to find you. And soon after that, the group stumbled upon a collection of nondescript warehouses, any of which could have held you. The location from your phone had glitched out and disappeared long before the group had arrived, and yet Shouto did not hesitate.
Acutely aware of the persistent feeling in his chest, he gestured toward the building on the left with unwavering certainty. “She’s in that one.”
“How do you know—” Iida started to ask.
“I just do.”
Kirishima cleared his throat. “Alright then, let’s do some reconnaissance.”
A few moments later, Kirishima was standing atop Iida’s shoulders, the tallest member of their group, holding his night vision goggles to his eyes. “I see a bunch of Nomu, but it doesn’t look like any of them are awake. We’ll need to be careful. We won’t want to—” Kirishima stopped, suddenly tense. “Todoroki, I’m going to tell you something, but I need you to stay calm.”
“What is it?”
Kirishima hesitated, clearly trying to find the right way to phrase it. “You’re not going to like this—”
Too impatient to wait a second longer, Shouto raised himself to Kirishima’s height using a block of ice and snatched the night vision goggles from his hands to see for himself. The moment he looked through them, his breath caught in his throat.
There you were, clothing tattered and charred, floating inside a giant tank just like the surrounding Nomu that Kirishima had just described. But unlike them, you had a breathing apparatus secured over your face, fueling the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the only tell-tale sign of life.
“They’re experimenting on her.” Shouto realized out loud and his grip tightened on the goggles until his knuckles turned white at the thought of anyone hurting you. Heat simmered beneath his skin as his anger started to build and he shoved the goggles into Kirishima’s hands, returning them abruptly to avoid melting them altogether.
Before Shouto could speak, the voice of a familiar pro hero in the distance stirred their attention.
“Secure the perimeter.” Shouto lowered the goggles. Gang Orca was instructing a cluster of his subordinates as he approached with Tiger. “They could be in any of these buildings. Move quickly.”
“Sir! Over here!” one of his sidekicks said as they pried open the doors to the building Shouto had singled out, revealing dozens of unconscious Nomus and you at the center.
“Is she one of the students who was kidnapped?” Gang Orca asked Tiger as the two of them rushed over.
“Yes,” he said, happy to find you but not quite relieved yet, his eyes still searching for something else. “There’s Ragdoll!” He ran over to his unresponsive teammate just a few feet away. Like you, she was unconscious and floating inside a giant tank, monitors attached to her body. Tiger reached for her, pulling her from the top of the vessel. “Ragdoll, it’s me, Tiger.” She opened her eyes and stared ahead, looking at nothing. Voice cracking as he held her to his chest, he said, “What did they do to you?”
“What did they do to both of them?” Gang Orca asked, noting the fact you had yet to wake up.
Iida gripped Shouto’s arm and shook his head, quietly urging Shouto not to give away their presence, especially since more pros like Best Jeanist and Mt. Lady had just arrived. It took everything in Shouto to stay in place and not run to you immediately.
But a moment later, for the first time tonight, he was grateful for Iida’s intervention.
The wall burst apart and sent pieces of debris flying. The pros and students alike staggered back in the explosion. The haze of dust settled and the most terrifying man Shouto had ever seen emerged from the chaos.
Hands held out and palms up, the man floated over to the pros, carrying himself with an eerie sort of elegance, like the cruel, twisted parody of a savior.
As they watched from the side, Shouto and the rest of his classmates were frozen in utter terror, every single survival instinct in them begging for them to stay completely and utterly still.
Then one more voice spoke from the near distance, sparking hope with it. “Fear not, for I am here!”
Iida, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima seemed to relax at the news of All Might’s arrival. But then Shouto glanced at Midoriya, All Might’s clear favorite and unofficial mentee, and his friend looked far from relieved. That was when Shouto remembered one crucial fact. If there was something he had learned growing up as the son of the #2 hero, it was that all heroes, especially the ones who seemed untouchable, had a vulnerability to them.
As it turned out, All Might was no exception.
It had been a grueling fight to witness. All Might had given everything he had to keep the villain at bay. He had won, but the fight had cost him the last of his strength, something Shouto didn’t realize was even possible. It was no wonder Midoriya had looked so worried.
Now that the battle was over, it was time to tend to the wounded. Shouto wanted to get to you before anyone else did.
Predicting Shouto’s next move, Yaoyorozu tapped his arm and he turned around to find she was holding a simple blanket in her arms. “For her,” she said, handing it to him.
“You’re not supposed to be using your quirk,” he noted aloud, before he gave his friend a small appreciative nod. “But thank you.”
And then he was off. Using his ice, Shouto crossed the battlefield in a matter of seconds, rushing to be by your side.
The background chaos of police and ambulance sirens faded as Shouto approached the tank the villains had kept you in. He undid the buttons of the vest he’d been wearing and shrugged off that part of his disguise, setting it aside before he reached for you. He pulled you out of the viscous liquid and used the vest as a towel to wipe away some of it from your face. You stirred a little at the feel of his touch, eyes blinking open groggily.
He spoke in a soft voice, reaching down to cup your cheek “Hey, it’s just me.” Shouto’s heart clenched at how tired and fragile you looked. “I’m going to take you home.”
Saying nothing, you simply nodded, eyes closing again.
Shouto gently wrapped you in the blanket, picked you up, and cradled your body against his, deliberately emitting just enough warmth from his left side to protect you from the night chill. With the utmost care, he carried you to a nearby ambulance, hoping nothing was seriously wrong.
When he finally set you down on a stretcher with caution, the paramedic’s eyes lit up white.
After a few seconds, she said to the other paramedic,“Nothing’s broken or bleeding.” She looked up at Shouto to explain. “My quirk does a preliminary surface-level scan. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing physically wrong.”
“Bakugou, what happened to them?” Kirishima asked within earshot, eyes on Ragdoll’s stretcher as they loaded her into another ambulance.
Shouto glanced over in time to catch the look of guilt that crossed Bakugou’s face. For the first time since Shouto had known him, Bakugou was at a loss for words, avoiding looking his friend right in the eye, before finally saying, “He stole their quirks.”
Shouto whipped his head to the paramedic. “Is that true? Is her quirk gone?”
She shrugged. “Sorry, but my quirk isn’t that thorough. That’s something the hospital can answer after they admit her and run some tests.”
But then you spoke for the first time since Shouto had arrived, uttering two simple letters with a voice so faint and frail it was like you had said nothing at all.
“What’s that?” The paramedic leaned in closer.
“UA,” you repeated, in a breathy whisper.
“I think she wants to go back to the UA's campus,” Shouto translated for you.
“She should still go to the hospital, as a precaution,” the paramedic insisted.
“Please,” you whispered, clutching Shouto’s shirt.
Shouto cupped your hand with his, stroking it with his thumb. “I’ll make sure she gets proper medical care on campus. Thank you for your help.”
Thanks to UA’s sophisticated machinery, Recovery Girl was able to take your vitals without waking you.
“She needs her rest,” Recovery Girl explained. "She's had a long couple of days."
Shouto simply hummed in response, keeping your hand in his as he sat at your bedside, eyes trained on watching you breathe.
“Why don’t you go get cleaned up, dear?” Recovery Girl insisted as she typed in figures into her computer. “She’ll be here when you get back.”
Shouto tore his attention away from you and looked down, just now remembering his clothes still had the dried remnants of whatever viscous liquid you had been submerged in earlier. He glanced over at Recovery Girl. “Will you call me if something changes?”
“Sure, dear.”
“Okay,” Shouto agreed, starting to stand. “I’ll be right back.”
Shouto knew that if he hurried, he could be back here within half an hour. So, he rushed back to the dorms where was quick to take a shower and then bypassed the need to towel-dry his hair by using the fire side of his quirk instead.
Soon enough, Shouto was turning the corner to get to the infirmary, about to walk past the closed door of Recovery Girl’s actual office, only to stop walking at the mention of your name. Curiosity getting the best of him, he pressed his ear against the door.
He heard Recovery Girl’s voice first. “Apologies, detective, but UA has never needed a quirk factor reader before. We can do a proper test at the hospital once she’s rested.”
The police detective hummed, sounding disappointed. “Her professor said her reaction time was down to a second?”
“Yes, it seems her progress advanced quickly during her camp training,” Nedzu responded.
Then All Might’s voice, clear as day, said, “Holy shit,” like this was devastating news.
“I take it she never fought Midoriya?” Nedzu asked. “Otherwise, Kamino could have ended very differently.”
“No, never in my class,” All Might responded.
“You really think her quirk is that powerful?” the detective asked, as if in shock. “Respectfully, it didn’t seem that strong during the Sports Festival.”
“Clothing mishaps aside, her quirk had always been a formidable defense mechanism,” Nedzu explained. “Plus, she had built up an arsenal of adaptations since then. If you look at our list of the new top ten heroes, her quirk was already equipped with a counter for at least half of them. Her body raised its temperature to an extreme when she was caught in ice. What’s to say the quirk wouldn’t react in the same way if Kamui Woods or Best Jeanist or Edgeshot tried to restrain All For One now? Hawks’ feathers wouldn’t harm him, not when she trained her body against one of our students with a knife quirk. Plus, she developed a resistance to fire which would mean even Endeavor, our new #1 hero, would struggle.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” the detective confessed.
All Might added, with a tired edge to his voice, “Not to mention the collection of attack quirks All For One already had.”
There was a tense silence that held for a long moment, and then Nedzu cleared his throat. “We were extremely lucky All Might was able to protect us one last time. However, we must now brace ourselves for a world where the Symbol of Peace has retired and where one of Japan's worst villains just became even stronger.”
Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, you were just now returning to consciousness. You slowly sat up on the bed and took in your surroundings, your mind caught in a hazy fog.
He stole their quirks.
Head in your hands, you strained to remember if it was real or just a figment of your own mind’s cruelty. Other fragments resurfaced as you combed through your memory.
Fighting the League’s attempts at corralling you into place. Just barely avoiding Spinner and Toga’s blades as they snagged on your clothes. Shin-kicking one of them. Body slamming the other. Tackling Dabi again when his flames tried to hold you back. Against all odds, almost reaching the door.
But then some unseen magnetic force had sent you flying backwards into the tall woman’s grip. From there, the one with the mask had simply reached out, grazed your skin again, and poof. Your entire being had been reshaped to a tiny marble-like ball.
Rubbing at your temples, the rest of the memory unfolded with slightly better clarity:
An indefinite amount of time later, you spilled out of your marbled state onto the ground on your hands and knees. A shadow fell over you and your eyes trailed up, a chill running down your spine at the sight of the presence towering over you. Standing in a well-pressed suit, there was nothing overtly dangerous about him at a glance, and yet his very presence was suffocating.
“I apologize for the rough handling, but I’m told you put up quite a fight.” His voice sounded smooth and polite, but it felt disingenuous, eerie. “Know that your quirk will not go unappreciated. I will make great use of it.” Then he smiled, but there was no warmth behind the gesture, and every part of your being screamed at you to run.
You scrambled to your feet, trying to broaden the distance between you.
"Come now, don’t struggle. It will only delay the inevitable,” he said calmly as he floated to you.
Backed into a corner, your legs trembled—the most formidable opponent you had ever faced just paces away. Yet despite this fear, two clipped words surfaced from the depth of your mind, ordering you to action: Fight. Back.
Calling upon the knowledge you had learned in camp, you summoned the most aggressive variation of your quirk you could think of—that brutal, burning heat from your first ever match with Shouto.
A moment later, your temperature skyrocketed, and when the supervillain reached out to untangle your quirk from the fabric of your being, he recoiled in pain, only for his unsettling smile to return to his face a moment later.
He was not angry.
There was no reason to be.
“Now, now, you’ll only make this harder on yourself.”
Fists raised up and still shaking, you yelled, “You can’t have my quirk!”
You can’t have my quirk. You can’t have my quirk. You can’t have my quirk.
It was a mantra, and a plea, and a declaration of war, all fused into one.
But he reached out, swatting away at your hands like it was nothing, before he gripped your throat and lifted you off of the ground. A third invisible hand reached into you, tightening its grip around the essence of your quirk factor at your core. All at once, the hand pulled with a violent jerk, like yanking roots from the earth, and a distinct tearing sensation reverberated through your body.
“—won’t let you,” you strained, voicing your next thought out loud and attempting to resist his power, and a ripple effect cascaded over your body, though for what adaptation you weren’t sure.
But then, tragically, precious moments tied to your quirk flashed across your mind—the heat resistance from the USJ, the ice-melting from your match with Shouto, the calloused blade barrier from the face-off with Stain, etc.—as they, one by one, fractured and splintered and crumbled away, leaving nothing but a sickening, aching void in their place.
Weakness and exhaustion taking over, you felt different. Lighter. Emptier. Hollow. Your eyelids dipped, lifted, and dipped again as darkness lined the edge of your vision. You heard a muffled “Interesting” before that cruel hand yanked again and your head fell forward, that last lingering strength gone.
And now here you were, in the dreaded aftermath.
Hand covering your mouth, some part of you still didn’t believe it. It was too awful to be true.
Needing answers, you climbed out of the bed with cautious movements, still feeling weak and a little unsteady. Eyes searching the infirmary, you thought back to an adaptation you had unlocked during the encounter with the Hero Killer: rapid healing. You quietly shuffled over to a drawer and tugged it open. You reached for the scalpel and slid it across your other palm with a shaky hand, just enough to make a tiny nick. Ignoring the sting, you dabbed away at the droplet of blood with a tissue, only for another two to quickly take its place, and you watched the wound, waiting for it to close on its own.
“Heal,” you said out loud, willing your body to act. “Please.”
One second passed. Then another. You stared at the wound for a couple seconds more.
But nothing happened.
So it was true: Your quirk was gone.
You collapsed to your knees and let out a strangled yell, guttural and raw, as it all hit you. Next thing you knew, you were gasping for air, violent sobs spilling out of you before you could try and stop them.
The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and Shouto ran in, panic in his eyes.
“What’s wrong? What do you need?” He knelt down beside you, his kind heterochromatic eyes searching yours.
You sniffled and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, a hiccuping sob slipping past your lips.
“It’s gone,” you whispered with a slight tremble in the word. “My quirk.”
His eyebrows flashed upward for a fraction of a second like he also didn’t want to believe it and, despite not knowing what to say, his hand immediately reached out to hold you.
In the next moment, more figures were standing in the doorway. First, Recovery Girl, followed immediately by the detective and All Might and Nedzu, all concerned and out of breath.
“What is it, dear?” Recovery Girl asked, voice soft and motherly.
Still on the floor, you showed her the cut on your palm, feeling like a child showing an adult a playground scrape.
“It won’t heal,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “My quirk isn’t…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it again.
But she understood. As Shouto helped you to your feet, Recovery Girl crossed the room to grab something from a nearby drawer.
“We’ll fix you right up.” She pressed a tiny kiss to your temple and wiped away the droplets of blood smeared on your palm, revealing fully healed skin underneath. “There you go. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
You nodded and Shouto reached for your hand, his grip steady, strong, anchoring you in a way nothing else had today.
Fortunately for you, by the time you were both back at 1-A Alliance, most of your classmates had already retired to their bedrooms. However, those who had stayed awake weren’t going to let you walk by unnoticed. Tsu, Ochako, Tooru, and Mina rushed to you the moment you crossed the threshold into the common room. A blur of hugs and We missed you and Glad you’re okay.
Even Yaoyorozu stepped forward, starting to say “I didn’t get a chance to–” before throwing her arms around you. “Thank you for protecting Kyouka. I’m so sorry we couldn’t protect you.”
When she pulled back, Shouto leaned close enough for only you to hear and asked, “Do you want to tell them?”
You shook your head, eyes dipping to the floor. “You can do it.”
And then Shouto revealed the tragic new twist in that soft voice of his and it must have been shocking because a hush fell over the 1-A common room and when your closest friends all hugged you again, this time their bodies were shaking.
“I’m going to go shower,” you said after a bit, keeping your voice small. You were afraid they hadn’t heard you, but after another sniffle, your friends pulled back.
“I can bring you your pajamas," Tsu offered.
“And I can make you some tea,” Yaoyorozu was quick to add.
Questions ft. Todoroki’s Perspective
“Todoroki,” Yaoyorozu called Shouto over to the dorm kitchen after you had disappeared into the bath area. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure,” he said, joining her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Yaoyorozu started, reaching up to grab a mug from the cupboards. “I can’t stop thinking about the rescue. How did you know where she was?”
Shouto had expected this, to be asked for some rationale or logic behind his behavior at the attempted rescue, but all he had to offer was a shrug and a response that was far from detailed. “I felt it.”
“You felt it?” Yaoyorozu considered this for a moment while she poured the steaming tea in the mug. “You mentioned that it had happened before, correct?”
Shouto nodded, watching Yaoyorozu stir in a spoonful of sugar. “During the attack at camp. I didn’t get to her in time but I…had a feeling I knew where she was. It’s hard to explain.”
He expected more follow-up questions, for any other attempt of further inquiry from Yaoyorozu. After all, they had been friends for a while and his behavior that particular night had been far from his usual composure.
But at the mention of camp, Yaoyorozu froze, spoon in hand, and a look came across Yaoyorozu’s face, one of unspoken understanding, and instead of further interrogating him, Yaoyorozu said something that took Shouto completely by surprise.
A small breath, then, “You’re soulmates.”
“Soulmates?” Todoroki asked, utterly perplexed at Yaoyorozu’s sudden conclusion. “What do you mean?”
“The girls and I were talking about it a few weeks ago.” Yaoyorozu started to explain, her words slow as she thought out loud. “Soulmate pairings are widely believed to be myths, since they’re so hard to prove, but for generations now, ever since quirks started to appear, people have claimed that soulmates were real too.” She looked up, like she was trying to remember something. “Some believed they were colorblind until they met their soulmate and saw a rainbow for the first time. Some formed telepathic links to their partner or a close friend.” Yaoyorozu looked Todoroki in the eyes. “Some have even had an inexplicable pull toward or even visions of their soulmate’s location when they were in danger. That’s what happened to me during the attack at the camp. It’s how I found Kyouka.”
“Soulmates.” Shouto repeated, no longer like it was a question, but rather, like it was a fact of life. Soulmates existed. Some people were lucky enough to have one. Shouto was one of those people. “I see.”
Freshly showered and now wearing a clean set of comfy clothes, you sat yourself down on a nearby chair, grounding yourself in something familiar.
“This is for you,” Yaoyorozu said, handing you the tea with a nervous smile.
You cradled the mug with both of your hands, feeling the steam curl gently against your face.
“Thank you,” you said, lifting it to take a sip, but the moment the hot liquid grazed your tongue, you pulled the cup away with a grimace. “Too hot.”
“I’m so sorry!” Yaoyorozu exclaimed, eyes wide with genuine concern, as if you had just suffered a life-threatening injury rather than a slight burn. “Do you need water?” She glanced at Shouto. “Or maybe ice? I could make a—”
“It’s fine, really,” you waved off her panic. “It’s my fault. Because of my quirk, I got used to not having to wait to drink hot things. I should’ve known better now that it’s . . . gone.” That last word felt like bile in your throat. “I’ll be okay,” you said with a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes.
Mina approached you with the box of quirk-enhanced healing cookies from camp. “Here, babe,” she said softly. “There were a few left over. It should help.”
You grabbed one and took a bite, the flood of relief soothing the slight discomfort on your tongue. The comforting thought embedded within: You can be a great hero.
You wanted to throw up.
“Thanks,” you said to Mina politely, locking your gaze on the floor as your eyes began to sting.
A shuffle of footsteps approached and Shouto crouched down in front of you. His pair of kind heterochromatic eyes held your gaze.
“What do you need from me?” he asked, softly.
“Can you take me to my room?”
He nodded and reached for the mug, taking it from your hands. “She needs to get some rest,” he said, guiding you away from the common room.
Minutes later, you were both in front of your door.
“I understand if you want to be alone,” he said, watching you carefully.
But you really didn’t.
"Please stay," you whispered, quick to add, “For a little bit.”
“Of course,” he said without any hesitation.
You unlocked the door and flicked the light on. Shouto followed you inside, clicking the door shut behind him. It was strange to think the only other time he had been in here had been during the dorm room contest at the beginning of the year. How simple everything had been back then. How carefree.
But he was here now, so you might as well say it. “Can you hold me until I fall asleep?”
That request might have felt outlandish once, back when he was just Todoroki, a cold, distant classmate who kept to himself and seemed to have no interest in making friends.
But how quickly he had become Shouto, your Shouto. Protective and comforting and far kinder than you would have ever expected. Somehow, you had become his confidant and he had become your pillar.
So, of course Shouto nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. He set his phone on the nightstand and then climbed onto your bed, the mattress greeting him with a gentle give.
You climbed on after him and lowered your head to his chest, resting it there like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you close, a sort of protective quality in his actions, as if to say You’re safe now, you’re with me.
Feeling the slow and steady rise and fall of Shouto’s chest, you closed your eyes and focused on his breathing, syncing yours with his—a slow inhale in, a gentle exhale out. Inhale in. Exhale out.
Soon enough, the repetition shushed the worst parts of your mind long enough for sleep to take hold of you.
But unfortunately for you, it would be far from a restful night.
The dream had started innocently enough, picking up where your last memory of Kamino left off.
The chill of the night air. The call of police sirens. The concern of your friends. Someone asked what had happened to you and someone else—Bakugou maybe?—had said, “He stole their quirks.”
But then the setting shifted, wiping away the chaos of Kamino, and you were standing in your hero costume, ready to take on some assignment that felt important but you couldn’t remember the details of. You tried to summon your quirk like Aizawa had taught you, but nothing happened. You reached deeper, pulling and straining, only to feel a hollow, aching absence.
At first, you told yourself it was just a temporary glitch, something that would pass if you tried again. But no matter how many times you willed it to work, your quirk didn’t return. You called for help, but your voice barely carried, like you were shouting into a void. Then your classmates appeared one by one—Bakugou, Ochako, Midoriya, Todoroki—but instead of the concern or support you hoped for, their faces were cold, blank.
“You’re fucking useless without a quirk,” Bakugou sneered, brutally honest as always.
"Sorry," Ochako added with a sad smile, "but we need to focus on the mission. We can't really afford to carry anyone else."
Panic rose in your chest. You turned to Midoriya, the one person who would never give up on anyone, but even his warm, understanding eyes were filled with pity. “I know you mean well," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "But,” he avoided your eyes for this next part, “If you can’t fight, maybe this just isn’t for you anymore.”
Todoroki stood beside him, silent, unreadable.
“Shouto?” You reached for him, desperate for a lifeline, waiting for him to acknowledge you, to say something, anything, that might help, that might comfort you, that might—
But when your hand touched his, he pulled away.
“You don’t belong here.” His gaze, once so soft, was distant, cold even, like you were just a waste of his and everyone else’s time.
He turned his back to you, and a heavy weight settled in your chest as the scene shifted. Your friends were now mid-fight against the villain who had stolen your quirk, moving as a seamless unit, shouting commands, using their quirks in all the ways they had been trained to do. Not one of them glanced in your direction. You tried to run to them, to help in any way you could, but your legs felt sluggish. You looked down. Even though you had been standing on concrete, the ground beneath you had liquified, warping into something akin to thick mud, swallowing you like quicksand.
While your friends fought on in the distance, you gasped for air, the cement edging up your face and into your line of vision as you sunk further into the ground. They were either oblivious to your plight, or, far worse, entirely indifferent.
Then, in an instant, you were above ground again, flickering through random spots around UA’s campus like a ghost, revisiting all the places where you once belonged. First, your now empty dorm room—your bed stripped down to the mattress, your bookshelf bare, the rest of your belongings long since packed away, like you had never lived there at all.
A moment, then you flickered downstairs to the common area. That was where most of your classmates—all but one—were hanging out. In the kitchen, Satou and Tsu were making pastries, with Mina taste-testing some of the chocolate sauce they had set to the side. Off to the side on the couches, Tooru was flirting shamelessly with Oijiro, and Jirou and Yaoyorozu were listening to a song as they cuddled together in the couch. Everyone else in the common room was laughing and bonding as usual…just without you.
Because your absence meant nothing.
The scene shifted again. Still in the dorms, you stood frozen in a doorway, an unwelcome observer to a scene that was never meant for your eyes. The moonlight streaking in through the large windows of the bedroom illuminated the figure of the person who had been absent from the crowd in the common area. Now you wished you hadn’t found him.
Todoroki was seated on the edge of a bed with an impossibly perfect dark-haired stranger and they were far too close to be casual.
She dragged her hand down his arm, the gesture so familiar it made you want to throw up. Todoroki tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering on her jaw.
She leaned in, mirroring the motion, her hand touching his cheek as she closed the remaining distance.
The floor seemed to sway beneath you as his lips met hers.
Wake up, wake up, wake up.
The familiar ache of heartbreak expanded, spreading through your ribs like cracks in glass. His hand moved up her thigh. Her hands ran down his chest, gripping at the bottom of his shirt.
Time seemed to move faster, blurring. Your feet felt glued to the floor, too heavy to move, too heavy to run. Articles of clothing were now thrown aside. You couldn’t leave, even though every fiber of your being begged you to. You could only stand there, frozen and helpless, as the two of them spoke in low voices at first, exploring each others’ bodies, the girl moving to straddle him between her thighs.
She let her hair loose, blonde ringlets falling free—
Blonde?
The image shifted to another girl, her back still to you. Now Todoroki was pinned beneath the hips of a girl with long, golden hair. Another shift and now she was a brunette with wild, frizzy curls. Then a red head with a sleek, straight bob. The girl kept changing, her features fluid and unreadable, but with one torturous constant—the sound of their collective sighs echoing louder and louder, tormenting you to madness.
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
“Please, make it stop.” You were now on your knees, eyes scrunched closed and hands clamped over your ears.
But everything continued to spiral—work studies were canceled, your hero license application was denied, you found yourself working some mundane, lifeless job far from UA, the memory of your hero dreams crumbling into dust, as every possible fear you had tried to bury was now happening all at once in a cruel, flurried frenzy of your own personal hell.
WAKE UP!
You sat up in bed with a jolt, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to you like a thick, suffocating fog. Your chest felt tight as tears burned your eyes, trailing hot and messy down your cheeks, and a lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. You sniffled and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping to stop the flood, trying to reign in your emotions and keep quiet so as not to disturb—
Shouto shifted beside you, rustling the sheets, and he murmured your name, his voice still heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
You sniffled and a hiccuping sob slipped past your lips. “Nightmare,” you whispered with a slight tremble in the word.
He stirred, his hand immediately reaching out to find yours. His touch was gentle, grounding, as his arm wrapped around you securely, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispered against your temple. “I’ve got you.”
That simple reassurance loosened something inside you, and before you knew it, the sobs you had been trying to suppress came freely, your whole body shaking against his chest from the force of them.
“You’re okay,” he repeated. “Nothing is going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.”
You wanted to tell him that your nightmare had nothing to do with reliving the night your quirk was stolen and everything to do with the dreaded aftermath. It was one thing to fear the evil man All Might had defeated, but you had been informed he was going to be permanently locked away behind the highest levels of security Tartarus had to offer, meaning he would never see the light of day again.
It was another thing to know that more than just your quirk had been stolen from you. It was so dreadfully easy to predict the changes that would happen in your day-to-day life—you would watch your peers from the sidelines because it was “too dangerous” to participate in the same training exercises; some of them might avoid you, and the ones who didn’t would probably treat you like porcelain (which would probably feel worse).
So you tried to say nothing, to smother your devastation and put on a facade of strength. But then you looked up, your eyes finding Shouto’s despite the darkness of the room, and his gaze held no annoyance or pity. Instead, there was only a patient understanding in his features.
Feeling both fragile and brave, you allowed the words to spill out of you in a rushed whisper, a part of you afraid you might lose your nerve if you took a second too long.
“What if,” you started, voice still shaky and unreliable, “what if everything changes?” It was odd to hear the concern out loud, to finally put into words the fear that was quietly eating away at you.
“Some things might,” Shouto responded in that soft tone of his, honest as usual. He pulled you closer, resting his head on yours. “But not everything.”
You almost didn’t recognize your own voice when you spoke up again. “But what if I have to start over?” A hiccup. “What if I can’t be a hero anymore?” Your voice cracked as you choked out that last part. “Who am I supposed to be then?”
Shouto was quiet for a moment, his hand moving in slow, gentle circles along your back. Then he spoke, “Whoever you choose to be.”
And for some reason, that was what broke through your final flimsy barrier. You started to cry openly, tears running down your face as you mourned who you once were and who you could have been. Your life had changed overnight because of circumstances entirely out of your control.
As your sobs began to subside, leaving behind sporadic, trembling hiccups, you cleared your throat to offer Shouto a sincere apology. “I’m sorry I woke you. You didn’t agree to this,” you gestured to your puffy, teary-eyed self for emphasis, “when you agreed to stay here.”
He gently wiped away a lingering tear, and leaned forward to kiss where it had just been, taking you by surprise, the warmth of his lips spreading across your skin. “I did.”
“What?” You asked, slightly dazed from his touch.
Even now, he was endlessly patient, endlessly kind.
He cupped your cheek. “You’re important to me, so I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.” Then he pressed his forehead against yours and added, “We’re in this together. Remember?”
A flutter in your chest. “O-okay,” you said softly, and just like that, the dark, suffocating fog of fear and insecurity started to dissipate, quickly fading to reveal the glimmers of truth that lied beneath, sparkling like little gems.
Your closest friends loved you.
Shouto was here.
You repeated his words in your mind—Whoever you choose to be—and it reminded you of a third crucial truth: When it came to your future, quirk or no quirk, if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was adapt.
You were going to find a way to be okay.
The last bit of guilt and tension and fear eased out of you as you let out a slow breath.
And with the cover of night making you feel brave, you whispered, “I’m so lucky you’re in my life.”
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, and you exhaled, leaning into him and letting your body fall into place against his.
Just as sleep began to take both of you, your eyelids growing heavier by the millisecond, you vaguely heard Shouto sleepily mumble something along the lines of “I’m the lucky one.”
Then, the hum of your thoughts faded into a soothing silence, finally putting an end to the longest night of your life.
Notes:
What can I say? I love a good angst/comfort scene
Also I will respond to the comments as soon as I can!!
Chapter 12: You Discover What The Hell Has Been Going On (Mostly)
Summary:
You stumble upon a realization.
Notes:
TW: Includes the mention of a type of burn, but the description is not graphic
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A singular streak of morning light cut through the gap in your curtains and fell over the soft mess of Shouto’s red and white hair. You watched his chest rise and fall, focused on just how unfairly pretty he looked.
As if to test that he was really here, you reached out to gently push the stray hairs away from his eyes, before dipping your fingers to graze the curve of his cheek. Still half-asleep, Shouto leaned into your touch.
This was real.
But that meant everything else from yesterday was, too.
You shut your eyes as another wave of grief fell over you. Not enough to make you break down in tears, but enough for the loss to reverberate through you all over again.
The bed shifted and Shouto stirred from his sleep. Groggy eyes flickered open, his gaze settling over you, and he sat up with a sudden jolt, panicked for some reason. “I should go.” He started to turn to stand, but seeing your confusion, Shouto stopped to explain, “You asked me to stay until you fell asleep. Last night…I shouldn’t have stayed beyond that. I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” You ran your thumb over his forearm before admitting, softly, “I’m grateful you’re here.”
Shouto’s concern melted and he took your hand, eyes searching yours, checking for something. “I can skip training today, if you’d like, and go with you to Recovery Girl’s office.”
But you didn’t want to distract Shouto anymore than you already have. “That’s okay. I can handle it.” You gestured toward his phone. “By the way, Aizawa texted you.”
Shouto kept his gaze on you for a moment more, but didn’t push. “Okay,” he murmured before he glanced down at his phone and frowned. “He wants to talk to those of us in your rescue party.”
“Rescue party?” Your mind strained as you tried to remember if anyone other than Shouto had been at Kamino. You hadn’t seen any other classmates, but, in retrospect, it made sense that Shouto wouldn’t have gone to find you by himself. “Who else was there?”
”Midoriya, Iida, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu.”
You knew Shouto had become good friends with Midoriya and Iida in the aftermath of the Hosu incident, so it wasn’t at all surprising to hear they had gone to back him up in such a potentially dangerous situation. Not to mention, Midoriya was the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate to try and rescue anyone from your class, regardless of how close he was to them. So, those first two names Shouto had just listed made perfect sense.
So did Kirishima, just in a different way. You liked him, but the two of you didn’t talk much, so he had likely joined the rescue party specifically because of Bakugou (which, like, fair enough).
But that still left one outlier.
”Yaoyorozu?” You verified, as you thought back to your last memory of her at camp, how persistent she had been about trying to save both Jirou AND you, and how much that had cost her. “Wouldn’t she have been at the hospital?”
”She was, but she insisted on joining us to go save you anyway.”
“Really? That was . . . very kind of her,” you said, processing this new piece of information.
“Mhm,” Shouto hummed as another text popped up on his screen.
Aizawa: GET DOWN HERE NOW.
With a sigh, Shouto shoved his phone into his pocket and said, “I’ll see you downstairs.”
You prolonged your arrival to the common room as much as possible, but you had to show your face eventually. You opted for the stairs instead of the elevator and you hovered by the staircase doorway, listening to the usual morning chaos—dishes clinking, the microwave beeping, something sizzling on the stove.
But when you finally stepped foot into the communal area of the dorms, the vibrant buzz of conversation halted. All at once, the air thickened with tension and unspoken pity and the weight of their gazes made you wish you had Tooru’s quirk, so you could slip by unnoticed.
Ignoring it as best you could, you ducked into the kitchen.
“Excuse me, mon amie. I’m running late,” Aoyama said as he swerved to avoid you.
Glancing at the clock, you almost pointed out that he still had plenty of time, only to find Aoyama was already gone.
You shrugged it off and plopped a piece of bread into the toaster and turned up the dial, eyes focused on what looked like an unpleasant conversation taking place right outside. Mr. Aizawa was frowning at Shouto, Midoriya, Iida, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu. You tried to figure out what he was saying, but going off his body language and everyone else’s, it couldn’t be anything good. With your focus elsewhere, you didn’t think about the toast again until you noticed a mild burning smell.
You took out the bread and examined the damage, deciding between trying again at a lower setting or just cutting off the worst of the burnt edges and eating this one.
“Here,” Bakugou said, ever-present scowl on his face as he shoved his plate into your hands. “I obviously didn’t burn mine. You can have it.”
“I can just make another—”
“Just take it, okay?” It was the nicest Bakugou had ever been. You hated it.
“Thanks,” you said though, accepting his pity toast. You didn’t have the will to fight him over something so small.
You glanced back to see the scolding was over, leaving your remaining classmates, Shouto included, to walk back in.
You opened the fridge, picked something quickly, and closed the door with a soft thunk. You could still feel the weight of everyone’s gazes on your back as you poured yourself something to drink and went through the motions of preparing the rest of your breakfast.
Still mostly keeping your head down, you were about to reach for the utensils, but Midiroya beat you to it. “Here,” he said, quietly sliding you the exact one you needed.
When you looked up to thank him, you couldn’t help but notice there was something in the way he was looking at you that stood out, a sympathy that felt different from the others. Everyone else felt bad for you now that you were quirkless, that much was obvious, but Midoriya was looking at you like he somehow understood. You had no idea what to make of that.
“Thank you, for this…and for Kamino,” you said with a tired smile. “I hope I didn’t get you all into too much trouble.”
“Not at all!” Midoriya insisted. “It’s not the first time Mr. Aizawa has been upset with me.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “And it probably won’t be the last.”
“I’d do it again,” Yaoyorozu confessed, stepping into view. “After everything you did at camp, it’s the least I could do…for a friend,” she added with a small smile.
A friend. You smiled back at her, a warmth settling in your chest. How strange that days ago, you and Yaoyorozu could barely keep a conversation going and now you wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for her. Life certainly had its unexpected twists, didn’t it?
“Babe, over here.” Mina called out, gesturing to where she and some of the girls had pushed together two tables, so you could all sit together.
“Join us,” you said to Yaoyorozu and after a quick nod, the two of you made your way over, sitting across from Ochako and Tsu, where Shouto was quick to join, too.
Even with your gaze looking down at your plate, you could feel Ochako’s sympathetic doe eyes studying you. You looked up to meet her gaze, her thoughts written all over her face: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Please be okay.”
You weren’t really hungry, mostly just going through the motions so you didn’t spend the day running on empty. After all, your quirk needed a lot of fuel to—Oh. Right.
Eventually, Tsu broke the silence. “Were you able to sleep?”
“Kinda, but I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”
Shouto stroked your hand with his thumb beneath the table to comfort you.
“Of course, it’s okay,” Tooru said, speaking before Tsu had a chance to.
After a few moments of painful silence—you usually could chat about anything with your girls—Jirou plopped down in the empty seat by Yaoyorozu. You braced yourself, expecting her to also bring up what had happened, but instead Jirou said, “Did you guys see what I sent the group chat?”
Grateful for the distraction, you checked the chat she was referencing—the smaller one meant only for the 1-A girls—and smiled a little at the completely unrelated meme. The other girls seemed to understand that this was what you wanted, some semblance of normal, so they went along with it. The entire common room followed suit.
You and Jirou had never been close, but it was obvious how fiercely protective she was of the people close to her—like when she called out Sero for comparing Yaoyorozu’s lipid quirk to poop or when she poked Mineta in the eye when he tried peeking at your friends in the dorm baths. It was strange to think that not only was she protecting you too now, but that she was drawing attention away from you because she had quickly figured out that was what you wanted. Clearly, beyond her quirk, she was perceptive in more ways than one.
With your focus partially distracted, you reached for your glass, somehow knocking it over, and reacted too slowly as it slid off the table and shattered on the floor.
You groaned at this added layer of bad luck, before you crouched down to pick up the pieces. Shouto moved to do the same.
“Do you need help?” Ochako asked, already starting to stand.
“I got it,” you insisted.
With you and Shouto working swiftly, you were almost done, only for you to reach for one of the final shards and accidentally cut your finger.
“Shit,” you hissed before snatching a napkin off the table. You pressed it into the wound to stop the bleeding, your mind cruelly trailing back to when you had done something similar the night before.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Tsu said, rushing.
Wanting to hide away from the common room’s renewed focus on you, you wished the bleeding would just stop and the wound would just heal and everyone would just stop looking at you with such pity in their eyes, knowing full well that none of that was going to happen.
“Come on,” Shouto said, guiding you to the sink to wash the wound.
You turned on the faucet and ran your finger under the cool water.
When Tsu returned with the supplies, she handed them to Shouto.
“Let me see,” he said, holding his hand out for you.
You dabbed the finger dry with a paper towel and placed your hand in his, grateful your fake boyfriend was so keen to take care of you.
Eyebrows furrowed, Shouto asked, “Which one did you hurt?”
“What do you mean? It’s this—” you lifted your pointer finger, only to find the injury was completely gone. You rotated it to make sure, dumbstruck. It didn’t make any sense. You literally had just been bleeding. And yet was it somehow possible that—
“Mina!” you yelled out. “I need you.”
Your friend rushed over, almost knocking over her own drink in the process. “What’s up? Something wrong?”
Shaking your head, you said, “I need your acid.”
“What?”
How could you explain it? “I’m testing out a theory.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, still confused but compliant, globs of acid forming on her fingertips in an instant.
But she did not touch you.
Instead, she watched you as you thought back to your training, to the mental element behind your quirk, to the moment you learned you weren’t as powerless as you had originally believed. Theoretically, you should be able to summon a counter to her acid off of thoughts alone.
But two painfully long seconds passed. Then five more. Then ten.
“Are you going to do something or…?” Mina asked.
“Trying,” you said, eyes closed and brows furrowed. You tried to call for your usual counter to her acid, using every ounce of your concentration to summon it, so much so your head was starting to hurt.
But it was like reaching into emptiness, into a sickening aching void.
You shook your head and exhaled, releasing the attempt. “I-I guess not.”
That look of pity was back on her face as Mina started to turn away, and your gaze dipped to reexamine the fully healed skin of your finger, the crucial evidence that you weren’t imagining things.
Something just didn’t make sense, and so, fueled by equal parts hope and stubbornness, you did one last desperate thing.
“Wait.” In one swift motion, you grabbed Mina’s hand and finally pressed the lingering globs of her acid onto your arm.
She pulled back immediately, but some of the acid had already smeared against your skin. It must have gotten stronger since the last time she had genuinely used her quirk on you, because mere seconds later, your skin was already starting to show signs of a chemical burn.
Horrified, Mina searched the room, head turning like it was on a swivel, and called out. “The cookies! Has anyone seen the healing cookies?”
Kaminari raised the box into the air from his spot on the couch, and said with his mouth full, “Right here.” He wiped away a crumb with the back of his hand. “There’s one left.”
“Then take it to her!” Jirou ordered, pointing out the obvious, and Kaminari was scrambling to his feet in the next moment with an “Oh shit!”
Despite the swelling and the burning and the overall feeling of What the hell did I just do?, your focus was locked on your arm, waiting for something to happen.
As Kaminari approached the kitchen, Shouto snatched the cookie box out of his hands and rushed it to you.
“Hold on,” you said, willing to endure the pain just a few moments more.
Maybe five more seconds passed, long enough for the burn of blush to form in your cheeks, knowing full well that everyone was staring.
But right when it was starting to feel like this was stupid and you had made a commotion out of nothing, the strangest thing started to happen. It was subtle at first, just a whisper of something you knew well. Slowly, like a video playing at quarter speed, the beginnings of a stomach ache emerged, followed by something akin to nausea. Now this was a feeling you more than recognized. And, right now, it was a beautiful feeling you welcomed back with open arms.
Brutally slow and sluggish, a ripple began to spread over your body, from head to toe, coating your skin in a protective layer meant to counteract Mina’s acid.
“My quirk!” you yelled, voice breaking and eyes watering. “I-I don’t know how. But it’s back!” That’s when you finally accepted the cookie, exhaling in relief as it soothed away the burning.
“Are you sure?” Shouto inspected your arms, almost hesitant to get his hopes up, but, after confirming it himself, he pulled you into a tight hug against his chest, not remotely repulsed by the gel-like substance now coating your exposed skin.
Just like that, the mood of the room shifted instantly, your classmates knocking over their chairs as they rushed over to see.
“She’s okay!”
“Her quirk is back!”
“Holy shit!”
“I just—I don’t understand. I checked it yesterday and nothing happened.” You inspected the now irrefutable proof coating your body. “What’s going on?”
Next thing you knew, you and your classmates were testing out your quirk and using Yaoyorozu’s freshly-made stopwatch to track its speed. Shouto’s ice. Mineta’s Pop Off. Then Sero’s tape.
Midoriya scribbled down the third reaction time—29.74 seconds—into his notebook. “This time was slightly faster than the first two tests, but it’s still very slow.” Not wanting to offend you, he was quick to add, “At least compared to your usual speed!”
Yaoyorozu glanced at the data. “All three adaptations took approximately 30 seconds. But your quirk was already much faster than that when you got to UA.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Was there ever a time it was this slow?”
“Back when my quirk first manifested,” you realized, remembering a detail that hadn’t been relevant for more than a decade now.
Midoriya started mumbling to himself as he wrote something else down, with only vague snippets coming through like interesting and damaged and possible.
“What was that?” you asked.
“Hmm? Oh! I was saying that it’s like your quirk got damaged…or somehow got reset? Because it’s acting almost like it forgot some of your adaptations.” He scribbled something else, another theory perhaps.
“Is that even possible?” Shouto asked from beside you, echoing what Midoriya had probably just asked himself.
You clenched your hands, a pit of dread forming in your stomach. “I…think I know someone we can ask.”
After UA made a few calls, you found yourself in the one place where you might finally get some answers.
Concrete walls lined your periphery as you followed All Might and Detective Tsukauchi down an endless hallway. Around you, the air was heavy, the atmosphere grim. Devoid of any natural daylight, the place was illuminated by the dimly lit fluorescents meant to slowly erode at the soul.
As you passed every layer of security—the towering electric fences lining the perimeter, the metal detectors equipped to stop contraband, the heavily armed guards stationed at key locations, and the ever-vigilant cameras that followed your every step—you were reminded that this was a maximum security prison for a reason and that the worst of Japan’s villains had been captured and locked away behind these walls. Possibly thinking the same thing, All Might looked serious and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, despite his gaunt frame and newly broken arm in a sling.
The walk down the final corridor was punctuated by an eerie quiet since neither the pro nor detective were in particularly talkative moods, which meant more than enough time for your mind to trail back to the night you had almost lost your quirk. The thought of being moments away from facing the same supervillain who had nearly ruined your life sent a shudder through you.
Noticing, All Might stopped walking. He crouched down and reminded you in a low voice, “Hey, he can’t hurt you anymore. You know why?” He offered you a small but warm smile, bringing out the crinkles by the aging hero’s eyes before flexing into his muscle form for a fleeting moment. “Because I AM HERE.”
Despite being officially retired and clearly recovering from one of the most intense fights of his career, All Might was still going out of his way to be heroic and comforting and kind. You smiled up at him as he shrunk back down to his now perpetually gaunt frame. “Thank you, All Might.”
He nodded and then the three of you turned the corner, with you trailing behind, partially obscured by All Might’s height.
But the moment another familiar voice reached your ears, your body went rigid all over again.
“Ah, detective, All Might, how nice of you to pay me a visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Locked inside a quirk-suppressing cell equipped with a myriad of precautions and escape countermeasures, the villain was also wearing quirk-suppressant cuffs, strapped in a straight jacket, and bound to a chair, with a transparent oxygen mask covering most of his face. And yet, just like before, there was something deeply unsettling about him. Despite currently being tied up, attached to life support, and trapped in a prison, he was too comfortable, too cheery, like he knew something none of you were yet aware of.
All Might addressed All For One. “We’re here to discuss a quirk you stole.”
“Forgive me, but you’ll have to be more specific. I have taken a great many quirks. Which one do you mean?”
You stepped out from All Might’s shadow. “My quirk.”
Despite the fact that All For One did not have eyes, you felt his gaze somehow, watching you, studying you. “Ah, yes. Of course. I remember you.” And then he let out a laugh wrapped in that same sinister condescension from last time. “Go ahead. Ask me your questions.”
“What happened when you tried to steal my quirk?” Your mind flashed back to Midoriya’s initial theory: It’s like your quirk got damaged. “Why did you try to destroy it?”
At this, he arched a singular eyebrow, or he would have if he had one. “Oh? Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out.”
“Answer her question,” All Might warned, his voice hard.
Still smiling, All For One explained like he was speaking to an infant. “ I did not destroy your quirk. It destroyed itself.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, thinking out loud.
“He’s telling the truth,” Detective Tsukauchi informed you two and you immediately remembered his lie detector quirk.
“Of course, I am. Ask yourself this,” All For One said, more amused than anything. “Why would I go out of my way to kidnap you for your quirk, only to destroy it? You should know that I am not a wasteful man.”
“Then what happened when you attempted to steal her quirk?” All Might repeated, low on patience.
“Isn’t it obvious?” The villain said, taking his time because he was toying with you all or simply bored. Maybe both. “In all my years, I had never failed to steal a quirk once it was right in front of me.” He turned his attention to you. “Your quirk appealed to me because it adapted in the face of danger, but it never occurred to me that I would fall under that scope, nor that it would willingly self-destruct to keep me from claiming it.”
“Self-destruct?” All Might asked, clearly unconvinced. He glanced at the detective who nodded his head. Another truth.
“Yes, All Might. When I pulled her quirk essence, it started to deteriorate before I could absorb it. It self-destructed.”
All at once, the crucial snippets of the scene played in your head again:
You had yelled out, “You can’t have my quirk!” before he had swatted away your hands and lifted you off the ground anyway.
Something had pulled at your quirk factor inside you and you had felt the distinct sensation of something tearing.
You had said, “—won’t let you,” trying to resist him, and your quirk had then completed some sort of mystery adaptation in response. Immediately after, pieces of your quirk had started to fall away, which you had originally thought was the villain’s doing.
But he hadn’t responded with any sort of joy or satisfaction.
You combed through your memory, recalling that he had simply uttered one word, “Interesting,” and, in retrospect, he had actually sounded rather surprised.
Because he had failed.
Because if there was something you had learned, it was that your thoughts could guide your quirk. And what had your thoughts focused on when the villain tried to steal your quirk away?
You can’t have my quirk. I won’t let you.
And so, because his quirk was too powerful to resist, your own quirk had adapted in real time, opting to disintegrate rather than allow him to take it. And that was also the reason you were left with its most basic form now. The adaptations and resistances that you had built up over the years had been the first to disintegrate, and, if the villain had pushed you any further, the self-destruction would have been complete.
One way or another, you truly were on the cusp of losing your quirk completely, the thought of which made your blood boil.
You took another step forward, fists clenched and face burning. “Then you should have just let me go! I’m nobody!”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His tone shifted, something darker taking its place. “I’ll admit I originally overlooked you, but after the media took an interest in you following your apparent relationship with Endeavor’s youngest son, I realized I couldn’t squander the opportunity to obtain a quirk with such rich potential.”
“But you failed,” you cut in, feeling bolder.
The villain sighed in an exaggerated sort of way. “It’s true I would have preferred to keep that remarkable quirk all to myself, but I am a man of many plans.” A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that said he knew something you didn’t. “A pity you were found so soon. You would have made a wonderful Nomu.”
Notes:
Full disclosure: The drama queen in me really just wanted to end the chapter on a dramatic note but know that you did NOT let All For One get the last word and absolutely told him to fuck off before you left.
ANYWAY
If you want to know more about the adaptation we unlocked in the AFO quirk-stealing scene:
So, we established previously that the adaptation quirk can do a lot of what the human body can do but taken to an extreme/pulled out of its original context, right? For this particular scene, the quirk’s reaction is based on apoptosis aka a type of cell death. In certain situations, apoptosis can act as a defense mechanism like if, for instance, a virus were attempting a molecular hijacking of the host cell’s DNA replication capabilities to instead make copies of itself. In response, the infected host cell could initiate apoptosis and self-destruct, limiting the spread of the viral infection and sacrificing itself to protect the body as a whole.
So, a parallel started to form in my mind, especially since both scenarios involved a dangerous outside entity (the virus/AFO) attempting to forcefully steal and corrupt something precious (cell replication/her quirk) which would in turn make that entity even more dangerous overall.
In this case, the quirk’s self-destruction not only enacted the user’s will (Last time, I swear:You can’t have my quirk), but it was also a desperate way to evade AFO’s own quirk despite being so painfully outmatched.
I hope that all makes sense, but if it doesn’t feel free to ask me in the comments below or through my Tumblr ( desiretdeni ).
Next week, I’m uploading the last chapter and the epilogue. So, see you then for the finale!
Chapter 13: You Fuck Around And Find Out (Literally)
Summary:
It’s finally time!
Chapter Text
The good news was that the worst was behind you. The bad news was that wasn’t entirely true.
There were two major things you had to do—one that was a long time coming and another that had just been added to your plate—neither of which you were looking forward to.
After a long shower where you washed away the memory of the prison and All For One’s (what a stupid name) general creepiness, you tugged on an outfit befitting the summer weather and forced yourself to focus on the thing with the most pressing deadline.
Sitting at your desk, pen in hand, you started to plan how you could prepare for the provisional licensing exam that Aizawa had announced while you were gone. Reacquiring the rest of your adaptations would be simple enough. You just needed to spar a handful of very specific classmates again. Even rebuilding your resistances didn’t seem too bad. Yes, they required repeated exposures, but that was doable, too.
Truthfully, the most difficult part would be making sure your quirk was fast enough to be useful in combat again. With the exam looming just weeks away, you would have to squeeze in as much quirk usage as possible in the next few days to attempt to recover years’ worth of progress. Otherwise, you would fall further behind. After all, your classmates had spent today already coming up with ultimate moves while you were forced to start over from scratch. Maybe the answer was intense back-to-back sparring sessions like at camp. That had sped up your quirk once, so it should work a second time…
Then again, the thought of enduring all those beat downs and bruises for multiple days sounded exhausting. But what other choice did you have? How else could you repeatedly use your quirk if not in combat?
Your train of thought was interrupted when a careful knock sounded at your door, soft but deliberate, and you knew there was only one person who knocked like that.
You hurried over, swinging open the door to find Shouto standing in the dim glow of the hallway. He didn’t step inside immediately, hovering instead like he wasn’t sure he should intrude.
His mismatched eyes met yours. “How did the questioning go?”
“Where do I start?” You stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. “Sit down.”
Shouto took a seat along the edge of your bed and you summarized the events as you paced around the room—how eerie Tarturus was, the animosity between the pros and All For One, what the villain had revealed about your quirk, what you had pieced together yourself—and Shouto listened intently, waiting until you were done to finally speak.
Reaching the end of your story, you plopped onto the bed’s edge beside him and he reached over to run his fingers along your forearm, yet another habit he had developed ever since you had started fake dating.
“Oh, and get this: Apparently he wanted to turn me into a Nomu.” You shuddered again. “What a creep, right?”
Shouto tensed.
At first, his features looked impassive, unreadable. But after a moment more to process what you had just said, his stoic look gave way to utter devastation. “That’s why they were holding you in that tank,” he concluded, looking at you now with heartbreak in his eyes. Next thing you knew, Shouto was pulling you into a tight hug, holding you flush against his chest. “I’m glad we found you in time. I can’t believe he almost—” He pulled back just enough for his eyes to search yours, his hands still lingering on your arms. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
“Shouto, I’m okay, really. That’s not what I’m worried about.”
He studied you for a moment before asking, “Then what is?”
You looked down, fiddling with your fingers as you debated whether or not to finish the sentence.“It’s just—” But then Shouto’s hand found yours, and you glanced up at him. The way he was looking at you as he waited for you to speak—without the slightest hint of judgement in his eyes—reminded you that without fail, in every single moment of vulnerability you had shared with him, Shouto had always always always been kind. So, if there was someone you could be honest with, it was him. “I can’t stop thinking about how slow my quirk is right now,” you confessed. “I know that if I keep using it, it’ll naturally get faster, but I’m not looking forward to having to repeatedly fight everyone in our program just so I can try to get its speed back to normal.” It felt almost wrong to complain—after all, having a quirk to build back up was far better than none at all—so you shook your head and tried to wave away the concern. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Don’t apologize. Starting over isn’t easy,” Shouto angled his head, eyes seeking yours. “How can I help?”
You thought of the to-do list you had left on your desk. “Any chance you want to help me rebuild my heat resistance?”
“Of course.”
You glanced at the time. “Okay, if we leave now, we can spar for a bit at the gym before it closes.”
You started to stand but then Shouto gently wrapped his hand around your forearm, stopping you. “We don’t have to spar.”
“We don’t?” You sat back down, joining him again on the edge of the bed. You were about to ask what he meant when his left hand moved to cup your face, and your breath caught at the sudden touch.
“There’s something else we can do.” Voice low and now bordering on shy, he suggested, “I can…mark you again?” He cleared his throat. “But using my quirk this time.”
Could that work? It was certainly worth a try. "Okay, yeah. Let's do it." You face grew warm as you added, "Mark me."
“I'm not going to burn you,” he reassured, like there was ever really any doubt. You knew he would never deliberately hurt you. It was the furthest thing from his nature.
“I know. I trust you.”
“Okay,” Shouto said as he activated his quirk, and a soothing warmth started to radiate from his left side. He started to reach forward but stopped himself. “Can we—” His eyes dipped down to your lips and then back up again. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to try. Can we do that first?”
All at once, the moment felt dreamlike and delicate, like it might shatter if you made the wrong move.
“Sure,” you responded, trying to keep your voice light so it didn’t betray your nervousness.
Shouto moved, almost in slow-motion, lifting his hand to cradle your jaw, and grazing over your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me…” He tilted his head forward, and, featherlight and faint, brushed his lips against yours, setting off the slightest little shiver in you. “Is this okay?” he whispered, pulling back just far enough for you to answer, his mouth lingering just above yours.
Stuttering, you nodded and responded with a semi-breathless, “Y-yeah.”
With a small smile now, Shouto leaned forward, his lips finding yours again—still slow, still careful, still achingly tender—the feeling both thrilling and familiar, and you let out the faintest little sigh of pleasure at his touch.
As heat continued to radiate from his body in waves, he dipped his head to the curve of your neck, where he pressed the tiniest kiss, soft and delicate.
“Let me know if this is too much,” he murmured against your skin.
But before you could answer, the first ripple cascaded down your body, confirming you were now the slightest bit more heat resistant.
“It’s working,” you realized aloud, a little stunned. “Keep going.”
Shouto hummed in response, parting his lips and sucking at the spot on your neck he now knew you liked, pulling embarrassing noises out of you. Meanwhile, he increased the temperature of his left hand, trailing his fingers down your body with a slow drag against your skin, igniting every single nerve ending he touched. You shivered at the way the heat magnified every point of contact—his lips, his tongue, his fingertips—and pulled him closer.
Before you knew it, another ripple was cascading over your body.
“Hotter?” Shouto asked, lips still against your neck.
“Yes.”
He smiled against your skin, and shifted positions, moving to trail warm, intoxicating kisses up along your jaw. His lips found yours again, and you were giddy at the thought that not only had Shouto kissed you once, he was doing it again. Time started to blur, languid and perfect, and all you cared about was devoting every ounce of attention to what had to be a dream.
When a third ripple cascaded over your body, Shouto got bolder. He worked his way down your neck, the heat simmering from his body intensifying as did the need coming from yours…until he reached the swell of your breasts.
“Wait,” you said, stopping the moment like a record scratch.
Shouto looked up at you. “Right, you said you wanted to take things slow.” He exhaled a little cloud of mist, bringing back down his body temperature. “Sorry.”
“It’s not that. It’s–” You couldn’t believe you were about to do this now, risking the chance of ruining everything. But you had to protect your heart. This wasn’t a mindless makeout between friends. The opposite really. This meant so much more to you and he deserved to know that. You let out a slow breath, the rational part of your brain finally making a reappearance. “Do you remember back at camp? When I said I needed to talk to you about something?”
“Of course.”
If there was something you had learned from the chaos of the past few days, it was that nothing was guaranteed. It was time to finally be brave.
“The truth is…” You closed your eyes and said the words you had been dreading in a rush, eager to get this over with. “I-see-you-as-more-than-a-friend!”
Shouto was silent for a moment while he processed what you said, so you opened up one eye to look at him.
“I see you as more than a friend, too,” Shouto responded in a matter-of-fact way, like it was blatantly obvious.
What a time for misunderstandings, you thought.
“No, I should clarify.” You took another breath, looking down at your hands as you searched for the right words. “What I mean to say is that I have romantic feelings for you and I’ve felt this way for a while now.”
A moment while Shouto processed your confession, then, “Yes, I know.”
You whipped your head toward him. “Since when?”
“Since you asked me out on a date.” You stared up at him, dumbfounded, so he elaborated. “After the USJ attack.”
“I’ve never asked you out?” you said, slowly shaking your head. “After the USJ?” You combed through your memory, trying to figure out what he was referencing. “Do you mean when we got dinner together?”
“Yes, you asked me to go out with you and I did. It was our first date. And it went well. So, I invited you on another date the next day.”
“Shouto, how many dates have we been on?”
“Including the first three, but not including date attempts that our classmates invited themselves to, sixteen.”
Slowly the pieces started to fall into place. How little misunderstandings could build off each other. “All the times I thought you happened to sit next to me or when you would randomly give me gifts when we were alone…we were dating? Why the subtleties?”
He shrugged. “You said you wanted to keep our relationship private.”
“When?!” You must have been checked into a different reality because this man was making you question everything.
“On our third date, you said the early stages of a relationship deserved privacy. Otherwise, everyone has an opinion about it.”
You silently mouthed Oh. “I was just commenting on Hawks’ lack of privacy as a top ten hero! Okay, hold on.” You stood up and started to pace the room. “Is that why you kept apologizing when you were dealing with your fans? Because we were practically a couple?”
“Yes. I felt bad that other girls were pursuing me, even though I was already romantically involved with you.”
You clasped your hand over your mouth. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” You held up a finger as your brain processed this barrage of information, like an old-fashioned computer stalling because you input too much data. “From your perspective, when we were talking about how to deal with your fans, did I just… declare myself your girlfriend…like, without any input from you?”
A nod. “Well, yes.”
Your jaw dropped. “And you just let that happen?!”
He shrugged again. “I liked the idea of you being my girlfriend.”
“Oh, my god.” You covered your face with both of your hands and groaned. “I made you sign a contract!” Heat flooded your cheeks at the newfound embarrassing revelation. “That wasn’t weird to you?”
“It was, but you sometimes do or say things I don’t fully understand.”
“Okay, new rule: If either of us says or does something the other doesn’t fully get, we need to ask for clarification because—this sounds so ridiculous now—Shouto, I was so caught up in the idea that you would never be into me that I didn’t realize we were already dating! I thought you had asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend to get the other girls to leave you alone! That’s why I wanted to establish rules, to protect our friendship. Oh god.” You plopped back down onto your bed, processing all this new information. “Wow, I feel so stupid.”
Shouto cupped your hand and squeezed it. “You’re not stupid. We both misunderstood.”
Another question surfaced in your mind. “Okay, but if we were officially a couple, with titles and all, why did it take you so long to kiss me?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. And the times I wanted to kiss you, you pulled away.” He shrugged. “So, I figured you weren’t ready yet.”
So, it hadn’t been in your head. He had felt it too. Every hum of electricity. Every ache of anticipation. Every urge of unfulfilled longing. At this point, you were tearing up, ready to cry. The swirl of emotions inside you was difficult to name. Frustration? Relief? Joy? All of the above?
There it was. The final pieces to the puzzle you had been trying to solve for so long: Shouto had feelings for you. That explained…well, practically everything.
“You’re the sweetest boyfriend I never knew I had!” You wiped away at a stray tear. “No wonder you told your family about us, and no wonder you were so good at pretending to date me. You were! It was real! This entire time I’ve been pining over my own boyfriend!”
Shouto fell silent, looking serious now, the slightest hint of worry etched on his features. “If you weren’t aware we were a couple, now that you do know…do you still want to be my girlfriend?”
You threw yourself at him, arms wrapped around him in unadulterated glee and catching him off guard. “Yes! Of course! Shouto, I adore you. I want us to go out on dates and hold hands and kiss and cuddle and just, everything. I want to experience everything with you. If that’s what you want, too.”
“Everything?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Warmth flooded your cheeks. “Everything,” you confirmed.
For a moment, his heterochromic eyes held you, that mix of want and longing back from before. “Then I’d like to try something else.”
You nodded quickly, doing little to hide your eagerness now. “Go ahead.”
With his cheeks blooming a bright pink, Shouto thumbed the fabric of your top. “I, uh, think it would be easier if you weren’t wearing this.”
Oh?
Heart already racing, you reached for the bottom of your shirt, before stopping to say, “You too.”
“You want me to take off my shirt?” Shouto verified, his voice almost as soft as a whisper.
Now with your full face burning, you said with a tiny shrug, “I don’t want to be the only one who’s half-dressed.”
“I see.” He stood up, reached to grab the back of his collar, and tugged his shirt off in one swift motion, tossing it to the side with careless disregard. “Is that better?”
You nodded wordlessly at the sight before you—paying particular attention to the divots marking his abs—and stood up, moving to do the same thing he’d just done. But your movements were slower, heart racing and hands jittery, as you pulled your own shirt up over your head and deposited it on the floor.
Shouto’s eyes had traveled down to the swell of your breasts and you could have sworn the temperature of the room climbed by a few more degrees, deliberate or not.
He swallowed and then said, “That should…help.”
He reached forward, resting his hands just below your ribs, and started to trail soft kisses along your collarbone. One hand shifted upward, cupping the underside of your bra, and his other hand moved to lower one of your straps with such aching gentleness you felt like your skin was going to be set on fire.
You held your breath, everything now magnified tenfold—the quickening of your heart, Shouto’s careful touch, the rising heat in the room—and another ripple coursed over you, but this one felt almost like a shiver of goosebumps as you found the courage to say, “Do you want a closer feel?”
Shouto paused for a moment, eyes flicking up to yours, as if to verify that was what you really wanted. You nodded, wordlessly saying Yes, I want this. Keep going.
And that was all the confirmation he needed. He reached back to undo the clasp, but his usually graceful fingers struggled, a little clumsy in the face of this new task.
“I’ve got it,” you whispered, reaching back and undoing it with one hand.
In an instant, the fabric loosened around you, now draped lazily against your body, and Shouto pulled down on one of the cups, the material of your bra dragging against your skin before falling to the floor and finally revealing your breasts.
Cheeks burning, you stared at the floor for a few seconds before you found the bravery to let your gaze climb back up.
At the first sight of Shouto, any remnant of anxiety evaporated on the spot.
Glossy-eyed and dazed, Shouto was looking at your tits like they were the most magnificent things he had ever seen. A few heartbeats later, he blinked himself back to consciousness and reached forward, cupping them with his hands and just barely grazing your skin with his thumbs.
"I've thought about these a lot since our match-up," he admitted as he leaned in, keeping his gaze fixed on you, mouth hovering just above one of your nipples. "I kept wondering what they'd taste like."
Shouto blew out a soft, icy breath, perking up your nipple instantly and making you shiver, and, when he finally took it into his mouth and sucked, you gasped with a trembling breath, the contrast of the newfound warmth overwhelming in the best way possible. The world faded to nothing. The usual hum of your thoughts were shoved away by a visceral need.
Taking his time, he moved to plant kisses around your other nipple, sucking on the tender flesh, and you had a vague fleeting thought about how your breasts were going to be covered in hickeys tomorrow. Not that you minded. Not when Shouto, your Shouto, was now flicking and pinching and rolling your other nipple between his fingertips, proving all the ways he wanted you.
You reached for him, pulling him even closer, wanting him, needing more.
That was when you remembered something from last time and your hand started to trail down his chest and stomach, testing for something, and you stopped the moment your fingers first grazed the outline in his pants, causing him to shudder.
“Shouto…Can I see it?”
He let go of your nipple and guided your hand to the waistband of his pants. You lowered it, catching a glimpse of the pink tip first, before his entire hard cock sprung free. You took a moment to take in the view—a long veiny shaft with a tuft of trimmed hair at the base, half white on one side, half red on the other.
You reached out to touch it, wrapping your fingers around it and memorizing its shape, its length, and the feel of him in your hand. When you thumbed over the bead of precum at the head of his cock, Shouto sucked in a quick breath, giving you an idea.
You leaned forward, mouth open and bopped your head down over his cock, deciding to take it all for maximum effect. Shouto threw his head back, eyebrows crinkling, and you kept at it, alternating between gliding your tongue over his shaft and sucking, whichever made Shouto squirm more.
Next thing you knew, Shouto’s eyes flew open, temperature climbing again (triggering another ripple, but you had long since stopped keeping track), and he commanded, “Get on your back.”
You both slid off the rest of your clothes, and he took in the sight of you, looking all the more fervid. You got on your back, just as you were told, and he immediately positioned himself to take one of your nipples back into his mouth, alternating between flicking and sucking. With your attention focused on all the things he was doing with his tongue, your breath caught in surprise when Shouto dipped his hand between your legs.
“Is this okay?” he asked at your reaction as he held a single finger pressed right at your entrance, not yet crossing the threshold. “We can stop if you still want to take things slow.”
“More than okay,” you responded.
So, keeping his eyes on you, Shouto slowly pushed his finger into you, noting, almost surprised, “You’re so warm.”
You took in the unfamiliar sensation as Shouto carefully added another finger, and you moved one of your legs to give him better access.
"I'd like to try something," he said and, after your wordless nod of encouragement, he grazed your clit with his thumb, making your breath hitch at the sudden glint of pleasure.
“Do that again,” you instructed, a little breathless, and Shouto smiled, moving to graze your clit again, except this time with his mouth. You arched your back, the movement entirely involuntary as Shouto flicked the tip of his tongue over that same wonderful spot.
He kept at it—tasting you, circling your clit, flicking the exact right spot—and before long, all you could focus on was how badly you wanted more.
“Shouto,” you said, in a way that sounded almost like a whine. “I need you inside me.”
His eyebrows flashed upwards, skin flushed, fever hot, and he moved to angle himself, the head of his cock pressed right against your entrance. “I’ve pictured us like this,” he confessed, then paused to ask, “Are you ready?”
You thought back to your dozens of late night fantasies that had featured you and Shouto in variations of this exact moment, on the cusp of sharing something deeply intimate and raw, and then you smiled at the newfound knowledge that, just a few doors over, Shouto had been thinking of you too, quietly envisioning the exact same thing.
You nodded. “I think we’ve waited long enough.”
With that, Shouto started to push into you—tender and slow—his cockhead straining against your walls and stretching you out for the very first time. You responded with a sharp intake of breath—So this is what Shouto feels like—noting the pressure, the budding fullness, the way your body adjusted to his presence, and you quietly vowed to commit this moment to memory, you and Shouto crossing this threshold together, becoming one.
“Still okay?” he asked, his voice a little strained as he paused about halfway in.
“Yes,” you said in a rushed whisper, a part of you already buzzing, desperate to feel him in his entirety.
"Okay," Shouto replied, exercising tremendous amounts of control as he slowly pushed the rest of his length in, watching for your reactions, for any show of discomfort.
You gasped when Shouto pushed the last of himself into you, finally bottoming out, and you realized that this was fullness, having Shouto completely buried inside you, pushing against your walls in a way that was just as intoxicating as it was all-consuming, and you looked up at him, a little starry-eyed and dazed at the notion that you were finally experiencing this with him.
At this, Shouto leaned down to kiss you, his cock shifting a little inside you when he did. “I’m going to start slow, okay?"
You gave him a quick nod, and, true to his word, Shouto’s initial strokes were shallow and measured and careful, giving your body more time to get used to him (and giving you all the more reasons to adore him).
You met his thrusts with tiny, appreciative whimpers and other embarrassing sounds, and, soon after, Shouto uttered your name, his expression almost pained, and he admitted, brow furrowed and fingers digging into your thighs, “It’s getting harder to hold back."
“Then don’t,” you said, your voice breathy.
With your encouragement, Shouto started to move his hips with more force, thrusting into you like it was what the two of you were made to do, to explore and love and lust over each other, to know each other in a way no one else got to.
Your vision blurred with tears at that thought and, noticing, Shouto stopped, all at once worried. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, I just, it’s so—” You struggled to find words, let alone the right ones. “Keep going, okay? I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
But it wasn’t.
It was hot and feral and glorious.
The room seemed to simmer with heat, from you, from him, as you both chased your own highs. Shouto reached forward, playing with your clit again and that was when it started to feel really good, too good. Shouto pounded in and out of you, something feral taking over, and when the build up became too much, a wave of pleasure ripped through you first with Shouto trailing immediately as he watched you come apart beneath him. His lips parted, eyes squinting, so caught up in fucking you through both your orgasms that, in a moment of complete disinhibition, his left side caught on literal fire, the rush of flames spiking the temperature of the room and sweeping over your exposed skin.
Eyes wide in horrified realization, Shouto turned off his quirk in an instant, but his cock pulsed one last time inside you anyway, settling another type of heat into your lower belly.
“I lost control,” he said with wide, panicked eyes. “Did I burn you?”
Languid and spent, you looked up at your boyfriend with a dopey little smile and shook your head. Still, Shouto searched your body for any signs of injury, and your attention drifted over to the tiny flame that was dancing along the edge of your pillow. You reached over to snuff it out, and then held up your unscathed fingers for him to see, pointing out a detail he was overlooking, “My quirk.”
He relaxed at the reminder that you weren’t exactly helpless, a tiny smile now on his lips as he looked at you with absolute fondness, and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose.
"I'm going to get up," he informed you, before moving to pull out of you, that slow drag nothing short of cruel since, all at once, you found yourself missing his warmth and that wondrous fullness inside you. Standing, Shouto noted, “I should clean that,” his eyes dipping to watch his cum drip out of you. Glancing around, he surveyed your room for something absorbent.
A particular thought occurred to you as you watched him grab the box of tissues on your desk.
You started to sit up, leaning on your forearms. “You know, I didn’t realize rebuilding my quirk could be so fun.” Like clockwork, a tiny ripple cascaded over your body for the umpteenth time, signaling the completion of another layer of heat resistance, about twenty-something seconds too slow. You would have to fix that. “So, what do you say?” You looked at him with a glimmer in your eye, taking the tissue box from his hands and setting it to the side. “Is there anything else you've been meaning to try?”
Catching on, Shouto smiled as he reached for you again. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
Okay, maybe there was one final scary thing you needed to do.
“So that’s the story about how I accidentally fake dated my own boyfriend,” you said as you summarized the events of the past several months, leaving out the more risqué moments.
The girls looked at you slack-jawed from all around the table. Tooru was frozen in place, her spoon left floating mid air. Ochako just kept blinking like a broken street light. Momo looked like she was calculating a math problem that was a little too complex to do in her head. Jirou’s eyebrows were raised so far up they might as well join her hairline. And then there was Mina. Shock. Denial. Anger. Betrayal. Devastation. Bargaining. Acceptance. Her face had gone through the five stages of grief and then some.
Only Tsu, who you had dragged into your craziness early on, had no real reaction at all, keeping her neutral unimpressed face as she mostly glanced at the other girls. (Maybe she had been onto something when she had repeatedly told you to talk things out with Shouto. But she was one of your best friends for a reason because at no point did the words “I told you so” ever come out of her mouth).
Mina lifted a finger, wordlessly asking for a moment to process. She started to open her mouth, about to actually say something, then shut it again. Possibly one of the only times you had ever seen her speechless. Finally, she said, “Baby girl, I love you, but what the fuck. You thought he was faking it? That beautiful man was down bad from the moment you first held hands.”
“Denial can be a powerful thing, Mina,” Tsu commented.
You pointed at Tsu. “Yes, exactly! What she said. Next question.”
“So when’s the wedding?” Mina pressed, a mischievous look back in her eyes.
“We just started dating!” You cocked your head to the side. “Well, sort of. But my point is marriage is a long way from now!”
She stuck out her tongue. “Whatever. With the way he looks at you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already had the ring.” Tooru shifted in her seat, but, per usual, you couldn’t exactly read her expression. “It’s bound to happen sooner or later.”
You shook your head at Mina’s comments, a small smile on your lips, thankful that she was teasing you. It meant you were mostly forgiven.
“Anyway, I’m really sorry I lied to you all and kept this secret for so long. This is an apology dinner, so don’t worry about the bill. I’m buying.”
“In that case,” Mina looked over the dessert options. “I’ll have one of everything.” She glanced around. “You girls want anything?”
“Well, if she’s paying…” Ochako said, trailing off as she reached for the menu.
Soon, the rest of the girls joined, adding more items to the bill as a part of your penance.
“Speaking of secrets,” Tooru said, now gesturing toward Yaoyorozu and Jirou. “I can not believe the two of you kept your relationship secret for so long!”
Jirou looked over at her blushing girlfriend and said, “We had some stuff to figure out first.”
Yaoyorozu then added with an apologetic smile, “It’s a long story.”
“Sure, but friends are supposed to tell each other these things! I’ve kept you all updated on my relationship with Mashirao!” Tooru insisted.
“Yeah, and thanks to that, we now know how good Ojiro is with his hands,” Mina said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Mina!” Tooru yelled out and the table erupted into laughter.
Maybe you weren’t entirely forgiven yet—you still had to work on rebuilding the trust that had been hurt after lying for so long—but being surrounded by your friends, laughing around a packed dinner table, wasn’t a bad way to start.
Chapter 14: Epilogue — Did Someone Say Something About Soulmates?
Summary:
Tying up the final plot threads
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A few years later . . .
Sitting in a stream of warm, wondrous daylight, Shouto leaned into your touch as you played with his hair, your engagement ring glistening with each movement of your hand.
Mina’s joke about Shouto choosing the ring early on had turned out to be more than prophetic. Apparently, since Tooru had constant built-in stealth because of her invisibility quirk, she liked to roam the halls of 1-A Alliance (and the other dorms, too, no one was safe) in search of stories and hot gossip. While exploring one of the boys’ floors, she happened to overhear Shouto consulting Midoriya and Iida on what engagement ring to get you (which is to say, she pressed her ear against the door the moment she heard them mention you by name). It turned out he two boys had been surprisingly insightful. Midoriya had provided commentary on which of the styles Shouto picked out best fit your aesthetic, pointing out small details like the colors you tended to wear. Meanwhile, Iida had instructed Shouto on the customary expectations that came with a thorough and well-executed proposal. Eager to tell someone, Tooru had immediately rushed to Mina’s room to share the news and decide on their next course of action. After thirty seconds or so of excited jumping and squealing, your two friends had sworn each other to secrecy, so as to not ruin the surprise for you.
Shouto had proposed to you before the end of your first year together. Somehow, you hadn’t caught on that he was up to something, despite the clues that felt obvious in retrospect. Like how Midoriya had started stuttering and sweating the moment you asked if he knew where Shouto was. Or how right around noon, Iida had started chopping the air and nearly pushed you out the door as he heavily encouraged you to go on a walk for “No particular reason.”
The proposal itself had been simple but elegant. An intimate moment between you and Shouto, romantic but not over the top. The standout moment had been when Shouto took your hands, eyes brimming with absolute certainty and adoration, and told you that you were the love of his life and the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his. Needless to say, you were quick to say yes.
However, it had been a long engagement, mostly because of the war and the reconstruction efforts that followed after. For a long time, as heroes, there were far more pressing priorities to take care of first. But now that things were finally returning to normal, it was time for a long overdue celebration.
You two were nearly done with the wedding preparations. Going down the checklist, you had reserved your venue, settled on a guest list (you had the same core group of friends so that hadn’t been particularly hard), chosen your respective attire for the event, and booked all the other vendors. There were just a handful of things left to do.
One of which kept getting interrupted.
The wedding invitations and their respective unsealed envelopes were scattered across the table opposite the small completed pile on the other end. The two of you had barely finished the ones addressed to your friends from UA (including Aoyama, who you had long since forgiven for his unfortunate role in your kidnapping as All For One’s reluctant informant )—when you and Shouto had both gotten a little…distracted.
(What a wonderful problem to have.)
Still, you knew no one was going to show up to your wedding if you two didn’t take the time to invite them to the damn thing. So after promising to distract each other again later tonight, you and Shouto climbed out of bed and went back to work.
You sat down across from him, sealed one of the invites into a blank envelope and handed it to Shouto so he could address it. Admiring your fiancé’s focus and perfect penmanship, you watched him write out “Touya Todoroki” with careful, precise strokes. As was typical of Shouto, he looked absolutely ethereal even when doing boring, everyday things. Even though you were in the midst of wedding planning, you still had moments like these when you couldn’t believe just how lucky you were. You glanced down at your engagement ring and smiled to yourself—it was almost hard to believe there was a time when you were convinced he wasn’t into you.
Although that did raise one question.
“Shouto,” you started to ask as you sealed another envelope. “When did you first know you had feelings for me?”
Without missing a beat, he said, “Oh, I’ve known since the USJ attack,” and then he set Touya’s invitation in the completed pile.
You stopped what you were doing. “Are you serious? Since then?”
“Of course,” he took the next invite from your hands and started to address it to his mom and her new partner, not looking up. “Something about you called to me, like I already knew you somehow. I’d never felt anything like it before so I didn’t know how to explain it at the time, but I do now.” He lifted his gaze, that cool gray and vibrant blue bearing into you. “I think my soul is connected to yours and I think it always has been.”
Slightly stunned, you repeated one word back to Shouto: “Connected.”
Flashes of memories crossed your mind, like when you somehow knew from the dread in your gut that Shouto was in danger back in Hosu, or, as he later informed you, when the persistent feeling in his chest led him to finding you in Kamino. Or, later, during the war, when Shouto had to face off against his big brother Touya in the fight of their lives, and you had believed it was just sheer anxiety that had Shouto consuming your every thought. But no. In retrospect, in life or death moments like those, there was always an ache of absence when you two were away from each other, a constant pull to be closer, a visceral need to be by each other's side.
Two souls connected to each other across time and space, created to be together.
Soulmates.
“Does that make sense?” He asked like he hadn’t just casually spouted one of the most romantic declarations he had ever said to you.
You reached over to trace his cheek with your fingertips, your engagement ring sparkling again under another catch of daylight. Smiling, you said softly, “Yeah, yeah it does.”
Notes:
Bonus Scene:
Touya (who is now fully embracing his big brother role): I still think you should invite Shiggy to your wedding.
Shouto: Why?
Touya: Your love story started when you fought alongside her at the USJ, right? You can thank Shiggy for that then.
Shouto: . . .
Touya: . . .
Shouto: . . .
Shouto: Fine. You can bring him as your +1.
. . .
That’s a wrap!
First and foremost, a special shout-out to dashielldeveron whose Soulmate Trope series helped inspire this. I am a huge fan of her writing and highly recommend checking it out if you haven’t already.
Speaking of inspiration, on the off-chance anyone happens to get inspired by this fic to write something similar or even just tangentially related, please please please let me know! I’d love to read it! Be it a one-shot, long fic, or whatever!
Finally, I can not emphasize enough how much fun this has been, seeing you all get emotionally invested and reading your reactions to the different twists and turns I came up with. You have been so very kind and supportive. Fun fact: This is not only my longest fanfic, but it is also the longest thing I’ve ever written! So thank you for all of your enthusiasm and encouragement 🫶
See y’all at the next fic? Momo and Jirou’s love story is probably next, but I hear some of the other UA boys have been keeping secret crushes too…
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